IN A TOWN where craftsmen have been brewing for 300 years, we still don’t have a Beer we can call our own. That’s Beer with a capital B – a beer that we can say is truly Philadelphia Beer.

Oh, there’s Yards and Dock Street and Independence. And before them, Schmidt’s and Ortlieb’s and Esslinger. And before the Prohibition there was Weisbrod & Hess, Poth and Hohenadel. And in centuries before that, William Frampton and George Emlen and William Penn.

But in 2005, when this city is enjoying the greatest flow of beer in its history, there is no such thing as Philadelphia Beer.

A few months ago, a handful of area craft brewers tried to come up with one. They were preparing for the Brewers Association’s National Conference, meeting in town this week for the first time. Tradition calls for brewers in the host city to prepare a special symposium beer that is distributed to each of the more than 1,200 attendees.

Naturally, the brewers – proud that they’d persuaded their colleagues to visit their home – hoped to make a pint that evoked Philadelphia’s great beer-making tradition.

A certain anarchist among the bunch, Sam Calagione of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery in Delaware, suggested simply dumping a bunch of Philly-made beers together and bottling it up. This, it should be noted, came from a guy who over the years has made beer with honey, grapes, chicory, raisins, pumpkins, apricots, peaches, ginger and saffron.

After the laughter subsided, the talk turned to lager. The first American-made version of the crisp, German-style beer was made here in 1840, by John Wagner, near Poplar and American streets, in Northern Liberties. Lager made Philadelphia the nation’s first brewing capital, before St. Louis and Milwaukee, employing thousands of workers and satisfying the thirst of millions. Even today, with the huge breweries of Kensington and Brewerytown long gone, Philadelphia is largely a lager town, thanks to Pottsville’s Yuengling.

The problem facing the younger generation of brewers was that they now mainly make ales. And an ale-influenced lager – say, a hoppy Marzen – seemed too weird.

So they reached back further, to colonial days, when America’s revolutionaries met here to form our nation. It was said that in 1774, a Philadelphia brewer named Robert Hare crafted America’s first porter, an English-style dark ale. The beer apparently was so flavorful, Gen. George Washington requested hundreds of barrels for his troops. For generations after, brewers around the world made a Philadelphia-style porter.

The only catch, remembers Tom Kehoe of Yards, was in whose brewhouse it would be made.

Kehoe’s brewery makes a colonial-style George Washington Tavern Porter, based on the president’s own recipe. Flying Fish makes a porter and so do Victory and Iron Hill; even Yuengling makes a lager-style porter.

That’s when the talk got back to Calagione’s whacked-out plan: Pour beers from every local brewery together to make a hybrid porter.

“At first, everyone looked at Sam like he was nuts,” Kehoe said. “But the more we talked, the more it made sense. “

The original London-made porter was, in fact, a blend of three beers: a strong pale ale, a fresh brown ale and an aged brown ale, mixed at the spigot. The popular ale was known as “three threads. ” (In 1732, English brewer Ralph Harwood created the same beer from scratch, calling it “entire porter. “)

Moreover, the brewers felt a blended beer might symbolize their own unity.

“The whole project became indicative of how unique we are,” Calagione said. “We’re small, individual companies competing in the marketplace, but we all get along. There’s a lot of mutual respect for each other.

“I think our diversity is shown even in this beer. “

But the brewers’ blend, I think, makes an even broader statement about Philadelphia Beer, and it took an outsider to make that connection for me.

Earlier this week, San Diego brewer Tomme Arthur stopped by Center City’s Nodding Head Brewery to cook up a batch of his Swami’s IPA, a thoroughly hoppy, West Coast-style ale. He and Eric Rose of Santa Barbara Brewing and Nodding Head’s Gordon Grubb spent the morning fussing with steaming kettles and chatting about their craft.

I asked Arthur what came to mind when he thought of Philadelphia Beer. “The lager-brewing culture, of course,” he replied.

But there was something else. The night before, some locals had taken him on a pub crawl through some old-time joints in Northern Liberties and Fishtown – Standard Tap, 700 Club, Johnny Brenda’s.

“We just don’t have 150-year-old buildings that have that kind of character in San Diego,” Arthur said. “There’s just so much texture and flavor. “

Just like a well-made, hand-crafted beer.

And it’s not just the physical buildings. It’s the people inside them, so much character.

“It’s a sense of community,” Arthur said. “Philadelphia has this pub-drinking culture. It’s comfortable, it’s casual. “

It’s not mass-produced, pre-packaged, chain-store vanilla. It is diverse. It has raw edges. It is real.

