Photo by Laurie Proffitt

Tasting Beer Finally, some respect. By Nancy Ross Ryan Last year, for the first time, I was invited to a beer tasting. My first reaction was: "As in wine tasting? Surely you jest." But the jest was on me. My host for this soiree was a wine aficionado, and his beer tasting was as illuminating and as demanding as a wine tasting. We were required to pay close attention to the finer points of the four porters in their traditional English pint glasses. First we were instructed to look for color, clarity, and head retention -- good beer in a clean glass maintains that creamy foam down to the last swallow. Next we were to sniff for aroma/bouquet, and any off odors. Last we were to taste for malt, hops, yeast, alcohol, carbonation, mouth feel and aftertaste. We were instructed to taste (as opposed to guzzle) only three to four ounces of each beer. Porter, the beer, was named in 18th-century London after porters, the tradesmen, who were especially partial to this style of ale. Porters are a full-bodied ale, deep brown in color, rich, dry, bitter but smooth, and each of the four porters were as distinctively different as, say, four cabernets. I discovered that there is a beer flavor wheel, roughly equivalent to wine's color and aroma wheels. Nick Floyd, brew master of Three Floyds micro brewery in Munster, Indiana, emailed me one. "Wine and beer are the only industries that have their own flavor wheels," he commented. "Don't you think that makes the others jealous?" "The others?" I queried, "You mean the cheese-, the bread- and the chocolate-makers -- all those wheeless artisans?" I suggested. "Yes, all the others," he sighed, "It's a pity." Nick is one of three Floyds who, with his father and brother, founded the brewery in 1996 to satisfy his taste for "big, hoppy, uncompromising beers." He bemoans the demise of the once-numerous American breweries, killed off by Prohibition. "Prior to the turn of the century there were 300 breweries in Chicago alone," he laments. But, looking on the bright side, he salutes the micro brewery movement which started in the '70s, and of which Three Floyds -- producing five year-round ales and three seasonal beers -- is a part. From my inaugural beer tasting I learned that beer has everything wine has: color, clarity, aroma, taste and finish. The better the beer the finer the flavor. And between beers, just as among wines, there is a huge quality distinction. Mass-produced, undistinguished if unoffensive, beers in cans and bottles have as their counterparts industrial, unremarkable if unobjectionable, wines in jugs and bottles. But nothing is simple. Big is not necessarily bad. Consider Anchor Steam Beer, made only in San Francisco. Steam beer is America's only indigenous beer style, and dates from the Gold Rush of 1849 when German immigrant breweries were forced to adapt their traditional cold-brewing yeast and technology to California's hot weather. The result was a new beer with such great carbonation that it created a hissing sound (like steam escaping) when the bottles were opened. According to Stuart A. Kallen in the Complete Idiot's Guide to Beer (Alpha Books, 1997), before Prohibition there were more than 100 steam breweries on the West Coast. After Prohibition ended in 1933, only Anchor Brewing remained, the nation's and the world's only steam brewery. Considered a craft brewery (because it makes more than 15,000 barrels a year, which is the designated cutoff for the micro brewery category), it makes terrific beer. Which brings me back to taste. Another lesson I learned was that beer, like wine, can be splendidly paired with food. Says Brock Wagner of Saint Arnold Brewing Company, Houston, "Beer often enhances foods that cannot be paired with wine. For instance, the correct beer is a perfect complement for both chocolate and asparagus, while no wine can suitably match them." (I can, of course, hear the rebuttal chorus from the wine makers' choir.) Wagner says that beer can stand up to the spiciest foods without being overpowered, and "As with wines, certain beers marry best with certain dishes." So what would Wagner pair with chocolate? He picks, among many candidates, a sweet stout: Young's Oatmeal Stout. And for asparagus? Again among many candidates, a Trappist ale such as Chimay. Wagner recommends beer before a meal as an aperitif. His picks include Lindeman's Kriek Lambic, Pilsner Urquell, Saint Arnold Summer Pils, Saint Arnold Amber Ale, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. And, after dinner as a digestif? Beer of course: Saint Arnold Christmas Ale, Thomas Hardy Ale, Salvator Dobblebock. So, if beer like wine, marries well with food, why don't more restaurants recommend it? "That's a tough one," grouches Nick Floyd. "Fine restaurants may list wines by the hundreds, bourbon and scotch by the dozens -- and four crappy beers. It takes time to educate." Restaurants' beer lists may be sorely lacking, but many chefs are pioneering beer dinners. My first beer dinner, at Rivers Restaurant in Chicago, proved that education can be fun. Rivers' Chef Matthew Koury teamed up with Wendy Littlefield, co-owner of Brewery Ommegang, a Cooperstown, New York micro brewery that makes two Belgian-style beers: Ommegang Abbey Dobbel Ale and Hennepin Ale, and imports a dozen others. Koury created a menu that not only paired food with Littlefield's Belgian-style beers, but utilized beer in cooking. Three standout courses: Pan-seared Hawaiian Ono with a Blanche de Bruges Butter Sauce, served with Blanche de Bruges, a white (cloudy, opaque) beer made with barley and wheat and spiced with coriander, orange and aromatic peppers. Next came a Roast Loin of Pork with an Ommegang Ginger Jus, a sauce made of the same beer served with the course, Ommegang Saison Grisette -- rustic and spicy ale. The last course was Warm Chocolate Bing Cherry Cake, and Bing Cherry Sauce made with the accompanying beer, Boon Kriek Lambic, a beer fermented with whole cherries. My second beer dinner, at Chicago's North Pond Cafe, convinced me to sign on for any and all beer dinners that may come my way. North Pond's executive chef, Bruce Sherman, created a five-course dinner that showcased not only artisinal Midwestern foods, but the Three Floyds beers. I believe it was the Crispy Local Walleye with braised artichokes, pan-browned potatoes, veal jus and the deep amber Burnham Pilsener that made me a convert. Why, I asked North Pond's manager Amy Lewis, have the 95 million American beer drinkers been so slow to catch on to the really good beer thing? "Well, our beer tradition was interrupted by Prohibition, whereas in Europe and elsewhere it goes back centuries. But mainly I think it's how most of us were introduced to beer: When it's hot outside you toss down a couple -- not a lot of complexity there." Her recommendation: Relax with a really good beer and sip it -- just like wine. You'll discover a new world of complexity and flavor.

