Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout

Today we think of beer as being comprised of four main ingredients: barley, hops, water, and yeast.  This is partly because, dating back to the 1500s, brewers in Bavaria and Bohemia were prevented by law from making beer with anything else.  It was precisely these Bavarian and Bohemian beers that exploded in the 19th and 20th centuries and now dominate the world beer market (I also touched on this subject in the Pilsner Urquell post below).  So our perception of what makes "beer" is colored to some extent by the dominant beer style of our lifetime.  But the concept of a four-ingredient beer is actually a relatively recent trend.  For most of its history, in most parts of the world, beer was brewed by soaking a mixture of barley plus whatever grain you had available in water, tossing in some fruit, vegetables, or spices for flavor, and then letting bacteria infect the mixture and eventually ferment it into alcohol.  I'll admit that sounds pretty gross, but we do have relics of this practice today in the form of certain wheat beers, rye beers, fruit beers, and many others.

Oats, for example, were commonly used to make beer from the Middle Ages onward, particularly in England, Scotland, and Scandinavia.  A derivative of this tradition has survived to modern times in the form of oatmeal stout.

Oatmeal stout is exactly what it sounds like: a stout beer brewed with oats.  You're no doubt familiar with the dark, heavy, and heavenly brew known as stout.  The world's most famous stout, Guinness, is of course from Ireland, but the stout style was actually born in London during the 1700s as a stronger version of a dark beer called porter.  In the parlance of the times, this was called "stout porter" and eventually just "stout."  Dark beers like stout and porter were all the rage in England during the late 1700s, and before long English brewers were adding oats to the mix to create a beer they called "oatmeal stout."

The popularity of oatmeal stout waned over the next century, however, as dark, heavy beers fell out of favor in Europe during the 1800s.  But the 1890s saw a renewed interest in oat-based beers.  Oatmeal stout, which was considered a healthy and restorative beverage by the medical experts of the day, was especially recommended for nursing mothers.  Of course, this was during an era in which cocaine was prescribed to children as a toothache remedy...so I'd take that advice with a grain of salt.  The oatmeal stout fad was short-lived, and by the start of World War I in 1914 the style was practically extinct.

Oatmeal stout nearly faded into Bolivian, as Mike Tyson would say.  But in the late 1970s and early 1980s beer enthusiasts in Britain, fed up with mass-produced continental and American lagers, spearheaded a revival of traditional English ale styles.  Oatmeal stout became one of the beneficiaries of this trend.  One of the first breweries to jump on the oatmeal stout bandwagon was a historic family-owned brewery in Yorkshire named for its founder: Samuel Smith.

Established in the village of Tadcaster in 1758, Samuel Smith is oldest brewery in Yorkshire and currently one of the most popular breweries of northern England.  The brewery produces their oatmeal stout using the Yorkshire Square method, a rare brewing technique that dates to the 1700s .  A Yorkshire Square is a shallow stone chamber, approximately 6 x 6 ft. in size, used for fermenting beer.  A wooden deck is positioned above the chamber and used as a sort of filter.  As fermentation progresses, a thick layer of yeast builds up on the surface of the beer.  The yeasty sediment then attaches to the wooden deck rather than settling back into the beer.  The finished brew is full-flavored and fully fermented without having harsh yeast bite.

Like most beers of its type, Samuel Smith Oatmeal Stout is opaque and black with a thick creamy head.  The dark roasted malt contributes a rich coffee-like flavor which is complemented rather than overpowered by the taste of oatmeal.  As is traditional for Old World ales, there is almost no hop flavor and very low hop bitterness.  The texture is somewhat smoother than you might expect and, as far as heavy beers go, it is surprisingly very drinkable.  It is not particularly alcoholic, containing 5% ABV (about the same as a Budweiser).  The end result is a creamy, milk-chocolatey brew that is comparable to other great stouts while retaining its own unique character.

The presentation of Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout matches the traditional flavor of the brew.  It comes in an old-school bottle adorned with a white rose - a badge of allegiance to the House of York.  Indeed, both the beer and the packaging recall the days of the Wars of the Roses, when beers were variable products that reflected the unique characteristics of their hometowns.  But it also has a satisfying, drinkable character that meshes well into the modern fascination with refined craft brews.  As a bridge between these disparate eras, and a fine brew in its own right, Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout deserves a spot in the pantheon of British classic beers.

