In addition to Original Levity, one of the main channels for my beer writing is a regular column in Avenue Edmonton I’ve had for nearly three years. A lot of times, there are interesting things that don’t make it into the final product, either because of space limitations or because they’re a bit too arcane for a general audience.
Avenue Adjunct will be a home for those odds and ends that didn’t make it into my column: a digital domain for additional context, opinions and digressions worth sharing with readers.
It’s a privilege to have the latitude to choose my column topics, but April’s column about lagers was a particular labour of love because I enjoy them so much and feel they often don’t get the respect they deserve.
One of the things about writing for a magazine is that it requires long lead times. When I wrote the lager column in the early days of 2020, COVID-19 was a distant threat and the coronavirus pandemic was not yet upon us.
When the column came out, my initial thought was that it hasn’t aged well: I’m extolling lagers as the ultimate beer for socializing at a time when it’s absolutely necessary for all of us to keep our distance from each other. If anything, this seems like prime time for cellar beers — an opportunity to wring some enjoyment from our forced confinement by sipping and contemplating the rarities and classics we’ve been holding onto.
That may be so. But it also struck me that the time when we eventually emerge from this and begin reconnecting over a beer will be a time for lagers. It will be a time to raise a glass with friends, take a sip and ask them how they’ve been. And then listen. Then, you might say how you’re doing. Maybe you’re on your second pint by then. The beer is part of the conversation, an element of that shared experience — but the conversation isn’t about the beer.
The best way I’ve heard someone describe this yin and yang of beer came in a conversation between two beer industry friends of mine: Matt Mercer-Slingsby, co-host of Drink this Podcast, and guest Christina Owczarek during an episode of the show recorded in 2019. They posited that there are two kinds of beer. On one side, there are beers that are the moment: big, bold, complex or unique beers that command your attention and demand analysis. On the other side, there are beers that are part of the moment: the beer that makes finishing a tough workout feel even sweeter, the beer you sip beside a crackling campfire, the beer you pull out of the fridge and crack open for a friend who pops by for an impromptu visit.
I have plenty of the former in my cellar — “Holy shit!” beers that I know I’ll enjoy someday. But the beer I’m looking forward to the most is the next one I have with a friend, face-to-face. More than likely that beer will be a lager, and maybe it won’t be memorable in and of itself. But it will be no less beautiful, in its own wonderful way.
A lot of beer lovers end up with large collections of aged bottles saved for special occasions that never seem quite special enough to justify popping them open.
With the coronavirus pandemic keeping most people housebound with a bunch of spare time and nowhere to drive, I would argue that metaphorical rainy day is upon us — though not in the way any of us wanted or imagined. And so, I’ll be cracking open some old bottles and reviewing them in a regular feature I’ve named Locked in the Cellar.
Before we get on with the fatalistic fun, a brief public service announcement: Breweries and liquor stores across Alberta are finding all kinds of ways to keep beer flowing to customers via delivery and pick-up options. My cellar adventure is motivated by boredom and the desire to entertain and connect with fellow beer lovers while we’re all cooped up — not because of any scarcity. If you can, please keep supporting our local breweries and small businesses through the coming days (and potentially months) ahead.
Back to our regularly scheduled program: Last year, I wrote two columns for Avenue Edmonton (here and here) as a sort of “introduction to cellaring” for readers. As I said then, one of the things that makes cellaring so interesting is that unlike wine, aging certain beer styles doesn’t automatically improve them so much as it changes them. Aging a bottle instead of drinking it right away is more a matter of preference, rather than a recommended course of action.
I have plenty of vintage beers in my collection, but I thought it would be fun to begin the series with a head-to-head comparison between fresh and cellared bottles of a beer that’s in regular production to see how aging changes it.
At 8.5 per cent ABV, Aventinus weizenbock is suitable for aging. I pulled a bottle packaged in 2015 from my cellar for comparing with a fresh one.
The fresh bottle
A fresh Aventinus will have a monsterous head if poured too aggressively, so I took my time. Even with the slow pour, a tall beige head with tightly-packed bubbles rose to the top of my weizen glass and used up all the extra room devoted to that purpose.
I swirled the bottle halfway through pouring to distribute the yeast, resulting in a cloudy mahogany beer filling the glass. The aroma was a mix of the expected banana-clove qualities present in wheat beers, along with gingerbread and stone fruit.
