In reality, though, every apparent “innovation” is decades or centuries old. Barreling, wild imprinting and outrageous hop rates all were once status quo, often in combination. Modern brewing is indelibly rooted in quaint, artisanal breweries, beers dictated by season and brewmaster whimsy. The anachronistic farmhouse beers of Belgium and France are among the most familiar standard bearers in this vein. The very popular Belgian version is known as saison (season), the more obscure French rendition as bière de garde (beer to keep/store), spinoffs of which are fairly rare outside their archetypal stomping grounds. Bière de garde and saison share a seasonal, provisional kinship, born and brewed on the farms and homesteads when conditions were amiable, raw materials fresh and plentiful, and national borders tenuous. They were nourishment and reward to thirsty farmhands. The two eventually diverged. Bière de garde as a “style” is especially individualistic, the only commonality a malt-accented character, tempered fermentation and cellar, musty undertones, a bit of brasserie terroir. Bières de garde hail from beer-centric Northern France—full of homegrown ethos and ingredients—with a formative wink from Germany.

The story of bière de garde begins like many other beers whose roots are anchored in rural Europe. Beer was brewed as a means to nourish, liquid sustenance that made use of products at hand among farmers to preserve the bounty of the agrarian lifestyle. Both shared and homegrown local ingredients would have resulted in personalized homebrews (still evident in the many interpretations of bière de garde today). Since there was little consistency, and just as little documentation, those farmhouse recipes are lost to history. That said, we can guess that both historical bière de garde and saison were simply different names for the collective farmhouse brews made across Northern France and Belgium.

In this region, the brewing season was short for several reasons: Farmers were unable to brew regularly, ingredients were best used harvest-fresh, and temperatures were ideal during a small window. This convergence of circumstances meant that beer could be made optimally in early winter. Subdued fermentation kept invading bugs at bay, and subsequent conditioning into the spring made a stable beer, one that could be consumed fresh or kept for months. These seasonal farmers/brewers were quite different from the more empirical, attentive monastic ones, making rustic brews with multi-strain influence, quite unlike those of the monks.

Farmhouse brews for daily, workday consumption were relatively weak, as the intent was to make invigorating, quenching brews rather than sedating ones. Beers for longer keeping, perhaps into the next harvest season, were made more stable by either increasing hop rates or gravity. Those two approaches may have been the impetus to historically segregate the two farmhouse styles during the late 19th century. Belgian brewers preferred the drier, more hoppy version, while the French liked theirs stronger and sweeter. Saison and bière de garde today follow this general template. Over time, the Belgians opted for warm-temperature strains that produced spicy notes and favored well-hopped wort. The French looked to the Germans for their strains, choosing either top-fermenting Kölsch and Altbier yeast, or a true bottom fermenter. These strains flattered the maltier bières de garde, but also helped shape the style by its method, that of restrained fermentation followed by cold conditioning and prolonged aging. French barley was plentiful, cultivated and malted in the style of German varieties. Homegrown hops were also bountiful, either from nearby Poperinge in neighboring Belgium, Alsace in France to the south, or points beyond in Germany and Bohemia. Those cultivars are still used in bière de garde.

It’s not surprising that rum’s development is linked to the sea. While making alcohol from sugar cane goes back hundreds of years to places like China, India and Iran, much of today’s rum production is centered in Caribbean island nations and Latin America. Early records from the 1600s suggest slaves made alcohol by fermenting molasses. Ironically, rum would become a key component in the triangle between Europe, Africa and the New World. The demand for labor to work Caribbean sugar plantations fueled the slave-trading market in the New World.

Most people associate pirates with rum, but wide distribution of the spirit was propelled by the British navy when it adopted rum as its drink of choice in 1655. The British captured Jamaica and its sugar cane plantations and rum distilleries from Spain. That allowed them to eliminate brandy, which had to be procured from oft-enemy France, changing the daily ration for sailors. Rum was part of daily British naval life until 1970. Now it is served only on special occasions declared by the queen or high-ranking naval officers.

