The Argument Against (Henry's Hard Soda)

There is a lot to be said about the wave of consolidation among the larger American craft breweries right now (and I will say some of it later this week). In the meantime, I offer you a case-in-point for one of the reasons that argues against selling your brand, and particularly your name, to another company. Once it leaves your possession to become a brand in someone else's portfolio, terrible violence may be done to it. I forthwith offer you Henry's Hard Orange Soda (in a classic corporate move, where marketing precedes everything else, the website is not yet live). The bold is mine.

Today, MillerCoors proudly unveils Henry’s Hard Soda, a new line of deliciously refreshing hard sodas made with real cane sugar. Crafted for beer and non-beer drinkers alike with 4.2 percent alcohol by volume, Henry’s puts a playful spin on familiar flavors with Henry’s Hard Ginger Ale and Henry’s Hard Orange Soda.

“One of the main reasons why I love this product is because life is busy with work, kids and bills, but there’s always time to sneak in a little fun with friends,” said Bryan Ferschinger, MillerCoors senior director of innovations. “Beer is great, but now we also have Henry’s Hard Soda – an option that gives a little more flavor and excitement.” 

The new hard sodas are inspired by the spirit of Henry Weinhard, a brewer known in the Pacific Northwest for making flavorful beers and great soda for over a century. When Portland unveiled a new public fountain in 1887, Henry offered to pump beer through the fountain for everyone to enjoy. Today, Henry’s fun-loving personality lives on in this refreshing hard soda. 

MillerCoors will support Henry’s Hard Soda with a national marketing campaign, kicking off at the end of the month with advertising on primetime networks and high-profile cable partners such as ABC, FOX, TBS, Food Network, and Bravo. A custom digital presence in top pop culture sites, traditional print media support, dual-language public relations programming and influencer initiatives complement the rollout.

Henry is now a playful cartoon figure, like the Hamburgler or Twinkie the Kid. All he needs now is a catchphrase. Sad face on behalf of all the good citizens of Portland.

Weinhard's IPA

Yesterday, assorted beer bloggers tackled Alan McLeod's question "what makes you buy a beer" for the monthly session. I didn't participate in that, but it did remind me of a new beer on the scene: Weinhard's IPA. They first released this beer as a seasonal three years ago, and I admired it. Compared to everything else in the line-up, it was an actual craft beer. A bit underpowered for a NW IPA, but a decent beer--and cheap.

(For those of you outside the Northwest, Weinhard is an old brand that used to be brewed on Burnside street in downtown Portland. It survived 143 years, but died in 1999. The brand persists, though, and while nostalgia continues to slowly evaporate, enough people still hold warm feelings for the old brand that it yet survives. It doesn't hurt that a lot of it is contract brewed by Full Sail, making it once again an Oregon-brewed beer.)

The new version will be a year-rounder, and they've futzed with the recipe a bit. They've knocked back the IBUs by two or seven (the earlier version was listed at 45 and 50) but are using a greater variety of hops: Galena, Cascade, and Citra. The beer's a respectable 6%. And, as a Henry's, it will be a lot cheaper than craft beer, even sale craft.

Which brings us back to Alan's question. Price, obviously, is a huge deal. I know more than a few people who wouldn't mind saving a couple bucks a sixer and would find this a more than able compromise on the taste:dollar ratio. I have no idea how well this will sell, but I wouldn't be shocked if it became a dirty little secret stashed in the back of beer geek fridges across the Northwest.

Way Back When - Henry Weinhard

Over the holidays, Sally and I picked up a new printer to replace our obsolete 1990s tech. The new-fangled machine we got is a printer/copier/scanner, which gave me the opportunity to dig around through the box of photos for digitization. Amid those thousands of snaps are a few cool beer pics, and I'll be posting them from time to time as I come across them. First up, a shot I took of the Henry Weinhard brewery sometime between about 1995 and when it closed in 1999.

Henry Weinhard founded his brewery in downtown Portland when there really wasn't much of a town to speak of. He located it on the western outskirts, several blocks away from the river. For the next 140 years, it scented the Rose City. Going downtown meant encountering that particular aroma--bready, yeasty, wet, spicy. The city has transformed itself so radically that it's difficult to recall the era when a million-barrel industrial brewery anchored downtown--or perhaps more accurately, stunted it. Until just before Henry's closed down, Burnside was a very rough street; prostitution, drug sales, and homelessness marked it as a kind of dangerous DMZ. On one side, office workers and respectable downtown; on the other, old town and long unihabited tracts of quiet warehouses.