Spicy cloves were the first thing to hit my palate, followed by a nice bready flavour from the wheat malt. I perceived gingerbread on my nose, but the sweetness on my palate seemed more like caramel. The fruity esters were more complex than bananas and stone fruits — more like a fruitcake with dark layers containing dried fruits and cherries. The head had nice staying power that lent a creaminess and full body to every sip. There was a definite boozy heat going down, but it was a pleasant warming sensation.
The 2015 bottle
According to the date code on the label, this beer was bottled on July 31, 2015.
I poured the bottle slowly, for reasons explained above. Most of the yeast had accumulated into a sediment on the bottom of the bottle and it stayed there, even though I gave it a swirl. The result was a thin, one-finger head sitting atop a beer that was dark, but clear: mahogany with ruby highlights that were visible when I held it up to the light.
Oxygen gets into older bottles over time, and the resulting oxidation tends to produce sherry-like flavours and aromas. That was the dominant aroma, along with raisin bread and a hint of molasses. Sherry and raisin bread made the biggest impression flavour-wise, but I also felt like the dark malts had become more prominent that turned the breadiness of a fresh Aventinus into something toastier. There was a slightly sharp alcoholic burn, as opposed to the warmth of the fresh bottle — which surprised me a bit. The raisin flavour turned more straight-up grapey in the finish. The carbonation was quite a bit lower than the fresh bottle and the body was noticeably thinner.
To me, Aventinus is a good example of a beer that changes with age but doesn’t get definitively better.
There are some desirable qualities in an aged Aventinus, particularly the sherry traits — but to me, the fresh bottle possessed the qualities that make Aventinus, well, Aventinus.
Aventinus is a big, bold beer. A fresh bottle has a large, dense head that’s visually attractive and contributes to a rich, full-bodied mouthfeel. The banana and clove aromas are strong and pull you in. The elements play back and forth on the palate, along with raisins and dark fruit.
The aged Aventinus is pleasant, but I’d say it’s more subtle and not as complex. I have a few two-year-old bottles in my cellar, and I don’t think I’ll wait until they’re five before drinking them.
Organizers of the Okanagan Fest of Ale announced on March 17 that this year’s event is not going ahead due to the coronavirus pandemic.
The announcement follows an interim step taken March 13 to suspend this year’s festival (originally scheduled for April 17-18), pending a decision to reschedule it for a later date in 2020 or scrub it altogether.
The decision demonstrates that organizers understand that stopping the spread of COVID-19 is the only responsible choice right now. Nevertheless, with the festival set to celebrate its 25th anniversary this year, it must have been made with heavy hearts.
With the festival not happening in 2020, it would have been more accurate for organizers to say the festival is cancelled rather than postponed — but let’s give them a pass. After all, next year’s festival will still be the 25th edition, so in that sense “postponed” is correct: celebrating the anniversary isn’t cancelled, it’s just delayed another year.
In the meantime, what’s happening in the world is bigger than any one person or event. Listen to authorities and take necessary precautions.
More specific to this site and its audience: Whether you’re in Alberta, B.C. or elsewhere, do what you can to support your local breweries and other places you enjoy. Many taprooms and restaurants have already closed their seating areas, but may be offering takeout and/or delivery. You can also help them ride out the coming weeks by buying a gift card now.
Stay healthy, everyone, and let’s all look out for each other.
The Fest of Ale’s board of directors is scheduled to announce a decision about the fate of this year’s event on Monday, March 16. The board said in a statement that it’s “considering all options” — though presumably, rescheduling or cancelling would seem to be the two most realistic choices.
This year’s event is supposed to be a celebration of the festival’s 25th anniversary. Today’s news is disappointing, but it’s absolutely the right call for organizers to make.
(In keeping with my commitment to transparency, a note about my relationship with the Okanagan Fest of Ale: as a member of the judging panel, festival organizers have paid for my accommodations in Penticton and a portion of my travel to the event.)
When the Okanagan Fest of Ale began in 1996, organizers envisioned it as a relatively modest event to liven up the shoulder season in Penticton.
In 1996, there were 18 breweries on the roster, including (surprise!) Calgary’s Big Rock Brewing.
With the festival celebrating a significant milestone this year — its 25th anniversary — it’s a natural opportunity to reflect on how the Fest of Ale has measured up to that original mission. Considering Penticton has evolved into a hotspot of craft beer culture that’s gaining attention inside and outside of Canada, I’d say “mission accomplished” — and then some.
