Pécharmant – The Best Alternative to Bordeaux Wine

In October, when the tax on ‘third-category beers’ was raised, it prompted a deeper reflection on our understanding and naming of what we call ‘beer.’

As I stood in my kitchen calling for a beer, I realized that the can I meant wasn’t labeled ‘beer’ at all; rather, it bore the designation of happoshu or ‘third-category beer.’ Despite this, no one at the dining table seemed to care about the accuracy of the name. For years, we’ve referred to these drinks as ‘beer’ without question.

On October 1st, a significant change occurred: the liquor tax on beer-like beverages was unified, with a set rate of 54.25 yen for every 350ml can. This had been a gradual adjustment since 2020, wherein the tax on traditional beer decreased while that on happoshu and new genre drinks increased. The distinctions that once existed essentially vanished over six years.

This shift hasn’t gone unnoticed among beverage manufacturers. Suntory announced it would categorize its flagship drink, ‘Kinmugi,’ as beer starting October 6 while maintaining its name. Other companies are following suit, converting their flagship new genre products to the beer category. This raises a poignant question: what have we been calling ‘beer’ all this time?

An interesting historical perspective can be traced back to the Nara period. The ‘Shoku Nihongi,’ an official history completed in 797, recounts Empress Gensho’s visit to a notable spring on Mount Tado. The spring was described not as a source of sake, but as ‘water that nourishes the aged’—its value based on the reputed benefits it offered rather than its classification.

Within the same year, it was declared that the spring, which purportedly had healing properties, prompted the Empress to change the era’s name to Yoro—a name still associated with the Yoro Falls in Gifu Prefecture. The historical significance of this spring was tied to its health benefits and its auspiciousness according to Chinese traditions.

However, several hundred years later, tales began to emerge in which this spring was now linked to sake. Stories from the 13th century describe a filial son in Mino Province who, wishing for that water to be sake for his father, ultimately finds a yellow-colored beverage gushing forth from the rocks. Here, the narrative swings from a historical account of the spring’s effects to one emphasizing filial duty and the transformative power of intention.

In folk traditions, there are variations of this storyline, such as in Narashinohara, where a son draws clear water that is perceived as sake by his father but remains plain water to him. This indicates that the true essence of the beverage we call ‘sake’—or in our current context, ‘beer’—is not the liquid itself but the sentiments attached to it.

Returning to contemporary discussions, the classification of beer and similar drinks has long been dependent on the malt ratio, affecting taxation and production methods. As the Ministry of Finance aims for fairness in the tax burden, this has, in turn, influenced how these beverages are made.

At home, however, the culinary naming operates on a different plane entirely. Regardless of official classifications, many would assert that the cold can from the refrigerator is simply ‘beer.’ There is a dissonance between government regulations and the casual parlance of dinner tables.

As the tax classification evolves and unifies, the distinction between beer, happoshu, and new genre drinks has diminished. As cans labeled ‘Kinmugi’ transition into beer, one cannot help but wonder if we will continue to use the term ‘beer’ interchangeably or reassess whether the content truly warrants the name.

Ultimately, when we request a ‘beer’ in the twilight of our day, we are not merely asking for a liquid classification but for a symbol of relaxation and self-care. Before you crack open your next can, consider what you’re really inviting into your evening. This reflection may transform our understanding of what we have long referred to as ‘beer.’

Six years ago, I explored the intriguing world of beer blending, which involved combining two distinct beers to create a unique drinking experience. The inspiration struck at Schlafly’s Cabin Fever festival when I learned that one of their imperial pumpkin beers was crafted from a blend of Pumpkin Stout and Oatmeal Stout. This revelation sparked my imagination about what other combinations could elevate flavors, leading to my article titled The Art of Mixing Beers. Surprisingly, this piece gained consistent traction over the years, even as the featured beers faded from the market.

As I reflected on my previous experiments, the time felt right to merge my knowledge of beer blending with local beers from St. Louis and its surroundings. The core question was simple: Can two finished beers come together to yield an entirely new flavor profile?

One key lesson I learned was the importance of ratios. In my earlier attempts, a straight 50/50 blend seldom resulted in balance; generally, one beer would overpower the other. Therefore, I shifted my approach to consider factors such as ABV, bitterness, and flavor profiles in determining starting points for my blends.

Here are some suggested combinations to try at home:

1. Logboat Snapper IPA + Shortleaf Blood Orange Wheat
   DIY White IPA
   Suggested ratio: 1 part Snapper to 2 parts Blood Orange Wheat. The Snapper’s strength is moderated by the wheat beer, which highlights the citrus notes.

