Adnams Oyster

American microbreweries have been very diligent at unearthing the rarest, most esoteric beer styles of Europe and recreating them in the Untied States.  For example, Vienna lager is a popular choice for American craft brewers and homebrewers alike....even though the style has been extinct in Vienna for a century.  Until recently I could think of at least one European beer style that hadn't been widely imported to the U.S.: oyster stout.  I say "until recently" because in the past year or so, this rare yet treasured dark brew has become one of the latest fads in the craft brew world.    

Oyster stout was born in the British Isles in the 1700s.  The pairing of stout and oysters arose from a combination of luck, timing, and convenience.  Oysters were a staple food in the taverns of coastal England during the 18th century.  They were cheap, delicious, and (at the time) abundant.  Around the same time, brewers in London, Dublin, and other cities began marketing a new type of beer known as stout porter.  Tavern owners started brewing and serving their own versions of this popular style. Patrons soon discovered that the stout beer happened to go excellently with a meal of oysters.  "Oyster stout" thus became a generalized name for the rich, homebrewed stout that was commonly served along with oysters at roadside taverns.

By the late 1800s and early 1900s, however, the oyster beds of England were dying out.  Oysters were no longer a cheap, readily-available bar snack. (But don't feel too bad for the tavern-going public: "fish and chips" became widely popular and easily obtainable during the late 1800s.)  The popularity of stout beer also waned during this time.  However, the once-popular "oyster stout" style lived on in some of the taverns England and her colonies.  During the early 1920s, in a shining display of British gastronomy, a few breweries in both England and New Zealand decided to cut out the middle man by simply brewing oysters into the beer itself.   


For a long time, I labored under the delusion that Adnams Oyster was brewed with its namesake bivalve.  However, like many modern oyster stout brewers, Adnams does not actually put oysters in its beer.  Instead, the "Oyster" designation simply salutes the tavern stouts of 18th century England while also suggesting an ideal food pairing.  But this is not to say that all modern oyster stouts are oyster-less.  In fact, many of the recent American versions of this style employ the classic technique of adding oysters to the boil.  Flying Dog, out of Maryland, recently released its Pearl Necklace Oyster Stout, which is brewed with local Rappahannock River oysters.  Both Harpoon and Dogfish Head have also issued limited-release "true" oyster stouts in the past year or two.  However, the consensus seems to be that these brews don't actually taste like oysters:  the molluscs disintegrate in the boil and add protein, which contributes to body and mouthfeel but not flavor.

In addition to (sometimes) the addition of oysters, oyster stouts can be generally distinguished from other stout beers by a few key traits.  First, they are very thick and very heavy ("chewy," as my friend Grant would say).  They tend to have a distinctively nutty flavor and a dark, coarse head.  Authentic oyster stouts are cask ales, in the classic British ale tradition.  As such, they are often unfiltered, lightly carbonated, and served at relatively warm temperatures.  They are are in the low-to-middle range of alcohol content -- around the same as a "draught" stout (like regular Guinness), but less than an "extra" stout, and much less than an "Imperial" stout.  Many oyster stouts (including Adnams Oyster) are seasonal brews, casked and sold only during the winter and spring.

Adnams Oyster is by no means the only fine English oyster stout on the market.  I'm willing to bet that the American editions are good too.  However, if you can get your hands on it, I highly recommend trying Adnams Oyster.  As I have probably mentioned somewhere in this blog, Adnams is my favorite English brewery.  (This is probably because my all-time favorite pub in England, the Castle Inn on Castle Street, Cambridge, is an Adnams joint.)

The brewery is located in Southwold, Suffolk, on the coast of eastern England.  The brewery was officially founded in 1872, when brothers George and Ernest Adnams purchased a run-down operation called the Sole Bay Brewery.  According to the folks at Adnams, people have been brewing on the Sole Bay site since the 1300s.  Adnams is committed to honoring its local heritage: Oyster is made with local East Anglian barley and Goldings hops from southeastern England.  Until six years ago, the brewery still made its deliveries to pubs in Southwold via a horse-drawn cart. The brewery currently offer a wide range of classic English ale styles, including an awesome bitter called Adnams Broadside.

