Their enthusiasts preach that proper lagers contain a subtle magic that explains their ubiquity. Delicate aromas of spicy Noble hops waft out over the hay and crispy-cracker or sweet-brioche nose of pilsner malt. They are the cold-distilled essence of the best thoughts and fine-tuning of Continental brewmasters. They are art worth pondering.
And then we go and hop the hell out of them.
Yes, there are breweries out there—Oregon’s Heater Allen comes to mind, or Notch in Massachusetts—that are fantastically stubborn about the classical beauty of a fine pale lager. But we know the exuberance of American hop expression and that persistent question from patrons: “So, uh, what’s your hoppiest beer?”