2. Side Project For Friends Golden Lager + Bluewood We All Scream For Oat Cream!
   DIY hoppy lager
   Suggested ratio: 3 parts lager to 1 part IPA. This straightforward blend allows the light lager to shine, enhanced by hoppy aromas.

3. 4 Hands Chocolate Milk Stout + Modern Disco Punch
   Chocolate-covered fruit
   Suggested ratio: 2 parts stout to 1 part sour. The maltiness of the stout balances the fruity tartness of the Disco Punch.

4. Schlafly Oktoberfest + Rockwell Now Streaming
   DIY hoppy amber
   Suggested ratio: 3 parts Oktoberfest to 1 part IPA. This combination maintains the lauded malty character of Oktoberfest while introducing hops.

5. O’Fallon Pumpkin Beer + Piney River Old Tom Porter
   Dark pumpkin pie
   Suggested ratio: 2 parts pumpkin to 1 part porter. The sweetness and spice of the pumpkin beer are complemented by the roasty notes of the porter.

6. Narrow Gauge Peanut Butter & Stout + 2nd Shift Enchanted Garden
   The WTF blend
   Suggested ratio: 3 parts Berliner Weisse to 1 part imperial stout. Tartness from the Berliner Weisse contrasts with the thick, rich stout.

7. Urban Chestnut Mercator + Alpha Believers Brew
   Chocolate Berry
   Suggested ratio: 2 parts Mercator to 1 part Believers Brew. A classic blend of fruity tartness and rich chocolate flavors.

8. Deep Sleep Train of Four + Third Wheel Gotta Have It
   DIY Cascadian dark ale/Black IPA
   Suggested ratio: 1:1. Balanced bitterness and robust flavors from both the stout and the IPA make this combination stand out.

9. Civil Life American Brown Ale + Brick River Cornerstone
   Candy apple
   Suggested ratio: 3 parts brown ale to 1 part cider. A sweet caramel apple flavor emerges from this delightful mix.

10. Big Muddy Blueberry Blonde + Iron Hops Soothsayer Weizenbock
    Blueberry bread
    Suggested ratio: 1:1. This pairing harmonizes blueberry notes with a wheat and clove background.

11. 4 Hands Incarnation IPA + Narrow Gauge Meersalz Double Raspberry
    Tart IPA
    Suggested ratio: 2 parts IPA to 1 part sour. A balance between fruity tartness and hoppy bitterness perfectly characterizes this blend.

12. Side Project Revived + 4 Hands Pineapple Fruit Whip
    Tropical dessert stout
    Suggested ratio: 3 parts Revived to 1 part Fruit Whip. For a decadent combination of coconut, pineapple, and vanilla flavors.

13. Perennial Southside Blonde + Heavy Riff Vanilla Coffee Underbrown
    Belgian mocha
    Suggested ratio: 2 parts Belgian blonde to 1 part brown ale. This mix brings a light, fruity character together with rich coffee notes.

Feel free to adjust these suggestions according to your own palate, embracing the fun and creativity that comes with mixing beers. After all, the joy of beer blending lies in experimentation and personal preference.

Blind Enthusiasm Brewing in Edmonton has made waves in the craft beer community by winning two prestigious awards at the 2026 World Beer Awards. While they are inspired by the lambic style, which originates from Belgium’s Zenne Valley and is protected by the EU, they do not claim to produce authentic lambic. Their unique process and modern facility, known as The Monolith, allow them to create spontaneously-fermented beers that have gained international recognition.

Doug Checknita, the head brewer, highlighted that the design of their brewery facilitates exposure to naturally-occurring microbes, which are used in the fermentation process. The beer is aged in barrels that house a variety of microbes, creating complex flavors through a cooperative fermentation process.

Blind Enthusiasm’s Grand Manifesto was named the World’s Best Gueuze. This beer is a blend of two, three, and four-year-old spontaneously-fermented beers. Checknita emphasized that this particular blend is among their finest work. The brewery has also been recognized for its Fruitful Pursuits: Cherry, which was awarded the title of World’s Best Kriek for the second consecutive year. Initially hesitant to create a kriek, Checknita changed his mind after tasting incredible cherries from British Columbia’s Okanagan Valley, recognizing the potential for a truly exceptional beer.

Blind Enthusiasm’s beers are available for purchase in Canada and internationally, including markets in the United States, the Netherlands, and Japan. The brewery’s blend of historical methods and contemporary techniques has positioned them as a significant player in the craft beer scene, and they continue to attract attention from beer enthusiasts and industry experts alike.