The Bottles That Bloom in the Spring

The Rock Bottom brew pubs in Arlington and Bethesda are a 40-minute Metro ride apart, but when it comes to March seasonals, they seem on different continents. In Bethesda, brewer Geoff Lively's mahogany-colored Highland Courage Scottish ale is smooth and sweet from a partial caramelization of the malt in the brew kettle. In Arlington, brewer Chris Rafferty is offering an American hop bomb called, well, Hop Bomb: all pine needles and citrus, with a mouth-prickling bitterness. "We get to go our own directions," Rafferty said.

Unlike summer, with its wheat beers, and fall, with its Oktoberfests, spring is a free-for-all in the brewing community. Spring releases span classic British styles, bitter American IPAs, Czech-style Pilseners, even beers flavored with apricots, passion fruit or, to mark the local blossom festival, cherries.

You'd think Irish-style stouts would be more popular this time of year. But no. "You'll get your [expletive] handed to you by Guinness," warns Hugh Sisson, founder of Baltimore's Clipper City Brewing. Sisson's release is Red Sky at Night, a Belgian-style farmhouse ale called a saison, with a sharp, fruity flavor from the special yeast strain. Likewise, Old Dominion Brewing in Ashburn is on a Belgian kick with its Spring Buck, a Belgian-style blond ale flavored with orange peel, chamomile and honey.

A generation ago, there was a single spring seasonal: bock.

"Bock" means "billy goat" in German; a bock beer is a strong lager that, like its inspiration, can deliver a powerful kick. Bock probably was the first seasonal beer in America: As early as 1860, Best & Co. (the forerunner of Pabst) was offering "Bock-Butts" for three cents a mug at its Milwaukee beer hall. The basic bock beer was copper to deep ruby red, with a high alcohol content (over 6 percent by volume) and a flavor dominated by deeply roasted malts. In Germany, the customary release date was St. Joseph's day (March 19), but impatient American brewers might push that ahead to January or February.

The style was ratcheted down after Prohibition. Eventually, some breweries darkened their regular lager with caramel syrup. Memories of those insipid brews, plus the proliferation of big "imperial" styles, have pushed bock off the hit parade.

You can find permutations of the style on the market today. American versions such as Shiner Bock and Michelob AmberBock are dark but not particularly strong. Maibocks, such as the Hofbrau Maibock from Germany and the Gordon Biersch Maibock, are golden in color and have a smooth, honeylike sweetness, but they lack the complex roasty, chocolaty and toffeeish flavors of their darker cousins. Doppelbocks are stronger, one-and-done beers; Samuel Adams Double Bock and the Troegenator from Troegs Brewing Co. in Harrisburg, Pa., flirt with the 10-percent-alcohol mark.

Although there are a few fine German examples of a darker bock (the Weltenburger Kloster Asam Bock is well worth seeking out), a decent domestic version can be difficult to find. Anchor Brewing in San Francisco makes an excellent bock, full of roasty, bittersweet chocolate and raisin flavors, that would pair wonderfully with a chicken mole. There have been a few Maryland sightings of the bock, but none in the District or Virginia. Leinenkugel's 1888 Bock has nice chocolate caramel notes and a light toastiness but lacks oomph.

On the other hand, the Yuengling Bock from D.G. Yuengling & Son in Pottsville, Pa., is a kind unto itself. Brewed for the company's 180th anniversary, this draft-only offering is Yuengling's first seasonal in more than 30 years. "We couldn't find any old recipes," confides James L. Helmke, manager of Yuengling's Tampa plant, so the brew crew formulated the beer from scratch. In bitterness and strength (it's about 5.2 percent alcohol), Helmke says, this one is typical of regional bocks in the 1950s and '60s.

The beer is a deep reddish amber and has the requisite roasted malt flavor, but it's also quite hoppy, unusual for a bock. What's more, those are sappy, citrusy Pacific Northwest hops more commonly associated with American ales.

Your grandfather's bock it isn't, but it's a tasty brew nonetheless. Besides, as Hugh Sisson says of spring beers, "I like the idea of brewers being unrestrained."

Greg Kitsock can be reached at food@washpost.com.