Tsingtao Beer

In high school we had to read a short story by Jorge Luis Borges called "The Garden of Forking Paths."  It's about a Chinese scholar living in England during World War I and working as a spy for the German Army.  It's a fantastic short story, and if you're interested in reading it the full text can be found here.  The story has absolutely nothing to do with beer, except that at the beginning the narrator implies that he became involved with German intelligence while teaching English at a German school in Tsingtao, China.  I mention this only because it illustrates the link between the city of Tsingtao and the brewing tradition of Germany.  It was from this marriage that one of the best-selling beers in the world was born.

The city of Tsingtao, which is now properly spelled Qingdao, lies on the Yellow Sea in China.  In 1898 German sailors seized the small fishing village as part of an effort to prevent Chinese military build-up around Jiaozhou Bay.  After a period of negotiation, the German Empire obtained a 99-year lease on Jiaozhou Bay from China (much like the British did for Hong Kong around the same time).  Qingdao then became the German administrative capital of the concession.  Its primary importance to the Germans was as a military base: the German Navy's Far East Squadron and a battalion of marines were headquartered at the Qingdao port.  To provide an infrastructure for the new settlers, the Germans "westernized" the village by building roads, sewers, schools...and breweries.

Among these was the Germania Brewery, which opened its doors in 1903.  It was founded to produce German pilsner beers for the colonists who wanted a taste of their homeland on the other side of the world.  After little more than a decade, however, the Germania Brewery would find itself at the epicenter of massive political and social instability.

Because of its naval significance to Germany, Qingdao was targeted by the British at the outset of World War I.  In November 1914 the city fell after an 8-day siege by combined British and Japanese forces (Japan was a British ally at the time).  The Japanese Army would continue to occupy Qingdao from its capture until 1922.  Meanwhile, in 1916 the Germania Brewery was sold to the Dai-Nippon Brewing Company, the common ancestor of many Japanese breweries including Sapporo and Asahi.  It was during this period that the brewery re-branded itself as Tsingtao.  In 1938 the city of Qingdao was re-occupied by Japan during its invasion of the Chinese coast.

Throughout this turmoil, the Tsingtao Brewery remained under Japanese ownership from its purchase in 1916 until Japanese troops were finally expelled from China at the close of World War II in 1945.  Shortly thereafter, the brewing game in China was once again turned on its head by the communist revolution of 1949.   The company was then a state-owned corporation of the People's Republic of China from 1949 until privatization in the 1990s.  Anheuser-Busch owned a large stake in the company throughout most of the 1990s and 2000s, but sold their shares in 2009 after their merger with global beverage giant InBev.  Tsingtao is currently owned by the Japanese brewery Asahi as well as private Chinese interests.

Unlike some of the other beers featured in this blog, Tsingtao is NOT popular among the beer snob community.  I think part of this distaste can be attributed to the old adage that familiarity breeds contempt.  The Tsingtao Brewery accounts for about 80% of all beer exported from China, and Tsingtao has been exporting its beer to the United States since 1972 (the same year that Nixon visited China).  It's the best known Asian beer in our country by a wide margin and is served at pretty much any Chinese restaurant with a liquor license.

I guess some people also see Tsingtao as interchangeable with other light Asian lagers like Kirin, Asahi, Sapporo, and Singha.  But I would argue that Tsingtao stands alone as a unique, sophisticated brew in its own right.  It's one of those products whose whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  It has a distinctive hoppy flavor that recalls its heritage as a German pilsner.  It has a deep golden color and slightly grainy aftertaste.  It is brewed from a mixture of malted barley and rice, which gives it the signature dry finish of many Asian beers.  Put together, these components form an extremely drinkable lager that is a great complement for any meal...and I'm not just talking about Chinese food.  Crack open an ice-cold Tsingtao the next time you grill a steak or salmon and you'll see what I mean.

There's a lot to be said for a brewery  founded in China by German immigrants in the days before commercial air travel or even wireless radio, which has survived prolonged occupation by a foreign power, communist rule, and American ownership, and which has ultimately emerged as a unique brand with massive name recognition both domestically and internationally.  Taking a page from "The Garden of Forking Paths", out of all the futures that have been possible for the Tsingtao Brewery since 1903, this one is both extraordinary and well-deserved.