There was a functional aspect to the brewery's location: it was right on the rail line, critical for delivery of those tons of ingredients Weinhard consumed. Periodically you'd see the scene I captured in this photo--a rail car of corn syrup (more visible in the detail). Now, I'm not sure what they used corn syrup for--quite possible it all went into their root beer--but as meta-narrative, the image was stark. By the time Henry's died, Portland had already become Beervana. Jackson had feted us as the country's best beer town, and we were already bragging about having the most breweries. There was something so anachronistic about a creaky old brewery that had corn syrup delivered by the rail car.

When Miller finally shuttered the doors in '99, it was a sad time. Henry's had been a part of the city since pretty much there was a city. (It was founded in 1856, five years after the city had been incorporated with just 800 souls.) Fortunately, you can still get that lovely aroma at points throughout the city. I wouldn't be surprised if Widmer one day brews more beer than Henry's did. Certainly the time when the city produces more beer in aggregate is not far away (or maybe has already arrived). And of course, most of that beer is far tastier. Still, Henry's was an institution. It was a little bittersweet to find these photos--but also amusing. Times have changed, haven't they? I don't think we'll be seeing corn syrup being delivered to breweries anytime soon.


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Henry's IPA

Earlier this week, I reviewed a slate of Henry Weinhard beers to the delight of many readers (I can tell by the dozens of comments). So it is with relish that I bring you yet more news of Henry's--knowing as I do how much you love the subject.

At long last, I managed to get my hands on the IPA, which has been sold out every time I've tried to track it down. As you may recall from an earlier post, it's a nearly-real IPA, with 45-50 IBUs (reports vary), and 6% alcohol. Technically, both put it into the category, but they are similar to BridgePort's IPA, and BridgePort's wheelbarrow of trophies always came in other-than-IPA categories. I'd call this a shade light on hops and alcohol.

But who cares how well it fits the label's designation, right? How does it taste?--that's the real question. Answer: not bad. I'd call it a decent beer in absolute terms. If my hand were descending toward a sixer of Inversion or Terminal Gravity, it wouldn't detour for Hank's. But I'd choose it before a fair number of craft beers out there--[cough] Flat Tire [cough]. In terms of flavor and aggressiveness, it's certainly passes for an authentic micro (unlike the rest of the line).

It had a nice nose of citrus and earthy/pepper, a rich, flavorful hop bite, and a nice crisp finish. It's not overly complex or scintillating, but at $10 a half-rack, a very decent beer for the economical shopper.

The Worst Beer in the World?

Henry Weinhard has an array of interesting-sounding beers, and none more so that the invitingly-named Belgian-Style Wheat, which boasts the use of coriander and "orange." In my recent survey of Weinhard's beers, I bought two of these, thinking it would be an always reliable wit. Not only is it not a wit, but Brussels should sue SABMiller for impugning their national heritage.

What it is: "Orangina," Sally noted, seconds after curling her mouth into a grimmace and horsing down the last swallow she'll ever have of the beer.

Seriously, it's an orange soda, from the fizzingly Fanta-like nose to the artificially-flavored soda palate. (It may not be artificially-flavored, but it manages to taste like fake orange flavoring nonetheless.) It's even orangy-amber. It's shockingly bad.

Many beers are at the bottom-level of mediocre. Your Busch Lights, for example. Others are infected or unintentionally damaged. But I've never had a beer that tasted this bad intentionally, not as a result of neglect or misuse, but because someone, somewhere crafted it this way and said, "Hey, I think that's a winner!"

I almost want to urge you all to buy a bottle so as to behold the badness. But I don't want it on my conscience. Still, if you've stumbled onto it accidentally and would enjoy relating your experiences, by all means do. And, if you know of another beer that's worse, let me know. This could become a theme.

A New Look at Henry's

So I've been trying to find a bottle of the new Weinhard IPA for about three weeks. It's always sold out in the six-pack, leaving me with a half-rack or nothing. Guess which way I've gone. In yet another fruitless effort last night to get a single bottle, I decided to pick up a few of their other offerings just to see what the line is like. Here are my findings.