Rum came to what would become the United States more than a century before the Revolutionary War. To keep up with the growing demand in the colonies, the first rum distillery was built on Staten Island in 1664. Today, a growing number of American craft distillers are producing rum, and many of the traditional producers have added aged expressions that put rum on par with whiskey and cognac.

Mat Perry was a high-school history teacher in New England and knew that rum was once a major part of the regional economy. During a sabbatical, he started to wonder if there was a place for a new rum distillery in his hometown of Ipswich, Mass. Soon Perry and a friend, Evan Parker, quit their jobs and launched Turkey Shore Distilleries. The company’s Old Ipswich Rum, which is available in several expressions, rolled out in June 2011.

“There was a pretty steep learning curve,” Perry says. “You spend so much time worrying about making it and what the rum is going to taste like, but then you realize you still have to market it and sell it.”

Perry said the goal of Turkey Shore is to reawaken the appreciation of rum in New England and turn Old Ipswich into a regional brand with a distinct New England flavor. “New England rum has drier components and is not as sweet as Caribbean rums,” Perry says. “We use new North American white oak barrels with a medium char on them. Rum from New England traditionally had a bit more of a smokier profile, in some ways more whiskey-like.”

The experience you have with rum starts with the style of rum you are drinking. Setting aside the overproof and spiced rums, rums from the Caribbean and Latin America can be broken into three major categories. Each traces its roots back to colonial outposts that were once controlled by major European military powers that fought wars and jockeyed for position to control the New World.

This Jamaican rum is a warm amber-brown color and has an attractive sweet nose. The 86-proof rum has a mellow wood flavor that has a bright finish combining sweetness and citrus notes.

Atlantico Reserva

This Dominican Republic import pours a golden color and has a light, sweet aroma. The flavor is light, with sweet tropical notes. The finish has some attractive oaky notes.

Bacardi OakHeart

This spiced rum is 70-proof and is a light amber color. It has a sweet vanilla nose. The flavor has some holiday cookie-like qualities.

Brugal Especial Extra Dry

This oak-cask-aged rum from the Dominican Republic is a silver rum with a very clean aroma. The flavor is smooth with hints of oak, citrus and just a touch of herbs.

Cockspur 12

Golden amber color with a lovely vanilla bean nose. This 80-proof rum from Barbados opens with some nice tropical notes, sugar cane and then hints of the bourbon barrels where it had aged.

Flor de Caña Centenario

This 12-year-old rum from Nicaragua is a lovely polished-wood color and has a nose that hints of bourbon. The flavor is rich and supple with plenty of depth.

Mount Gay Extra Old

This 86-proof rum is from Barbados. It has a deep amber color and mellow nose. There is plenty of wood in the base of the flavor. The rum rounds out with some citrus notes and a balancing sweetness.

Old Ipswich Tavern Style RuM

Made by Turkey Shore Distilleries in Ipswich, Mass., this 80-proof rum is a golden color with a sweet nose. The flavor is full, but not overpowering. There is a base level of sweetness, with earthy notes from the barrel aging.

Plantation 3 Stars Artisanal Rum

This is an 82.4-proof rum from Barbados, Trinidad and Jamaica. This white rum has a slightly citrus nose. The flavor has plenty of cane character with a tropical fruit finish.

Italian monks in the 11th century are said to have been the first to distill spirits using juniper berries, gin’s base flavoring agent. It is doubtful that this drink would remind anyone of today’s modern gin. A German-born physician and scientist who spent most of his life in the Netherlands, Franciscus Sylvius, is given credit for developing the first modern-day gin during the 1600s. Dr. Sylvius, born Franz de le Boë, is recognized for early research into the circulatory system and the brain, and for being a leading professor of medicine at the University of Leiden. He also gets credit for more than a few hangovers.