Sure, it’s standard marketing BS to bill each successive event as the biggest and best ever (just ask the International Olympic Committee) but the 2020 Okanagan Fest of Ale actually has some legitimate reasons to make that claim.
As of this writing, there are more than 90 breweries scheduled to pour at this year’s event — and the list stands to grow even larger by opening day on April 17.
“It’s really exciting to have the Okanagan Fest of Ale included in those write-ups as one of the drivers of the beer scene in Penticton,” says John Cruickshank, president of the Okanagan Fest of Ale Society.
“With the popularity of the event now and the number of people who come in, the impact on the hotels and businesses, it’s super-important to Penticton.”
It’s important to add that Cruickshank isn’t claiming the Fest of Ale is solely responsible for Penticton’s emergence as a beer destination. In conversations I’ve had during six years of attending the festival, everyone connected to the event is quick to credit the hard work of Penticton’s breweries, the local hospitality and tourism sector and a passionate community of beer enthusiasts.
A lively beer culture has grown up in Penticton, with the Fest of Ale alongside it.
As the Fest of Ale has gotten bigger and lured more people to Penticton, a slate of beer-related events has grown around the official two-day program. Among them, the Murderers Row cask event at the Kettle Valley Station Pub after the festival closes has become a coveted ticket around town.
But at the same time, Cruickshank says Fest of Ale organizers have resisted the temptation to let the festival sprawl to a point where it could potentially detract from other beer events Penticton is becoming known for, like Penticton Beer Week in October.
The Fest of Ale was faced with a similar balancing act when planning this year’s event. On one hand, it made perfect sense to celebrate a milestone by going bigger than ever before — but on the other hand, a big part of the Okanagan Fest of Ale’s appeal rests on its community vibe. It’s a festival that’s become known as an event where people have a chance to stop and chat with brewers and learn about the beers on offer without battling long line-ups and tight quarters.
“That’s been a big one for all of us,” Cruickshank says of maintaining the friendly feel the festival has become known for.
With such a dramatic increase in exhibit space, Cruickshank is optimistic that the festival can handle the bigger roster of breweries without worrying about any additional congestion.
Another exciting change for festival goers is the possible addition of a mobile tap truck to the brewery booths and food trucks in the space outside the convention centre. Cruickshank says the truck would be a showcase for breweries that don’t have enough time and/or staff to make the trip to Penticton under normal circumstances.
The effort to bring in award-winning B.C. breweries is a conscious nod to quality — and something the Fest of Ale has become known for. It has earned a reputation as a beer festival for people who know and love good beer.
“Our festival is somewhat different from a lot of the others. The people who come to our festival are more interested in the beer,” Cruickshank says.
The Okanagan is a popular destination for Albertans at any time of year, but it’s particularly sweet in April, when Calgary and Edmonton are usually slogging through Third Winter.
It’s also a getaway that won’t break the bank, no matter how you get there. WestJet offers direct flights between Calgary and Penticton. Flying from Edmonton, via a connecting flight, often doesn’t cost much more.
When we lived in Calgary, my wife Lea and I enjoyed a few getaways to Montana. It was mainly for skiing and other outdoor pursuits in and around Whitefish, but I was always eager for an opportunity to dive into Montana’s rich craft beer culture — particularly in the pre-2013 era before Alberta’s scene took off.
I enjoyed visiting several breweries during our trips to Montana, but I regret never making it to Bowser Brewing in Great Falls before it closed in 2017. A few friends recommended the place, and there was one beer that immediately caught my eye when I visited their website several years ago: a hefeweizen made with jalapeno peppers. With the right execution, I thought it could be an interesting and highly drinkable beer.
Bowser Brewing’s demise prevented me from finding out — until now, that is. I recently discovered Edmonton’s Analog Brewing made a jalapeno hefeweizen called Na’cho Hefe, and I just knew that I had to try it.
From what I can tell, it’s a small-batch release available on tap at the brewery and other select locations. I tracked it down at Little Guy Liquor Store in Sherwood Park, where it was available at the growler bar. After trying the beer over the long weekend, I can say it was worth the drive from downtown Edmonton.
When I first heard about Bowser’s jalapeno hefeweizen, an idea formed in my mind about what the beer should taste like. While I never got to try theirs, Analog’s Na’cho Hefe lived up to my lofty expectations.