The beer, the pubs, the people . . . Maybe, in a town where craftsmen have been brewing for 300 years, there is still no such thing as just one Philadelphia Beer. At our best, we are a blend.

About the symposium beer: It’s called Seven Threads, but don’t look for it in stores. It’s not for sale. It was bottled specially for attendees of the Brewers Association conference.

But the recipe, if you care to re-create it, is simple. Equal parts of:

1. Dogfish Head Indian Brown Ale,
2. Flying Fish Porter,
3. Independence Brewpub Oatmeal Stout,
4. Iron Hill Pig Iron Porter,
5. Nodding Head Grog,
6. Stoudt’s Fat Dog Stout,
7. Victory Storm King Stout,
8. Yards India Pale Ale.

If you’re counting, Seven Threads contains beer from eight breweries. Philadelphia brewers are craftsmen, not mathematicians.

Beer radar

Though the Brewers Association conference is not open to the public, beer-drinkers have plenty of opportunity to rub elbows with America’s best brewers. They’ll be hanging out this weekend at many of the haunts included in Joe Sixpack’s Philadelphia Beer Map on pages 68-69.

Also, look for them at Independence Brewpub (1150 Filbert St., Reading Terminal), where they’ll be sucking down pints from 10 p.m. till closing.

Today, McGillin’s Olde Ale House (1310 Drury St., Center City) will host a tasting and a meet-the-brewers party, 5-8 p.m. Brewers from Stoudt’s, Yards, Flying Fish, Troeg’s, Victory and Sly Fox will be on hand. No cover, 215-735-5562.

Later, Carol Stoudt, the first woman of Philadelphia brewing, will lift a glass or two at O’Neal’s (611 S. 3rd St., near South). Look for discounted pints and giveaways.

Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a bottle of 7 Threads.

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The so-called death of microbrewing occurred on May 7, 1997. That morning, the New York Times reported the closing of one of Manhattan’s venerable brewpubs, Zip City, and warned ominously that beer drinkers were tiring of “trendy” craft beer.

That followed a “Dateline NBC” expose that reported that Samuel Adams’ handcrafted beer was made in the same brewery that spit out Stroh’s.

For the next three years, as struggling microbreweries and brewpubs closed up, newspapers repeated the same warning: The infant craft brewing industry was just a trend – a scam! – whose death was imminent.

Reports of the industry’s demise, it turns out, were premature. As the Brewers Association meets in Philadelphia this week, the happy news more than 1,200 attendees will hear is they’re the hottest segment in the alcoholic beverages market.

While mainstream beer sales were up just 0.5 percent last year, craft brewing was up 7 percent. Yes, it’s a small portion of the business representing about 1,400 breweries, but it’s living, breathing and growing.

“A lot of brewers seem to be smiling these days,” association president Charlie Papazian said in an interview this week.

Papazian isn’t certain why sales keep climbing. “Maybe beer drinkers are finally getting it,” he shrugged. “American craft beer offers the flavor and diversity they’re looking for, as opposed to those trendy malternatives and tooty-fruity cocktails. We’re producing ‘real’ beer, instead of just adding sugar and caffeine . . .

“Plus, finally, we’re answering the European mystique, that a lot of imports – the Germans, the Belgians, the English ales – are better. American brewers are matching these beers, style for style. “

Indeed, craft beer in 2005 seems ready to take another important leap forward. Thanks to a growing focus on matching beer with food, brewers are now producing exotic – eccentric, even – lagers and ales in large, often corked bottles. For many drinkers, these unusual flavors (cumin-finished Saison? Yep, I had one Tuesday night) are far more interesting than any California wine.

“We’re now seeing speciality bottles in the $10-$20 range,” Papazian said. “It’s new to America. You wouldn’t even dream that something like that could happen with beer.”

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BEER. IT’S NOT just for breakfast any more.

Or only for mowing the lawn, playing softball, hazing fraternity pledges and bingeing after work.

Following wine’s success a generation ago, beer – especially handcrafted ales and lagers – is looking for a place at the dining table. Increasingly, restaurants chefs and cooks at home are making everything from pilsner to stout a part of their cuisine.

And, just as wine buffs are careful to serve white wine with fish, beer fans are matching an even broader variety of styles with their food.

It’s a bubbling trend that will be on tasty display on Sunday at the Brewer’s Plate, the unofficial kickoff to the following week’s Association of Brewers annual Craft Brewers Conference held this year in Philadelphia.