During the Eighty Years’ War (1568-1648) British troops fighting in Holland against the Spanish nicknamed gin “Dutch Courage” because it could calm the nerves before battle. By 1700 there were said to be 400 gin distilleries in Amsterdam alone. William of Orange helped make gin popular in England, but it was heavy taxes imposed on imported spirits and the permitting of unregulated distilling—much of it taking place in private homes—in the U.K. that caused an explosion in gin production. Thousands of “gin mills” popped up. When Parliament tried to get things under control in 1736 by passing the Gin Act, there were riots in the streets.

The relative ease of and speed in making gin—it is basically a flavored neutral spirit—made it a favorite during Prohibition in the United States. Crude distillers were able to take the edge off bathtub gin by flavoring the liquid with any number of ingredients. Few of these would make the list of prized botanicals that today’s distillers employ for making gin.

But gin also has a classy side best articulated by James Bond, the British 007 secret agent created by novelist Ian Fleming. In Casino Royale, Bond orders a Vesper Martini and is quite specific in the recipe, telling a barkeeper: “Three measures of Gordon’s (gin), one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice-cold, then add a large slice of lemon-peel.”

With so much history, you would expect the spirit would be as stiff and traditional as a happy hour gin and tonic served at an upper-crust country club. Not likely as a new wave of gin is served across American bars.

“There are all kinds of new things happening with gin,” says Bill Owens, who founded the American Distilling Institute in 2003. Part of the change has been fueled by the growth in craft distillers, including some that harvest their own grain and hand select the botanicals they use. “There are distilleries that are experimenting with barrel aging gin and making yellow gin,” Owens says, “Others are making classic gin styles. Gin is a great cocktail ingredient. I had a gin fizz the other day, a drink I had not had in a long time. It is a wonderful drink on a bright sunny day.”

“Craft spirits are all the rage,” comments Jack Joyce of Rogue Distilling in Oregon, pointing out that making grain-neutral spirits to produce vodka or as a base for gin is simpler and more economical than making a whiskey or other spirits that require aging.

“The important thing for us is asking, What is the distiller’s contribution? With our gin we add our own botanicals. We feel we can be credible in making gin,” Joyce says. “I don’t think we should or would want to be credible making vodka—unless we mashed our own potatoes.”

Rogue uses spruce as a key flavoring component in its gin because “we grow a lot of spruce out here. It’s indigenous, part of the terroir,” Joyce says. “The thing to keep in mind is that botanicals are agricultural products, and they change every year.”

They couldn’t be more different from the spicy and textured hefe-weissbiers of Bavaria. Instead, they emanate from the swath of Northern and Central Europe where top-fermentation and wild influence was preferred, home to the beery rascals of lambic, Flanders red and brown, Gose and witbier. As Berliner weisse is investigated by today’s brewers, it is becoming something of an interpretive beer, often more in line with its older roots, curiosity ripe for further exploration.

Brewing with wheat is as ancient as beer itself, and barley has failed to displace it entirely. Wheat cultivation was widespread in Europe by The Middle Ages, with many regional brewers using it for their indigenous beers. Many of those old “styles” became extinct, but many persevered, as demonstrated by the vast assortment of beers that still feature raw or malted wheat. Often these were, or are, influenced by wild yeast and bacteria. Some brewers wisely opted to leave well enough alone in this respect, while others were intent on purging their beer of mischievous bugs, by careful selection of inoculating slurry or fermentation conditions.

Berlin began its life as a brewing city in 1572 and 1642 as a wheat beer brewing city, making beers undoubtedly influenced by the ubiquitous and inescapable lactobacillus and brettanomyces organisms. Berlin, now en route to becoming the brewing Mecca that it would by the 19^th century, was ready to stylistically refine a distinctive homegrown beer. This begs the query, “What lead to the development of the style?”

Some implicate the Huguenots, Reformed French Protestants who came to Germany to escape Catholic hostility. While scurrying across Northern Europe, they encountered numerous regional brews, including those of France, Flanders, Brussels and the Rhineland. These regions have given us an assortment of top-fermented modern brews, some of which were heavily influenced by wild bugs and often contained wheat. A more precise theory points to Cord Broyhan, an accomplished brewer who honed his craft in Hamburg and Hannover. His eponymously named Broyhan style became the most widely distributed type in Northern Germany during the 16^th and 17^th centuries. Relatively pale and low gravity, the popular Broyhan found a home among the opportunistic brewers of Berlin, one of the most vibrant and cosmopolitan cities in Europe.

