Tropical Milkshake IPA

There is a trend in the North American beer scene toward low-bitterness, hazy pale ales and IPAs, no doubt propelled forward by the success of the New England IPA. I can’t tell if people here in BC genuinely like these tropical fruit milkshakes masquerading as beer, or whether the style has somehow become a differentiator between craft beer and big beer. As for me, I’d prefer not drinking it. The problem is that it cannot be avoided: it is literally impossible to tell off a menu if the beer will be bright and crisp, or resemble milky orange juice.

The cause of this spectacle of complaining is that I spend a considerable amount of money on beer. I like beer. I like brewing beer and I like drinking beer. I also like my beer clean, clear, and crisp. Lately I’ve been finding myself unwittingly spending money on beer I’d rather not drink. So when I look at the pale ale and IPA sections of a beer menu, and I know that somewhere between 50 and 100 percent are milky and cloudy, a feeling of consternation sets in. To avoid this feeling and to avoid playing twenty questions with the server, I’ve found myself avoiding those styles altogether.

Experience has taught me that I’m no special snowflake, so I’m confident others share similar opinions. There are seemingly straight forward solutions to this crisis, the most obvious being appropriate labelling. If both breweries and public houses were to proudly market their low bitterness and hazy beers as “Northeast” IPA or pale ale, consumers would be able to make a much more informed choice regarding their beer selection. There seems to be some backlash among brewers to the “Northeast” moniker. As a consumer I really don’t care what it is called. Call it juicy, unfiltered, hazy, tropical, etc, I really don’t care so long as I know what I’m ordering. If the issue is more a philosophical debate regarding the labelling of beer at all, I’d optimistically say we’ve reached peak dogmatism in beer and the industry can start its descent back to reality.