You notice jalapeno in Na’cho Hefe right away: it’s in the aroma when you smell it. But so are the elements you expect in a well-made hefeweizen, banana esters and some spicy, earthy cloves. The flavour mainly follows the aroma, but the esters shift a bit from banana on the nose to some bubblegum on the palate as well. The mouthfeel is medium-bodied and just right for the style. The jalapeno is there, but it’s an undertone and provides just a slight spicy tingle. (I took a bit of licence with “Hot and hefe” in the headline, because of its pun value and for the sake of making a Seinfeld reference on that basis. This beer isn’t “hot” at all, so don’t let that deter you.)
Flavouring beer with added ingredients is always a balancing act: First, you have to choose something that will marry well with the base beer. Then, you have to add it in a manner and in a quantity that hits a sweet spot between ensuring people know it’s there, but not so much that it detracts from the drinkability of the beer.
Analog has successfully walked that metaphorical tightrope and made a beer that has a distinct jalapeno flavour, but remains unmistakably a hefeweizen. Most importantly of all, it’s not a one-and-done novelty: I reached for a second glass and enjoyed it as much as the first.
Having said all that, I should acknowledge that I’m more open to experimentation than a lot of beer drinkers. At its worst, beer nerd subculture is insular and isn’t concerned with what a wider audience may want. Fanbois and fangirls often venerate brewers for outlandish things they can do, as opposed to considering whether they should have done it. A beer made with kids’ breakfast cereal may rate as a technical achievement and become a cool conversation piece, but does it have any lasting appeal?
I found Na’cho Hefe plenty drinkable on its own, and I think it has added appeal as a pairing with the right kind of food. I enjoyed it with some barbecue chicken I made for supper, and I bet it would be awesome with (yes) nachos and/or chicken wings, too. I’d love to see Analog make more of this beer, but that’s easy for me to say as someone who isn’t a brewery owner with bills to pay. I’d be happy to see it again, but I also understand if it’s a long time before I do.
Another edition of the Okanagan Fest of Ale is in the books. Once again, it was a privilege — and a lot of fun — to take part in picking the winners of the Judges’ Choice awards at this year’s festival.
Judging took place Saturday morning, with 127 beers entered in 12 categories. With such a large field to evaluate, we were split into three panels of three people. Each team was responsible for judging four categories and picked a winner in each class via blind tasting. (Translation: we weren’t told the names of the beers.)
The 12 category winners advanced to a Best in Show competition involving all nine judges. We decided on the champion after another round of blind tasting and a lively discussion.
There’s an age-old argument between reporters and editors that goes something like this:
Editor: What’s going on with [Issue X]? We should do a story.
Reporter: (groaning) You’re kidding, right? I wrote an article about that a few weeks ago.
Editor: So what? Nobody remembers.
Now that I no longer have any skin in that particular game, I’ll admit the editors were usually right. When I worked in newspapers, I can’t tell you how many times I received angry emails or phone calls from readers accusing us of not covering an issue … and I had written a front-page article, like, a week before. (And this was back when people read newspapers!)
The moral of the story being, it’s common for writers to overestimate the audience’s collective memory and/or attention span. While advertisers have long understood the importance of hammering home their message through repetition, creative types — maybe out of a misplaced sense of vanity — bristle at the thought of no one remembering their golden prose.
I related this story to a friend who asked why I recently started using the #notsponsored hashtag on social media posts, considering I’ve already been pretty overt about my editorial independence from the beer industry in my bio and by posting a written sample policy here on the site. Like the editor in that newsroom parable, I believe it’s presumptuous to assume that everyone who encounters Original Levity somehow knows who I am and/or what I stand for.
Part of my recent rethinking of Original Levity was to embrace it as a multi-platform brand with different kinds of content in different places for different people, instead of being mainly a website that had some social media accounts attached to it. There are people who follow me on Instagram and Twitter who have never visited this site, and maybe never will. (And that’s OK, by the way.) I like Instagram, but let’s face it: it’s also a fertile breeding ground for shady influencer marketing, so I wanted a way to set myself apart in terms that social media users will notice and understand. And so, I adopted #notsponsored.
This is probably a good time to add that I’m not slamming creators who post sponsored or branded content and are open about it. Advertising and partnerships are often what makes it possible for bloggers and outlets to tell stories about exciting places or things. Far be it from me to tell anyone else how to run their business if they’re running it ethically.
