Brewers, creative and savvy, have promoted new beers by building on popular styles, tweaking a feature or two, then appending a helpful descriptor. Revised craft styles may be tagged double, imperial, fruited, New England, wild, experimental, smoked—but what about “session”?
A session beer is defined by its low alcohol strength. But “session” also refers to a period of time spent drinking. English historian Martyn Cornell isn’t certain about the origin of the term, but he notes how common it is to refer to “a session down at the pub.” A session beer, he says, is a beer of low-enough ABV that it can be consumed, pint after pint, over several hours. Brewers in the UK typically offer more low-alcohol options than their American counterparts, so session-strength there, when defined, is usually capped at 4 percent.
Although mainstream American lagers and their light/lite siblings, at 4–5 percent, fall into a plausible session range, the term “session beer” didn’t really have a function in this country until craft beer was well established.
Craft brewers introduced consumers to flavorful styles from other traditions that were, as part of their character, stronger in alcohol. Soon, we were tipping back potent Belgian dubbels, Scottish wee heavies, and German doppelbocks. And, with our national propensity to take a good thing and make it bigger, we became infatuated with extreme beers, which often meant boozier.
In 2012, Pennsylvania beer writer Lew Bryson, seeking to counter the “slow, persistent rise in the alcohol content of craft beers,” challenged brewers to develop full-flavored beers at lower ABVs. He launched Session Beer Day, devoted to beers under 4.5 percent ABV. Naturally, there were arguments about an arbitrary cap, but, hey, Lew’s day, Lew’s rules. The term “session” was adopted and folded into formal beer names or categories, though not all examples adhered strictly to strength parameters.
Eight years on, Bryson says, “Session Beer Day has largely faded, but for the best reasons. I declared victory and moved on.”
Though the limit has crept above 4.5 percent, and most sessions are some variation of an IPA, Bryson celebrates the expanded choice in lower-ABV choices—a trend that dovetails neatly with the current interest in low-to-no-alcohol selections. A number of styles that are inherently low in alcohol, such as gose, traditional bitter, and some sour beers, have become increasingly popular. A few breweries, like Notch in Massachusetts, have made low-ABV brewing key to their identity, and dominant craft players, including Dogfish Head and Sierra Nevada, have embraced the challenge of delivering complexity without depending on that reliable carrier of flavor, alcohol.
Confession: My session beer of choice is a classic whose origin predates the dawn of the American craft industry by about 210 years: Guinness. It boasts a modest 4.2 percent ABV, its robust flavor based on deeply roasted grains, and its creamy, satisfying quality derived from the nitrogen used for its pour. I’ve tested it during hours-long sessions in Ireland, where it promoted camaraderie and not boorishness, and woken up the next morning right as rain.
The perfect session choice.
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