Beer: Weinhard's Blue Boar Pale
Target Audience: Micro fans on a macro budget
Tasting Notes: Very pale, thin head. Hop aroma reminds me of a European pilsner, and although they're not present, hops seem like Saaz. Extremely crisp and inoffensive. Fuller than a PBR, but lacks the interest of a FS Session. Pour it into a Heineken bottle and I don't think anyone would notice.
Details: Cascade, Willamette, and Cluster hops, 4.6% abv, 14 IBU
Upshot: It says something that the pale ale is brewed with fewer hops than the Hef (see below). It's better than I recall the old Blue Boar Pale Ale of 80s vintage being, but not much.

Beer: Honey-brewed Hefeweizen
Target Audience: Clueless folks who have heard the word "Hefeweizen" but don't know the difference between Henry's and Widmer.
Tasting Notes: Sweet on the palate but backed by a strong wheat note. A tiny bit of smokiness, suggesting the barest of nods to the original style. Honey adds that characteristic structure you find in the mouth--sort of a creamy, viscous quality the unfermentables leave behind.
Details: Cascade hops, 4.9%, 16 IBUs
Upshot: The closest of this bunch to a craft beer. Sort of tasty, in a slummin' it kind of way.

Beer: Belgian Style Wheat
Target Audience: Young women.
Tasting Notes: See this post.
Details: Cascade hops, 4.9%, 16 IBUs
Upshot: See this post.

Beer: Blond
Target Audience: Unclear. This beer is slotted in the PBR category, but by naming it "Blond," they eliminate the principal clientele of the product: poor young men. Go figure.
Tasting Notes: A straightforward light lager. The front end's actually pretty tasty--slightly sweet but crisp, fresh--but it bottoms out and finishes with a thin, metalic bitterness.
Details: Cascade hops, 5.1%, 18 IBUs
Upshot: If you spit it out immediately, you'll think it's akin to Pacifico, but if you swallow, you'll perceive its American tin-can heritage.

Henry Weinhard Rebranding?

John Foyston has posted a press release from Henry Weinhard's announcing a new release: India Pale Ale.

Henry Weinhard's IPA is a blend of Challenger, Simcoe, Chinook and Summit hops. It contains 6.0 percent alcohol by volume. The new brew will be available in Idaho, Oregon and Washington where Henry Weinhard's products are sold for a limited time only! Suggested retail price is $5.99 for a six-pack.

"Pacific Northwesterners are notorious lovers of IPAs and we're delighted to offer them a beer we know they'll appreciate," said Jennifer Gerrie, brand manager for Henry Weinhard's. "This IPA is a premium craft beer we feel the biggest of hop heads will enjoy."

Never mind that in some places on their website the beer is referred to as Indian Pale Ale--this is rather extraordinary. When they released the Organic Amber last year, I was impressed by the serious attempt they made at producing a craft-level beer. It was an attempt to mine the micro market's most lucrative vein--blander, less aggressive beers dominated by Widmer and Fat Tire. But releasing an IPA raises the ante, doesn't it? It's a small IPA, at 6% and 45 IBUs, yet that's light years more agressive than anything I've seen coming from the corporate halls of MillerCoors.

And how about the language at the top of the press release, wherein the marketing department describes the company:

Henry Weinhard's, the pioneering producer of small-batch handcrafted beer in the Pacific Northwest, is adding a new summer seasonal to its lineup of craft beers this month.

The phrase may be 150 years out of date, but I guess you could say it's true. Of course, it says more about the company's plan for the future than its past--they hope to replace the memory of tin-canned Blitz with an impression of a member in good standing of Beervana's small, indie breweries.At this point, it's difficult to argue that Henry's is anything but a faux craft--one label among many a beer conglomerate hopes to position in the market. Fair enough. But you have to admire Miller's moxie--it is an appealing approach.

Blitz Light Ad

In case anyone has forgotten the dark days before the craft rennaisance, here's a 40-odd-year-old ad from Blitz. Note the tag line and then recall how dire things were. Beer that actually tastes like beer--the novelty!