Salvator Doppelbock

The city of Munich, in Bavaria, Germany, is home to a great number of the world's classic beers.  I mentioned last week that it's difficult to find a good starting point when it comes to describing Belgian beers.  It's the same with beers from Munich, which is the cradle of so many of the brews that inspired this blog.  But I wanted to start off with one of Munich's finest and most original offerings: Salvator Doppelbock.  Salvator is a product of the Paulaner Brewery, which was established in 1634 by a cloister of Minim friars in Munich.  The brewery was named after St. Francis of Paola, the founder of the Order of Minims.  It is just one of many breweries in Munich that measure their age in centuries rather than years (and one of several that trace their origins to a religious order).

Many beer drinkers are familiar with bock, the strong, dark lager traditionally brewed in Germany to commemorate the beginning of spring.  There are hundreds of bocks currently produced throughout Germany and the world, of which Shiner Bock is probably the best known example here in these United States (we'll dive into the bock style in later posts - it's one of my personal favorite beers ).  The term Doppelbock, German for "double bock," was coined by the Paulaner Brewery in order to indicate Salvator's high alcohol content relative to regular bock.  But this doesn't mean that Salvator Doppelbock was created just as a stronger version of your average bock.  It has its own lineage that dates to a time when beer was more than just an awesome social beverage.

Munich is now primarily known for producing light, flavorful lagers like like Spaten and Lowenbrau.  But dark beers are at the heart of Munich's brewing tradition.  From the very founding of the Paulaner Brewery in the 17th century, the Minims brewed a strong and malty beer that was intended to provide sustenance to the monks during the Lenten fast.  Legend holds that this brew, which was considered an acceptable substitute for bread, was nicknamed salvator - Latin for "savior" - thanks to its life-sustaining qualities.

Of course, the monks weren't just sitting around chugging high-alcohol beer on an empty stomach.  The beer they brewed in those days was not fully fermented like the beers of today are, which means their brew was likely much sweeter and much less alcoholic than the current version.  Over the next couple of centuries the introduction of new types of yeast and improvement of lagering techniques (fermenting and storing beer at cold temperatures) refined Salvator into a beer that was not only rich and dark but also smooth and alcoholic.  By the 1890s the beer had become extremely popular as a springtime festival beer, and was served on the same occasions where bocks were traditionally enjoyed.  Salvator and its many imitators therefore called themselves doppel bock, both as a reference to their higher alcohol content and a boast of their superiority.

True to its heritage, Paulaner still releases its yearly batch of Salvator in the early spring - right around the beginning of Lent.  I couldn't in good conscience recommend an all-beer diet for 46 days, but this guy - who was inspired by the 17th-century monks of Paulaner - was recently able to pull it off.

Salvator is what you might call a beer drinker's beer. It has an assertive malty flavor that comes from a mixture of light and dark German malted barley.  This blend of malts render a brew that is coppery-brown with a slight ruby tinge and an off-white head.  Take a drink of it and you can see how it got its reputation as a "liquid bread": this rich and filling brew is a meal in and of itself.  The finished product clocks in at around 7.5% ABV, and the alcohol is certainly evident in the taste of the beer, underlying the richness of the malt.  But after the initial burst of malt and alcohol the aftertaste of this beer is extremely smooth; you get a satisfying finish with just a faint residue of floral German hops.  Overall, it is richer, more intense, and more complex than a standard bock.  But if you like one I'm pretty sure you'll like the other.

After the success of Salvator in the late 19th century, several breweries in Germany began producing their own versions of doppelbock.  Paulaner's Salvator was so synonymous with the style that other breweries gave their own doppelbocks names that end in "-ator" in order to identify them as disciples of the original.  I can highly recommend Ayinger Celebrator and Spaten Optimator, both of which are flavorful brews that also hail from Bavaria.  The doppelbock tradition is also alive and well in the world of American microbrews.  Bell's Consecrator is an American double bock that, in my opinion, rivals the alcoholic-yet-smooth flavor and malty richness of Salvator.  But if you're looking for an introduction to the doppelbock style you can't do better than the world's original, a shining example of the Munich brewing tradition.

