Carb-counters face limp, lifeless brews

By James “Dr. Fermento” Roberts

http://www.anchoragepress.com/archi...wvol13ed9.shtml

Somehow I'm blessed. For me, drinking beer is an occupational hazard. I risk hangovers, DUIs, scorn from the missus, and, undeniably, the potbelly that is the bane of most voluminous drinkers. Beer is considered a fattening vice better left to those who don't care about their bodies, yet I remain a mean, lean, drinking machine.

I don't diet, count carbohydrates or endure rude amounts of sweaty exercise to thank for my somewhat scrawny, muscle-less physique. I've never been able to figure out why I can drink so much beer and not pack on the paunch. As best I can tell, my metabolism burns off more than I can consume, which is probably why I continue to consume with abandon. I'll talk about hangovers in another article.

In deference to my less fortunate readership, however, I know how you struggle, and I sense your pain. Also, I'm not blind to the spate of low-carbohydrate beers that's crowding precious liquor store space better spent on craft beers.

Atkins probably wasn't a beer drinker, but if he was, I'm assuming he was weaned on nothing more flavorful than the light beer predecessors of today's low-carbohydrate alternatives to calorie-rich craft and microbrewed beers.

A beer's manufacture includes malted barley, and in the case of mainstream American mass-produced brands, adjuncts like corn and rice, which contribute to an average of about 145 calories and 11 grams of carbohydrates per serving. It's no surprise low-carb and low-cal beers averaging roughly 95 calories and 2.6 carbohydrates are gaining appeal among the diet-conscious.

Light beers now account for 45 percent or more of our domestic beer market, and the new low-carb beers are a hot ticket when it comes to gaining precious market share.

Still, it all comes at a price, and that sacrifice is flavor. Under the guise of a caring and concerned dieter, I discreetly purchased three of the low-carb beers available in Anchorage and ran home to closet-drink them, hidden from my discerning and hyper-critical peers.

I found Michelob Ultra, Rolling Rock Green Light and Marstens Low Carbohydrate beer far less than I could reasonably tolerate, even on a hot day where I'd easily sacrifice some flavor for light body and easy, rapid-quenching prowess. Amstel, in a recent media blitz, claimed their 5.0 carbohydrate Amstel Light is only two pretzels-worth of carbohydrates higher than new low-carb heavy-hitters like Michelob and Rolling Rock. If that's the only difference, I'll forgo a whole meal to stick with my carb-fat craft and microbrewed favorites.

Michelob Ultra was the first on the market. It's also one of the blandest, most insipid beers ever to invade my senses.

Am I being hyper-critical? I approached a shapely young lady in the liquor store who was packing a six pack of the pricey stuff and asked if she really liked it. “It's great,” she said. “It's just about as good as the light beers I've been drinking all my life.”

Now, if light beers are your forte, then the transgression from little flavor to no flavor would be no stretch of the palate. Not to be crass, but my pee is usually darker than this beer and my Monday morning breath reeks of more hops.

Michelob's offering smells more like coarse grain and alcohol than the firm malt underpinnings that define even the lightest of well-brewed brews. I hate to be harsh, but water filtered through straw has greater appeal for me.

Rolling Rock Green Light isn't much different, but it's darker than the others, if color is any gauge of flavor these days. It's also packaged in a green bottle, allowing more light to get to the beer, which probably contributed to its somewhat skunky nose and an overall wet-cardboard sensation in the finish.

If there is such a thing, the exception to the bunch is Marstens Low Carbohydrate beer from Brouwerij Martens, Bocholt, Beligum. As far as I'm concerned, this beer gives Belgian beer as a whole a bad name, but to its credit, it has some malt character, a trace of hop character and a clean, albeit thin, finish. It's also elusive; right now it's only available at SubZero, the Belgian ale/martini bar affiliated and co-located with the venerable Humpy's Great Alaskan Alehouse.

But if you're going out for a beer in a fine establishment like SubZero, aren't you already treating yourself, and shouldn't you splurge just a little bit? Just keep your mitts out of the pretzel bowl and scarf down one less corn dog tomorrow and you'll do just fine.

I'm confident that my readership is far less concerned with carbs than character and I'm barking up the wrong hop vine to begin with. If you're dieting, give up something else. Beer is from heaven and carb counting is for children of a lesser beer.