Pumpkin Sunset

Whew! Glad I got to the pumpkins when I did. I’ve already started seeing winter offerings being released. The ten-day forecast supports beers like Blizzard of ’78 being available. A 60 percent chance of snow before Halloween, really? Mother Nature, seriously we can’t take any more surprises.

Damn it, I’m not ready for winter beers. Just last weekend, I was strolling along the dirt paths of Old Sturbridge Village, enjoying the foliage with the smell of burning wood permeating to air. Adam and I had sat down in their picnic area to snack on an apple cider donut and have a beer as we waited for dark to settle on the historic town.

He had a Sam Oktoberfest, and I had a Shipyard Pumpkinhead. Not what we would have chosen if there had been other options open to us, but that doesn’t mean we were disappointed. I haven’t had a Pumpkinhead in years. Once upon a time, it was a go-to selection for me but, as the pumpkin offerings increased and my tastes changed, I started passing it by.

I didn’t think to keep actual tasting notes. I was distracted by the performances of Edgar Allen Poe’s works. I wish I had now, but the Delorian is in the shop.

The flavor profile of Pumpkinhead is nowhere near the beers I’ve reviewed this month. What nose Pumpkinhead does have, paired well with the smokey evening air. With this pumpkin choice, drinkers get a reserved mix of nutmeg and cinnamon, as if inviting the glass to be lined with sugar and cinnamon. This was not an option that I was glad of.

The subtly of the flavors didn’t bother me as I sipped away. Maybe if I had been anywhere else, it might have. I had picked up a one time favorite, and it just happened to fit the call of the evening.

As I sat down to write this apparent fall send-off, a thought occurred to me. I hadn’t ever delved into where pumpkin beers originated from. They cropped up in popularity about eight or so years ago, at least ib my memory, as if they’d always been there.

And, well, they have—sort of.

Pumpkins aren’t mentioned in the Reinheitsgebot, obviously. For the Europeans making their home in American in the 17th and 18th centuries, pumpkins were a problem solver. Refined malt wasn’t available on every colonial corner. It wasn’t available on many corners. And without fermentable sugars, beer operations were a no go.

Enter the pumpkin—a native and plentifully available plant that could take the place of malt in the brewing process. So, colonists used the meat of pumpkins to replace the grains required for brewing. And thus, pumpkin beer was born.

Life finds a way, right?

Like all good things, they must come to an end. By the 19th century, folks could more readily get their hands on the traditional malts used for brewing. Pumpkins were set aside, and brewing continued without them for quite some time.

Till the 1980s, to be precise. When Buffalo Bill’s brewery out in California revived the once-ubiquitous beverage. (All the pumpkin beer haters out there now know who to direct your ire toward.) From there, other breweries started to add pumpkin beers to their seasonal rotation. Leading to the influx of pumpkin offerings in August.

I am terribly curious about what the OG pumpkin tasted like. It wouldn’t be anything like what we’re used to now. Traditional pumpkin brews were not giving drinkers a “pumpkin pie in a glass” experience. I can’t imagine colonists being willing to use cinnamon and nutmeg for brewing.

Perhaps some brew research needs to happen. We’ll see. There’s some convincing that would need to take place. But what’s a little brew campaign among friends? At this point, we’d probably have to plan for the next harvest season. But I’ll tuck that away for now.

Ah, well. The beer options might be starting to turn, but there are a few cans of this and that still in the fridge to hold onto fall for a little bit longer. Cheers Need Girls and Happy Halloween!