Text:

When you're headed for fun, you're headed for Blitz
Yes, when you're headed for fun, you're headed for Blitz.
Blitz Weinhard: the light beer with real beer flavor
Blitz Weinhard, from the oldest brewery in the West

Henry Weinhard's Organic Amber

There appears to be an imposter on grocery shelves. In Oregon anyway, a hard line divides micro and macro, and "gourmet" beers like Michelob are kept in their place (with the Hamm's, where the belong). Starting about two weeks ago a sleek sixer bearing the name "Henry Weinhard's" started appearing on the micro section of the beer case. It migrated just a foot, but there it is, like a Sooner on land grab day, on the other side of the line. So, what gives? Did Henry's finally game the system? No: in this case, appearances are misleading. Henry's had made a real micro-quality beer, and it has earned its place among the good beer, a rather remarkable development in industrial brewing.

Before the review, some speculation on what Henry's is up to. Ambers have evolved to become the classic "crossover" beer--an inoffensive style that non-beer (or tin-can-beer) people can tolerate. MacTarnahan's has managed to eke out a marginal place here, but other challengers to the throne continue to pop up--F[l]at Tire, Mac and Jack's, Alaskan. (Full Sail's Amber, which was the first, is too strong, hoppy, and ale-y to fit in this category.) If Henry's was going to mount a charge on this market, they chose a beer that might possibly appeal to their current customers.

But clearly, Miller (current owner of the Weinhard brand) has a more ambitious goal. By crafting an organic ale--and advertising on OPB--Henry's is aiming for a share of the Whole Foods segment. It's a canny move. Ever since Weinhard found a home at the Full Sail plant, it's fallen back into the good graces of Oregonians. For over 30 years, it has had the reputation of being a higher-quality beer than national brands, so trying to move it up the quality ladder is smarter than scrambling for the Pabst market.

And the price point is fully micro--I paid $5.99 for my six-pack, and it was on sale. It's possible they'll keep it marginally cheaper than other micros, but 50 cents isn't going to cause someone to abandon Mirror Pond. Henry's is going to have to compete on taste. Which takes me to . . .

Tasting Notes
It pours out a warm copper-amber, which was the first surprise (I had Blue Boar "Ale"--which looked like every other macro-lager--in my memory). It had a viscosity that you'd expect in a micro ale; unfortunately, the head dissipated rather quickly. Aroma is mild--nutty malting and a fleeting floral essence. In flavor, it's akin to Fat Tire, with an emphasis on malt. It's a little flaccid in the middle, with a cereal-malt-like quality. This is standard for the style, though not thrilling. The hops are detectable, but just. They balance the malt, but don't offer much in the way of actual character. I suspect that in a blind taste test, it would beat Fat Tire and Mac and Jack's, but lose out to MacTarnahans, which has about 50% more bitterness and a lot more hop character.

In terms of commercial prospects, I think the horizon is clear. No bets, but this is a very interesting experiment. Amber- and Hefeweizen-dependent breweries don't have to panic just yet, but they're probably breaking a sweat. We'll see.

Stats
Malts: Pale, Crystal
Hops: Mt. Hood, Simcoe
Alcohol by volume: 5.3%
Original Gravity: NA
Bitterness Units: 21
Available: Year round, on your micro shelf at the grocery store

Rating
Good (for style).

Tell Me What You Know

A couple months ago, I got an email from a breweriana collecter in Florida who had come across a Schludwiller label. As Oregonians know, Schludwiller was the fictional California brewery mocked in 70s-era Henry Weinhard ads.

This raises a few questions. Among the most obvious: why would a fictional brewery have beer labels? The guy who queried me about this (Daniel) also wondered: "Why was a label made up for this beer? Did they use them on bottles in a commercial? And why was the name Schudwiller chosen?" All worthy questions.

Anyone have any clue? If you click on the label to the right, you'll see a larger version of it. I don't have any great reward to offer--just the satisfaction of visiting upon the world (and Daniel) your insight to this lost trivia.

The label is pretty amusing:

• "Plywood aged for a real long time"
• "Selected as one of America's beers at the 1967 World Series"
• "A name in brewing for nearly one-half generation"
  

There's also a motto in Latin, "Quod nesciunt sibi damno non erit," which Daniel translated to (roughly) "Condemn not they who are ignorant," which is a high level of mockery by any standard.

So, what do you know about this? Reply in comments or via email. Any info will do; I think Daniel would even be happy if we pointed him in the right direction.