You walk into your local taproom or grab a seat at the bar. You scan the tap handles. Guarantee you see the same lineup: the obligatory hazy IPA (or three), some kind of pastry stout that tastes like a liquid doughnut, and maybe a crisp lager if you’re lucky. Don’t get me wrong. I like a juicy, hop bomb as much as the next guy. But somewhere along the way, we let the loudest kid in the class drown out the rest of the conversation.
The craft beer revolution was supposed to be about variety. It was about escaping the bland, yellow stuff our dads drank and finding something with character. But somewhere in the last ten years, we traded one monoculture for another. The IPA became king, and a whole lot of damn good beer got pushed to the back of the cooler.
So pull up a stool. We’re about to talk about the most underrated beer styles in America. The ones that deserve a second look. The ones that’ll make you wonder why you ever wasted your time on another “limited release” that tasted like pine sol and regret.
The Brown Ale Blues
Let’s start with the style that breaks my heart the most: the Brown Ale. There was a time when this was a staple. Now? Good luck finding one that isn’t collecting dust.
Brown ale has roots going back to the 1700s in England, back when malting technology gave everything a nice, toasty brown color [citation:1]. It crossed the pond, became an American staple, and then… nothing. It got crushed by the hop-head revolution.
But here’s the thing. A well-made Brown Ale is like that buddy who doesn’t talk much but always has your back. It’s not trying to scream in your face. It’s just… solid. You get that rich, toasty flavor without it being heavy. It’s got a nutty character, sometimes a little chocolate, and it goes with everything from a burger to a steak to just sitting on the porch watching the sun go down [citation:1].
I’m talking about the good stuff. We’re not talking about some thin, watery attempt. We’re talking about a beer with a robust malty flavor and balanced roastiness. Beers like AleSmith’s Nut Brown out of San Diego or Smuttynose’s Old Brown Dog. These aren’t new. They’ve been around. They’ve just been… forgotten [citation:1]. If you see one on tap, order it. You’ll thank me.
The Quiet Complexity of English Bitters
I know what you’re thinking. “Bitter? Why would I want to drink something called ‘bitter’?” Settle down. It’s a misnomer, like “free willy.” The name stuck, but it doesn’t tell the whole story.
English-style ales in general get a bad rap in the States because we’re conditioned to want more. More fruit. More alcohol. More bitterness. More barrel character. English ales lean the other way [citation:1]. They’re about balance. They’re about drinkability.
Take Coniston Brewing Company’s Bluebird Bitter, for example. This thing is a gem. It’s light. It’s sessionable. But it’s still packed with flavor… candied orange, biscuity notes, a little herbal kick [citation:1]. It’s the kind of beer you crush on a Tuesday night when you got off work early and just want to relax before dinner. It’s not a commitment. It’s a companion. And frankly, with the pendulum swinging back toward “drinkability” and away from the ABV arms race, styles like this are due for a comeback [citation:1].
The Unsung Heroes of the Lager Family
We all love a good Pilsner. It’s the default “I don’t know what to get” beer. But the lager family is huge, and we’re ignoring some of the best cousins.
Kentucky Common: The Pre-Prohibition Legend
Here’s a history lesson for you. Before Prohibition screwed everything up, there was a style called Kentucky Common. It was born and bred in Louisville, made for the laborers. It was cheap, it was fast, and it was good [citation:6].
This style is a true American original. It used six-row barley and corn (cheap ingredients) with a touch of dark malt to balance out the local water. The result? A crisp, fruity, copper-colored ale that’s easy drinking with a hint of sweet corn and light spice [citation:6].
It died out after Prohibition, like a lot of good things. But some craft breweries are reviving it. 10 Barrel brewing puts out a version called Kentucky Lovin’ that stays true to the style. It’s 4.7% ABV, 26 IBUs, and it’s a damn good summer sipper [citation:6]. If you see it, grab it. You’re tasting history.