Berlin became the preeminent brewing city in Continental Europe by the 19^th century. Berliner brewers did exercise a bit of individuality with their indigenous brew, and a single brewery may have put out several versions, varying the hop levels, strength and grain ratios. It was common for brewers to make strong stock beer and dilute it with water to the inclination of the patron. It may have been the signature thread of tartness permeating the Berliner weisse style that set it apart from other German brews. As the template was developed, unusual and archaic procedures were followed in spite of the progressive brewing that enveloped most of Europe. Wort was often not boiled, though some decocted, and mash hopping was employed as a filtering aid and to fully extract the preservative qualities. Typically, between 2 and 5 lbs of wheat was mashed for every pound of barley. As brewers elsewhere were moving towards bottom-fermentation and single-strain fermentation, Berliner braumeisters stayed true to their style. It was simply another regional specialty that may have been more at home in Belgium. In fact, Berliner weisse was sometimes reenergized with a dose of young, rambunctious beer, much as gueuze is made by blending old and young lambic.

A herbal, earthy nose. This brand came to fame as a story line on the HBO series Entourage. The flavor is smooth, with hints of spice, a touch of grass, a hit of citrus and fresh herbs. There is just a slight smoke note to the aftertaste.

Cazadores Reposado Tequila

A straw-yellow color with an inviting sweet nose. There is a mellow flavor base that is surrounded by the wood. Fairly round and full in the finish.

Distinguido Añejo Tequila

Light amber color. Nice inviting aroma that combines earthy notes with toffee. This tequila has been aged for three years, using some ex-bourbon barrels in the process. The flavor is focused on peppery spice with hints of pralines around the edge.

Herradura Añejo

A rich copper color, this 80-proof tequila is aged for two years, offering mellow flavors. It has an oak base, a hint of vanilla and a long finish. Peppery at the end. A very nicely put-together drink.

El Jimador Tequila Reposado

Very light straw color, with a nose that hints of tropical fruit. Smooth flavor with agave notes and a finish that has some nice sweet character.

Don Julio 70 Tequila Reserva AÑejo Claro

Sample from bottle 130 of 200. Clear color and slight tropical nose. Refined flavor opens and grows as it goes. Spices at the end tell you this is not a silver.

Don Julio añejo Tequila

Golden color and traditional agave nose. Slightly bitter green grass notes in the base.

Don Julio 1942

Faint golden color with a sweet agave nose. Great depth that is dominated by fresh-cut hay and pepper. Some smoke elements emerge near the end.

Partida Añejo Tequila

A very aromatic tequila. Partida Añejo is a light golden color and pours with a bright nose. Plenty
of earthiness, grass and citrus.

Tequila Revolucion Añejo

Maple syrup golden color with a deep agave nose. Spice up front with hints of grass. Smooth finish.

Sauza Tres generaciones Añejo

This tequila is light gold with a hint of honey in the nose. A very flavorful finish with tones of pepper, nuts and agave throughout.

Tequila has left the frat house and taken a place among top-shelf liquors.

It has been a long and strange path to respectability. Mexico has a distilling heritage that predates bourbon by about 250 years. In fact, distilling in Mexico can be traced back almost as far as scotch. But tequila had a mixed reputation, and the lore of the worm—a marketing ploy among some mescal makers—took the category to low respectability.

Tradition and heritage are just one measure of tequila's place in the hierarchy of drinks.

Spanish conquistadors arrived in Mexico in the early 1500s and found the Aztecs gathering agave to make pulque, a fermented beverage used for ceremonies and made from juice taken from the maguey agave shoots. Pulque—also called octli—had been a part of the native culture for more than 1,000 years. Before long the Spaniards starting distilling pulque, and the early forms of tequila emerged.