Kirin Ichiban

Some of the classic beers featured in this blog have been brewed according to the same recipes for centuries; they were born in Medieval monasteries and celebrated in the palaces of the Renaissance.  Others have been winning awards at beer competitions since the 1700s.  Many of them, such as Samuel Smith's Oatmeal Stout, are still brewed using centuries-old equipment and techniques.  I love the stories of these ancient beers, and  I love the dedication it takes to remain true to your heritage despite years of war, famine, and fires.  But there's always room for new techniques and new classic beers.  Kirin Ichiban is a shining example of this principle.

The Kirin Brewery is currently located in Tokyo, Japan.  Kirin prides itself on being one of the oldest commercial breweries in Japan: it was originally founded in Yokohama in 1869 as the "Spring Valley Brewery."  Their flagship brew - a Pilsner-style lager called simply Kirin Beer - has been the best-selling beer in Japan continuously since 1888.  In 1990, they took it up a notch with the release of a premium version of Kirin Beer: Kirin Ichiban.

"Kirin" refers to a mythical Chinese creature with the head of a dragon, the body of a tiger, the scales of a fish, and the hooves of a horse; a depiction of this beast can be found on the bottle. "Ichiban" means "first" or "best."  On its surface, Kirin Ichiban looks like your typical Asian Pilsner: it is clear, golden yellow in color, and weighs in at about 5.5% ABV.  However, two unique characteristics set Kirin Ichiban  apart from the other great beers of the world.

The first distinctive feature of Kirin Ichiban is that it is an all-malt brew.  This means that 100% of the fermentable sugars used to make the beer are derived from malted barley.  In contrast, most mass-produced American and Asian lagers contain sugars from adjuncts like corn, rice, or sorghum in addition to malted barely.  Adjuncts like these are cheaper to use than barley.  Not only that, but they can also increase alcohol content without having any effect on the body or color of the brew.  The down side, of course, is that adjuncts detract from the fine malty beer taste that we all appreciate.


Globally speaking, all-malt beers are by no means rare: most fine German and Bohemian lagers, traditional English ales, and American craft brews are all-malt.  But it is very unusual to find a mass-produced North American or Asian lager brewed without the help of any cereal grains as adjuncts.  For example, Sapporo - another major Japanese beer brand - is made with rice and cornstarch as well as barely.  Same goes for Coors and Budweiser, for that matter.

The second distinctive feature involves the way the beer is rendered from the malt.  Kirin Ichiban is brewed using a unique process called Ichiban Shibori, or "first press."  It's so unique, in fact, that Kirin bills itself as the only brewery in the world to use this strategy.  Basically, all beer brewing starts with a process called "mashing."  This involves soaking malted barley in water at temperatures varying from about 150 to 160 degrees.  During this period, natural enzymes convert the starch of the barley into fermentable sugar.  Once conversion is complete, the water is run off -- bringing the sugars with it, and leaving behind the bitter husks of the grain.  More hot water is then poured over the grain to extract every last drop of malty goodness -- a procedure known as "sparging."   All of this liquid, which is known as "wort," is then boiled along with hops.  After boiling, yeast is added and the sugars from the mash are thus fermented into alcohol.

"First press" means that all of the wort used to brew the beer comes from the initial run-off from the mash -- i.e. none of the subsequent "sparge" water goes into the beer.  The idea is to use only the purest extract from the barley: wort derived from the sparge contain less of the good sugars, and more bitter tannins from the husks of the grain.  In theory, the "first press" technique creates a brew with more alcohol, a milder flavor, and a fuller body.

The theory seems to work out pretty well.  Kirin Ichiban is refreshing and full flavored.  It is a deep golden color, much like the Pilsners of Germany and the Czech Republic.  The smooth, bright taste is also reminiscent central European lagers.  This isn't surprising, given the fact that Ichiban is brewed using the same noble European hop varieties that put Pilsners on the map in the mid-1800s.   However, the beer finishes a little sweeter, with a little less hop flavor, than its Continental cousins.

Most sources seem to cite Kirin Ichiban as the best premium Asian lager available in the United States.  Objectively, that assessment is hard to argue with (although my personal favorite Japanese beer is Asahi Super Dry...but that's a story for another post).  With its smooth taste, yet malty backbone, Kirin Ichiban is a great beer to go along with a summer BBQ.  As the label says, it's "brewed for good times"!