I had my first Otra Vez in January of this year. It was also my first Gose, which is pronounced go-zuh, not goes as you would likely believe. Gose originated in Germany in the 16^th century, and even at the time, was a controversial beer as it did not follow the German laws of brewing (Reinheitsgebot). The Otra Vez had just been announced as Sierra Nevada Brewing Company’s newest year round beer. I was excited. I perched myself at the bar in Sierra Nevada’s Chico taproom and ordered a pint of the Otra Vez. It was the worst beer I’ve ever had. It was sweet, it was sour, it was salty. It was a shitstorm in a glass. Particularly for the middle of winter. I wanted to ask the bartender if there was a mistake, maybe a bad batch or some sort of cruel joke, because this beer was revolting. But, this is a comeback story. It isn’t a review, just my experience with a beer I’ve grown to love. And one that is still a source of contention and discourse in the craft beer community.

I had another Otra Vez two weeks later in Los Angeles, thinking that maybe I should give it another chance. After all, Sierra Nevada has always had a pedigree for producing quality suds. I grew up drinking these beers and Sierra Nevada Pale Ale was not only a revolutionary beer, but also my entry into craft beer and the one I would take to the desert island. I kept this in mind, and gave this Gose another shot. It still sucked, but now I was embarrassed by the piss-water my home brewery put out as one of their new go to brews. Call it small town pride, but I have always defended and promoted Sierra Nevada with the fervor of a religious missionary.

I was back in Chico this previous May when my friend Jake, a home brewer, asked if I wanted to join him to brew a couple batches of pale ale. I’m sitting out in Jake’s back yard baking in the afternoon sun, while a propane tank heats ten gallons of water, no more than five feet away from me. Sometimes home brewing fuckin’ sucks and I commend anyone who sticks with it. Three of us are absolutely roasting. It’s 102 degrees out, but as every Chicoan will say, “It’s a dry heat.” I ask what we have to drink, and Jake says that he has one beer. For three people. He portions a room temp Old Chico Crystal Wheat into a few solo cups, ensuring that each man gets an equal share of what, at that point, was the most valuable resource in the world. It was a tragic affair. Crystal Wheat’s a good beer. Strike that. A fantastic beer and it was better than nothing, but there’s something about pain and suffering that makes you feel like you deserve more. We anguished in the sun, rearranging the patio furniture every few minutes to catch some of the ever elusive shade which evaded us like an older brother who simply wants to be left alone. Finally our friend, Ryan, arrived with twelve ice cold Otra Vez. Salvation in a bottle. He is my hero to this day. This was a walk off home run. Some real third act shit.

In a flurry, each of us began popping bottles with our keychains and taking long glorious pulls. This beer isn’t complicated by challenging flavors. It’s a punch to the face of grapefruit from the central valley and prickly-pear cactus hailing from the San Joaquin. This is the ultimate sit back, drink up, and forget all your fuckin’ worries California beer. It’s the summer blockbuster of craft brewing. The big superhero flick everyone’s talking about, whether they like it or not. Very little was spoken over the next few minutes as each of us gulped ‘em down. I set my empty bottle down and mere seconds later, found myself drinking another. That’s when I knew that for me, this would be the summer of Otra Vez. If you ask me, there isn’t a beer out there that’s better for sitting by the pool, working in the yard, or taking a hike.

I’ve been a Hop-Head for quite some time now, so maybe this is the hangover of all the IPAs I’ve been mainlining, but this beer is so refreshing and different. Around this time I read a sensationalist article which surely drew in some clicks simply from its pumped up title, “Craft Beer is Dead. Gose Killed It.” In the article, Joe Keohane explains that the Gose is simply the end of the path for craft beer. Keohane views the craft beer revolution as a linear phenomenon with a beginning and an end. “Bad flavor is the new good flavor, because all the good flavors are taken,” (Keohane). The Giants relief staff sucked this season. Baseball will never be the same. I know it’s a bit ridiculous to compare the two statements, but it’s only fair that I counter his shitty argument with an equally shitty one. It’s disconcerting that Keohane makes this statement simply because he found Goses to be unenjoyable. I once felt the same way, but it hardly warped my views of the industry. Keohane’s arguments are flawed clickbaity nonsense. Of course there is the chance that the market will reach saturation, some brewers claim it already has, but there isn’t, and never will be, a limit to creativity. There are endless flavor combinations, some of them good, and some of them very, very bad, but there is no arbitrary cap in regards to taste. We live in the age of specificity. If you’re a nerd about something, there is probably a podcast, several shitty ebooks, and a Youtube channel devoted to it. Our beer should be the same way. There is a beer on the market for everyone, even for the heathens who have yet to convert to the cult of craft.

Otra Vez is Spanish. It translates to Another Time. It’s just terribly ironic that they released it in January, when the beer was clearly for, another time. Which is kind of my point. Because it isn’t just what’s in the bottle that makes a great beer. Sometimes we have to meet the brewers halfway. It’s where we are and who we’re with. Or, sometimes it’s the weather that dictates the beer. This seems to be what craft beer is all about. Not just that it’s fine to be different, but that it’s fucking awesome to be different. We don’t all have to drink the American Lager that dominated the market for far, far too long.

There are very few brews that hold the crown of anytime, anywhere brews. Otra Vez is not one of them. It’s cooling down now, so I’m probably corking the Otra Vez for another time, but in July when it was a 108 degrees in Chico, I was reaching for an ice cold Otra Vez.