Delirium Tremens

Belgium is considered by many to be the spiritual heart of the brewing world, and Belgian beers will certainly feature prominently in the future of this blog.  For a country the size of Maryland, Belgium has produced an inordinate number of the most unique and sublime beers on the planet.  You may know some of them: Trappist ale, oud bruin, lambic - to name a few.  These are timeless elixirs, crafted at the blurred intersection of faith, science, and history.  They have pedigrees that stretch to the Middle Ages and beyond.  They are the subject of books and the vice of kings.

We'll get to those beers in later posts, but first I wanted to write about a Belgian beer with its own peculiar heritage that doesn't fit the traditional image of monks, abbeys, and age-old recipes.  It has a distinctive style, one that seamlessly blends elements of medieval brewing into modern beer culture.  It also has - for my money - the coolest name of any beer out there: Delirium Tremens.

Delirium Tremens is an infant compared to other Belgian beers: as a brand, it has only been around since 1989.  But the history of this brew really dates to 1906 when a Belgian restaurateur named Leon Huyghe purchased the decrepit Appelhoek Brewery in Melle, East Flanders.  Huyghe owned a popular chain of street cafes and his goal was to establish an in-house brewery that would supply all of his restaurants with a proprietary brand of beer.  Huyghe was a beer fanatic and he indulged his passion on the grandest scale possible.  Rather than focus on brewing one or two signature beers, he wanted to create his own versions of all the Belgian classics he could find.  At one point, his brewery produced over 60 beers.  Like many craft brewers of today, he was interested in reviving forgotten styles and recreating specialty brews for the public at large.

His method of throwing everything against the wall and seeing what stuck worked out just fine: the brewery flourished and has remained in the Huyghe family since its opening.  By the 1940s the Huyghe Brewery had narrowed its focus to brewing fine pilsner-style lagers.  In 1985, however, the company decided to shift gears and rededicate their energy towards creating high-alcohol ales.  In 1989, the brewery released its most innovative brew yet: a strong pale ale brewed according to Belgian tradition and measuring 8.5% alcohol by volume...and so Delirium Tremens was born.

Delirium was marketed with an eye to distribution in the United States and Canada at a time when interest in European beers was booming in the New World.  However, the popular legend goes that Delirium was originally banned in North America due to its high alcohol content as well as its name, which is an explicit reference to alcoholism.  For the longest time I thought that "Delirium Tremens" was Dutch or something for "tremendously delirious."  But my fiancee has since informed me that delirium tremens, a Latin phrase meaning "trembling madness," is a medical term for acute seizures caused by alcohol withdrawal (you might know it as the "DTs" or "whiskey shakes").  The pink elephant logo on the bottle is a playful allusion to the hallucinations that sufferers of delirium tremens sometimes experience.

Delirium is pale and hazy with a thick white head.  It's hard to describe the unique flavor of Delirium Tremens, but overall I'd say it gives you the signature taste of the classic Belgian ale - strong, complex, and alcoholic - combined with the smoothness and drinkability of a light lager.  True to Belgian tradition, Delirium Tremens derives much of its character from a complex blend of yeast.  Three different kinds of yeast are added to the brew throughout the fermentation process, giving it a full texture, distinctive spicy flavor, and high alcohol content.  But it doesn't have the same overwhelming yeast character as other Belgian ales, which can often produce tangy and/or fruity flavors in the beer.  Instead, the rich yeast flavor is balanced by the smoothness of the pale malt, which makes for a light brew that is far more refreshing than it looks.  You'll get some good hop flavor but no aggressive bitterness.  It has a dry, champagne-like finish.  Bottles of Delirium Tremens are "bottle conditioned," meaning active yeast is left in the beer in order to provide carbonation after the bottle has been sealed.  Thanks to bottle conditioning, the flavor of the beer will change over time - much like a bottle of wine.

Delerium Tremens is also remarkable for the volume of critical acclaim it has earned in its young life, including winning the title of "World's Best Beer" at the 1998 World Beer Championship.  Beer expert Stuart Kallen ranked Delirium Tremens the world's number one overall brew in his 1999 book The 50 Greatest Beers in the World.  However, it bears mentioning that BeerAdvocate, which assigns scores based on user ratings, does not include Delirium Tremens among its top 100 overall beers.  It ranks only 20th in their "Belgian Strong Pale Ale" category.

