I had my first taste of Nugget Nectar while attending the Craft Brewers Conference in Philadelphia. PA. It was 2005, when rich resiny-but-hospitable beers were about as prevalent as real country music on the radio. (Who knew the latter shortcoming could get worse?) I was thrilled to find it in a cool beer store (where I did an Oskar Blues tasting) across the street from a very cool taphouse, Standard Tap. Back in my hotel room and wrapping up my day, Nugget Nectar was a mind-blowing night cap, and a beer I revisited a few times before leaving Philly.
And I haven’t had it since. Because for Denverites like me, Nugget Nectar is a beer that’s 1,728 miles out of reach to the east. But thanks to an accommodating publicist at Troegs (thanks, Jeff ) I’m now face-to-face with Nectar again. This time, instead of its old brown bottle and a lighthearted label, it comes in a beautiful black 16-ounce can with edgier graphics sporting an updated take on the beer’s fist-with-one-handful-of-a-hop-cone logo.
How is it after all these years? As good as I remembered it. Actually, much better. Poured into the glass, it shows up with a dense tan head and a clear copper-penny color. Rising out of the glass, its wondrous nose is candied citrus, piney resin and flavors of the same, with a lush but not overly so kiss of sugar. That’s followed by an assertive mix of flavors — also not overly done — of grapefruit pith, floral perfume, and your Grandma’s homemade ambrosia.
Somewhere between a glorious IPA and a sticky double red, it’s juicy in the old sense of the word, before the term meant “tastes like fruit juice, not beer.” Its haze-free shimmer, with so much hop goodness, makes it even more special in a “Were those the days?” beer sense. It also sports a hard-to-believe 7.5% ABV that’s expertly cloaked in a beer that’s super quaffable and slippery bodied.
In a time when “hoppy” often stands for “over-the-top humulus lupulus and MIA malts,” Nugget Nectar does not commit that crime. It delivers a satisfying thunk of caramel malt and sticky hops, the beer equivalent of a dampened E-chord played through a plugged-in Les Paul. Rocking, muscular, balanced, totally satisfying. Will hazy IPAs with New England heritage be around and revered 10 years from now? Hard to say. But Nugget Nectar ought to be. Geez, that was really good.