Beer of the Weekend #256: Schlitz

The second installment of my Great Adjunct Adventure is an American icon, one that has deep roots in the tradition of the American lager and, later, adjunct style: Schlitz, brewed by the Pabst Brewing Company of Woodridge, Illinois.


Yes, just as it owns the brand names of many other iconic American lagers, Pabst owns Schlitz — and it proudly brews it somewhere other than Milwaukee, the city Schlitz made famous.

As the neck label suggests, this is the “Classic 1960s Formula,” reintroduced in 2008. During the early-seventies, the makers of Schlitz altered the recipe as a cost-cutting measure. It backfired badly. According to the Joseph Schlitz Brewing Company page on Wikipedia:

Faced with the need to meet large volume demands while also cutting the cost of production, the brewing process for Schlitz's flagship Schlitz beer was changed in the early 1970s. The primary change involved using high-temperature fermentation instead of the traditional method, and also substituted less-expensive extracts rather than traditional ingredients. Schlitz also experimented with a continuous fermentation process[,] even designing and building a new Baldwinsville, New York, brewery around the process. The reformulated product resulted in a beer that not only lost much of the flavor and consistency of the traditional formula but spoiled more quickly, rapidly losing public appeal.

Coupled with the growing popularity of light beers in the eighties and a couple other factors, Schlitz became very hard to find in the nineties and teetered on the brink of extinction. However, reformulation (which was apparently achieved by scouring historical documents and interviewing former brewers; the original recipe was apparently lost) has brought the brand newfound popularity. The Schlitz I am drinking tonight is apparently referred to as Schlitz Gusto, but everyone knows it as Schlitz.

Serving type: Six 12-ounce bottles. The date printed on the shoulder of the bottle is “OCT1711.” Since Schlitz is “brewed” by the Pabst Brewing Company, the date is most likely a half-life date, like the kind found on bottles of PBR.

Appearance: Straight pour into a pint glass. The color is straw yellow. Two fingers of white head dissipated quickly to leave a thin lacing and ring of foam around the edge.

Smell: I can smell the corn adjunct at an arm’s length. Upon closer inspection, though, there is an unexpected maltiness to it. Perhaps the grains, if there are any in there, were given the lightest toasting ever. There is also a scent of grassy hops and a little lemon zest, but the overpowering effect is of the classic American adjunct — with flavor, that is.

Taste: Surprisingly good. Crisp grassy hops, which offer a nice bitterness, lemon zest, corn adjunct, and very lightly toasted grains. Not bad at all.

Drinkability: This one certainly has gusto, and I would not be adverse to making this a regular in my fridge alongside PBR.

Fun facts about Schlitz:

-Style: American Adjunct Lager.

-Price: $5.99/sixer at John’s Grocery in Iowa City. My mom said that back in the seventies her and her friends could buy a whole case of Schlitz at Fareway for $4.99. My mom, of course, is a saint who never drank.

-Serving temperature: 35-40ºF, which is freezing for a beer.

-Alcohol content: 4.6 percent ABV.

-Food pairings: Whatever is served at a tailgate. (Just go with me on that one.)

-I grew up hearing about Schlitz at family reunions, when my dad and uncles would reminisce about benders of yore, so I have known about it forever. Even my mom, who was apparently a puritan, talked about having keggers with Schlitz. As the beer of mass choice back in the day (as if there really was any choice), I guess it was unavoidable.

-Back in the summer of 2000, we swung through McGregor, Iowa on our way back to IC from our summer vacation (visiting Madison, La Crosse, old family haunts, and points in between; exotic, eh?). We stopped at an awesome antique store and I bought a bunch of classic beer cans, including this Schlitz “tall boy”:


The pull-tab from the top is still inside the can. By the way, what the hell is three-fourths of a quart? Twenty-four ounces? (Why couldn’t we have metricated by now?)


The Quiet Man’s grade: B-.

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