Brewer’s Plate will feature 15 of the region’s top craft breweries, paired with 15 of the city’s most popular restaurants at the Reading Terminal Market. Organizers hope the dinner, which benefits the Fair Food Project, will become an annual event.

What’s the best beer to match with your meal? Having devoted a lifetime of brain cells to beer consumption, I’ve come up with a sixpack of suggestions:

1. Whoever came up with the idea of serving wine and cheese at art openings was an idiot. After a mouthful of Roquefort, you just can’t taste the wine. Beer’s carbonation, on the other hand, is perfectly suited to cut through the cream. Try cheddar and Yards Philly Pale Ale; blue cheese and Weyerbacher Quad; and one of my favorite combos: aged gouda and Victory Storm King.

2. If you’re eating pizza with toppings, keep it simple: Try a basic lager. It’ll complement the cheese, the tomato sauce, the crust, even the anchovies. Yuengling and mushrooms and pepperoni is fine, but Stoudt’s Gold Lager with black olives and extra garlic is even better.

3. Ask for extra spice on the Kung Pao Chicken when you drink refreshing but watery Tsingtao at your favorite Chinese restaurant. Otherwise, try a hearty Belgian-style ale like Flying Fish Belgian Abbey Dubbel with duck and black bean sauce.

4. Everybody’s tried dumping a can of beer into chili, but try adding it to other simmering meats. Mom raised me on pork chops and onions cooked in Ortlieb’s and brown sugar; today, I eliminate the sugar and use Dogfish Head Raisin D’Etre instead. Belgium’s classic beer-and-meat dish, by the way, is carbonade flamande. It’s beef cubes (yes, sometimes horse) cooked in Liefmans Goudenband, a complex-tasting brown beer (make sure you have an extra chilled bottle on hand to accompany the meal).

5. Bring beer to a restaurant instead of wine. Guaranteed, everyone will be wondering what you’re pouring when you crack open that corked bottle of wonderfully funky Cantillon Gueuze instead of fizzy champagne.

6. Yes, beer goes with dessert. Often, the temptation is to match chocolate with a dark beer like Brooklyn Black Chocolate Stout. But at a recent beer dinner at Monk’s Cafe, beer cookbook writer Stephen Beaumont and chef Adam Glickman paired bread pudding with Rogue Chocolate Stout, and I ate every crumb.

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FOR A NATION whose patron saint annually inspires so much alcohol consumption, Ireland leaves a helluva lot to be desired when it comes to beer.

Maybe it’s last night’s green foam that’s doing the talking here, but with all due respect to St. Patrick, Dylan Thomas and Tullamore Dew, Ireland has been coasting on its rep for way too long.

The nation that practically invented the pub evidently forgot how to brew anything for us to toast with.

Yeah, I know:

Guinness Stout. Please, most of it’s made in Canada or Africa or some other factory far from St. James’s Gate.

Harp. C’mon, Dick Yuengling kegs that stuff without breaking a sweat at half the price.

Smithwick’s. I can only imagine it tastes better in Ireland because the draft they pour here is about as remarkable as week-old Wonder Bread.

How lame is the Emerald Isle’s beer?

“The Encyclopedia of World Beers” by Benjamin Myers and Graham Lees spends all of one page on Irish-made beers – about the same space devoted to such notable beer-producing giants as Wales and Estonia.

BeerAdvocate.Com’s populist beer tasters include not a single beer made in Ireland in their top 100.

And in his “Pocket Guide to Beer,” British author Michael Jackson diplomatically notes, “The fame of Irish beer greatly exceeds the number of its breweries . . . “

The “fame,” of course, is largely due to that aforementioned stout, one of the largest-selling beers in the world. But if this so-called Perfect Pint is so bloody Irish, why is it that Ireland hardly bothers to drink it? Sales are dropping faster than those tiny tan bubbles (a decline that was worsened last year, Guinness says, by Ireland’s ban on tavern smoking).

Guinness is so desperate to sell its frothy brew, it shamelessly blathers about its low calories and carbs like it’s some kind of cheap light beer. The company now recommends practically freezing the stuff so young buds can swallow the stout without actually tasting its trademark bitter, toasty flavor. It’s gotten so bad that one Irish writer recently remarked, “Guinness now produces a drink that puts one in mind of what Americans call Popsicles. “

Have you stuck your neck into an Irish pub lately? Lord knows there’s nothing better than spending an hour or six holed up one, in Philly or Dublin. But grab a stool in one of those cozy pubs and you’re likely to be greeted with such traditional “Irish” nectars as Corona and Miller Lite. In Ireland, Heineken is the No. 1 selling lager. No. 2 is Bud. And guess what: It’s imported by Guinness.

