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It was not so very long ago that one could go to a restaurant--a fairly nice one, at that--and, upon ordering a bottle of Dublin's finest, be offered a choice by the waitress: warm or cold? Warm meant straight off the stockroom shelf back in the days before Americans understood the idea of cellar temperatures. In those dark times, Ireland's most famous beer was thought to be a very strange, nearly undrinkable concoction that, like haggis, one consumed purely for macho effect. So why not drink it warm, like the Irish? Fortunately, things have changed and Guinness has become one of Portland's staples. Clearly, the ads have had a big impact on sales; the Rose City is one of only 18 markets in the nation to air the new television spots, and since they've started showing, sales are way up. Admiralty Beverage, Guinness' local distributor, reports that sales increased 100 percent in February. It helps that the brewery has rolled out its annual pub giveaway, coinciding with the St. Patrick's Day season. But something else is also at work. Long before the ads started running, sales were already booming. According to the OLCC, for the first 11 months of 1997 (the most recent period for which numbers are available), Guinness' Oregon sales were up nearly 42 percent. Now that the American palate has been educated by craft-brewed beers, imports are celebrating a resurgence of popularity. Nearly all imports are doing well, including heavily advertised standards like Heineken and Foster's. But more significant is the growth in labels like Paulaner and Samuel Smith, brewers that specialize in more flavorful, sophisticated beers--and don't advertise. Beer drinkers introduced to good beer through microbrews have started to work backwards, toward the source. It is well known that Northwest craft brewers tend to put their own signature on their versions of world styles, whether by using more or different hops or malt. Many consumers have begun to sample European beers--some of which have been in production for centuriesto see what the originals are like. We know how local porters taste, but how about a Fuller's? Another reason for the rise in popularity of imports has to do with exploring the varieties that are simply not brewed in America. Even with the range of beers offered by local brewers, there are dozens of styles not represented (or thinly so). To taste an example of, say, a Flemish brown ale, the only choices, short of going to Belgium, are imports. Of course, some beer just can't be replicated. As Sandy Riegner, co-owner of the Rose and Thistle, says, "A lot of brewers have tried to imitate Guinness; people are finding out, well, there is nothing like the original." The Advocate One of the best places in town to sample imports is Higgins restaurant. For starters, it boasts a list of more than 100 bottled beers and a dozen or so more on tap, the vast majority imports. On the list are some very rare beers, such as the Swiss made Samichlaus (brewed only once a year, on Dec. 6) or just about any of the 50 Belgian beers. Equally important is the man behind the beers, Warren Steenson, the restaurant's beer steward and one of Portland's most enthusiastic proponents of imported beer. Higgins serves a unique role by focusing attention on pairing food and beer. "I see myself as a door opener," Steenson says. Although it's possible to go in and sample the beer at the bar, Steenson has found it easier to encourage experimentation among patrons when beer serves as the accompaniment for food rather than the focus. Since he began working at Higgins four years ago (coming from the Heathman, where he worked with owner Greg Higgins), he's noticed a steady increase in the quantity of imports sold. Although some of the brands will get hot for a while, especially after a favorable review, the trend overall is toward acceptance of beer as a legitimate companion to a good meal, especially imported beer. The prices, in the $5 to $15 range on average (though you can spend up to $50 for a 1.5 liter bottle of Scaldis NoNl), are also considerably less expensive than a similar bottle of wine. People like Steenson help spread the word as well. As I visited with him last week, I was impressed as much by his genuine appreciation of the beers as by the comprehensive list at Higgins. As some uncharacteristic sun lit the restaurant with golden light, he warmly recalled travels in Europe. Conjuring up the time he spent in Belgium, he praised Lindemans' Cuvée René, saying, "I can still open a bottle of it and the first smell is exactly like the valley where they brew that beer." Give me a bottle of that. |
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