Where to find petes wicked ale

Like little kings, they began planting flags: Fritz Maytag on the state called "steam beer," Ken Grossman in "Pale Aleland. Amber ales Portland Brewing's MacTarnahan's v.

Full Sail Amber and hefeweizens Pyramid v. Widmer were hot properties. In Bend, Gary Fish wondered if he could build an empire on some scraggly brush land no one seemed to highly regard: Porterlandia.

Nationally, one of the most successful companies was Pete's Wicked, which from shortly after its founding until the "great shakeout" of the late 90s was the country's second largest craft brewery. It's sort of wild to imagine, but the flagship brand was Wicked Ale, a brown. I was put in mind of this as I perused this question of "foundational" beers.

Back in about , you could have been forgiven for thinking that the future of craft brewing was going to be brown ales and Vienna lagers. Instead, earlier this year, Jay Brooks broke the news that the brand would end production in May.

Protz credited Fritz Maytag of Anchor as one of two driving forces behind the revival of quality beer in America, and he has rightly been lauded as helping kick-start the process; indeed, the continued success of Anchor Steam speaks for itself in that regard.

But Protz gave equal time to Bert Grant , who opened America's first post-Prohibition brewpub in Grant's long career in the industry led him from working for industrial-scale brewers to opening his Yakima, Washington, business, Grant's Brewery Pub. Grant's beers eventually made it out of the Pacific Northwest and were distributed in more than 25 states at one point.

While the kilt-wearing Grant was one of the first 'characters' on the beer scene, the business he built did not long survive his death in ; the brewpub closed in But he is well-remembered in the region—tiny Yakima Craft Brewing Company inherited some of his equipment and is putting it to good use.

Another early craft brand with a relatively high profile in the s has only just departed— Pete's Wicked Ale. Launched by homebrewer-made-good Pete Slosberg in , the brand was popular enough to be desired by Gambrinus, whose portfolio now includes Shiner and Trumer Pils.

Pete's Wicked Ale was one of the first craft beers to receive distribution nationwide, and Slosberg's marketing know-how and likability was a large part of its success. But the level of competition in the field has grown enormously since then, and as of March 1st, , Pete's Wicked Ale is no more.

Protz notes that in Britain in , 'fewer than a dozen draught beers called IPA' were available, and Worthington White Shield was mentioned as 'the last fragile hold on a once-great style. When Protz published this book, all craft brewers combined made up less than one percent of all beer sales in the US, and there were only around of them.

But it's well worth a look back at the recent past—it's easy to forget how fleeting success was for some well-known beers, or that only a few short years ago, ordering something beyond a Bud, Miller, Coors or Bass was nearly impossible.

There's never been more of a need for the kind of local, independent and unbiased journalism that The Day produces. Please support our work by subscribing today. Published March Pete Slosberg was trying his hand at winemaking when he realized he was too impatient to wait out the fermentation. The homebrew supply store owner suggested making beer, which didn't take as long, but Slosberg wasn't much of a beer drinker.

You might be if you brewed your own, he was told. So Slosberg, a Norwich native, brewed a batch. The flavor reminded him of the malted milk balls that he had loved as a kid. And, as they say, the rest is history. That was , and seven years later, after a lot of trial and error, Slosberg rolled out Pete's Wicked Ale. Now, 25 years after he started tinkering around in his Belmont, Calif. The Gambrinus Co. Like most of the country in the mids, I was drinking mass-produced American lagers. When I could afford something a little more pricey and wanted to enjoy something more "exotic," I'd grab Michelob, Molson or Dos Equis.

For me and many others, Pete Slosberg changed that. I was so struck by Pete's Wicked Ale that I brought two ounce bottles to a golf tournament to share with my playing partners. As we stood in the parking lot, I poured the dark ale into plastic cups. With just a few sips we came to the same conclusion as Slosberg had: American beer didn't have to be blonde and flavorless.

Slosberg had a few things going for him: a great beer, the hip use of wicked in the name and a drinking public that was ready for full-flavored beers. He was a member of a generation of brewers who weren't afraid of hops and would never consider adding rice or corn to the brew kettle. Strawberry Blonde, Honey Wheat and some seasonal beers followed.