The irony is that, while at least two of the world’s classic beer styles were born in Ireland, the country provides the world with few decent examples.

One style – dry stout – is the hoppy, roasted-malt cousin of England’s sweet stout. Guinness, of course, is the best known, and Murphy’s and Beamish are available in Philadelphia as well. Lately, I’ve been enjoying a relative newcomer, O’Hara’s Celtic Stout from Carlow Brewing.

The other, Irish ale, is a malty, lightly hopped reddish ale that’s Ireland’s version of an all-nighter. For a while, you could find Caffrey’s, which was decent enough. But it’s almost invisible in America nowadays; that leaves us with Smithwick’s and, in a pinch, Murphy’s.

Those are slim pickings, folks.

You say I’m forgetting George Killian’s Irish Red? This thoroughly forgettable dreck is neither Irish nor an ale. It’s a lager whose so-called roots extend to a 15th-century Irish brewery that closed 50 years ago. Today, it’s lovingly mass-produced in the green-sodded hamlet of Golden, Colo.

But don’t blame Coors just because Ireland doesn’t bother to stand up for its own heritage.

Instead, try an American craft version of one of those Irish styles. O’Reilly’s Irish Stout at Sly Fox Brewing Co. (Pikeland Village Square, Phoenixville) is an excellent start.

Or find a leprechaun and make a wish: Next St. Patrick’s Day, may Ireland send us a better beer.

Beer radar

Randall the Enamel Animal, the hop-filled beer-dispatch system from Dogfish Head, will get the hookup from 6-9 p.m. March 25 at Tria Cafe (123 S. 18th St., Center City). Owner Jon Myerow plans to pour 90 Minute IPA through the gadget, possibly on a permanent basis. Randall filters beer through a tube filled with fresh hops (like a Mr. Coffee for suds) for a fresh, one-of-a-kind flavor.

The makers of Erdinger Hefe-Weizen say sales are up since the beer’s cameo in “Million Dollar Baby. ” Its banner is in the background of the film’s opening fight scene. The brewery’s reps also note that Hilary Swank plays a waitress at a joint called On the Waterfront Cafe, which in real life is a Venice Beach, Calif., establishment that’s the largest Erdinger Hefe-Weizen draft account in the world.

Speaking of Hollywood brews, here’s a Kevin Bacon-like beer connection: In “Boys Don’t Cry,” Swank’s earlier Oscar-winning role, her character drinks Celis Pale Rider Ale, named after the 1985 Western starring Clint Eastwood, her director in “Million Dollar Baby. “

Calendar

Tomorrow: Brewery Preservation Success Stories, a presentation by beer historian Rich Wagner at Yards Brewing Co. (2439 Amber St., Kensington). Free, with brewery tours before and after. 2 p.m., 215-634-2600.

March 26: Split Thy Skull barleywine festival at Sugar Mom’s (225 Church St., Old City). The annual high-octane event features big beers from Heavyweight, Lagunitas, Stone, Lakewood, North Coast, Independence, Brooklyn, Sly Fox and Nodding Head. Pay by the glass. Taps open 1 p.m., 215-925-8219.

March 29: Celtic dinner at Annie’s Cafe (98 Cricket Ave., Ardmore). Beer appreciation instructor Peter L. Cherpack looks on the bright side of Harp, Guinness, et al. $40, includes four-course dinner and tutored tasting. 6:30 p.m., 610-649-1660.

Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a pint of Dunedin Redhead Red Ale. 

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The last time I bent elbows with Conrad Seidl – the Joe Sixpack of Austria – he was extolling the virtues of the elusive Vienna lager, a tasty malt treat that sadly has virtually disappeared in his homeland.

You’ll have to visit America to try our craft brewers’ version of the lager, I told him. After all, the first lager in America was brewed right here in Philadelphia.

Victory Brewing founder Bill Covaleski cut the deal, and now Seidl – who calls himself the Beer Pope – is in town for a whirlwind tour.

And you can bend elbows with him, too, on Tuesday at Moriarty’s (1116 Walnut St., Center City). Seidl will be the guest speaker at a Loving Lagers dinner featuring Victory beers.

Covaleski is a devotee of 19th-century Austrian brewing giant Anton Dreher, the father of modern lager. He’ll show off a range of Victory lagers, including his latest batch of St. Victorious Doppelbock, the astoundingly smooth springtime brew that’s as meaty as a loaf of Amoroso’s.

