Beer of the Weekend #259: Coors

Instead of reviewing the better adjuncts now, I think I should concentrate on anything with “light” or a variation of it so I can get them out of the way first. And at some point I also need to revisit 40-ounce college favorites.

For the third installment of the Great Adjunct Adventure, I am trying a beer from my birth state, Colorado. It gained such a cult status due to its limited distribution that Air Force One was once loaded with cases of it after a visit to the state.

The beer of the weekend is Coors, brewed by the Coors Brewing Company of Golden, Colorado.


Coors is owned by the Molson Coors Brewing Company, which, interestingly, has a 49 percent share of Ontario’s Beer Store chain.

Serving type: Six 12-ounce bottles. The date printed on the shoulder is “OCT3111.” I assume that is a best-by date.

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

Smell: Lots of macro adjunct, grassy hops, and lemon.

Taste: Very sweet at first, but it provides a minor bite at the end of each sip. Tastes a little like corn and dry Cheerios. There is also a tiny hint of lemon.

Drinkability: A real disappointment. I have not had an “original” Coors in forever and expected much more. It is not offensive — almost, but not quite — but I suppose it would do well after working all day in the heat. Frankly, though, I think I would rather sip sarsaparilla with Sam Elliott.

Fun facts about Coors:

-Style: American Adjunct Lager.

-Price: $5.99/sixer at John’s Grocery in Iowa City.

-Serving temperature: 35-40ºF. Basically as cold as possible without making it freeze.

-Alcohol content: 5 percent ABV.

-Food pairings:
Beers of the World recommends “risotto and pasta.”

-The cult-like status Coors obtained in the sixties and seventies, which gave rise to Smokey and the Bandit, was fueled by the fact Coors supplied a lot of beer to soldiers in World War II. When they returned home, most were unable to find it because Coors had a very limited distribution area in the western part of the country. Thus spawned countless cross-country trips to Colorado, in which people returned home with a trunk full of Coors. My dad, somewhat of a beer historian regarding the early-seventies (not really, but he drank a lot then), said there was a lot of hype around Coors. When he finally drank it, he was unimpressed. (Just as I am tonight.)

-Coors always reminds me of Mervgotti. We once got a case in high school after having someone else get someone else to buy it for us. (I do not miss the days of being under 21.) But here’s the main reason. Back during my last year in college, we always ate at The Airliner on Friday nights. It was always packed and loud and service was horrible, but we went regardless for whatever reason. (We did the same thing during my first year of college, so the ritual bookended my college career.) When ordering drinks, Mervgotti always ordered a Coors. Of course, our waitress always brought him a Coors Light. When she returned for whatever reason, he always accosted her, saying, “I said I wanted a Coors ORIGINAL.” He would point at the bottle. What did he expect?

-Back in 1995, my family went to Colorado for vacation. We stayed with my aunt and uncle in Denver, and the piston rings in our Dodge Grand Voyager burned out. After attending a Dodgers-Rockies game, we crawled through post-game traffic in downtown Denver with smoke billowing out of the exhaust; pedestrians kept telling us our car was on fire. Anyway, we toured Coors in Golden. Not much sticks with me except for the stories-high vats, a peek through a window at the rail lines leading to the brewery, and the “tickets” we received to know what tour we were on. Each ticket was a label for a different Coors product. Our tour received Coors Ice tickets, and I kept mine for a long time.

-Why is it “the banquet beer”? I have no clue.

-I do not use my Stone Smoked Porter glass very often because it is not my favorite. The front label obscures the beer and is distracting, though I used to use it as my lager glass back in the day. However, I am using it tonight because the only place I was ever in that served Stone Smoked Porter, the incomparable Pure Luck on Heliotrope Drive in Los Angeles, closed recently. Zee German gave me the bad news today, and I was crushed. I never tried Smoked Porter because I never had a notebook with me. According to Zee German, the co-owner closed the restaurant to open a wine tasting bar in the same location. What?! I said they would be better off opening a micro brew bar. The craft beer scene is exploding in LA. Viva Pure Luck!


The Quiet Man’s grade: D.

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