Tradition and heritage are just one measure of tequila’s place in the hierarchy of drinks. Like cognac and Champagne, tequila also has strict geographic boundaries. To qualify as tequila, it must be made in the state of Jalisco around the town of Tequila, northwest of Guadalajara. Like brandy is to cognac, there are other drinks made in different areas of Mexico or from different types of agave—mescal, sotol and bacanora. But tequila is unique and desirable.

Now tequila is something more than a punch line. When you mention the spirit to most people, they automatically reach for the blender, or perhaps they have a distant memory of a night with one too many shooters. But the reality is that tequila’s reputation is changing.

“I think people have changed the way they enjoy Tequila. More consumers sip and enjoy 100 percent agave tequila brands,” says Jacques Bezuidenhout, bartender ambassador for Partida tequila. “I like to enjoy it in many ways. In a quality fresh cocktail, with a beer or food. Many times just neat. Depends on the mood, but most of all you should always have fun while having tequila.”

New tequila brands continue to pop up and, even during the economic downturn of the last few years, many of these are aged. Reposado tequilas are “rested” for two to 11 months. These tequilas spend time in American or French oak barrels, which often previously held bourbon, cognac, wine or other beverages.

Añejo means the tequila has been aged between a year and three years in oak barrels that are under 600 liters. In 2006, the designation extra añejo was added for tequilas left to rest for more than three years.

Because they are quite similar in profile, the line between the two can be as blurry as the aftereffects. They are made all across Belgium, brewed with equal conviction and spirit in Trappist monasteries, abbeys and independent breweries alike, and in North America, brewed with the utmost respect and reverence to those from the fatherland.

We all have romantic perceptions of Belgian brewing, pastoral farmhouse and monastic settings with contemplative, attentive artisans producing beers from centuries-old recipes. This may be true to some degree. Mostly though, Belgium has worked as hard and been as transformative as anyone over the past 200 years. Sure, lambic, Flanders sours and witbier are all examples of old beer styles that have endured, but the majority of the rest, including quadrupel and strong dark ales, have been either invented or reinvented during the 19th and 20th centuries, often as a retort to contemporary tastes. Belgium never had the industrial might of the British or the relative political stability of Germany. Instead, Belgium had seemingly always been in the midst of some sort of political tussle or imperial shuffle until 1830, its year of independence. Coincidentally, this was also an era of groundbreaking brewing technology that lasted to near the end of the century. That beer renaissance and technological enlightenment enveloped most of Europe, resulting in many of the regional “styles” and definitive beer cultures. In Belgium, the demise of the French Revolution in the early 19th century paved the way for the return and rebuilding of banished Trappist monks and monasteries, which, once re-established, resurrected their brewing expertise. Westmalle was founded in 1802 and started brewing in 1836.

They were followed by Westvleteren in 1839, and Achel, with assistance from Westmalle, in 1852. Chimay was established in 1850 by Westvleteren monks, and brewing began there in 1862. Chimay opened the door for commercial Trappist brewing by selling its beer to the public shortly thereafter. Rochefort was established in 1887 by monks from Achel and began brewing in 1899, making it the eldest among the Trappists. Orval was destroyed by the French in 1790, lying fallow until its rebuilding in 1926. Brewing resumed in 1932, making it the last of the Trappists to do so. It was a culmination of centuries of perseverance and dedication, manifested in brewing, earning the Trappists a reputation among the finest brewers in the world. Not to be forgotten in this scenario is the brewing namesake of The Trappist Order, La Trappe. La Trappe, France, was the first home to the strictest Cistercian Order, which became known as the Trappists, in 1656. They were driven out of France by French revolutionaries and returned to foster the six Trappist monasteries. Of the six, Westvleteren (12), Rochefort (10), Achel (Extra) and Chimay (Grande Réserve) make a bona fide quadrupel or strong dark. La Trappe moved from Sainte-Marie-du-Mont in Northern France to Berkel-Enschot in The Netherlands and began brewing there in 1884, introducing a quadrupel in 1991. It is one of the best and is now offered in a stellar oak-aged version. All Trappist brewers are protected by appellation.

