“This – this is the Blanche DuBois of beer! Do you know who that is?” My aunt looks at me, disbelieving, and then wheels around to look at my father, “These ‘young people’ don’t get the reference!” She has just finished her sample of beer number three and sits on the floor in mock indignation. I’m embarrassed that I don’t immediately recognize the name and smile back idiotically. My aunt has spent the entire day visiting with her older sister and her elderly mother and has a well-deserved jump on the rest of us in terms of beer sampling. She lays on her back. “There’s one more, right?” I answer that there’s two. “Oh, Jesus.”

Today we’re tasting rye beers. Why rye, you ask? Because they’re hip, dammit, and like most hip things I know of, they’ve been hip for a while but I just noticed them. Rye beers are simply beers that have some rye brewed in the mash along with the traditional barley.  They’re dry, bitter, sour, and stick with you; there’s a Woody Allen joke waiting to be made here and I’ll let you do it. I have found them a welcome addition to the brutally hot afternoons of Ohio in the summer – perfect for those of us tired of hefeweizens and sangria.

The tasting starts off with a bang as we all say cheers and take a swallow of Founders Red Rye PA (6.6% abv). Right off the bat we get to play with the word “mouthfeel,” as this is positively sparkly. An initial sweetness gives way to a more bitter, grapefruit rind-like finish, and my aunt notes that with such a sharp, lingering taste, this would be an excellent pairing with fatty foods. She’s right, of course, and she’s right again when she adds that the potent aftereffects will have people backing away from you at parties.

In terms of punch, Hop Rod Rye from Bear Republic pulls the next strongest hit. At 8% abv, it’s allowed; however, the most alcoholic of all, Bittersweet Lenny’s RIPA from He’Brew, is remarkably well balanced. And at 10%! I find it much sweeter, with some caramel notes even, and with a pleasant amount of upfront bitterness. Together we deem this the mullet beer: bitter up front with sweetness in back. This was only beer number two, and we are not yet drunk enough to see just how funny that is.

Great Divide’s Hoss Rye Lager (the Blanche DuBois of beer) is delicate (and 6.2%) compared to the others. Inoffensive, not a lot of muscle, but smooth and tasty. Not what I would think a logger would drink, but given the image on the plaid label, one is expected to grow chest hair with every sip. I feel a little more manly for it.

Brooklyn’s own Sixpoint rounds off the evening with Righteous Rye (6.3%). Though not as harsh as some of the others, it is consistently bitter, something I strive for in my own life. It has little in the way of the aftertaste that has haunted the other brews, part of what makes us declare it the most drinkable of the ryes we tried. Inexplicably, the conversation turns to Todd Rundgren. The evening is over. And though I’ve remembered who Blanche is, I could still use some help with the connection.