Bottoms Up

By William Brand
Staff writer

I’VE NEVER BEEN to Cologne, but I did spend one night at an inn near the city on my way west to France and I wandered into a pub where they served authentic Kolsch. It was the pub’s major beer, and it came in a distinctive, tall, 0.2 liter glass called a “Stange.” It was a medium gold color — and being no fan of yellow American beer, I was a bit wary.

But after one sniff and a single hesitant taste, I became a fan. Let me correct that; I became a big fan: Shocking, silky malt, spicy, quenching hoppy follow.

I was on a tour and Cologne, the famous cathedral city bombed back into the Stone Age during World War II, unfortunately, wasn’t on the agenda. But since then I’ve chased American-made Kolsch-style ales relentlessly. Mostly, they just don’t equal the real thing. They’re just yellow beer, often finished with aggressive, piny, citrusy American hops like Cascades.

But American craft brewers are a creative, often sensitive lot, and American Kolsch-style beers are getting better. They’re being made with German pale malted barley, finished with the appropriate German Hallertau hops. The only problem remaining appears to be the often-ancient, proprietary ale yeast used in the brewhouses in Cologne. The yeast provides some of the finishing spice and the hard-to-describe earthy, fruity notes.

But the other night during a visit to Hopmonk, the new pub-beer garden in Sebastopol, I tried Alaskan Summer Ale and gasped. I thought for a moment I was back in Germany.

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