Enough already? You missed the joke

Has craft beer jumped the shark?

If you've listened to the collective drone of the beer cognoscenti in recent weeks, it sure sounded like it has. They've got their knickers in a knot over a continuing quest to produce the world's strongest beer.

The battle was reignited last November with the release of the hilariously named Tactical Nuclear Penguin from BrewDog of Scotland. The ale registered a bone-jarring 32 percent alcohol.

Then, as two other small European breweries joined the fray this summer, the record leaped to 40 percent, then 45 percent, then an astounding 55 percent. Beer, which rarely breaks double figures, had suddenly reached a strength that is beyond that of whiskey, rum and, probably, paint thinner.

Writers at countless blogs and online review sites griped that it was all a stupid publicity stunt that would hurt the image of beer as a sensible, low-alcohol beverage. Over-proof beer, cried one, would bring "a crass element to craft brewing."

British beer writer Roger Protz tut-tutted BrewDog's "over-inflated egos and naked ambition." And beer-and-food blogger/author Stephen Beaumont got his caps key stuck while pounding out a dissent: "Enough! Enough!! ENOUGH!!!"

I can't help but think these people missed the joke. Did they not notice that bottles of BrewDog's latest are packaged inside the remains of a dead squirrel?

Both BrewDog and Schorschbraer of Germany obtain their high numbers through a process known as freeze distillation. After fermentation, the beer is chilled to below 30 degrees and the ice crystals containing mostly water are skimmed off, leaving a relatively higher volume of alcohol.

Early this year, Schorschbock climbed to 40 percent alcohol. BrewDog – claiming that it had "struck  a mortal blow to the sausage-munchers" – clawed back with Sink the Bismarck, a "quadruppel IPA" with 41 percent alcohol.

Brouwerij 't Koelschip of the Netherlands jumped in with Oblix, which reached 45 percent alcohol through both freeze and steam distillation.

In July, BrewDog answered with its 55 percenter. His tongue firmly planted in cheek, brewer James Watt named his new beer after Francis Fukuyama's thumb-sucking 1992 conservative tome "The End of History and the Last Man."

The End of History, Watt intoned, was "the end point in the evolution of beer." Just 12 bottles were produced and packaged inside – I'm not kidding – a stuffed gray squirrel.

Price for a single 12-ounce bottle: 700 British pounds, or about $1,100.

They sold out immediately. And the critics went ballistic.

It's not real beer, they complained. This madness must stop!

Much of the criticism is aimed not at the beer's flavor (for few have actually tasted these brands), but at the method of achieving the high alcohol. It's as if the brewers have broken some sacred rule that condemns experimentation.

Yet throughout history, brewing has always advanced exactly because they've pushed the boundaries with new ingredients, improved techniques and advanced knowledge. In the last 25 years, quixotic craft brewers have revived extinct varieties and invented new styles specifically because they broke the rules. There have been failures, yes, and sometimes the hype is unwarranted.

But this is the first time I've heard anyone say "Enough!"

The backlash is especially hard to fathom when the people who are making these high-octane bombs seem to be having so much fun.

"We're just having a little bit of competition, with a smile," 't Koelschip's Jan Nijboer told me. "You should see it as a joke."

As if to underscore his point (and mine), Nijboer last month dropped an even bigger bomb, at 60 percent alcohol. Its name: Start the Future.

Joe Sixpack appears Wednesdays in the Appeal-Democrat. For more beer news, visit www.joesixpack.net. E-mail: joe@joesixpack.net.