Where Apiology Meets Zymurgy: Bee's Knees Honey Cream Ale by Vintage Brewing Company

There was a stretch earlier this year when I was investigating blonde ales as I was anticipating the weather getting warmer and I had to find some tasty springtide beers to see me through until New Glarus' Kid Kölsch became available closer to summer. OK, this isn't wholly true as I do drink more than Kid Kölsch during the summer months but it is a majestically tasty beer by all objective standards. It is also true that I was looking to find something that wasn't a blonde ale nor a Kölsch yet delicious, light-bodied, and, to my mind, appropriate for warmer weather. So I went for a style I drink infrequently yet seemed to fit the bill: cream ale.

The humble cream ale is really quite popular here in Wisconsin despite the style not having an "I" or the word "India" in it. The taxonomic experts of the internet tell me that New Glarus' Spotted Cow falls into the cream ale category and they sell a shit ton of that stuff. (I suppose this means that the cream ale is also popular in Illinois.) Having read a bit about the style, I now realize just how apropos it is to describe Spotted Cow, as many do, as a kind of introductory craft beer for folks accustomed to American macro lagers like Bud, Miller, and Coors. From what I've read, American brewers developed the cream ale in the mid-19^th century in reaction to the burgeoning popularity of pilsners brewed by an increasing number of German immigrants and their kin.

Honestly, I had no idea that the cream ale is indigenous to the United States although the thought would have occurred to me sooner or later had I bothered to cogitate upon the matter for a while. Had I done so, I don't think it would have taken too long for me to realize there isn't a Samuel Smith's Cream Ale nor a Bitburger Sahne Obergäriges Lagerbier. The cream ale is a light beer generally brewed with some corn or perhaps rice to help give the beer a light body just like American lagers. Being top fermented, it's an ale but cream ales are often lagered so it's an ale because that's American brewing for you. Aging makes the fruity flavors go away and you're left with a nice malt-hop balance.

On a recent trip to the liquor store, I opted for Bee's Knees, a honey cream ale from Vintage Brewing here in Madison (and Sauk too). It is available in cans as well as on tap at its various locations.

In addition to honey, there's also oats in Bee's Knees to further the beer's retreat from the style's conventions as brewmaster Scott Manning likes to mess with things because it is in his nature to do so.

Bee's Knees looks a lovely a gold and my pour had a frothy, slightly off-white head that lasted a long while. This auric elixir had just a touch of haze to it and there were bubbles to be seen inside. I smelled that sweet-savory, vanilla-like honey aroma right away. Malty sweetness was fairly prominent while bread and a bit of grass made up the rest of the aroma.

I wish I knew more about honey to be able to give you some more info like its variety, terroir, and whatnot but that is beyond me. This is a shame because honey is in my blood. Back in the Middle Ages, Germans and Slavs led the world in honey production and German and Slavic make up most of my ethnic heritage.

Some interesting honey trivia: I am used to talking about and eating foods that are native to the Americas and there are lots of tasty things out there that I am privileged to eat only because Columbus got lost. E.g. – maize, tomatoes, chilies, potatoes, etc. Rarely am I cognizant of the opposite situation but we have one right here. While there were honey bees in the Americas when our intrepid explorer made landfall in the Bahamas, they did not live in North America. The honey bees found to the south have, shall we say, more catholic tastes in nectar than their European cousins. These bees are happy to collect "nectar", so to speak, from sources most bees dare not tread such as corpses and poop. Their honey must be quite extraordinary and has surely been eagerly gobbled up at one of those legendary Explorers Club dinners, perhaps as part of a glaze to a wooly mammoth roast.

No doubt Vintage acquired their honey from a more mundane source.

Honey was also the first thing that my tongue noticed – that earthy vanilla kind of flavor. There was some malt along with a little corn but it wasn't particularly sweet. All of this was complemented by a really nice herbal hoppiness. There's a was a firm fizz to be had and I tasted a smoothness underneath it which was likely from the oats. The hops took a turn towards the peppery for the finish and left a little bitterness to go with some lingering corn taste.

Despite Bee's Knees, as Neil Peart would have said, deviating from the norm with oats and honey, it still had a medium-light body with the oats adding a little something more to it. The barley, oats, corn, and hops were all in their proper places to create a balanced flavor. 16 I.B.U.'s of hops and a nice fizz helped give Bee's Knees a pleasant crispness. But what really endeared me to this beer, besides its Flapper era name, was the honey and the herbal hop flavor. I really enjoy honey in beer because it provides a flavor that is mainly earthy and savory but has just a hint of the sweetness it used to have before the sugars were eaten by the yeast. And the herbal hop flavor is something of a rarity these days and I just find it to be ever so tasty.

Junk food pairing: pair Bee's Knees with a bag of Thai Sweet Chili potato chips. Both the sweetness and the spicy chili will provide a delicious contrast to the mellow, easy going cream ale.