Cold Nights and the Return of the Lager

For a decade, hops ruled the taproom and the humble lager was left for the macro-breweries. Lately, though, some of Vermont's most respected brewers have circled back to it, drawn by a challenge the flashy IPAs never posed.

A lager hides nothing. Fermented cold and aged for weeks, it is clean, crisp, and utterly unforgiving — there are no big hop aromatics to cover a flaw. Brewing a great one is a test of discipline and patience, which is precisely why serious brewers find it satisfying.

It is also a harder sell to some drinkers, trained to equate "craft" with intensity. Part of the work is convincing people that subtlety is a virtue, that a perfectly made pilsner can be as impressive as any triple IPA. Slowly, the message is landing. On cold Vermont nights, a clean golden lager is finding its way back onto the tap wall, and the brewers pouring it wear the quiet pride of people who did the difficult thing well.