The Revelations of Blind Tastings
Last week, Patrick and I settled into what we modestly dubbed the Great Beervana Show Oregon Pilsner Taste-Off. It formed the subject of the current and future podcast—but it also gives me an opportunity to hype the wonders of blind tasting. If you’ve never done one, or don’t do them regularly, let me encourage you to schedule a session post haste. I can guarantee it will make for an entertaining evening. By way of explanation, let’s use the pilsner tasting as a case in point.
Tasting Pilsners
You can do blind tastings with any flight, but it’s common to choose beers of a similar type. The differences among them are more obvious when you’re comparing like beers. Pilsners, for example, while fairly flavor-intensive beers, may seem to the inattentive sipper all a bit samey. This is reflected in the language we use to describe them, which becomes repetitive almost immediately (how many times can you say “crisp,” “grainy,” and “spicy?”). Pilsners, too, describe a fairly narrow range. Most are made with a single malt and one or two of a small number of German and Czech hops. Pour one in a glass and hand it to a friend. Could you fool them into thinking it was a different brand? in most cases, without difficulty.
And yet, when you sit down to a flight of them with nothing but your senses to guide you, something magical happens. They suddenly seem wildly different. Patrick discovered acetaldehyde on his own in one of our beers, identifying a peculiar green apple note he couldn’t explain. In another beer, we debated whether a geranium note was appropriate for style. That turned out to be the Breakside, a pilsner I’ve had many times. I’d never noticed how floral it was until we sampled it amid a bunch of others that weren’t floral at all. (Disclosure: I loved it; Patrick did not.)
And then Urquell, which we could guess by visual inspection alone (it’s number eight above). It was thicker by half then every other beer on the table, very bitter, and of course inflected by that sweet, buttery note of diacetyl. I wrote recently about what a truly weird beer it is, and if ever you want a demonstration, do a blind tasting with other pilsners.
Humility and Appreciation
Blind tastings are not educational slogs, though. If you enjoy the taste of beer—and why else would you be reading this blog?—blind tastings offer an immersive feast for the senses. One becomes alive to subtle aspects of beer that we often overlook: comparative color and clarity, effervescence and head, texture. And, armed just with our noses, eyes, and tongues, our senses come alive to the experience, finding all kinds of flavors and aromas we miss even when paying close attention in normal drinking sessions. That’s because a flight of beers introduces the element of comparison, so things like intensity, harmony, and character are much more obvious. It allows us to appreciate the craft in a deeper way, to notice a brewer’s sly or clever touch that brings distinction and interest. It’s hard not to do a blind tasting with good beers and not experience delight at these discoveries.
I hope I can change your mind, Michael.
One also finds humility in the exercise. Of the eighteen beers we sampled, I knew half pretty well and several very well. In some cases I was on the right track, but in others I was thrown off. Breakside’s pilsner, as an example, seemed completely new to me. I’d had to buy a six-pack of Von Ebert and had a couple the night before the tasting. It is characterized by a distinctive herbal hop I thought I would recognize instantly. It did not. I looked for it in each of the eighteen beers and never found it—even when I was tasting it. (It was number 4.)
That’s a good thing. It’s valuable to be exposed to the uncomfortable truth that much of what we think we “know” about a beer’s flavor is just a story we tell ourselves. It’s enlightening to be confronted with the actual flavors of beers and realize you didn’t know as much as you thought. I have found that insight to be valuable outside of tastings, as I try to experience the actual flavors of beer nakedly, without adding too much story on the back end. (I fail, but I’m aware of the dynamic.)
Simple Tastings
Blind tastings are easy. You just need a steward who’s willing to pour them into glasses and bring them out. We had plastic glasses from courses I’ve taught in appreciation, but you can just as easily use glasses you have at home. Grab a piece of paper and draw circles, marking them with a number that corresponds to a list the steward keeps. It’s as easy as that.
I’ll leave you with our tasting, which includes the two prelim rounds. (In comments I’ll leave a list of all the beers by number we tasted them.) Next week we’ll have the exciting conclusion, as the six finalists are reduced to a top three—and of course a grand champeen. Give it a listen and if you want to play at home, go grab some pilsners and do your own tasting!