When the ice beers hit the U. S. a while back, I tried several
of them and was disappointed each time. They all tasted like
conventional mass-market beers that had been left in too cold a
refrigerator, then opened and decanted off the lump of ice that
had formed in the bottle. Various qualities of the parent beer,
both good and bad, appeared in a concentrated form.
I can't recall whether Ice House was one of the beers I tried
back then, but it's true to type: concentrate of the usual American
beer. The label gives some indirect warnings: the phrases "union
made" and "5.5% alc./vol." When a label boasts of pure water or
appeals to patriotism or labor solidarity or the desire to get drunk
or anything else that doesn't affect the flavor of the beer, beware.
Note also that (unless alcohol has finally dissolved my memory) in
the U. S., alcohol content is traditionally given by weight, not
by volume as in the rest of the world: because alcohol is less dense
than water, a given weight displaces more volume than an equal weight
of water, so that the by-weight percentage is smaller. (Ask anyone
running naked through the streets shouting "Eureka!") Either Plank
Road is trying to make its beer seem stronger than it is, or it's
competing with Canadian ice beers labeled with by-volume strengths.
Ice House (I can't tell from the label whether the name is two
words or one) has the usual American Pilsner smell of light malt and
Saaz hops, only more concentrated than usual. When cold it's bland,
with only a hint of hop bitterness in its aftertaste. It's more malty
in flavor than the typical mass-market beer, but as it warms, the
usual nasty tastes show up in unusual force: adjuncts, maize, rice
starch, and Heaven knows what else: the usual culprits that make the
major brands so bad. The dextrin stickiness that belongs with this
much flavor is absent, and the bite of unbalanced alcohol is all too
present.
When a good beer is warm enough to show off its virtues, Ice House
is sickly-sweet, and the tastes of adjuncts are intense. I still
can't pin them down, but they bring to mind the nastier sides of
Cream of Wheat, cornmeal mush, and envelope glue. I thought that
I'd be able to characterize these flavors better, given their greater
strength here, but I couldn't. They're the same ones in Miller,
Budweiser, Coors, and the other major beers, followed by an aftertaste
that strikes me as unusually foul. I couldn't finish my review bottle,
and I'm not one to pour beer down the drain. If you're stuck drinking
Ice House, put it on ice first and choke it down before it grows warm,
just as with any similar beer.