Ideally, there would be no need for a #notsponsored hashtag if all influencers clearly labelled sponsored content as such. There are guidelines in Canada around disclosure — but the consequences for influencers who don’t follow them seem mainly centred on being held liable for amplifying an advertiser’s false or deceptive claims about a product, as opposed to sanctioning people for hiding a relationship with an advertiser.
The problem is, for many businesses the very appeal of influencer marketing lies in disguising the fact that it’s advertising. The beer industry isn’t immune: there are breweries that compensate people in cash and/or free stuff in exchange for artsy product shots and hyped copy that create an illusion of cachet and passion for the product. It’s important to point that I’m not talking about the common practice of breweries sending samples to a wide group of people for potential reviews, with no strings attached. I’m talking about business arrangements between breweries and influencers to talk up the beer. It’s a transaction — a hidden transaction, at that.
Independence and transparency have been my modus operandi in all my years of beer writing. #notsponsored is another way of letting people know my philosophy, but the most powerful demonstration is through action. #notsponsored is a hashtag. Honesty and integrity aren’t.
(In keeping with my commitment to transparency, a note about my relationship with the Okanagan Fest of Ale: as a member of the judging panel, festival organizers have paid for my accommodations in Penticton and a portion of my travel to the event.)
It looks like winter has finally released Alberta from its icy grip, judging by the double-digit temperatures and sunshine across the province last week.
You might think it folly for me to recommend a warmer-weather getaway to B.C. when spring has seemingly arrived in Alberta, but I’ve lived in this province for more than 20 years: I know from experience that April can produce some of the nastiest, snowiest weather of the year — particularly in Calgary. (And frankly, I’m amazed how even longtime Albertans forget this.)
So if you’re craving green grass, budding foliage and some sunshine with your beer, head to Penticton for the 24th edition of the Okanagan Fest of Ale on April 12 and 13.
I’ve had the privilege of being invited to the festival as a competition judge for the past four years and excited to return in a few weeks for a fifth go-round. During my time at the Fest of Ale, I’ve seen the quantity and quality of breweries continue to grow. This year’s festival at the Penticton Trade and Convention Centre will feature an event-high 75 breweries and cideries — 19 of which are attending for the first time.
Alberta’s craft beer industry has grown rapidly over the past few years, and the results of this year’s Alberta Beer Awards demonstrate we have a lot to be proud of here in Wild Rose country. But there’s a great big beery world beyond our borders, and the province next door is the home of Canada’s craft brewing trailblazers as well as some of the country’s most innovative newcomers. While it’s true we’re seeing more B.C. beer than ever in Alberta, the Fest of Ale lineup still includes many breweries that don’t ship to our province. Even among the breweries that do make their way here, the Fest of Ale is a good opportunity to sample limited releases that aren’t available in Alberta.
I may push springtime in the Okanagan as a reason to make the trip to Penticton, but I can’t exactly guarantee the weather will be good. One selling point I do feel 100 per cent confident about, however, is the Fest of Ale’s community vibe.
Line-ups at booths are fairly manageable, which gives brewers and guests more of an opportunity to talk about the beer than you often get at larger fests. And unlike some larger events, many of the booths are staffed by brewers and brewery employees who can talk knowledgeably about the beer they’re pouring, as opposed to hired guns brought in to sling beer and not much else. Being a beer writer from out of province has given me the opportunity to field test this claim a few times: unlike many of the other judges, who are from B.C., most exhibitors don’t know me, so I’m confident the treatment I get closely mirrors the experience for a typical festival goer.
The Fest of Ale began as an event to kick off the spring tourism season in Penticton and boost the local economy. Although there’s no doubt the fest continues to fulfill those roles, it now takes place amid a bigger and more vibrant backdrop than two decades ago. With five local breweries and two more opening soon, Penticton’s dynamic local beer scene earned it a #2 spot on a list of Canada’s best beer towns published by the travel site Expedia.ca. Festival weekend has also come to include a growing list of beer events happening around town, perhaps none more popular than Saturday night’s Murderers Row cask event at the Kettle Valley Station Pub. The event’s Facebook page has more details and a list of the 17 breweries participating this year, as well as ticket info — which is important, because it usually sells out well in advance.
