I've been gone too long. Time to get some beer on!

It feels like forever since I blogged about beer.

It's not that I haven't been writing about beer. I write a weekly beer column for the Philly Weekly, which appears online in a slightly different, daily-dose form and which gives me my regular fix when it comes to waxing poetic about suds. I've written about the beer scene in Atlantic City and bacon and beer coming together, too, among other things.

But blogging?

I've barely touched my main blog. Small chance I'd be on top of this one, too.

I do miss it sometimes, though. There are things worth saying that aren't a good fit for my column. A lot of it is grumpy old man stuff about how much the current craft beer scene frustrates me, but a lot of it is the usual upbeat, beer-positive stuff I prefer to focus on, too.

Reviews? Probably not so much. Everyone and their dog does beer reviews -- you can't spit at a Google server without frying a dozen beer review blogs, podcasts and Youtube channels -- and frankly, how much purpose do they really serve? It all comes down to "is this good or is this bad," and tastes vary so wildly the distinction can be all but meaningless.

But maybe some commentary. And pictures. Or something.

Because hey, beer is awesome. Writing is awesome. They're like my chocolate and peanut butter.

And I love me the hell out of some peanut butter cups. So let's do this thing (at least until I get tired of it).

The Ugly Truth About Craft Beer

Craft beer in America is exploding. As of 2013, there were over 2,388 breweries that had or where operating in the United States, with literally hundreds more in the process of opening. (UPDATE: As of 2016, there are now over 4,000 breweries in the United States!)

Craft brewers are making tremendous strides in converting people to the idea that the pursuit of flavor is a damn good thing. While the big beers continue to lose market share, the craft segment is growing. It’s no longer unusual to see excellent craft beers on tap in even the most generic of chain restaurant or dive bars. The fact that I recently had Ommegang’s Fire & Blood at an Applebee’s, of all places, is astonishing.

But craft beer has a dirty little secret: most of it is mediocre at best.

Not only is most of it pretty mediocre, when it comes to the dozens of new breweries we see every week, a lot of it is actually pretty bad.

We don’t like to talk about this truth. We craft beer enthusiasts are focused on spreading the gospel of good beer. On swaying people away from tasteless mass-produced lagers. On finding the next great beer to celebrate.

There is nothing wrong with any of that, either. It’s all a part of what makes getting into better beer so much fun. It’s a joy to explore new beers and introduce others to beers they will come to love.

The fact is, though, most of those thousands of new breweries just aren’t very good. They're being launched by well meaning people who made homebrew their friends loved, and based on that decided they were ready to go pro. They're young guys who are only a few years removed from their Steel Reserve days ready to show the world how it’s done because they have some clever ideas, brewers who saw how Sam Caligione broke the rules and figure they can do it, too, and so on.

It’s not that easy, though. As a homebrewer myself (and a decidedly average one at that), I know the daydream. I know about fantasizing about beer ideas and everyone loving them and all that.

The reality of brewing is much different.

The rah rah rah! your friends give you should never be taken to heart. Just like writers should never take the praise of friends and family too seriously, neither should brewers. If you are not your own worst critic, you are doing something wrong.

Sadly, many of these drinkable-but-not-particularly-good homebrewers are now vying for shelf space in the pro world, making the chase for good new beers a crapshoot for the adventurous drinker.

If you are exploring craft beer and stick to better known names, it’s hard to go wrong. There is so much good beer out there it's impossible to keep up. The folks who have earned a reputation have done so by earning the trust of drinkers over the years. Few big name craft brewers don’t actually deserve their reputation – I’m looking at you, Rogue, and your overpraised, overpriced swill – but what about the thousands of new brewers we have seen spring up in the last five years or so?

There is a reason why few have ended up on your radar, and it ain’t marketing.

It’s because they are bland.

I hate to say it, because I LOVE supporting the new guy, the little guy, the local guy. I tried to champion them in my Year of Beer series for the Philadelphia Weekly. Thing is, most of the stuff I explore from the newer breweries just isn’t very good. It's drinkable, and that's it.

That's the truth.

And it’s a truth too few of us craft beer enthusiasts are talking about. We’re so intent on carrying the anti-big brewer flag we forget that being a cheerleader for craft is not enough. We have to demand that these new brewers make a quality product. These small breweries need to be good if the craft movement is going to grow beyond a mere niche (and rest assured, it's still a niche), and we need to be willing to call them out when they're producing mediocre product.

Because too many of them are.

PS -- if it seems like I pointedly avoided naming names in this post, it's true, I did. I don't want to trash anyone in particular, though I did have a number of newer craft breweries in mind when writing this.

White IPAs Do Not Impress Me

On paper, the white IPA is a great idea. Take the smooth unfiltered goodness of a wheat beer, boost the potency a touch, then add a massive amount of American style hopping. Boom, now you've got a white IPA.

And what a concoction that should be! Sounds like something that will drink in the refreshing way wheat beers drink, but with the lovely citrus aromas and bitterness of an IPA - a match made in heaven, really.

But no. Not even when done by people who know their IPAs...

... I can't quite figure out why the style has yet to click for me, despite having sampled more than a half-dozen white IPAs so far. Granted, it's a new style. Brewers are still working out the kinks and trying to nail down what makes a good white IPA work. Pretty much no one has a ton of experience with them.

Thing is, I just don't think anyone has gotten there yet.

And maybe no one ever will.

A great American-style IPA works in part thanks to having a fairly simple malt bill designed to support the hops, allowing them to do all the heavy lifting as far as taste goes. The malts serve as balance so you're not assaulted with off-putting bitterness, but rare is the American IPA that offers much in the way of complexity in the malt bill - and that's fine, because the point is to provide a platform for those lemon-and-grapefruit-tinged, pine-scented hops to do their thing.

Wheat beers don't play that way. They have an Earthy softness with touches of spice and grain and the feeling of a warm spring day. They are usually unfiltered, and the yeast imparts musty, dusty aromas, occasionally with hints of black pepper or bread or banana. All of this is imparted by the malt and yeast. The hops are generally only there to balance out the malt sweetness. They maybe provide some herbal or lemon-tinged aromas, but they are not the star of the show.

Two totally different approaches to beery goodness.

Two totally different philosophies.

Is it any wonder that I've yet to encounter a white IPA that made me want to go back for seconds?