This independence opened the door to commerce of all sorts, brewing included. Numerous abbey and independent breweries were started, many looking to the esteemed Trappists for inspiration and style. Those known as abbey, which outnumber true Trappists by a great margin, invoke monastic imagery, a powerful, symbolic visage in the realm of beer. Those who do wish to designate themselves as an abbey must adhere to a strict set of guidelines for the privilege. They are controlled by the trade organization known as The Belgian Brewers, and those who display the Certified Belgian Abbey logo must follow these rules: They must have a link to a former or existing abbey, pay royalties to charities to protect the cultural heritage or benefit an institution that represents the abbey, and the abbey or institution has control over advertising material. While secular brewers make no allusion to any sort of religious connection, they may draw stylistic inspiration from them. Several make excellent quadrupels and strong dark ales. St. Bernardus Abt 12 Quadrupel is world-class.

Stout is a descendent of porter, the beer that appeared in London around 1718 as a counterpunch to sweet brown ales and fancy, hoppy pale beers. It was named for its loyal consumers, street and river porters of the busy mercantile culture. Porter differed from common sweet brown ales in its dry, aged character and full dosage of hops. Unlike regal pale ales, it was made with rougher, cheaper dark malt. Porter brewing kicked into gear a colossal industrial brewing revolution in England that saw London’s brew barons dominate the market, at home and abroad, for more than 100 years. Porter, though, was not a single style of beer. There were plain porter, stout porter, brown stout and double stout, among other terms. Stout (strong) porters eventually became known simply as stout, and regional characteristics further delineated the style. Still, porter and stout were essentially made from the same pool of ingredients, as they often are today.

Porter dominated the second half of the 18th century and much of the first half of the 19th century, though mild and old ales were available in pubs. Both were lightly hopped, contrasting with porters, stouts and the emerging pale and India pale ales. Brewers became adept at tailoring recipes with new, cleaner base and specialty malts. An understanding of microbiology and fermentation was also eliminating some of the ubiquitous stale character. Modern styles began taking shape by the end of the 19th century, offering unprecedented consumer choice. These options, their novelty and perhaps a stodgy image of porter and stout favored the rise of fresher, sweeter ales and hoppy pale and bitter beers. Mild ale, poised to topple the mighty porter, was sent out only a week or two after brewing. Mild was a general term denoting freshness (and sweetness by default) that could be applied to any rudimentary style. There were mild stouts, mild porters and mild bitters. By offering auxiliary versions of base brews, brewers astutely broadened their market appeal. Mild stout and porter gave impetus to the notion of milk stout, since any type of mild would eventually become stale and dry. Was it possible to brew a beer that would be forever mild, yet remain real and alive in the cask?

By the late 19th century, stout and porter had been battling upstart brews for some time. The development of milk stout became necessary as a means to survive for the former porter brewers, just as many of them had added ales to their portfolio years before. Mild porters and stouts were touted as nutritious to swarms of laborers in English cities, the vast majority of the beer and ale-swilling public. The idea of milk stout was proposed in 1875 by John Henry Johnson of Lincoln’s Inn Fields, who envisioned such a nutritive beer. He obtained a patent on this idea, which had not yet come to fruition, by proposing a milk beer made with barley, hops, lactose (a byproduct of cheese making) and whey. Though Johnson never saw his dream realized, the idea was taken up by others who saw its potential. In 1907, a lactose stout was brewed by Mackeson of Hythe, Kent, and sent to market in 1910, with the claim that “each pint contains the energizing carbohydrates of ten ounces of dairy milk.” Some patent infringement squabbles arose, but Mackeson licensed the beer-making to others, and within a few years, a dozen or more milk stouts were being brewed. Mackeson in 1929 became the property of Whitbread, which brought Mackeson’s Milk Stout brand to great prominence within a few years.