A Beer and a Shot: How to coerce those insurgent, die-hard beer drinkers
to switch to the wired life? Caffeinated beer.
by Ethan Gilsdorf
from the Reno News and Review, March 10-16, 2005
(text version after scan)
The author sampling the goods in the comfort and safety of his own home
In the Middle Ages, everyone from babies to grandmothers relied on beer
as a dietary staple. Per capita, the European populace consumed one gallon
per day. Inebriation was all the rage.
But soon after 1643, when coffee began percolating in Paris, Europe woke
up. Some historians believe the bean fuelled the Age of Enlightenment
and revolution.
In 1675, King Charles II, fearing mobs buzzing with dissent, shut down
England's "multitude of Coffee Houses" because of their "very evil and
dangerous effects." A century later, Prussia's Frederick the Great issued
his Coffee Manifesto, forcing citizens to drink beer. "The King does not
believe that coffee-drinking soldiers can be relied upon to endure hardships
in case of another war," Frederick decreed. "Everybody is using coffee;
this must be prevented."
Sorry, Charlie. And Fred. Flash-forward to the 21st century. Starbucks
has turned Americans into espresso junkies. Everybody IS using coffee.
Well, almost. How, then, to coerce those insurgent, die-hard beer drinkers
to switch to the wired life?
Caffeinated beer.
This new brewing trend treads on the coattails of the vodka and Red Bull
fad, which is "the number one mixed drink in bars," according to Michael
Michail, president and CEO of United Brands Company. Energy drinks have
obviously sucked away market share from the brewery behemoths. Hence,
retaliatory strikes like United Brands' new fruity "maltini" beverage,
3SUM, enhanced with caffeine, taurine (a stimulant also found in Red Bull)
and ginseng (alleged effects: increased Yang energy and blood flow to
your, er, extremities). The slogan of the sweet and soda-like beverage?
"Arouse yourself."
"When you drink our product you don't taste beer," said Michail. Not being
too beerish seems to be the point. Take Anheuser-Busch's 6.6 percent alcohol
by volume malted entry called BE ("B-to-the-E"). Muscling in on the coveted
21-to-27 year old club-hopping consumer and reclaiming "the use occasions
that beer really needs to protect," Budweiser launched its caffeinated,
ginseng and guarana-infused brew back in November.
In a teleconference transcript, Budweiser couched B-to-the-E's raison
d'etre in predictable marketing doublespeak: "to address the needs of
these new young contemporary adult consumers" and "keep up with their
highly social and fast paced lifestyles." In other words, these youngsters
like to get drunk and sleep around, not fall asleep.
What's next, scotch with a sprig of St John's wort? "I'll take a Ritalin
latté, skim milk, light on the Prozac, please."
Serious beer aficionados are not amused. "If these beers are intended
to make you drunk and sober you up at the same time, what would be the
point of doing that?" Michael Jackson, author of "The Great Beer Guide"
and considered the world's foremost beer authority, asked via telephone
from London. "You also have to raise the question about how ethical that
is. Are they confusing the public? Mothers Against Drunk Driving will
have a great deal to say about that."
Alas, Bud has decided B-to-the-E is just what we need. Their brew blitzed
national on Jan. 24, just in time for the NFL playoffs. In a power-play
Machiavelli would have endorsed, its initial test-market was college student-laden
Boston, already the home of America's first caffeinated beer: nine-month-old
Moonshot, made by the Randolph, Mass.-based New Century Brewing Company.
Unlike B-to-the-E (whose "crisp taste with an incredible wild factor"
reminded me of fizzy Robitussin), Moonshot tastes like beer and is aimed
at 40-something drinkers who desire a peppy "Friday night beer," according
to New Century founder and CEO Rhonda Kallman.
The founding partner and former executive vice president of the Boston
Beer Company (does Sam Adams ring a bell?), Kallman said the concept came
to her while drinking both beer and caffeinated soda at a Red Hot Chili
Peppers concert.
So, what's Moonshot like? "A lot of people tend to over-think it," said
Kallman. "Is it an up or a down? My response is, try it."
So I did. To reproduce a club-like atmosphere but in a controlled environment,
I stayed home on a Monday night. I screwed in my red party lights, cranked
up the tunes and proceeded to drink, consuming roughly one new-fangled
brewskie every 45 minutes, alternating between B-to-the-E and Moonshot.
The scientific results? Five hours and seven empty beverage containers
later, I was drunk. Jittery, bloated and drunk.
Kallman had made no promises as to performance enhancement. But did Moonshot
"eradicate sloppy drunkenness," as she hinted it might?
All I can say is, I was more fully aware of my intoxication than ever
before.
Ethan Gilsdorf (www.ethangilsdorf.com) is a Boston-based freelance writer.
He can be reached at egilsdorf@yahoo.com.