	Beer Primer Beer is at least 8,000 years old. There is a Sumerian clay tablet, c. 6,000 B.C., with a beer recipe on it. Taxes on beer are also about that old. Sumerians taxed their beers. Beer is made from malted barley (sometimes wheat and other grains), hops (flowers from the hops plant), yeast, and water. Sometimes fruit and spices are added. Most beer is less than five percent alcohol by volume, but some are higher. There are two main categories of beer, based on the two different types of yeast used in brewing: ale and lager. Ales are top-fermented beers. The yeast ferments at the top of the brew in warm temperatures (about 60°F.) Lagers are bottom-fermented beers. The yeast ferments from the bottom of the brew at cold temperatures (about 33°F.) Although beer is produced in every corner of the globe, most of it fits neatly into the following seven styles of beer: Pilsner (a golden lager); pale ale (amber ale); bock (strong, rich, malty, often dark lager); wheat beer (ale brewed from wheat and barley); porter (rich, reddish-brown ale); American lager (pale yellow, highly carbonated beer as made by big American breweries); stout (dark brown ale).

	Golden Rules Don't serve beer too cold. Between 45 and 55°F is a happy medium. Don't drink it from the bottle. A wide-mouthed glass lets you breathe in the aroma and bouquet. Make sure the glass is clean. No soap scum, please. It kills the foam. Rinse well with lukewarm water.