The lederhosen-wearin’ Seidl will wax on his favorite beers, matched with a Vienna-style menu from Moriarty’s kitchen (bratwurst spring rolls, hazelnut stew). Dinner is at 7 p.m., $40, 215-627-7676.

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Philadelphia – despite occasional pretensions toward certain corked bottles of purple juice – is and always has been a beer town.

From America’s first ales made 300 years ago along the Delaware to the birth of the Industrial Revolution in Brewerytown to the craft brew renaissance citywide, the truth was always obvious.

But it was an out-of-towner – an Englishman, no less – who showed us, even in our darkest time, there never should’ve been doubt.

His name is Michael Jackson and, for the 1,000th time, I don’t mean the oddball pop singer. This Jackson is the British newspaperman, known as the Beer Hunter, who – thanks to his books, TV appearances and lectures – is indisputably the world’s best-known authority on our favorite adult beverage.

He’ll be in town next week for the 21st annual KitchenAid the Book & the Cook festival, Philadelphia’s tribute to the world’s notable food authors and the city’s fine restaurants.

It was Jackson’s first appearance at the festival 15 years ago that firmly demonstrated our town’s devotion to beer.

It was “a scrotum-freezing day,” Jackson recalled in an interview from his office in London. Though his annual tutored tasting is now held in the halls of the spectacular University of Pennsylvania Museum, Jackson’s lecture that year was under a tent outside on the lawn. Helicopters landed noisily on the nearby hospital’s rooftop. The sound system was on the blink.

Though good beer in Philadelphia was stretching its legs at the time (Stoudt’s in Adamstown and Dock Street and Samuel Adams in Center City had all recently opened), this was still a Coors Light town.

Worse, the Book & the Cook was thoroughly focused on (gasp!) wine.

Yet more than 1,000 people packed the tents and strained to hear the bearded Brit digress through four separate presentations on beer, simply beer.

Jackson’s welcoming that year was stunning proof that suds had grown beyond the corner bar. Even in the face of high cuisine, beer could more than hold its own.

Every year since, Jackson noted, “the biggest audience by far at the Book & the Cook has been for my beer tastings. I do sort of feel that’s not altogether recognized [by the festival organizers], as if they’re embarrassed by a beer guy . . . Maybe they think it should be a sommelier from France or a chef from wherever. “

There may be some truth to that, though the festival gives more than a passing nod to beer these days: at least four beer-related dinners and events appear on the upcoming Book & the Cook agenda.

This year, Jackson’s tasting will focus on gold medal beers – award winners at the Great American Beer Festival and the World Beer Championships. It’s a sign of Philadelphia’s increasing thirst for quality beer that he had no problem finding a healthy variety of local award-winners to match against out-of-towners. Among them: Triumph Keller from New Hope, Iron Hill Russian Imperial Stout from Newark, Del., and Nodding Head Grog from Center City.

“The original proposal for the tasting was to include some gold-medal beers from Europe,” Jackson said. “But I didn’t feel the winners from European contests stood up to the Americans. The European competitions are so boring. The brewers are very conservative. They tend to look for beers that are, quote-unquote, well-balanced. They give awards to very neutral, boring beers . . .

“Frankly, it’s hard to get Americans to believe that the most interesting selection of beers right now is in the United States. “

As U.S. breweries improved over these 15 years, Jackson observed, so have drinkers’ tastes.

“There’s been a development of a real – well, I hate to use the word – beer geek,” Jackson said. “They want more and more authentic, more and more extreme, more and more hoppy beers. There’s ever more connoisseurship, ever more zealotry . . .

“And they very quickly have started to reject things that they thought were good just a few years ago. “

Samuel Adams Boston Lager, for example. “It was like a boon when it came along 20 years ago,” Jackson said. “But people are reluctant to accept it today because of the circumstances in which it’s made and the way it’s marketed. It’s the sort of example of a beer that people, after a while, just dismiss. “

I wondered if Jackson had changed, too.

Fifteen years ago, he was still largely a writer. Today, the way beer freaks flock at his feet, he seems more of a guru.

Does Michael Jackson still regard himself, I asked, as a Beer Hunter?

“I wouldn’t want to be too literal about that,” he said, explaining the name was an accident, the result of a moment’s inspiration while filming his original Beer Hunter documentary series for TV. “I’m still always on the lookout for new beers. So, yes I still am a beer hunter. But whether I’m a guru, it’s for other people to say, isn’t it?

