The old adage regarding first impressions and snap reactions goes, “Don’t judge a book by its cover”. The aforementioned phrase applies to many types of advertisements, but a personal experience this past weekend gives me a concrete example of how easily the common wisdom can be excepted (like most old sayings).
But my dealings were not with a book; instead, I was tricked by a beer label.
Here’s a bottle of Spring Heat Spiced Wheat I purchased Friday night in anticipation of good times with friends, which I hoped to accompany by what looked like a quality pre-summer wheat beer.
Having never heard or seen this particular ale before, the label advertised what appeared to be marks of a good wheat beer. Here’s a close-up photo showing more label detail.
Note the qualifiers: the partially chopped-off words say “Limited Edition,” “Seasonal Brew,” and “Belgian-Style Wheat Ale.” Also visible in the lower-right corner is “Ale brewed with Spices.” None of these descriptions details a particularly full beer, but none of them are the usual “Brewed with Quality Hops and Barley” yadda-yadda on the outside of a Budweiser either, leading me to believe that this could be a decent wheat beer from a craft brewery.
The (literally) orange-headed fellow on the label also presumes some competance on the part of the brewery: wheat ales, due to the esthers released by the particular yeast needed to work with the wheat grain during fermentation, typically give off citrusy scents. And the citrus-man is standing in his natural habitat, a ripe field of wheat, which is, uh, worth a point or two on the brew-o-meter.
While the main front label of the bottle gives the impression of quality, the neck’s label purports even more premises towards a welcome conclusion: part of the neck’s label reads, “Brewed with Orange, Lemon & Lime Peels and Coriander.” Coriander is a typical ingredient in beer and is said by homebrewers and craft brewers alike to have many beneficial effects in beer, and the additional of citrus peel could be added with the intent to mesh the citrus yeast esthers with actual citrus flavoring in the ale.
All of those clues put together led me to think that Spring Heat Spiced Wheat ale was something new from a craft brewery and was worth a try. I even put back a six-pack of Bell’s Two-Hearted Ale, a great IPA.
But in my excitement for the bottle detailing, I forgot to check up on the most important detail of all: the brewery.
Later Friday evening a pal and myself both had ourselves a bottle of the Spiced Wheat. Personally speaking, I didn’t care for it at all. The color of the beer was a pleasant and summery bright yellow with a decent foam head, but the beer itself was lacking greatly compared to other wheat beers I’ve enjoyed (like
Bell’s Oberon). The citrus was minimal, and the backbone of the drink had a bitter-sweet taste that was familiar but unpleasant.
The first Spiced Wheat that evening was also the last for the evening. Based on that first taste test I don’t intend to buy anymore of it either; once this first six-pack was exhausted, that would be the end of the Spiced Wheat — not a very good start for the brewery of this ale, whoever it was.
It wasn’t until today that I noticed the brewery’s name on the upper-left side of the front label, somewhat innocuously placed and surrounding by the much more interesting orange-fellow and the “Belgian-Style” descriptions.
Anheuser-Busch is the company that, of course, makes the terribly mediocre Budweiser, Michelob and Busch beers, not to mention the likes of the quality-poor Natural Light and a series of “Dry,” “Light” and “Ice” beers, all specially created with less taste to appeal to the typical the American palate. Gahh, I’d bought an Anheuser-Busch beer! Curses and damnation!
Looking back to the first tasting of Spring Heat with a new perspective, my low satisfaction with the initial test made much more sense: I realized that the familiar but bad taste in the structure of the wheat beer tasted a whole lot like Budweiser.
And when you start with Bud, it doesn’t matter how much lemon peel you add — the beer will still taste like bad lager. Additionally, Spring Heat, being an ale, proves that Anheuser-Busch doesn’t make solely mediocre lagers, but that they can produce a variety of sub-standard brews in different styles.
So, lesson learned. Trying out Spring Heat without knowledge of the brewery unwittingly created a blind taste test. The results of the surprise test didn’t produce evidence of any bias on my part, having not known Anheuser-Busch was behind Spring Heat: it was a bad beer no matter what who was on the label. Meanwhile, A-B’s streak of sub-standard brewery continues, even into the faux-craft brewery market. Give them credit for trying, but the Busch boys will have to deviate from their usual formula a little (or a lot) more to get my patronage.
The Beer Advocate folks
think the beer is decent, though. If the idea of Blue Moon mixed with Budweiser sounds appealing, give Spiced Heat a try.