I’ve sampled some fine brew on both sides of the Atlantic. I’m comfortable with a stein in a biergarten, a pint in a college dive or a bottle of the latest micro-concoction in Justin’s living room. So, of course, I was interested last week when Justin sent me Clay Risen’s Atlantic piece comparing German and American beer. Risen originally wrote the piece in German for a German newspaper, defending the American beer market to the immer skeptisch Deutscher.

It’s a noble task. My German brother-in-law visited us here in Washington, and he and his travel companion were mostly interested in American shoddiness. It’s hard to find shoddy products in Germany. They rented a strange-looking dodge car. They ate Taco Bell, in spite of my protests that they needed to get some decent Mexican now that they were in North America. They bought a gallon jug of Hawaiian punch, giggling the entire time as they drank the strange sugary liquid (“only in America!” chortled my brother-in-law’s friend, his teeth stained red). And, of course, they drank Budweiser beer. I guess if they wanted quality they could have just stayed in Germany. Perhaps the existence of excellent American beer distrurbs this “shoddy tourism” market for Swabians looking for a laugh.

American shoddiness is curious. It doesn’t help that McDonald’s is one of our greatest ambassadors internationally. It certainly didn’t help that Budweiser sponsored the 2006 World Cup in Germany. I don’t think Budweiser can be legally called beer in Germany. But contractually, real German beer was not allowed within one kilometer of any soccer stadium. The world’s soccer fans were forced to drink American “dish-water” (probably for 8 Euros a bottle). Think about it. If we are going to shove American products onto the rest of the world in a tournament everyone cares more about than us, couldn’t we at least have given them Sam Adams? Heck, Yuengling would have been less embarrassing. If shoddiness and America go hand in hand in the German mind, we have only ourselves to blame.

So I commend Risen for telling our German friends that we really do have some decent beer. And I agree with most of his points. Like his German readers, I do take issue with his comparing Becks to Bud. Becks may be boring, but it’s not shoddy. But the vareity of America’s craft beers from all over the country is unmatched, and that is something to be proud of. It’s a blessing to live in a land where there will always be new beer tastes to explore. (Though Risen admits in his article that diversity has much to do with geography. Germany is, physically, the size of Montana. Perhaps a better picture of European diversity can be found examining the entire continent. As we pointed out before, even Turkey is joining the party)

So, I agree with Risen and Justin and will defend the best parts of the American beer markets. I especially like the restless creativity and the “why not try it?” attitude that accompanies it. This is something you don’t find in Germany.

But…

I still have the sense that we are the learners and the Germans are the teachers. We are becoming beer-scholars, but they are beer-masters. The U.S. may be Luke Skywalker, but Germany is Yoda. The Germans have been crafting outstanding brew since the country was teeming with Benedictine monks in the Middle ages. As for the land of the free, Prohibition and the Great Depression flushed most of the decent beers brought across the Atlantic from our forefathers and sense then, we either settled for depression quality, drank imports or started from scratch. Our starting-from-scratch beer is a good start, but I wonder if our creative energy is so strong, because we have yet to find true perfection.