“I keep a sense of proportion – what’s the saying, ‘Don’t believe your own publicity?'” he continued. “It’s very gratifying that it’s that level of interest. “

But he reminds me his career started in newspapers, writing in London for the Independent and the Observer. And he’s still pumping out books. (His newest, “Whiskey” from DK Publishing, hits the stores in May. )

“I’m a newspaperman at heart.” declared Jackson, who turns 63 this year.

“People say to me, ‘When are you going to retire? ‘ I wouldn’t want to retire. I can’t give up my bad old habits of sitting at a keyboard and writing on deadline.”

On March 11, the University of Pennsylvania Museum will host Jackson at a beer-matched three-course in the Museum’s Lower Egyptian gallery. 6:30 p.m., $85, 215-898-4890. On March 12, the museum presents “Golden Treasures: A Tasting with Michael Jackson” with three seatings, at 1, 3:30 and 6 p.m. $45, 215-898-3900.

Beer radar

Speaking of beer scribes, the city will host another literary luminary later this month. Conrad Seidl, the Bier Papst (Beer Pope) of Vienna will be featured guest at a pair of events, at Victory Brewing (March 20) and Moriarty’s in Center City (March 22). The lederhosen-wearin’ Seidl will talk about his favorite lager-style beers. Look for more details in my next column; meanwhile, reservations for the Moriarty’s dinner can be made at 215-627-7676 . . .

Iron Hill marked the first anniversary at its North Wales spot on Wednesday. If you asked nicely, brewer Larry Horwitz would serve you his “small” beer, a unique, low-alcohol ale made from the final “runnings” of his Russian imperial stout (it’s like getting a second batch of joe from used coffee grounds) . . .

The Grey Lodge (6235 Frankford Ave., Mayfair) usually waits till Friday the 13th for its quirky real ale splash, but bar owner Mike (Scoats) Scotese notes that today’s strange date (3/4/05) is worthy of a bit of beer craziness. Thus, he’ll lug four pins (4 1/2-gallon kegs) of Yards Brewing’s ESA, Philadelphia Pale Ale Love Stout and IPA onto the bar tonight about 7, open the spigots and let gravity do its work . . .

New on local shelves: Southampton Publick House Biere de Garde, Appalachian Volks Weizenbock and Westmalle Trappist Tripel in 750ml bottles.

Calendar

Tomorrow: Seventh annual Main Line Brewfest at the Desmond Hotel (One Liberty Blvd., Malvern). Twenty breweries show off their best ales and lagers during tutored tastings, seminars, cooking demonstrations and foam-slurping. Beer pours noon to 3:45 p.m., 610-296-9800.

Tomorrow: Beer & the bench, a beer tasting/fund-raiser for Linda Carpenter, Philadelphia Common Pleas Court candidate and wife of Yards Brewing boss Tom Kehoe. Sample beers from seven area microbreweries at Fairmount’s Ukrainian Club (23rd and Brown streets). Taps open 4-7 p.m., $40 (checks, credit only), 215-681-3179.

March 11-12: Belgian beer tasting at the Farmhouse Barn (1449 Chestnut St., Emmaus, Pa.). Chef Michael Adams pairs a five-course dinner with Flemish favorites, hosted by John Hansell of Malt Advocate magazine. 7 p.m., $70, 610-967-6225.

March 12: Open house at Heavyweight Brewing (1701 Valley Road, Ocean Township, N.J.). Get the freshest taste of the brewery’s two farmhouse styles: Biere d’Art and it’s one-time-only Pfarmhouse Saison. No cover, but bring canned food/dry goods donations for a local food bank. Drink up 1-4 p.m., 732-493-5009.

Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a pint of Iron Hill double bock. 

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Buried in the deepest corner of your favorite beer bar lies a stash of one of the world’s greatest brews.

It’s been guarded jealously, hidden from sight, untouched by meddlesome bartenders. Even regular customers who know the tap list by heart have never caught a whiff.

This fine beer – probably an ale, but maybe a hearty lager – was aged for years, maybe even a decade. It’s a flavor so rare that those who are lucky enough to swallow a drop will talk about it for years.

And only the lucky ever get a taste.

What is this fine brew?

It’s the Secret Keg – a perfectly preserved barrel that the owner’s been holding, waiting for the perfect occasion to finally tap it open. Ask almost any barkeep who loves good beer, and he or she will tell you there’s a Secret Keg – or at least a couple dozen dusty bottles – buried in the basement.

Invariably, it is a world-classic beer, for who would bother to save a keg of pedestrian lager?

And it’s likely something with a high alcohol content, which will allow it to survive and even improve over years of sitting still in a steel keg. Bottles of the enormous Dogfish Head World Wide Stout, with alcohol levels exceeding 20 percent, are a favorite layaway.