As beer goes, Delirium isn't cheap.  You can get it in a 750 ml bottle for about $10-12, or a four-pack of 11 oz bottles for $15 or so.  You'll recognize it by its opaque painted bottle and distinctive label, which looks like something I would have made using ClipArt and Microsoft Paint circa 1993.  In addition to the aforementioned pink elephants there are Asian dragons and strutting crocodiles that appear to be wearing captains' hats.  The date "1654" also appears on the label; this is a reference to the founding of the old Appelhoek Brewery in that year.

Delirium is also available on draft at many bars, particularly those that specialize in Belgian beers.  If you order it at a bar it will probably be served to you in a small rounded snifter glass.  I know they have their reasons for serving it this way, but it always strikes me as a clever ploy to give you less beer for more money.  It's a beer, for crying out loud.  Just put it in a pint glass and sling it down the bar like an Old West saloon.  Keep 'em coming, barkeep!

Anchor Steam

The rise of the American microbrew over the last 20-odd years has successfully popularized beer styles that were previously unknown and/or unavailable in the U.S.  European classics like Marzen, Saison, and Kolsch are all making waves in the American beer market despite being relatively recent introductions.  Our microbreweries have also managed to revive many other European beer styles that were once on the verge of extinction in their home countries.  Beers in this category include Imperial Stout, Vienna Lager, and India Pale Ale, all of which have earned a second life here in the colonies.

Consider, for instance, the case of the India Pale Ale or IPA.  Most of you have probably heard the story already: in the early 1800s, British expatriates living in India wanted familiar British pale ales shipped to them from home.  At the time this involved a voyage of anywhere from six months to a year depending on the season and the weather.  To help preserve the beer for the trip English brewers would brew it to a higher alcoholic strength than normal and pack it full of extra hops.  The resulting brew was called India Pale Ale to distinguish it from standard domestic pale ales.  Improved transportation options, along with other innovations like pasteurization and airtight glass bottles, rendered this practice obsolete during the 20th century.  While many English breweries still label their product "IPA" (such as Greene King IPA from Suffolk), these are really ordinary bitters that don't have much in common with their strong, hoppy namesakes.  Today the extra-hoppy  IPA style (as we know it) is virtually non-existent in Britain.  However, it has become a staple of American microbreweries and a favorite of their patrons - who tend to appreciate aggressive hop flavor and high alcohol content.  Thanks to the efforts of craft brewers, there are currently hundreds of  IPAs available throughout the U.S. (none of which, to my knowledge, are earmarked for a year-long sea voyage to the subcontinent).

Whether by copying European brews or resuscitating forgotten styles, American microbreweries tend to identify themselves with one or more European brewing traditions - usually English, German, or Belgian.  Meanwhile, when people think of "American" beer, the examples that come to mind are your Miller Lites, Budweisers, High Lives, and what have you.  Now, I'm really not trying to hate on those brews - I personally love an ice-cold Miller Lite - but the situation does lead to an interesting question: other than those mass-produced lagers, is there a truly unique American beer style out there?  You can probably see where I'm going with this: the answer is yes.  In the old days it was known as "steam beer."  It lives on to this day in the form of a beer you may know as Anchor Steam.

When gold prospectors poured into California during the mid-1800s, entrepreneurs of all stripes were quick to follow.  Breweries, along with other businesses,  popped up rapidly in California in the 1850s and 1860s.  Like many American brewers of the day, the brewers who came to California to ply their trade were mostly German immigrants who wanted to open German-style lager breweries.  But they encountered a problem that was unknown in other brewing centers like Milwaukee, St. Louis, or Philadelphia: there was no ice available in California.  This meant that the newly-minted Californians were unable to cool their beer down to temperatures suitable for lager fermentation (i.e. around 50 degrees).  So the brewers just pitched their old-school lager yeast into warm beer and hoped for the best.  The beers created using lager yeast at warm temperature became generally known as "steam beer."   The exact origins of this name are uncertain, but it was probably related to unusually high levels of carbonation.  Fermentation tends to be far more vigorous at warm temperatures, creating high levels of carbon dioxide in the process.  When fermentation was complete and the brewers tapped their casks, the carbonation would then "steam" out of the vessel like freshly poured champagne

