Blue Point Pumpkin Ale

Before beginning this review, a word of apology. The PumKing and I have been derelict in our reviewing duties-- I, the Duke, was recently betrothed and subsequently away from my desk-- but we have not been idle. At the wedding, an event of special magnificence, to borrow a phrase, we sampled many fine pumpkin beers on draft and indulged in countless bottles of Saranac Pumpkin. Then, upon my return, we surveyed the new lay of the pumpkin land and acquired some half dozen new brands to try. We pledge a more diligent posting policy in the weeks ahead as fall and fall beer approaches peak season.

Accordingly, we turn now to Blue Point Pumpkin Ale. The PumKing and I shared a certain high amount of trepidation regarding this beer. As a rule, we resist the temptation to play favorites with breweries, and we certainly attempt to avoid forming a priori opinions on beers before we taste them just because we harbor some fondness for the label. Basically, we strive for impartiality in hopes of assuring that nothing but the flavor of any given brew colors our interpretations. Historians should know better. As with scholarship, so with beer; we often find neutrality an exceedingly difficult aspiration. It cannot be denied, for instance, that we both have something of a soft spot for our hometown Saranac. Blue Point, a Long Island brewery, hits the PumKing right where he lives: it is almost literally in his boyhood backyard. Compounding matters, though it falls outside the purview of this blog, Blue Point boasts one of the finest summer blueberry ales available. From the outset, then, we wanted Blue Point to succeed, and we crossed our fingers as poured the copper liquid into our goblets and drew them back for that first sip. "Please," we intoned, "don't let this be bad."

We were not disappointed. Those master craftsmen/women at Blue Point did it again! We would have settled for an adequate beer and were rewarded instead with a most excellent one. Blue Point begins with a pleasing aromatic experience and stays good to the last drop (unlike some of its competitors which somehow progress from sweet to bitter in the drinking of a single bottle). Overall this beer is remarkably crisp and balanced, catering to the strength of the pumpkin by enhancing its natural flavors-- that is, by going very light on the cinnamon and nutmeg and letting the gourd stand relatively alone-- rather than adding sweetener, pie-filling, or cloves. You taste the pumpkin, not the supplements. We rank this as one of our early favorites, so far only a little below Saranac.

Priced at $8.99 a six-pack at Wegman's, Blue Point falls into the high-middle price range of craft beers but is worth every penny. Packaged in a diminutive way, in a plain case adorned only with a simple cartoon pumpkin, Blue Point makes no gimmicky promises about "capturing the essence of the season." Instead it lets the beer the do the talking. It is as if they are saying: "You know us by now and you know what we're capable of. Trust us." Our trust, indeed, should never have wavered.

We award this beer a solid A.

Dogfish Head Punkin Ale

This beer arrived on Wegman's shelves to much hype and anticipation. So much so, in fact, that the PumpKing and I traded excitable text messages--like veritable school girls-- for much of an entire evening as we schemed about setting aside a night to spend with Dogfish Head's contribution to the great pumpkin scramble. When the appointed hour arrived, we were practically giddy, despite the fact that we dropped ten bucks for a four-pack. Some background, perhaps, is in order. Earlier in the year I fell head-over-heels, puppy-dog in love with Dogfish's springtime seasonal, Aprihop, a sweet take on their classic IPA formula. Granted, their summer peach beer left a bitter taste in our collective mouths, but both the Pumpking and I harbored fond memories of enjoying Punkin ale last autumn; like the Aprihop, it blended a really good pale ale (rather than say a wheat beer base) with pumpkin flavors and interesting spicing.

Memory can be a tricky, deceptive thing. Contradictory though this will no doubt seem, Dogfish Punkin managed to be simultaneously pleasing and disappointing. The beer itself is a tasty treat, to be sure, and quite an enjoyable drink (which also packs a strong alcoholic wallop at 7.0 ABV). Indeed, both the King and I remarked to the brisk night air that if we were merely seeking a great seasonal beer-- sharply hoppy with a discernible malty, brown-sugar aftertaste-- this would satisfy. Dogfish ranks right up there with Southern Tier's delicious Harvest Ale.

Alas, we are not in the business of reviewing fall beers for their own sake. Dogfish promised (sort of-- see below) to deliver a pumpkin beer, and falls short of that promise. The beer is, above all, a pale ale; the brewer's dedication to perfecting pumpkin flavors clearly places second to that priority, and it shows. As we tasted the brew, swirling the liquid in our glasses, enjoying a fragrant bouquet, and letting the beer linger over our taste buds, we strained and strained to detect a pumpkin taste, but to no avail.

All of which makes this a difficult beer to grade. By itself, it stands as a solid A-/B+; as a pumpkin beer, it leaves something to be desired. We are going to split the difference and award it a B-.


Coda: In fairness, on its website, Dogfish Heads retreats a little from the promise of serving up a full-bore pumpkin product. According to the brewery, their aim was to create "smooth hints of pumpkin." Fair enough, but hints alone fail to impress the Royal Pumpkin Review.

Blue Moon Pumpkin Ale

We may have a winner (or, more accurately, a loser) for lousiest pumpkin beer of the year, despite the fact that it's still early in the fall-- still technically summer as of this writing--and plenty more bad beer no doubt awaits us. However, I can say with relative confidence, that we have hit the low point of our pumpkin journey. As the Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons might put it: Worst. Beer. Ever. Does that sound overblown? We'd invite you to try it for yourself, but we'd rather spare you the $7.99, or at least have you spend it on Saranac or UFO Pumpkin. If you don't want to take our word for it, go ahead and buy it, but then if you didn't take our views on pumpkin beers seriously, you wouldn't be among the small handful of people reading this blog.

So, the beer itself.  The PumKing and I bought a six pack of Blue Moon Pumpkin Ale and sampled it this past week. I must admit that at first blush, in the craft beer aisle of Wegman's, we were pretty excited. Regular Blue Moon is mostly tasty and refreshing, and the Harvest Moon the brewery used to release in the autumn (which we assume is being either replaced or supplemented by this experiment to tap into the pumpkin market-- the former theory is confirmed on wikipedia) was definitely above an average malty brew. We were, in the words of the King, "delighted" to see Blue Moon try its hand at the great pumpkin game (not to be confused with the Great Pumpkin). Sadly, we found only disappointment inside that particular bottle. We each took two or three sips from our pumpkin goblets (no joke, we have them) and poured the rest of the beer down the drain before running into the waiting arms of better pumpkin suitors.  Unlike Harvest Moon, which had a bold, Oktoberfesty taste, Pumpkin Moon's flavor was repugnant. We actually recoiled as the brew hit our tongues.  It has ZERO pumpkin flavor, and only a very dull and light smattering of unidentifiable seasonings. In the end, we likened this beer to a very amateur, earthy, Nut Brown, which is not a knock on that variety, but is not what one wants when one seeks out the Pumpkin.

Grade: F