Often, it’s excessively hopped as well. Hops, as in traditional India pale ales, are a preservative, and their bitterness tends to mellow with age.

Sierra Nevada Bigfoot, the barleywine from California, might be the classic Secret Keg. That’s partly because this hugely hopped ale with 9.6 percent alcohol is often a slow-mover at the bar; even some leather-gullets might blanch at its powerful flavor.

But give it a couple years and you find the ale ages wonderfully; the most finely tuned palates detect subtle differences with each passing year. Tom Peters at Monk’s Cafe said he recently opened a keg of Bigfoot produced in 2000 and found “the hops were much softer. It was closer to an English barleywine in flavor profile.”

Often more than improving taste, though, the motivation behind sitting on a keg is emotional. The bar owner has a singular attachment to a particular barrel that only he can explain.

William Reed, co-owner of Northern Liberties’ Standard Tap, has been holding a keg of Samuel Adams Triple Bock since it was made in 1994. It’s a warm reminder of the years he served as brewmaster at the old Sam Adams brewpub on Sansom Street.

“We still had some in oak casks when we sold and Nodding Head took over, so I transferred it to stainless steel,” Reed said. “I thought the contact with oak was improving it, so I put some oak chips in a [bag] and it’s been sitting there the whole freaking time.

“I have no idea what it tastes like. I’d like to try it, but I haven’t broached it yet . . .

“I’ve got signs all over it: DO NOT TAP! PLEASE LEAVE ALONE! It’s like a 13-year-old boy’s bedroom.”

When will he open it? Reed doesn’t know. “I guess I’m kind of waiting to see something special. You kind of forget about it, then you realize 10 years have gone by.”

There’s the danger that, after so many years, the flavor will never live up to the expectations. But that’s part of the fun: tapping the unknown. That’s why it’s always worth a story. Only a few dozen others will have enjoyed the same unique flavor.

The down side, though, is even the most devoted beer lovers rarely get a taste. The decision to tap a Secret Keg is often made on the spur of the moment. The bar owner just feels it’s the right time. He pours himself a glass, jots its name on the blackboard and, within hours, the keg is kicked. Unless you happen to be sitting at the bar the night it’s opened, you’ve missed your shot at this once-in-a-lifetime pint.

If you’ve read this far, though, you know I wouldn’t be writing about Secret Kegs unless I had an angle. Here’s the heads up:

Tonight, Dawson Street Pub (Dawson and Cresson streets, Manayunk) will open a three-year-old keg of Dogfish Head Raison D’Etre. It’s part of a promo featuring Dogfish Head’s personable owner, Sam Calagione.

Dawson Street’s Dave Wilby said the keg is a leftover from a beer fest at nearby Manayunk Brewing Co. a few years ago. It’s been sitting in his basement ever since.

Made with beet sugar and raisins, Raison D’Etre is a richly flavored dark ale that – after so many months – should pour like a burgundy juiced up by Jose Canseco.

“I have no idea what’ll taste like, but it should age pretty well,” Wilby said.

Show up between 8 and 10, and you’ll be lucky enough to find out.

   Where they’re hiding

Not that you’ll ever get a taste, but here are some other Secret Kegs hidden at local joints:

– Monk’s Cafe (16th and Spruce streets, Center City). Co-owner Tom Peters’ basement is reminiscent of the last scene of “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” only with beer instead of religious artifacts. He’s still holding onto a Hair of the Dog Adam that was part of his first beer order when Monk’s opened eight years ago. Though you already missed the opening of a 2000 Victory Old Horizontal, keep checking back: kegs of the Downingtown-made barleywine from ’99, ’01 and ’02 are still on hand.

Even more intriguing are the half-dozen wooden casks of JW Lees Harvest Ale. Wood, naturally, imparts its own unique flavor; some of these casks were finished with various alcohols, including calvados, porto and Lagavulin single malt whiskey.

– McMenamin’s (7170 Germantown Ave., Mount Airy). Owner P.J. McMenamin says that while he’ll occasionally tap an older keg (last November’s Victory Moonglow Weizenbock pours tonight), he mostly holds onto vintage bottles.

“I have a couple cases of Pyramid Snowcap, that sits pretty well. And of course Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Ale, from ’97, I think,” McMenamin said. He’s also sitting on large, wax-capped bottles of Flying Fish Grand Cru.

What’s he waiting for? “I like to open them up when homebrewers stop in,” McMenamin said. “They really appreciate it.”

