On Pumpkin Beer

A few days ago I made a comment on Appellation Beer about horrid pumpkin beer. It spurred a few replies spanning a wide spectrum of sanity and coherence. I feel that I need to expand on my little rant and defend my detest of gourdy libations.

First up is Lauren Buzzeo's reply to criticism of her list that sparked Stan's post and subsequent debate. I enjoyed her reply and she certainly showed some journalistic professionalism, even suggesting a survey of brewers about pumpkin beer. In light of other replies, I am content to agree to disagree.

The other comments in response to mine were somewhat bewildering. I was accused of short-sightedness. My comment was misinterpreted as railing against adjuncts. I WILL NOT BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY... damnit.

This might be fine if bitter or pils were the subject. But the subject is a group of beers of which every one I've tasted (unfortunately too many) has been obnoxiously spiced mix with stomach churning aroma, taste and body. Every time I give another one a chance I'm reminded of Lewis Black's rant on candy corn, its even seasonally appropriate. As that rotten liquid runs over the back of my mouth... SONUFABITCH! I've never seen anyone want a second serving of pumpkin beer. Even the people who do like it struggle to put away a full pint.

It is true that pumpkin beer has been made for centuries. But those colonial brewers were not using pumpkins to add flavor. They were short on barley and were looking for other things to make booze. They also fermented parsnips and wood shavings. Maybe some "innovative" brewer should concoct parnsip and wood shaving ale fermented in a pumpkin. It will be great!

It seems I'm rambling so I will head toward some final grandiose point. I'm not too concerned about the comments in response to mine in particular. But seems people find a problem with not liking, even hating, something. The defenders of pumpkin beer are reminiscent of Mac fanboys, though not quite as ravenous.... yet. So I will just say all pumpkin beers are disgusting and I don't care who knows it or what they think about it. Actually, I hope my local brewers get the message.

Beer in Colonial America, Parsnips and Wood Shavings

I have slowly been working my way through The Brewing Industry and Brewery Workers' Movement in America by Hermann Schlüter, from 1910 and available on Google Books.

I will start with a passage on obtaining the necessary ingredients in the first years of colonization.

In the first year of the settlement the colonists planted the grain necessary for brewing beer, but with poor result, for the soil of Massachusetts was not well suited for the raising of barley. They therefore imported the materials for brewing, and also some beer itself, from England. In the year 1629 forty-five barrels of beer and four hundred weight of hops were brought to Massachusetts Bay at one shipment. Malt was also imported after the attempt to make it from maize had been tried with but slight success. A poem of that time informs us that the Pilgrim Fathers had such a tremendous thirst after alcoholic drinks that for want of beer they made intoxicating beverages out of pumpkins, parsnips, and shavings of walnut wood.
"The Brewing Industry and Brewery Workers' Movement in America", pages 24-25.

Barley and hops couldn't grow for shit in the rocky soil and harsh New England climate, no surprise there. Compared to beer from parsnips and wood shavings, corn beer doesn't sound so bad.

This post powered by Ten Fidy, the wonderful imperial stout from a can by Oskar Blues Brewery.