Since the appearance of microbreweries one style has shouldered the role of workhorse. Pale Ale – the champion of craft brewers, reigns as the most popular style in the wide spectrum of beers. It promises beer drinkers a standard so common that some consider it pedestrian. An inaccurate assessment, Pale Ale, in its every facet, presents not only subtle complexity, but also rich history, molded from geography, tradition, and a technological break through. Pale Ale did all that, despite the burden of a name that contradicts its complexion.

If anything, Pale Ales seldom look pale. Most examples cast a deep copper or amber hue, and understanding the name ‘Pale’ requires a trip back to the style’s origin.

The Dark Ages:  It was during the Dark Ages, of both beer and history, when an abbey of Middle-England established a brewery in Burton-on-Trent, the region generally regarded as the birthplace of pale. In the 1100’s the brewery started supplying beer to the surrounding area. It was popular and mentioned frequently in writings of the period, but most experts doubt that beer was a Pale Ale.

In that time, lack of temperature control, and inconsistent fuels used in kilning, probably resulted in malt roasted to a darker color than what brewers use today. It made for a dark, murky beer that was anything but attractive. Fortunately, drinking vessels then were made of wood, clay, or pewter, and no one noticed the ale’s appearance.

Technology Triumphs

In all probability Pale Ale as we know it, first emerged in the late 1700’s. Its arrival wasn’t by chance; Pale’s introduction coincided with several great advances in technology. According to Roger Protz in “The Ale Trail” it was a case of perfect timing. Thermometers, hydrometers, steam engines, and new iron brewing vessels brought science to the art of brewing. As it did, it presented new opportunities, and shifted brewers attention away from Brown Ales and Porters.

Acquiring control over the various parameters of malting and mashing enabled brewers to produce a malt, and subsequently a beer, much lighter in color. In fact, beer from the new process malt practically glowed, bright and clear, when compared to other brews of that day. Then fortune stepped in to further aid Pale’s rise.

Shortly after the beer’s introduction, in 1845, the British government rescinded its tax on glassmaking. Glassworks flourished, and suddenly, inexpensive glassware flooded England’s taverns and inns. Porter and Brown Ales languished in the new glassware, but pouring Pale Ale into a glass was like restoring sight to the blind. Beer drinkers throughout the UK marveled at the elegance Pale Ale put in their glass. Indeed, technology helped shape Pale Ale, but glassware propelled it to the top of beer sales. Brewers happily brewed Pale and counted their increasing wealth.

In a time when beer was more important than water, it was immortalized in Charles Stuart Calverey’s verse, “O’ Beer! O’Hogdson, Guinness, Allsopp, Bass, names that should be on every infant’s tongue.” Two of those brands remain familiar to this day, and surprisingly, three of the four were Pale Ales. Pale’s first family was Hugh Allsopp, a highly respected brewer of Burton. Second in line was a successful Pale Ale by Hogdson. Then came the third famous family of Pale Ale – Bass, which was eventually acknowledged as benchmark of the style.

A New Sister

Later, at the advent of American microbrewing, Pale Ale was a term that easily conveyed what the brewer was putting in the customers hands. While a few brewers remained staunch traditionalists, and maintained Pale Ale’s original English profile, others took exception with the strict definition of style, and slapped the name on nearly any close-to-light-colored, hoppy beer.

Those brewers, seeking a unique identity, boosted every aspect of the beer’s original character, and in doing so, exaggerated the hopping rates. In the middle, were a few who straddled the developing scale, but eventually brewers chose sides, polarizing the two extremes into the substyles of Pale Ale – English, and American.

Geography Rules

English Pale Ales were set apart first by color. If possible, 19^th century brewers would have, like their American successors, lightened the color further, but several elements worked against them. Terry Foster explained the color limitations in his book “Pale Ale.” Foster points to barley as the restricting factor. British farmers grow a 2 row malt, low in nitrogen. Kilning of the finished malt required high temperatures, which unavoidably darkened the grain. Brewers were forced into a compromise. They benefited from a highly modified grain that simplified mash-in to a single-step infusion technique. It eliminated time and effort, but yielded a darker color than desired. Still, Pale Ale was lighter than other beers of the day. However it remained much deeper hued than Pilsner, Pale’s chief rival in the arena of light colored beers.

Appearance aside, Pale Ale was one of the few beers that could accurately claim, “It’s the water” when speaking of its compelling flavor. Blessed from infancy, Pale Ale bore a birthmark of geography. Burton, the home of Pale Ale, drew its brewing water from wells in an area laden with gypsum. The extremely hard water accounted for the beer’s signature flavor – hops – with bitterness elevated beyond any style then produced. Perhaps that was why poet A.E.Housman penned the words, “Say, or what were hop yards meant, or why was Burton built on Trent?”

Pale Profiles

High hop profiles in the traditional English Pale Ales came from the classic hop varieties of Kent Goldings and Fuggles. These lent strong earthy notes to the finished beer, then extended further on to the aroma and finish. Understandably, it’s the hop profile that clearly separates American Pale Ales from their English roots. American hop varieties infuse the beer with a citric-like, grapefruit bite.

Another significant trait was the pronounced level of fruitiness, from esters, produced during fermentation by English yeast strains. American brewers, in contrast, turned to a neutral yeast that, when combined with exaggerated hop levels, drastically lowered any apparent fruitiness. Low carbonation of English versions also permitted discerning palates to detect a trace of caramel in mid-taste, followed by a low, dry maltiness, and surprisingly firm mouthfeel. American variations also exhibit these, but the on-slaught of hops and lively carbonation often buries these subtleties.

Although aggressive enough to stand-up to heavier meals, entrees of red meats, creamy pastas, or spicy Mexican foods, Pale Ale matches equally well with light vegetarian and seafood menus. Sometimes a touch too bitter for salads, they do however, complement hearty cheeses. In short, Pale works well with as wide a scope of food as any other beer.

Pale Ale assumes its role as the standard-bearer of craft brewing with little of the glory other styles command. It doesn’t matter. Beer enthusiasts may endlessly compare the virtues of burly stouts, potent bocks, and divine triples, as the darlings of specialty beer bars. That’s fine. Pale Ale, quiet and unassuming, waits patiently for the call from supermarkets, restaurants, and brewpubs, supporting the house of craft brewing on the back of its reliable foundation.

Reprinted courtesy of Gregg Smith, March 2001.