Kyle
2008-09-09 14:55:24 UTC
Okay, last month a certain trio of 'tards herded up against me for
daring to call a spade a spade -- specifically for daring to say that
Corona was a bad beer. I'm apparently forbidden from judging a beer
-- by people who jump at the chance to judge me.
Michael "the Beer Hunter" Jackson probably knew more about beer than
anyone. He wrote the book on beer -- several of them, actually ("The
New World Guide to Beer," "Michael Jackson's Beer Companion," The
Great Beers of Belgium" and others, all classics). And here's what he
had to say about Corona in his New World Guide:
Corona beer, from Mexico, for a time enjoyed a cult following
north of the border, and challenged Heineken as the biggest import to
the United States. It did so initially with very little marketing
support, and its success was a phenomenon much studied in the business
pages.
Corona is a beer made as cheaply as possible, so that it can be
sold inexpensively to manual workers in Mexico. Every Mexican brewery
has at least one such product in its portfolio, among several more
interesting beers.
These modestly-paid bean-pickers get what they can pay for, and
their thirsts are quenched. Corona tastes like a beer made with a
very high percentage of corn adjunct and a short lagering time. It is
thin-bodied, with some apple notes. It is no worse, nor better, than
several similar products. That it should command a high price in the
United States reflects upon the judgement of the consumers.
The idealized Mexican worker, thirstily reaching for his Corona,
presented a macho model for the well-heeled kids of Texas and
California (and later New York). The plain glass bottle and
rudimentary, enameled label no doubt added to the inverted snobbery.
The beer was consumed from the bottle, with a slice of lime jammed in
the neck. The lime was an important part of the ritual, but it also
improved the taste. If Chuck, Chip, and Scooter really wanted to look
like macho working men, they could have affected the Pabst of an
unemployed steel-worker from Bethleham, PA., but that might have been
too close to home.
No one should begrudge Mexico the foreign exchange, but it is a
shame that Corona proved such a conspicuous success where better beers
had fared less well. Only after the success of Corona were Mexican
beers taken seriously in the United States. Before Corona, they had
suffered from the belief that they might be as well-made as the local
water.
In fact, Mexico has a long tradition of producing beer, and some
well-equipped breweries. It is said to have had the first commercial
brewery in the New World, in the 1500s, during the period of Cortes,
and has been making lager beer since the 1880s or 1890s.
The appeal of Corona has not encouraged Mexican brewers to
emphasize their more characterful products.
-- MJ, in his New World Guide to Beer
daring to call a spade a spade -- specifically for daring to say that
Corona was a bad beer. I'm apparently forbidden from judging a beer
-- by people who jump at the chance to judge me.
Michael "the Beer Hunter" Jackson probably knew more about beer than
anyone. He wrote the book on beer -- several of them, actually ("The
New World Guide to Beer," "Michael Jackson's Beer Companion," The
Great Beers of Belgium" and others, all classics). And here's what he
had to say about Corona in his New World Guide:
Corona beer, from Mexico, for a time enjoyed a cult following
north of the border, and challenged Heineken as the biggest import to
the United States. It did so initially with very little marketing
support, and its success was a phenomenon much studied in the business
pages.
Corona is a beer made as cheaply as possible, so that it can be
sold inexpensively to manual workers in Mexico. Every Mexican brewery
has at least one such product in its portfolio, among several more
interesting beers.
These modestly-paid bean-pickers get what they can pay for, and
their thirsts are quenched. Corona tastes like a beer made with a
very high percentage of corn adjunct and a short lagering time. It is
thin-bodied, with some apple notes. It is no worse, nor better, than
several similar products. That it should command a high price in the
United States reflects upon the judgement of the consumers.
The idealized Mexican worker, thirstily reaching for his Corona,
presented a macho model for the well-heeled kids of Texas and
California (and later New York). The plain glass bottle and
rudimentary, enameled label no doubt added to the inverted snobbery.
The beer was consumed from the bottle, with a slice of lime jammed in
the neck. The lime was an important part of the ritual, but it also
improved the taste. If Chuck, Chip, and Scooter really wanted to look
like macho working men, they could have affected the Pabst of an
unemployed steel-worker from Bethleham, PA., but that might have been
too close to home.
No one should begrudge Mexico the foreign exchange, but it is a
shame that Corona proved such a conspicuous success where better beers
had fared less well. Only after the success of Corona were Mexican
beers taken seriously in the United States. Before Corona, they had
suffered from the belief that they might be as well-made as the local
water.
In fact, Mexico has a long tradition of producing beer, and some
well-equipped breweries. It is said to have had the first commercial
brewery in the New World, in the 1500s, during the period of Cortes,
and has been making lager beer since the 1880s or 1890s.
The appeal of Corona has not encouraged Mexican brewers to
emphasize their more characterful products.
-- MJ, in his New World Guide to Beer