| I was in the gas station recently, picking up a six-pack of Dos Equis for a day on the deck, when I paused in front of the cooler and marveled at the selection of “road sodas.” These are the tall cans sold individually for grab-and-go shoppers in grocery stores, bottle shops and, in some states, convenience stores. For decades this shelf was the domain of cheap macro lagers and cheaper malt liquor—but in these heady times you can readily find 19.2-ounce “stovepipe” cans of classic ales such as Sierra Nevada, Voodoo Ranger and Lagunitas IPAs, and usually one or two local craft brews as well. My initial awe at having higher-quality beer so conveniently available quickly faded as I asked myself: “Do I really want 19 ounces of flavor-packed, boozier IPA?”  Just a slice of the many IPAs on offer at my editor’s corner bodega in Brooklyn. Photographer: Justin Ocean/Bloomberg The question touches on an oft-overlooked yet vital variable in the beer-drinking experience: portion size. If craft beer is about expanding flavor profiles, styles and, yes, often alcohol content beyond that of the watery, guzzle-for-a-buzz macro lagers, then we should also stop serving them like those American light beers. And in this case, that means thinking smaller. I don’t blame the brewers, retailers or restaurateurs—they want to make their customers feel like they’re getting value, more volume for their dollar. But when it comes to many of these more complex, more flavorful and higher-ABV brews, supersizing can often deliver too much of a good thing. In craft beer, less is usually more. First there’s the alcohol content. Tallerboy cans (24 oz, also called a silo), like those mega-mugs you see during happy hour, were designed to carry lighter American lagers such as Bud Light, Coors Light and Miller Lite, as well as Mexican lagers like my Dos Equis, all of which register below 4.5% alcohol by volume. Standard IPAs weigh in at 7% ABV and above. My local grocer has 19.2-ouncers of an 11% triple IPA, which is about 6 oz short of an entire bottle of table wine. The worry isn’t just that you’ll get drunk—it’s also that you’ll miss experiencing the beer. The reason these brews contain more alcohol is that they have more ingredients, more flavorsAls that are delicately balanced and designed to unfold over time. “Certain flavor elements are going to come out in these higher-alcohol beers because of what’s put in them—more sugars and bigger grain bills—and some of those notes don’t come out instantly,” says LaTreace Harris, a Certified Cicerone and founder of Beery Godmother Consulting, which provides beer education, training and consulting for breweries. “You also need to give your body time to acclimate to the higher alcohol. These beers are meant to be savored.” This has long been an issue with craft beer’s most flavorful and highest-ABV genre—the barrel-aged stouts. For years these highly coveted labels, many easily boasting 13% ABV and beyond, were found only on whopping 750-milliliter “bomber” bottles. Once the brew is fermented, oxygen turns from friend to arch foe of any beer, and the moment a can or bottle is opened, the race is on to drink it before it turns stale or flat.  And Brad Japhe pumps up a new label from Maker’s Mark that is giving American whiskey lovers an alternative to bourbon and rye. Photographer: Takamasa Ota for Bloomberg Businessweek Temperature is a similar concern, as no beer is meant to be consumed at room temp; even cask ales should be slightly chilled. As a result, drinkers are forced to hold on to their bombers (whose contents are still aging somewhat unpredictably in the bottle) until they find a friend or two to share, use a wine stopper to stretch the stout for a day or two, or dump the remainder of a bottle they paid at minimum $50 for. Here, at least, brewers seem to be coming around to downsizing, releasing their barrel-aged beauties in 500ml and 375ml bottles, as well as 16-, 12- and 8-oz cans. Even Chicago’s Goose Island Beer Co. recently announced it would be releasing its seminal Bourbon County Brand stout in four-packs of 10-oz bottles this year.  