An Incomplete Ranking of the Low-Cal, Low-ABV IPAs Available Near My House

An exhaustive—sorry, exhausting—survey.

As far as I’m concerned, there are two categories of beer: Hamm’s and Not-Hamm’s. Hamm’s is a beer that tastes like synesthesia: velvet wallpaper, a sea shanty, the stern gaze of a stately bear. Not-Hamm’s are beers with real, carbon-based flavors, like “orange peel” and “cardamom” and “hops.” Sometimes the cans will tell you they taste like “lactose,” as if this is a flavor that human tongues crave.

Don’t get me wrong: I like Not-Hamm’s very much (even the ones that taste like milk). But because I am a crude, hedonic monster—essentially, the female equivalent of the Showbiz Pizza Bear—I sometimes wish to drink five beers in one night. And because I am about as old as the Showbiz Pizza Bear, when I do that with 7 percent IPAs, I wake up furious and sad and nauseated instead of just furious and sad.

I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled. You get the idea.

So I was sort of intrigued when I noticed all these 3-4 percent “light” IPAs popping up at Gomer’s and Plaza Liquors. Because my goal with this newsletter is to lose money writing for no one, I figured I’d buy up a few packs and figure out if they were any good. If nothing else, I thought it might be a good way to ensure my critical faculties don’t wither in disuse like a Vienna Sausage on a park bench.

Methodology

I enlisted my husband, Tom, to pour each beer into an identical glass in another room and label them “A” through “E.” The cans and packaging were hidden so I wouldn’t try to predict the lineup.

Look, I don’t know why I have a pot with a bunch of evil-looking metal sunflowers jammed in it, either.

I split the blind-tasting into two rounds. In the first round, I sampled each beer, scribbled some tasting notes, and gave them an initial ranking. In the second round, I set up a horse race between consecutive ranked pairs—testing my #1 seed against #2, then #2 against #3, #3 against #4, etc. The second round yielded only one change to the rankings (more on that below), proving that I am both obstinate and cocksure.

Then, the only thing left was to reveal the beers and finish the cans.

Behold: An Incomplete Ranking of the Best Low-ABV IPAs Available Near My House.

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1. Jai Low, Cigar City Brewing (4% ABV, 120 cals)

This beer poured the color of a dehydrated person’s urine and tasted like the rager that got them there. I liked everything about it right off the bat, from its bright, January-wind-in-the-face hop character to its fizzy Emergen-C nose.

If you’re a fan of Jai Alai, Cigar City’s 7.5%, 225 calorie breadfruit, you’ll probably like this, too. Jai Low is Jai Alai on Enya. It has all the complexities you’d associate with an ageless, ethereal songstress living alone in a castle in the Irish moors. It finishes like a wisp of a midnight-blue caftan whipping around a corner. The ceilings on this beer are 20 feet tall. If you told me it was 7 percent, I’d believe you.

Jai Low: 120 Calories of Pretty Good Beer That Won’t Fuck You Up Too Bad.

2. Light-Hearted Ale, Bell’s Brewery (3.7% ABV, 110 cals)

I’m not all that surprised this was a top finisher: the non-soft version of this beer—the OG Bell’s Two-Hearted Ale—is one of my favorite Not-Hamm’s. I’ll say off the bat that this isn’t a dupe for the genuine article, but it’s not a bad substitute if you’ve got to drive. If you like less abrasive IPAs, this might be your bag: Light-Hearted was the only beer of the five I tasted with any detectable malt character. It smelled a bit like a banana, which can’t be right (I think I’m supposed to say it has “fruity esters,” but I will not, because my soul is still salvageable).

Light-Hearted actually won in my first-round ranking, but was edged out in the horse race because 1) Jai Low tasted more true to style, and 2) Light Hearted’s sweet graininess began to stand out to me on repeat sips, making me question whether it would get old after a full can (it did not, but YMMV).

3.  One-y Hazy IPA, Oskar Blues (4% ABV, 100 cals)

I should note here that there’s quite a bit of daylight between the top two and the rest of the pack. One-y takes a comfortable, distant third. The beer had some strong tropical notes, but I’d be hard pressed to pick any single fruit out of a lineup. It was a compressed, lossy citrus, in the vein of Five Alive.

I am by no means a cicerone, but the “hazy” label felt a bit misleading. This was neither the cloudiest nor juiciest of the bunch. I liked the beer’s carbonation and astringency, but it was less complex, with more of a hard-nosed, Glenn-Greenwald bitterness. Verdict: 3.6 roentgen.

4. Courage Partner, Mother’s Brewing Co. (3.7% ABV, 110 calories)

Yeah, yeah, I was three beers in and forgot to take equivalent photos of the last two. This is the quality content you subscribe for.

If you’re a fan of IPAs with X-treme Hop Boi branding—Palate Wrecker; Mouth Winch—you might be into this beer’s Tinder profile. It has an undeniable Sour Patch/citric acid aroma, which I thought I would love. In the end, the beer was a catfish: the first hit of the first sip was great, but the finish was truly unpleasant, walking a tightrope between dead moths and old pantyhose. On the bright side, Mother’s claims this contains 1 gram of protein. Don’t spend all those #gainz in one place.

5. DayTime IPA, Lagunitas (4% ABV, 98 calories)

This was the lowest-calorie beer of the set, clocking in at a cold 98 cals, and I can only presume those two missing calories are where the flavor lives. DayTime poured a clear, Chardonnay yellow and tasted flat and sweet in a fleeting, unsettling kind of way. The vague fruitiness seemed to disappear halfway through the first sip, like the ghost of a pineapple whose murder had just been solved.

The description of the beer on Lagunitas’ website is full of inane sentences like “we didn't invent these truths; they invented us,” which is the sort of copy you write for a beer when you have no fucking clue what it tastes like. I know what it tastes like: an IPA-flavored hard seltzer.

To be fair to Lagunitas, this beer is not actively unpleasant. After the blind test, I finished the cans, working from best to worst, while I played a board game that involved growing trees into progressively larger trees. By the time I got to this one, I no longer minded it.

Lagunitas, if you’re reading this, I would like to apply to be your creative director. Here’s my first campaign: “Lagunitas DayTime: Your Next Fifth Beer.”  

Conclusion

The experiment definitely wasn’t a dud. I even got a bit of a buzz on, as measured by the number of selfies I took where I am smiling with the vaguely malevolent aura of a cartoon python. I felt fine the next day.  Since completing this test, I’ve even bought another six-pack of Jai Low. I quite like it!

Cheers, everyone.