Of course, no idea is 100% original.  Breweries had certainly tried brewing lager beers at warm temperatures before.  At that time there was even a popular type of ale in Germany called dampfbier - literally, "steam beer" - and we can only assume that some of the German immigrants to California in those days were familiar with the style.  But the California steam breweries introduced techniques that really had no parallel in the Old Country.  For instance, steam breweries poured their fresh product into wide, shallow wooden vats that were open to the air.  This was opposed to the traditional method of using tall, sealed casks.  The vats were designed so that the cool night breezes from the Pacific would carry off as much heat as possible from the surface of the liquid.  The open fermenting vats would have also allowed all kinds of bacteria and wild yeast to infest the beer while it fermented, thereby making the taste and quality of steam beer extremely variable.  At the turn of the century, steam beer was considered a working-class beverage that was cheap to produce and probably fairly low in alcohol.   Perhaps as a result of these factors, there was never much of a market for steam beer outside the West Coast.  Most of the steam beer breweries shut their doors during Prohibition in the early 20th century, never to open again.

Which brings us to the Anchor.  Anchor Steam certainly wasn't the first steam beer ever created, but it owns the distinction of being the only authentic example of the style to survive into modern times.  The Anchor Brewery opened in San Francisco in 1896 and has produced steam beer ever since.  It has survived Prohibition, earthquakes, two brewery fires, and was almost shut down for good in the 1950s due to poor sales.  Anchor Steam is certainly a one-of-a-kind beer that would never be mistaken for a European lager or ale.  It's a golden-amber color with a strong head and sharply bitter aftertaste.  It has a complex flavor that blends toasty malt with aggressive, earthy hops and the fruity notes produced by warm fermentation.  Perhaps the thing I love most about Anchor Steam is that it really is a tangible, drinkable artifact of pre-Prohibition beer culture.  We may not know much about the myriad other steam beers which have long since gone extinct, but we can always drink an Anchor Steam and remember a unique time and place in our country's history.

Anchor Steam is proud of its heritage and has even taken the liberty of trademarking the name "steam beer."  To avoid litigation, the brewing community now recognizes other beers of the same style as "California common beer."  While the style is not as common as its name may suggest, there are a few breweries besides Anchor that produce a steam-style beer; a couple examples you might come across are Flying Dog Old Scratch and Old Dominion Victory Amber.  California common is also very popular among the homebrewing community since it allows one to brew a "lager-like" beer without going to the trouble of cold fermentation and actual lagering.

We'll never know whether Anchor Steam was truly typical of other steam beers of its day, but it is a great brew by any standard and a worthy testament to American ingenuity.

Pilsner Urquell

The brew that would eventually launch the most popular beer style on earth originated in 1842 in the Bohemian town of Plzen.  Now part of the modern-day Czech Republic, Bohemia at that time lay within the sprawling Austro-Hungarian Empire and Plzen was known by its German name of Pilsen.  A town brewer named Josef Groll created a light, clear beer using hops and barley grown in the surrounding countryside.  He combined these local products with a new strand of brewer's yeast imported from Germany.  This new type of yeast allowed beer to ferment at cool temperatures (50-60 degrees) producing clean, crisp, refreshing beers that stood in stark contrast to the dark, cloudy ales that were the standard brew of the day.  The yeast was known as lager yeast, after the practice of storing (or "lagering") the beers they produced for extended periods of time at cold temperatures.  Groll's new product, which was called Pilsner after its hometown, was a hit in the Bohemian capital of Prague and was soon exported to beer-crazy Germany.  German brewers, who had been busy developing their own unique lagers, were quick to imitate the bold, hoppy style of the Bohemian import.  Pilsner-style breweries soon started popping up throughout Germany.  However, the German brewers were conscientious in giving credit where credit was due.  Beer from Groll's brewery was known reverently as Pilsner urquell - "pilsner from the original source."

With the hundreds of imported lagers on the American market nowadays it's easy to overlook the original Pilsner.  But don't make the mistake of thinking that is Pilsner Urquell is just another expensive lager. Pilsner Urquell is, in fact, unique in just about ever way that a beer can be.  Let's take a look at its four main components: barley, hops, yeast, and water.

