The humble amber was a staple of the early craft beer era. Never a style so much as a slot—something to fill out a chromatic range that ran from golden ales to porters, it was an easy-drinking beer for those who found pales too hoppy. Even at the time, they seemed overly sweet to me and fairly insipid—but they were really popular.
Their simplicity became a liability as palates became more sophisticated, however, and by the new century, they were getting rarer and rarer. Today that kind of beer is almost unthinkable. I will never share your emails or use them for commercial purposes.
One group of loyalists recall the old days and have a warm impression of the style. They recall it as a non-confrontational, pleasant little beer one could sip without a lot of fuss. Finally, many brewers see amber ales as great base beers for experimentation with other ingredients. A pretty little malty beer, though—it really has potential, if only brewers could figure out how to sell it.
The distance between the old-school ambers and the kinds of beers young drinkers want is actually not a long walk. Over time, we evolve along with our beers. It was one of the founding craft beers in Oregon, and for fifteen years you could find it in almost every pub and restaurant in Oregon. Now they knew what hops tasted like and when they went back Amber, they found it tame. The drinkers had changed. They no longer feature massive crystal malt loads, old-timey hops, and heavy, treacly bodies.
Meanwhile, when younger drinkers encounter these beers for the first time, they find them perfectly pleasant little sippers with a bit of body and sweetness. A few breweries make them, but far fewer than you might imagine. I described amber ales as a deceased style, or something disparaging, and brewers Sam and Jason rallied to defend the humble amber ale. But now people know about styles, and amber seems dangerously vague. Writers have no way to create a new style or name out of whole cloth would that we could!
