Yesterday morning, Mike Stevens and Dave Engbers announced that they would be selling 30% of their brewery, Founders, to the Spanish brewer Mahou. The reason:
With Mahou San Miguel at the table, Founders Brewing Co. gets a partner with access to consumers on five continents and a chance to pay off investors who have helped finance the brewery’s rapid expansion…
Founders is No. 26 and climbing on the Brewers Association list of the nation’s largest craft brewers. It is also in the middle of a $40 million expansion that, when completed, will allow to make 900,000 barrels of beer annually.
The news came out on the same day I saw a nice article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune about another large Midwest expansion:
When it hits full production, Surly’s new complex will fill more than 100,000 barrels annually — half of Summit Brewing’s capacity in St. Paul, but triple the capacity of the original Surly complex in Brooklyn Center and way more than any other brewery in town…. The final price tag of more than $30 million soared from initial estimates of $20 million.
The situations of the two breweries are not identical, and surely Brewers Association is going to have to think long and hard about whether to boot Founders from its membership roll. But in one key way, I think we can agree that these breweries (and a few dozen more across the US) stretch whatever definition we might assign to „craft beer“ beyond usefulness. They are big breweries designed to produce beer efficiently and consistently–„industrial“ plants by anyone’s definition. One passage I particularly appreciated in the Surly piece was a quote by brewmaster Todd Haug: „‚Everything about the brewing process is going to be more precise and consistent,‘ he bragged, staring at computer screens that monitor every facet of his new tanks.“ This is not the talk of a man hauling his own grain and whirlpooling his 3-barrel kettle with a canoe paddle. (And there’s nothing wrong with that! Surly can make far better beer with their new system.)
It all gives me a chance to reprise a post from two years ago, when I argued for new and better definitions of American breweries that makes them consistent with breweries elsewhere:
- Brewpub / hausbrauerei. A pub with a small attached brewery that makes beer for onsite sale. The focus is the pub, with attention to ambiance and a full menu, not the brewery.
- Production brewery. a brewery that packages its beer for sale largely off-premise. May have a tasting room, but this is a subsidiary function, unlike a brewpub where eating and drinking are the focus.
- Traditional brewery. a brewery that employs equipment or processes to uphold a certain tradition in brewing. Decoction breweries, tower breweries, breweries with open fermenters, etc. Not a precise definition, but I distinguish these from modern breweries that have been optimized to make any type of beer. A brewery doesn’t have to be old or small to be traditional, and traditional breweries don’t always make good beer. They are distinguished from industrial breweries (below).
- Industrial brewery. a highly automated and efficient brewing facility designed to produce beer as inexpensively as possible. Again, nothing to do with beer quality. They tend to be large, but not all large breweries are industrial and some smallish ones are.
- Independent brewery. Owned singly by one human or a family. Nothing to do with beer quality, size, or brewery design (industrial versus traditional).
- Nanobrewery. a production brewery with a batch capacity of less than three barrels.
- Large brewery. Any brewery with an annual capacity of 250,000 barrels or more a year. You want to place it at 100,000 or a million? I’m mostly cool with that. Either way, it’s worth noting that when you look at the tens of thousands of breweries worldwide, only a tiny percentage of them make even as much as 100,000 barrels. And a 250,000-barrel brewery is necessarily a pretty damn big facility.
These terms are not mutually exclusive–they cover types of breweries, methods of production, and ownership structure. Surly is an independent, industrial production brewery. In no case do these definitions concern beer quality–and this is the really important point. Americans, due to a trick of timing, have come to fuse the concept of beer quality with the type of brewery making the beer. It is an unexamined habit for many people to think of smaller, newer breweries as the holders of quality, while huge, national conglomerates invariably offer bad beer. But „craft beer,“ whatever else it may have once meant, is now just a marketing slogan. With breweries as big as Boston Beer, Sierra Nevada, and New Belgium–companies now building multiple plants–the association between quality and size is even increasingly academic.
Since writing about these brewery categories a couple years ago, I would now add something about products, which is a distinct realm. In this sense, „craft beer“–in the U.S., anyway–does have some utility. More terms:
- Mass market lager. Pale lager beer produced by national brands to satisfy mass tastes. This is by far the most popular beer in the world, and most countries have at least one brand–Budweiser, Beck’s, Asahi, Heineken, Corona, Snow, Panama, San Miguel–and on and on. The beverage industry distinguishes between beer like Budweiser (domestic) and Corona (import), but that term doesn’t have a ton of utility when talking about the actual products.
- Alco-pops / flavored malt beverages. Ever since Zima, a fringe of the beer market has been devoted to various sweet concoctions aimed at people who don’t like beer. It’s not a big part of the market, but it continues to drive a lot of what the big companies are doing.
- Craft beer segment. Contrasting mass market lagers, the U.S. market also has „craft beer segment“ which is essentially anything that’s not a mass market lager or flavored malt beverage. Regular human beer drinkers understand it to mean everything from the corner brewpub to Sam Adams to Blue Moon and Shock Top.
I’ve been getting better about talking about beer in terms of which segment it occupies, but less good about talking properly about categories of breweries. Breweries themselves have always had a huge interest in defining categories in ways that help them sell beer, but as consumers and journalists, we should resist this. Clear, unambiguous language about what breweries are and what kind of beer they make, unsullied by the jargon of marketing departments, is what we should aspire to use.
Author: Jeff Alworth
re-blogged and published from Beervana
with kind permission from the author.
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