Beer of the Year
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As 2020 draws to a close, let’s spend its waning moments talking about good things, pleasurable things, hopeful things. To cope with the year’s turbulence, I found myself turning to wholesome pursuits that brought joy and healing. Nina Simone, Curtis Mayfield, and Marvin Gaye did a lot of heavy lifting this year. Beer, too, was no small solace. Not so much for the alcohol, but the way a mouthful might, in one mood, comfort me with familiar flavors and memories, or in another, surprise me with new and unexpected scents and tastes.
For a lot of reasons, I covered far less malty terrain this year than usual. Crouched in homes much of the year is no way to explore and sample. The exponential growth in breweries makes it hard enough to keep abreast of new beers, but add a pandemic and it becomes hopeless. In my fragmented and haphazard drinking, however, I observed breweries bringing their A games. They made fewer beers this year, and perhaps that provided more focus for the ones they did brew. Or maybe brewers, in seeking their own healing, devoted themselves with special care to their mash tuns this year. Whatever it was, the beer I had was routinely excellent, a consistent level of quality I’ve never seen before. Scanning my memory, I’m at a loss to think of a single beer I didn’t like (although that Seedstock Horner Bier we tasted on the pod gets credit as being otherworldly in something other than a purely delicious fashion). This may have been a bad year overall, but man, the beer was sure good.
So as I wind up my pitch for the beer of the year, to which I have traditionally given my “Satori award,” I want to acknowledge that the very notion of “best” is unknowable. Instead, I’d like to offer a beer that didn’t just knock my socks off, but also acts as a very good metaphor for American brewing’s current moment.
Von Ebert Nothing Noble
The first I heard of Von Ebert’s Nothing Noble was when the GABF announced it was the year’s third-best American IPA. Patrick found a can for us to sample on our podcast roundup of the competition, and blow my socks off it did. A mostly-clear, somewhat amber IPA of a hearty 7.4%, it had the very modern nose of a beer with Nelson Sauvin, Galaxy, Idaho 7, and Mosaic. The scent rose from my glass like a curl of incense. Blindfolded, I’d have mistaken it for a hazy IPA.
And here’s why it’s such an appropriate beer for the moment. The divisions separating the various genres of IPA are breaking down. Nothing Noble smells like a hazy, but the taste is something slightly different. It’s definitely saturated with juiciness—I got orange, white wine grapes, and red fruit—but ends in a far more recognizable place, sappy, resinous, dank, and rindlike. The brewers did a great job with the body, creating a creaminess that at once enhances the fruitiness while softening the finish. The beer has some bitterness, but it’s soft and secondary.
This is exactly what I want in an IPA: a tour de force of hop intensity that harnesses all its elements—aroma, fruit flavors, and bitterness—packaging them together in a wholly integrated and pleasing experience. American IPAs have swung from being far too bitter to far too sweet and flabby, with brewers pushing the outer limits of a hop’s potential in different directions. Now it feels like we’ve entered an era of integration. IPAs are supposed to be a rush. Intensity is their calling card. But even within that framework, the best balance and integrate these elements.
Evolution has been the hallmark of the American beer industry (craft segment) for thirty years. All the experimentation with brewing processes and hop breeding have transformed how beers can taste. And, following successive waves of inquiry, taking us through eras of bitterness, aromatics, and juiciness, it seems like brewers have begun fitting all the pieces together. Nothing Noble is a perfect example of the elements in harmony. It’s the kind of IPA that satisfies me when I’m seeking a hop rush, delivering not just saturated juiciness, but the pleasing structure of bitterness. There were surely dozens of beers I might have chosen, but but for these reasons, Von Ebert’s Nothing Noble is my choice as beer of the year in 2020.