In our post on the American Lager, we talked a lot more about business than we did about beer. Only slightly different from that style, the International Pale Lager has a similar history in that it was developed largely in response to a market opportunity rather than in search of a truly remarkable beer. During prohibition, beer production tanked as people tended toward making hard liquor to fill the void while getting the most bang for their buck (can you blame them?). After the 21st Amendment went into effect in December of 1933, the small number of remaining breweries (756 in 1934 down from 1568 in 1910) homogenized their products, largely moving toward the American Lager style as their primary beer. As a response, a market opportunity opened for someone to make a premium version of that product (and sell it at a small premium). We’ll see this kind of thing happen in other styles too: the American Cream Ale, for example, is a response to the American Lager by ale brewers. Brewers abroad weren’t blind to the massive success that American Lager was having here before and after prohibition. Seeking to capitalize on that market in their own countries, these brewers developed similar beers, but largely without the adjuncts that American brewers were using. Let’s pause for a moment here and recognize, yet again, what the American Lager did to the beer world: brewers the world over were responding to the successful marketing craze that captured American middle-class drinkers. Admittedly, this wasn’t the only inspiration for what we now call International Pale Lager…many brewers, including Heineken, were seemingly attempting to brew a beer stylistically similar to German Pilsner but with less assertive bitterness. The resulting beer has more malt and hop aroma and flavor than American Lager, but with less carbonation, and finishing a bit less dry. One common misconception about these beers (due to very poor bottle choices by certain breweries) is that they taste skunky and off-putting. This has to do with blue light waves causing a chemical reaction with hop isohumulones (these are the acids that make our IPAs so wonderfully bitter) to form the very same substance that makes skunk spray smell the way it does (3-methyl-2-butene-1-thiol). Yup, you read that right…if you’re drinking an old Corona, you might as well find a skunk and scare the hell out of it while holding your mouth wide open (sorry, the world’s largest lime won’t help you here). Miller found a way around this with a hop product (tetrahop) that will not react with light, but the easier solution is to just drink these beers out of a can. Fun fact: Skunkiness is also referred to as “Lightstruck” as beer consumers in Britain have no point of reference to the “skunk” smell as skunks are not indigenous to the region. After AB InBev, the next three largest producers of beer globally (Heineken, Asahi, and Kirin) stake their businesses largely on this style, so it’s definitely one to know. We don’t brew one here at Black Flannel, but come in and try a mug of our Helles sometime. We think it’s got a much richer malt character and richer finish, but it might give you a sense for what this style is about.