Cheap Beer No. 4: La Crosse Lager

It’s been four months since we last visited the land of cheap beer here and that’s exactly how long it has taken me to clear the cellar of the first three batches of crap that started off this series. That’s one of the problems with the cheap-beer thing. They don’t seem to want to sell this stuff in any quantity less than a case, so each time you invest in a dud you wind up with a whole lot of bad beer lingering around, mocking your frugality. Now that the cellar is open, though, the quest for a cheap, decent beer must continue. And this time, we’ve got a beer that isn’t going to taunt me every time I go downstairs to visit my stash.

La Crosse Lager is all right. What more could you want from a beer that comes in 30-packs for under 13 bucks? You don’t buy this kind of beer expecting to discover your next favorite brew, but you also don’t buy it hoping to land two-dozen tins of gut-churning bilge water, either. That’s where La Crosse Lager wins out. There’s nothing too offensive going on here. The beer has a slight, malty sweetness and less than a hint of hops and that’s about it. It doesn’t taste great, but it doesn’t taste bad and that’s the important thing when you’re going the cheap route. The beer has a bit more body and color than your typical macro-swill and happily lacks the tongue-burning carbonation that often accompanies American light lagers. I’d take it over Budweiser any day. Overall, it’s a fairly pleasing beer to guzzle in the quantities its pricing inspires (and it goes great with a huge mound of extra-spicy nachos). The beer gains nothing by pouring it into a glass so take it straight from the can and save yourself some clean-up.

One interesting side note about this beer: There’s a rumor floating around that La Crosse Lager is made from the same recipe used to brew Old Style in the 1960s. It’s probably bullshit, but who knows? Here’s a link to the site where that rumor may have started. Something to keep in mind if you decide to try this one.

Final verdict: Would I buy this again? You bet!

Cheap Beer No. 3: Mountain Creek Classic Lager

“Craft Brewed In Small Batches.” At least that’s what it says on the can. If that ain’t sucker bait I don’t know what is. Only the most dangerously naive would buy a case of lager for $9.49 under the assumption that they’ll soon be soaking up a premium beer. No, if you put your money down for this you know just what you’re going to get: Flat-out macro swill. It’s light and grainy, with a hint of malt and a whisper of hops and nothing so troublesome as too much flavor to get in your way. And that’s what puts Mountain Creek a cut above its cheap-beer cohorts. Flavor-wise, there’s nothing singularly offensive about it. You can actually drink this one without cringing. You’re not going to love this beer (unless you’re a die-hard miser), but you’re not going to reflexively scowl as you pour it into your face, either. It’s a camping beer. The sort of brew you guzzle while staring vacantly at a campfire, occupying your mind with anything other than what’s draining into your mouth.

Knowing the backstory of this beer isn’t going to make you like it any better, but here goes anyway. The beer originated in 2003 in Canada as Mountain Crest (it’s now sold as Minhas Creek in Canada). The brother and sister team of Ravinder and Manjit Minhas set out to make an ultra-cheap brew for sale to Canucks tired of being gouged by the Canadian beer duopoly of Labatt and Molson. They contract brewed their beer at the Huber Brewery in Monroe and the City Brewery in Lacrosse then trucked the suds back to Canada in cans draped with maple leafs to obscure the fact that what they were selling was actually an American-made brew. That raised a small shit-storm up North. The resultant media flap brought them to the attention of Canadian lagerites concerned more about prices than patriotism and soon the Minhas family was selling a lot of beer. In 2006 they bought Huber Brewing, changed the name to the Minhas Craft Brewery and began selling this stuff in the States. It’s been pouring into Oshkosh ever since. The story has an oily feel about it and the “Craft Brewed In Small Batches” note that they stamp on their cans only helps to reinforce the vague duplicity that seems to be the company’s earmark. They’re no worse than Budweiser, of course, and at about half the price I know which beer I’d buy, but there’s no getting around the fact that this beer is all about money. Hey, nobody said you have to feel good about buying this crap. Like many things related to industrial beer, it helps if you don’t think about it too much. Pair this with a summer day and an empty head and you’ll be on your way to a cheap, good time. Though you might not respect yourself in the morning.

Final verdict: Would I buy this again? Probably not. I’m tired of handing cash over to people who operate this way.

Archie Says No!

Cheap Beer No. 2: Lost Lake Pilsner

Here’s another brew of dubious wonder from the bleak heart of La Crosse that’s readily available just about everywhere in Oshkosh. Before launching into the bad news about the beer, I have to say this is the ugliest beer can I’ve ever seen. If ever there was a beer that deserved to be drank from a bag, this is it. It looks like someone with better things to do spent about three minutes fumbling through a pack of cheap clip art and free fonts and then said, “aw, hell with it.” Slap that crap on a background of prison stripes and there you go. Hey, at least they’re not trying to fool anybody. If there’s anything less imaginative than the design of the can, it’s the frothy mess inside.

Crack it open and pour it out. Looks kind of pretty, at first. But that loose, soapy head will sink as quickly as your spirits after you’ve sniffed what’s in the cup. Dump a bottle of Sprite® into a bowl of Fritos® and I think you’d be close to the aroma of this. If you had any sense you’d stop there. Then again, if you had any sense you wouldn’t have bought this stuff in the first place. Ever suck on a nickel? I must have at some point because I know just what nickels taste like and the dominant flavor of this “Pilsner” is close to what you’d get licking Thomas Jefferson’s face. There’s a note of creamed-corn lurking in there, too, but that's quickly beat down by all that nickel. The beer finishes like a dull, arthritic ache and lingers on the palate long after you’ve lost the will to pour anymore of it into your mouth. Pair this with cadmium to produce a stool that can power a flashlight.

Final verdict: Would I buy this again? I don’t even want to look at it again.

Cheap Beer No. 1: Northern Reserve Golden Lager

You can’t drink good beer all the time. Well, OK, maybe you can, but why would you want to? Why deny yourself the easygoing pleasure that can be had in a can of something cold and simple? If being a good-beer aficionado means swearing off cheap thrills, then forget it. I want no part of any inhibiting snobbery that turns up its nose to the gutbucket virtues of beer that sets its sights low. As beer drinkers we shouldn't be letting our good taste stand in the way of a good time.

With this in mind, let's bring on the cheap beer. There's plenty of it to be had in Oshkosh and during the warm months we're going to explore some of these brews to see if we can find a few that are as easy on the palate as they are on the wallet. Let's Go!

We're starting with Northern Reserve Golden Lager from the Northern Brewing Company. These guys say they're from Minnesota, but like so many of the cheap beers that find their way to Oshkosh this is actually brewed at the old Heileman brewery, now known as the City Brewery, in La Crosse. I picked up a case for $9.99 at the North Side Pick 'n Save and after choking down a couple cans, tried to give away the rest. I couldn't find any takers. So, of course, I wound up drinking more of it. About six cans in I finally figured out what makes this repulsive. It's the smell. Poured into a glass the beer smells exactly like the sludge they use to "butter" your popcorn at the movies. The easy way around that deficit is to drink it straight from the can. And what cans they are! The aluminum they're using to house this beer must be of an especially low grade. Every can in the case I bought is as crinkled and rumpled as an old lunch bag. OK, back to the beer. Pour it in and the flavor immediately breaks down into a flinty, metallic wash. They've done an exceptional job of hiding every nuance of hops while retaining just the slightest hint of malt and corn. The beer finishes with lingering notes of alka-seltzer, vomit and despair. Pair it with hay-fever or a sinus infection to maximize quaffability.

Final verdict: Would I buy this again? Hells no.