The Many Definitions of West Coast IPA
This week, as pFriem rolls out their version of a West Coast IPA, they infuse it with the most modern, cutting-edge sense of the style. Indeed, co-founder and brewmaster Josh Pfriem describes it as a “sandbox” for experimentation and evolution. For those who follow trends in the industry closely, the modern definition isn’t especially elusive. It’s an increasingly pale beer, bright or nearly so, with intense aromatics and hop flavor, and a clean, dry finish. Breweries can easily place their stamp on the style through hop selection or by mixing one element or another.
But here’s the thing. West Coast IPAs have been around for forty years. During those decades, breweries in Washington, Oregon, and California have interpreted the term in a lot of ways, distinct both in region and time. IPAs from the 90s, 00s, and 10s are still in the market. Brewers of a certain stripe follow trends closely and adapt to them, but do customers? Given the variety of “West Coast IPAs” available at any given grocery store or pub, what do customers expect?
Memories of Pine and Citrus
I ran a little word association game on Twitter/X a couple weeks back to see what these expectations were. “I am curious” I wrote, “what the term ‘West Coast IPA’ means to people in 2023. When you see that style on a menu, what do you expect?”
The answers were diverse, predictably, but to a certain group, it connects to a lineage going back a quarter century. Of the 88 responses (not bad!), a substantial evoked past eras. This comment from @tania_nexust was a good example. “If I see it, I order it but prepare for disappointment. I still want piney resins, aggressive bitterness and a malty backbone dammit.” (Tania is British, joining an international chorus weighing in on the discussion—whatever else they are, West Coast IPAs are not a local style.)
When IPAs started becoming popular in the 1990s, hops available for expressive IPAs almost all delivered citrus-to-pine aromatics and flavor. For decades, those flavors defined IPAs. To my surprise, for most drinkers, they still do. Thirty-six of the responses mentioned expecting pine or wanting it, and another ten or so mentioned citrus, cannabis, or “dank””—all pointing in the same direction. Far more used pine/piney than tropical or fruity, probably around four to one. This was true even of descriptions that captured the modern sense as breweries like pFriem understand it. Here’s Ben Keough (@ben_keough):
“Little to no yeast character (clean fermentation), minimal malt presence (and often a lot paler than old-school WCIPA), moderate to high bitterness, mix of old-school WCIPA hop flavors/aromas (pine, resin) with the more modern/fruity stuff you associate with hazies.”
Clear With a Forecast of Dry and Clean
Over the weekend, I happened to speak to Breakside’s Ben Edmunds, who had predictably strong opinions about the contours of a modern IPA. For his money, yeast choice is a huge factor. Particularly in the Pacific Northwest, it has been common for breweries to use English-derived yeasts that produce at least some fruitiness. According to a number of drinkers—and Ben, too—that’s not where things are right now. Shawn Adams (@shawnadams330) offers a pretty good take on fermentation, and is one of the few to mention lager yeast.
“Pale, mostly clear, clean medium-high bitterness, dank to fruity hop aroma - medium high, clean low malt character, finishes dry. Clean ale or warm lager yeast.”
Source: Green Cheek
This accords with how brewers are approaching WC IPAs now. I interviewed Green Cheek’s Evan Price (Orange, CA) about his IPAs and he went this far: “We’ve kept on a train where West Coast for us is a imperial pilsner of sorts with fresh, tropical hops, or fruity, citrusy hops.” When I inquired about this, he agreed that the yeasts need to get out of the way. This is a return of sorts to a way of thinking that dominated prior to hazies—that IPAs should be about hops almost exclusively.
That neutral yeast component goes with an increasing emphasis on high attenuation and very pale beers with little to no malt character (and caramel malt does seem to be considered passé by most at this point). I’ll give Firestone Walker’s R&D brewer, Sam Tierney (@intorhebrew), the last word here:
“Pale and clear with low malt character. Relatively dry with bitterness that could be medium-to-high. Any new world hop character but probably fruity and dank. Clean yeast expression for the most part (Chico or warm-fermented lager, maybe English if it’s not aggressively fruity).”
And a Hint of Confusion
One more important theme emerged, and particularly for breweries, it’s something to watch. A lot of drinkers felt like they were never sure what they were going to get when they ordered an IPA. Here’s Rob (@UncleOtis23): “It means I have no idea what I'm going to get when I order one. It could be an old school piney, bitter beer (yea!) or a clear version of a hazy with that fruity citra/mosaic hop profile (mostly boo!).” Some people mentioned what they wanted (typically older versions)—but that they rarely found them anymore. Others felt the term had no meaning except “not a hazy IPA.”
There are a lot of very popular IPAs out there that fit into some definition of “West Coast.” Lagunitas has been around for 30 years. In San Diego, you can still get a Swami’s at Pizza Port. In the Northwest, you have Georgetown’s Bodhizafa, Reuben’s Crikey, Boneyard RPM, and Deschutes Fresh-Squeezed. All of these come from different strata in the sediment of West Coast IPAs.
It’s a style—if you can call it that—that’s been in constant evolution since Bert Grant started selling his year-round version in 1983. Many of those older IPAs aren’t going away. Moreover, because they exist, breweries will continue to brew beers roughly like them. The cutting edge of any style only ever describes some portion of the market, and usually not the largest portion. Sometimes, that leading edge ends up heading down a blind alley (RIP brut IPA). So consider all this a snapshot in time—but one we’ll explore more deeply in coming posts.