Keep an eye on this site for official judging results on the afternoon of April 13, plus I’ll have photos and updates on Original Levity’s Twitter and Instagram feeds throughout the weekend.
Like a lot of people in Edmonton, I have a problem with the Oilers.
But while the Oilers faithful have been despondent over the team’s on-ice performance for a number of years, I’m a non-fan who got upset at the beginning of this season because of something they did off the ice.
The Oilers aren’t my team, but I’m an avid hockey fan and I’m passionate about the game’s history (if the existence of this running series didn’t make that already apparent). I’m also an insufferable pedant — which is why I can’t abide by the Oilers declaring that the 2018-19 season would be a celebration of the team’s “40th anniversary.”
Thing is, the Edmonton Oilers go back a lot longer than 40 years: they began their existence in 1972 as one of the founding clubs of the World Hockey Association, a league locked in a bitter rivalry with the NHL for seven seasons. (A league where a kid named Wayne Gretzky made his professional debut as a member of the Indianapolis Racers.)
This next point is important, because it sets the stage for the Oilers’ “40th anniversary” nonsense: the NHL considered the addition of the four WHA teams as an expansion, rather than a merger. The most obvious byproduct of this arrangement is it gave the NHL justification to pick clean the WHA teams’ existing rosters by reclaiming players who had jumped leagues and forcing the clubs to rebuild via an expansion draft.
The WHA survivors eventually recovered from the pillaging and went on to contend in the NHL — none better than the Oilers, who began a Stanley Cup dynasty after five years in the league.
One repercussion of the “expansion” deal still being felt to this day is the NHL’s petulant attempt to minimize the WHA’s role in history. WHA statistics are not recognized in players’ career totals, and the surviving teams’ in-house records were wiped from the books. The NHL’s perpetual grudge can be seen at its most absurd on Oilers merch that’s embroidered with the date “EST’D 1979,” leaving no doubt how the league views this year’s milestone.
The Oilers either didn’t have the autonomy, or the good sense, to rise above such bullshittery. An unfortunate victim of this ham-handed process (other than the truth) turns out to be one of the franchise’s most beloved players: Al Hamilton, a defenceman who played for the Oilers during all seven WHA seasons plus a year in the NHL. His number 3 was left off a commemorative patch emblazoned with the club’s retired numbers.
True, the six whose numbers made it onto the patch — Gretzky, Glenn Anderson, Paul Coffey, Grant Fuhr, Jari Kurri and Mark Messier — are members of the Hockey Hall of Fame. Hamilton isn’t.
Fans noticed the omission, and many didn’t like it. Sure, Hamilton wasn’t a superstar hall-of-famer, but he was considered a leader in the dressing room and he put up some decent numbers, too. You could say he was a stalwart. A mainstay.
Being steady and reliable are admirable qualities — but alas, they can be taken for granted. People can be fickle. That’s certainly true among sports fans, but respected Toronto writer Stephen Beaumont recently noticed the same phenomenon in the beer world: sales of brewery mainstays have been sagging across the board as fans ditch the classic brands that made them interested in craft beer for more exotic and out-there offerings.
The trend inspired Beaumont to declare this month the inaugural “Flagship February,” and thus began a campaign to get beer drinkers to give some love to old mainstays they not have enjoyed in awhile.
It seems only fitting, then, to pay tribute to Hamilton with the mainstay of Edmonton craft beer mainstays: Alley Kat Brewing’s Full Moon Pale Ale.
Alley Kat has branched out into an ever-increasing number of seasonal and one-off beers since opening in 1995. During that time, Alley Kat’s beers have become bigger and more ambitious, like its Dragon series of IPAs. Throughout, Full Moon has endured — though some might remember Alley Kat briefly reformulated it as an IPA in 2015 in an attempt to capitalize on that style’s increasing popularity. (To its credit, when Alley Kat changed Full Moon back to its original recipe in 2016, it didn’t try to erase its first 20 years of existence by claiming it was a new beer.)
Today’s Full Moon holds up. Like a solid and reliable pale ale, Full Moon has balance: biscuity caramel malt that delivers a touch of sweetness, but not too much. The hops deliver grapefruit, orange and pine in noticeable measure, but they’re in good balance with the malt. The overall impression is hoppy, but not overly bitter.
Full Moon is a beer that satisfies, even if it doesn’t shoot the lights out. And on many nights, as in some hockey games, that’s all you need to win.