California Common: The Steam Beer That Almost Vanished
You might know this one by the trademarked name “Steam Beer.” Anchor Brewing made it famous. But since Anchor trademarked the name back in ’81, everyone else has to call it California Common [citation:6].
Here’s the cool part. This style was born during the Gold Rush. They didn’t have refrigeration, so they had to ferment lager yeast at warm ale temperatures. The result is a hybrid… clean like a lager, but with a fruity character from the warm ferment. You get caramel notes, toasty malt, and a crisp finish [citation:6]. It’s another piece of American brewing history that almost got lost. And honestly? It’s still too hard to find.
The Sessionable Truth About Mild Ale
If you really want to go deep into the weeds, let’s talk about Mild Ale. In the 1940s, this was the king of English pubs. More popular than bitter. Now? It’s an endangered species [citation:9].
Mild is usually dark, but it’s not heavy. It’s low alcohol, usually around 3.5% or so. The whole point is to give you maximum flavor in a “session” beer that you can drink a few of without falling over [citation:9]. It’s malty, a little sweet, and subtle. That’s the killer, right there. Subtlety doesn’t sell in a market built on “BIGGER! HOPPIER! MORE!”
Brewers will tell you it’s a tough sell because American drinkers have been trained to want bold flavors. A mild ale, with its nuanced complexity, gets lost in the noise [citation:3]. But guys like Josh Rein at Logboat Brewing in Missouri are keeping the flame alive, winning medals for beers like “Mamoot” because they understand that balance and simplicity can be just as impressive as a 10% triple IPA [citation:3].
Why These Beers Got Left Behind
So how did we get here? It’s not complicated. Money. Breweries make what sells. And what sells is what people know [citation:3].
The IPA created an “algorithm” in our brains. We liked IPA, so we tried double IPA. Then triple IPA. Then hazy IPA. Then milkshake IPA. It’s the same path, just pushed further. Styles like Roggenbier (a rye-based German ale) or Bière de Garde (a French farmhouse ale) don’t fit that algorithm. People don’t know what they are, so they don’t order them [citation:3].
There are also technical reasons. Brewing a Roggenbier means dealing with 50% rye in the grist, which can turn your mash into a sticky, stuck mess [citation:3]. Brewing an Eisbock requires freeze-distillation, which can actually need a special license [citation:3]. It’s easier to just pump out another hazy and call it a day.
The Beers Worth the Hunt
Look, I’m not saying go dump all your IPA money. I like a good West Coast bitter bomb as much as anyone. Russian River’s Blind Pig IPA? That thing is a classic [citation:1]. Dogfish Head’s 90 Minute? Still a banger you can find at the gas station [citation:1].
But there’s a whole world out there. There’s Zillicoah’s Mittelfrüh, a German-style lager from a Carolina brewery that got hammered by Hurricane Helene but is fighting back because the beer is that good [citation:1]. There’s Westbound Coffee Porter, a 6.5% dark beer with no lactose, just real coffee from a proper roaster [citation:1].
There’s Notch Brewing’s “Left of the Dial” Session IPA, which uses a fancy malt base and proves you don’t need 8% alcohol to have flavor [citation:8]. And there’s City Star Brewing’s “Bandit Brown Ale” out of Berthoud, Colorado… a little town twenty miles from Fort Collins that you’d drive right past, but they’re making gold medal brown ales [citation:8].
The Bottom Line on Underrated Brews
The beer world moves fast. Trends come and go. But a well-made beer is a well-made beer, regardless of whether it’s trendy. These styles survived world wars, prohibition, and the rise of light lager. They can survive the IPA craze too.
Next time you’re at the store, skip the shelf of identical tall boys with tropical fruit names. Walk down to the end of the aisle. Find the dusty six-pack of brown ale. Grab that weird looking bottle of English bitter. Ask the bartender if they have anything from a small brewery you’ve never heard of.
You might just find your new favorite beer. And you’ll be doing your part to make sure these styles don’t disappear completely. That’s a win-win in my book. Now go drink something interesting.
