What If They'd Called it Genny Present Use Ale?

The magazine I used to write for, All About Beer, vanished following bankruptcy. To preserve some of the content I've contributed over the years, I'm reposting some of my favorite pieces here. This article was published in Volume 38, Issue 3 of the magazine on July 1, 2017. This particular post was inspired by the recent examination of cream ale I wrote for Craft Beer and Brewing.

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Select a type of beer and think about which one started or revived a tradition—Pilsner Urquell, Rodenbach, Fuller’s ESB. These are your classics. We tend to discount American beers made in large plants and sold in cans and not unreasonably; most tend to be targeted at the mass audience or are pallid imitations of more interesting lagers brewed elsewhere. But cream ale is an American style, one of the few from before Prohibition. What else but an older American brewery would be making the classic?

Cream ales are a quintessential American invention—part reinterpretation, part local flavor and part hustle and gloss. Before the 19th century, North America was ale country. Lagers weren’t common until Bavarians arrived and started setting up breweries to make them. From the middle of that century to the end, the country went through a wholesale shift as drinkers flocked to lagers. Ale breweries, trying to forestall obsolescence, responded by making beers that looked and tasted a lot like them.

In The American Handy-book of the Brewing, Malting and Auxiliary Trades by Robert Wahl and Max Henius, we find a catalog of the beers being made around the turn of the 20th century. Of these lagerlike ales, they write, “Cream, lively, or present use ale takes the place of English mild ale, and more recently the American ale brewers are equipping their plants with refrigerating machines to brew a beer—brilliant or sparkling ale—that combines the property of a lager beer and ale; i.e. a sparkling, brilliant beer with an ale taste and aroma.” This was achieved by the use of corn or sugar in the grist (but usually corn), warm fermentation and a period of lagering. The “cream” part? It appears to be pure marketing spin (and a wise shift that sounds a lot more inviting than “present use ale”).

Genny Cream Ale does not date to that period; the current version was originally brewed by Clarence Geminn in 1960 (an earlier beer, Light Cream Ale, was brewed in the 1940s, but little is known about it). Genesee made an ale called 12 Horse that didn’t sell well, and the brewery was looking for something to replace it. And, whether Geminn consulted Wahl and Henius or not, he created a beer very much like the one they describe. It uses corn and the brewery’s English ale strain, and has the smoothness of a lager. Wahl and Henius do not mention sweetness, but Geminn tucked in a healthy dose, which does help evoke a sense of creaminess.

For my money, though, it’s a more subtle note that elevates Genesee above other light, pale beers. It’s fermented a bit cooler than other ales for smoothness, but the yeast gives it unmistakable character. (Genesee employs a somewhat secretive technique to achieve the lager/ale hybrid character, and I describe it in my Craft Beer and Brewing piece.)

Geminn’s son Gary, who came to Genesee shortly after Cream’s debut, points to the yeast’s English lineage as a big part of the character. “We had [what we] considered was a true ale yeast brought over from England. That’s where our ale … got its roots.” You can detect it immediately in the nose. The aroma reminds me of a London pub, and even though the flavors that follow—toasty notes, a hint of corn and that honeylike sweetness—are unlike an English bitter, the impression persists. Another unusual element, and a further extension of the creaminess, is a mouthfeel that reminds me of paraffin. Finally, Geminn gave Cream a beautiful golden color, deeper and more seductive than light lagers.

In the late 1800s, cream ales wouldn’t have fooled anyone looking for a lager. With greater ability to manipulate beers, breweries can today get very lagerlike character from ale yeast. What’s wonderful about Genny is that is so clearly not a lager; it was never intended to replace them. This may seem a minor achievement now, but in 1960, consolidation was scrubbing oddball beers from the market. There is something subversive about Cream Ale’s refusal to get with the program.

There are other elements that define a classic. Such a beer must also exhibit character and excellence; it must hew to traditional techniques. It must stand out in a crowd and impress a drinker.

Genesee’s famous ale is too old and too well-known for most people to taste it except through the filter of familiarity and nostalgia. But leave aside the cans and the convenience stores and taste it anew—and you’ll find a beer of character that is really unusual and unique. In all the ways we measure a classic, Genny Cream fits the bill.