Decades ago, Coors had a legendary status in these United States. Being available only in Colorado, people (okay, men) would buy cases to bring home to lower altitudes. Since it went nationwide, though, its cachet in colorful Colorado has diminished more than somewhat. The new standard has become Fat Tire, brewed in Ft. Collins. Next time you're in our great state, ask the server what any ale or lager on the beer menu tastes like. Odds are, the answer will be "Kind of like Fat Tire," and never, never "Coors." Despite having resided here well over a decade, I think the only time I ever sampled the latter was upon a visit to the brewery in Golden.
When I was recently in the Argonaut liquor store (yes, I have a loyalty card) with Thing 2 (who began loudly proclaiming "I like beer!"- great moments in parenting), I ran across a display of Colorado Native Lager. Being the father of three to four Colorado natives myself, I decided to pick up a six-pack. Reading the label, I was particularly interested by finishing hops in a lager, but what triggered alarm bells in my Colorado-trained mind was its praise of water from the Rocky Mountains. Sure enough, the brewery turned out to be "AC Golden Brewing Company:" i.e., Coors. The beer has its own website (of course), and while it's no more forthcoming than the bottle about its provenance in the MillerCoorsMolson empire, it doesn't com
pletely hide it, either. Anybody who has ever driven along west along I-70 knows what brewery is in that picture.
Having completely abandoned its Colorado native identity by allowing itself to be absorbed first by Canadians and then by midwesterners, it appears Coors is attempting to reclaim its Rocky Mountain pride through a pseudo-craft brewery hidden deep within the bowels of Golden. I can't quite figured out their marketing strategy, but I must say I like the lager. The Rocky Mountain water is, unsurprisingly, overrated as an ingredient. However, it has lovely citrus notes and the hops give it a nice kick on the back end, a pleasant surprise in a lager. I've always wondered what the mysterious appeal of Coors was back in the day, but if Colorado Native Lager is a return to that recipe of yore, I might finally understand.
When I was recently in the Argonaut liquor store (yes, I have a loyalty card) with Thing 2 (who began loudly proclaiming "I like beer!"- great moments in parenting), I ran across a display of Colorado Native Lager. Being the father of three to four Colorado natives myself, I decided to pick up a six-pack. Reading the label, I was particularly interested by finishing hops in a lager, but what triggered alarm bells in my Colorado-trained mind was its praise of water from the Rocky Mountains. Sure enough, the brewery turned out to be "AC Golden Brewing Company:" i.e., Coors. The beer has its own website (of course), and while it's no more forthcoming than the bottle about its provenance in the MillerCoorsMolson empire, it doesn't com
pletely hide it, either. Anybody who has ever driven along west along I-70 knows what brewery is in that picture.Having completely abandoned its Colorado native identity by allowing itself to be absorbed first by Canadians and then by midwesterners, it appears Coors is attempting to reclaim its Rocky Mountain pride through a pseudo-craft brewery hidden deep within the bowels of Golden. I can't quite figured out their marketing strategy, but I must say I like the lager. The Rocky Mountain water is, unsurprisingly, overrated as an ingredient. However, it has lovely citrus notes and the hops give it a nice kick on the back end, a pleasant surprise in a lager. I've always wondered what the mysterious appeal of Coors was back in the day, but if Colorado Native Lager is a return to that recipe of yore, I might finally understand.
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