Brown Ale: Overdue Props for an Oft-Forgotten Standby

Good ol’ Charlie Brown. Always out there on the mound, even in the rain, ready to give his best for the rest of the Peanuts gang. That’s how I think of Brown Ale, the Charlie Brown of beer. It’s a dependable, go-to Ale; crack open a bottle of Newcastle or Turbo Dog, and you pretty much know you’re going to get a malty, mildly hopped, easy drinker. Nothing over the edge. A satisfying, honest, even-tempered pal.

It’s “comfort beer,” says author Ray Daniels, who 10 years ago co-authored the definitive Brown Ale: History, Brewing, Techniques, Recipes. He notes that its toasty, biscuity, browned and caramelized flavors are also found in the foods we’ve been eating since man discovered fire: bread and roasted meat. “I think the flavors of kilned malt appeal to the human palate in very fundamental ways,” he says.

In its original English version, it is the prototypical “mild”—a light-flavored, gently hopped, low-alcohol ale, intended to be drained at length. The Americans tweaked the hops and pushed the alcohol but never bastardized the style beyond recognition.

For many, Brown Ale was a gateway beer—the first time they ever dared to taste something dark. But instead of cherishing it like an old friend, some of these same beer drinkers now dismiss it as trite, seemingly almost embarrassed that they once enjoyed its simple pleasure.

You hear grumbles, for example, that Charlie Brown’s a little bland, wearing that same zig-zag T-shirt every day. The West Coast reaches for Lucy’s bitter spirit; the old-world traditionalists sing about Schroeder’s classical style; the dreamers follow Snoopy’s imaginative flights of fancy. And they all have a point, I suppose. Admit it, you probably wish Brown Ale was something “better”—stronger, more assertive, different.

But that misses the mark on two important fronts: If Brown Ale were maltier, it would be a Porter. If it were hoppier, it would be—good grief—an Imperial Brown Ale.

More importantly, Brown Ale is no ordinary mediocrity. Take a second sip, and you unfold subtle layers of flavor and aroma: the toffee of Samuel Smith’s, the hazelnut of Arcadia. Look for these nuances, and the reward is fuller, far more satisfying. Yet it’s not a pretentious, contemplative experience. Instead of dazzling you, the chocolate undertones of Brooklyn Brown simply invite you to pull long sips till you’re asking for another pint. The malty wallop of Bell’s Best Brown hints at a bigger beer—a Cream Stout perhaps—but its light body encourages you to match it with a simple burger.

Where you once dismissed him as just a sad, conflicted soul (“Why isn’t this dark beer more serious?”), you soon find that Brown Ale is a complex individual who can hold an intelligent conversation. You just have to listen for the wonderfully nutty aside of St. George Tavern Ale; the hoppy retort of Smuttynose Old Brown Dog.

Look again, and you’ll find that the everyday characters in the comics section are much more sincere than all those blowhards on the op-ed page. Ah, you’re a good man, Charlie Brown.

BROWN ALE 
Color: Light to dark brown
IBU: 20–40
ABV: 3–5 percent
Other examples: Samuel Adams Brown, Lost Coast Downtown Brown, Troegs Rugged Trail Nut Brown, Dogfish Head Indian Brown, Deschutes Buzzsaw Brown, Surly Bender. ■