Alcohol is created when sugars are fermented by yeast.  The sugars in beer are derived from barley (sometimes with the help of "adjuncts" like corn sugar or rice).  To prepare it for brewing, the barley is soaked in water then rapidly dried - a process known as "malting."  The flavor, color, and texture of beer are largely dependent on the type of malted barley used to brew it.  Josef Groll's vision was to create a beer that was light, smooth, and exceedingly easy to drink.  To achieve this he dried the malt at the lowest temperature possible so that it wouldn't acquire a dark color or heavy, roasted flavor during the malting process.  Pilsner malt, as it is now known, is the lightest base malt commonly used by brewers and creates a beer that is light in color and body but retains a good, sweet malty flavor.  Even today, Pilsner Urquell still uses barley grown exclusively in either Bohemia (western Czech Republic) or Moravia (central Czech Republic).

Hops lend bitterness to beer in order to balance out the sweetness of the malt.  They can also impart unique flavors according to the specific type of hops that are used.  The strong hop character of Pilsner Urquell comes from a particular variety of Czech hops named Saaz.  Saaz is one of the so-called "noble" hops of Europe: the four varieties of hops which are considered acceptable for use in continental lagers and which are characterized by a soft, mellow bitterness and a delicious aroma.  Different hybrids of Saaz hops are now grown throughout the world, but Pilsner Urquell uses only native Czech-grown hops of the old noble variety.  Saaz gives the brew a distinctive flavor that is usually described as both floral and spicy.  This characteristic Saaz flavor and aroma is certainly evident in Pilsner Urquell from the first sip to the last swig.

Pilsner's consistently clean, dry finish is due to the particular lager yeast used to ferment it.  This type of yeast, known as the "Pilsner H" strain, is a direct descendant of the original yeast used to brew the first batch of Pilsner Urquell in 1842.  The brewery itself maintains that the strain was smuggled into Plzen by a runaway monk who had stolen it from his monastery.  That story obviously sounds made-up, but whatever its origins, Pilsner H is one of the world's foremost lager strains.  It's also widely available to homebrewers looking to create their own Bohemian-style pilsners.

Even the water used to brew Pilsner Urquell is unique.  The area around Plzen is renowned for its extremely soft water, meaning it has low concentrations of minerals such as calcium and magnesium.  Calcium occurs in the Plzen water source to the tune of about 7 parts per million (ppm).  Magnesium occurs in 2-8 ppm.  For the sake of comparison, the local water at the brewing mecca of Munich, in Germany, contains 70-80 ppm calcium and 18-19 ppm magnesium.  At Burton-on-Trent, the English city where Bass Ale is brewed, the water is especially hard: 260-350 ppm calcium,  24-60 ppm magnesium.  The exceptionally soft water used to brew Pilsner Urquell contributes to an ultra-smooth brew that is low in acidity.

The majority of beer brewed and consumed in the world is ultimately derived from the pilsner heritage.  Stella Artois (from Belgium), Kirin (Japan), Heineken (Netherlands), Pacifico Clara (Mexico), San Miguel (Philippines) and Miller Lite ("Great Pilsner Taste," as the label proclaims) are all examples of pilsner beers brewed worldwide.  As for the original, you certainly don't need my help to locate Pilsner Urquell.  The popularity of this brew has boomed over the last decade.  You can find bottles of it at pretty much any supermarket that sells beer; they even sell it at some gas stations here in North Carolina.  Kegs of Pilsner Urquell are also commonly available from beer distributors.  A few years ago I noticed that the original pilsner had been co-opted by the hipsters (along with its Belgian cousin Stella Artois), which probably contributed at least a little to its recent explosion in popularity. The hipster crowd seems to have since moved on to more ironic pastures (see: Pabst Blue Ribbon) but Pilsner Urquell is still one of the more popular premium imports in the country.

A purist would tell you that pilsner is just one specific type of lager within the greater lager family.  In everyday American usage, though, the term "pilsner" has become more or less synonymous with "lager."   Pilsners really are the most popular beers worldwide, and we have Pilsner Urquell, the one and only original source, to thank for that.