Look for these single-serve cuties in November. Source: Goose Island Beer Co. The big-bottle problem also applies to styles that depend more on effervescence and carbonation, like farmhouse ales and Belgian-style Dubbels and Tripels. Accordingly, Belgian mainstays such as Chimay and Delirium Tremens have packaged their strong ales in newer packs of smaller cans. Even craftier versions of the gulpable light lagers are better served by a bit of moderation. “These beers are served crisp and cold for a reason,” says Harris. “Even though they’re lower in alcohol content, when you have these large-scale cans, you race to drink it before they get too hot. It becomes a chugfest.” So how much beer is the right amount for each style? Harris helped me come up with a practical guide: Lagers, light lagers and session IPAs (4% to 6% ABV)Harris says 12 oz to 20 oz is OK here. These beers are designed to be sessionable, meaning you can enjoy them steadily over the course of a few hours. You just want to make sure they stay cold. Double IPAs and Belgian strong ales (7% to 9% ABV)More alcohol means more flavor, which means slowing down to let that sensory experience wash over you. “To me the ideal serving size here is 10 oz, 12 oz tops,” says Harris, reiterating that while taking your time, you still want to ensure the beer stays chilled. Barrel-aged stouts and barley wines (10% and above)These are sippers, usually thicker, sweeter and more decadent (basically calorie-packed liquid dessert), to be served sparingly at 8 oz to 10 oz. “Give it time to warm itself,” he says, “while sparing yourself the guilt.” What about in the taproom?If you want to try a new-to-you beer, Harris says to opt for half-pours which are usually sized by style and forgo the flight (4 oz isn’t really enough to get to know a beer, plus it will win you points with the bartenders who find pouring flights cumbersome, especially during a rush). If you want to take a beer home, most breweries now have can-sealing machines, and many will package you a 16-oz can on the spot. Even the more common 32-oz aluminum crowler (“can growler”) is a better option than the old-school 64-oz glass growler—though you might find a happy medium by toting your own 32-oz growler, which can be resealed and kept in the fridge for a day or two. And if there’s no other option, don’t be afraid to walk away. “We have always been taught that you never leave alcohol on the table—don’t be wasteful,” Harris says. “But honestly a brewer would prefer you to leave some of that beer behind than drink it when it’s past its peak.” In defense of … Pickle Beers |  The Splash Hog sour from Last Flight Brewing made me a pickle beer convert. Photographer: Tony Rehagen/Bloomberg There are few foods more polarizing than the pickle. You either eat them straight from the jar and gulp down the brine, or you cringe at the faintest hint of vinegar left on a burger once the slimy buggers have been picked off. I tend to lean toward the latter camp. But even the most enthusiastic gherkin jerks tend to look at pickle beers as something of a barroom dare, and for years I respectfully demurred. Alas, as pickle beers have become more of a mainstream-adjacent thing, I felt it my journalistic duty to dive into the deep end of the jar. And I’m glad I did.  Like a gose, pickle beers are particularly good on a hot summer day. Photographer: Tony Rehagen/Bloomberg First, most of the pickle beers I found were sours, which featured the dill, zest and saltiness while balancing the vinegar tang with sweetness. In Jefferson City, Missouri, Last Flight Brewing infuses its dilly, sea-salty Splash Hog sour with an extra dose of cucumber for a cool, refreshing finish. Destihl, in Normal, Illinois, puckers up its garlicky Suckerpunch dill pickle sour with tart citrus flavors. Second, as something of a heat-seeker, I fell instantly in love with a couple of spicy pickle sours, especially the Spicy Pickle Monster from Oklahoma’s Prairie Artisan Ales, which adds habanero for a fruity, fiery exclamation point on the lemony dill treat. Of course, there are also beers for purebred pickle fanatics. Donna’s Pickle Beer is a light-bodied lager infused with homemade pickle brine for a salty-sour taste that was a little too on-the-nose for me. But rest assured, my pickle-beer journey is just getting started. I know there are pickle ales aged in bourbon barrels—and who knows, maybe someday I’ll encounter a beer actually aged in a pickle barrel itself. Did you hear the news? Our Top Shelf Society won Best Food & Drink Newsletter at the Publisher Newsletter Awards 2025. So please join me in a toast and thank you all for reading each and every week (and telling your friends). This club is your club, and our inbox is always open. We’d love to hear from you: what you’re drinking, what you’d like to learn about, hot tips in the beverage industries, or just to say hi. E-mail us at topshelf@bloomberg.net. | 