– Standard Tap (2nd and Poplar streets, Northern Liberties). In addition to that keg of Triple Bock, owner William Reed’s holding onto a pin (a 4 1/2-gallon keg) of ice bock made by Sly Fox brewer Brian O’Reilly when he worked at the now-closed New Road brewpub in Collegeville.

“That’s wicked strong,” said Reed. “I kind of knew that, when he left New Road, he go on to do something cool. I thought I’d hold onto it for him – it’ll mean more to him than it does to me. He’s a friend, maybe I’ll just have him over some night and we’ll tap it.”

– Grey Lodge Pub (6235 Frankford Ave., Mayfair). Owner Mike (Scoats) Scotese said he’s only recently begun holding onto kegs for special events. His Christmas in July celebration will feature December’s Troegs Mad Elf, Victory Resolution Porter and Sly Fox Christmas Ale.

Yet, he’s always had luck finding older kegs at his supplier, Edward I. Friedland Co., including, recently, three-year-old Yards Old Ale and Old Bart.

“I do expect the beer’s flavor to mellow out and have a long finish with some nice aging,” Scoats said.

But “sometimes, though, you do get a surprise,” he added. “The two-year-old barrel of Sierra Nevada Big Foot that we tapped for Groundhog Day was incredibly hoppy, not at all what I was expecting.”

– General Lafayette Inn & Brewery (6461 Germantown Pike, Lafayette Hill). Owner Chris Leonard keeps mini-kegs of every year’s Dubbel, a heavy-duty Belgian-style ale. “My goal was to one day have a vertical tasting night” of each year’s version, he said.

Unfortunately, not all of them aged well.

“Most mellow a bit for the first year or so, then they seem to dry out to the point where they’re not as interesting as I’d hoped,” Leonard said. “So, I’ll put one on without warning every now and then, usually when I’m short a specialty beer. The folks who happen in that night just get lucky.”

   Beer radar

Stuff magazine readers named Copa, Too! (263 S. 15th St., Center City) one of the 20 best dives in America. The criteria, according to the March issue, strong drinks, cheap food and hot bartenders . . . Grey Lodge is now serving food and beer on its newly renovated second floor . . .

Small Craft Warning Uber Pils, the latest in Clipper City’s Heavy Seas series of heavy-duty flavors, is in town. At 7 percent alcohol, it’s a pilsner disguised as a bock . . . Other new stuff on local shelves: Lancaster Brewing Hop Hog IPA, DeProef Flemish Primitive, Ramstein Classic Dunkel Weizen, Geants Goliath, Samuel Adams Black Lager and Saison Voisin.

   Calendar

Tomorrow: Brewers Reserve Night at Iron Hill Brewery & Restaurant (3 W. Gay St., West Chester). Harpoon Brewing brings some of its New England specialties to compare with the I-Hill chain’s best. Come out and boo the Bostonians and guzzle their one-of-a-kind, oak-aged India pale ale. $35, including dinner. Taps open 5 p.m. 610-738-9600.

Feb. 27: Belgian beer dinner at Ortino’s Northside (1355 Gravel Pike, Zieglerville). Lost in the boonies without a decent draft selection? This joint is an oasis. 610-287-7272.

   Beer, Book and the Cook

As always, the Book and the Cook series features a number of notable beer events. They always sell out early, so here’s early warning:

March 11: Michael Jackson (“Great Beer Guide”) beer dinner at the University of Pennsylvania Museum. 215-893-3900.

March 12: Jackson beer tasting at the University of Pennsylvania Museum. Three sessions. 215-893-3900.

March 15: Stephen Beaumont (“Premium Beer Drinkers Guide”) at Monk’s Cafe. 215-545-7005.

March 16: Eric Tucker (“The Artful Vegan”) at Nodding Head Brewery. 215-569-9525.

March 16: Duane Swierczynski (“The Big Book o’ Beer”) at Manayunk Brewery & Restaurant. 215-482-8220.

   Joe Sixpack, by Staff Writer Don Russell, was written this week with a glass of A1A’s A Strange Stout.

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Super Bowl XXXIX should be a gimme for Anheuser-Busch.

Thanks to its hugely popular commercials (the talking lizards, “Whazzzup,” Cedric the Entertainer), the world’s largest beer maker is almost inseparable from the world’s biggest sporting event. Moreover, with Alltel Stadium just a few miles south on I-95 from one of its 15 breweries, A-B has a decided home-field advantage at this year’s Super Bowl.

Yet, fans who attend pre-game events throughout this town will be drinking a good bit of one of the Busch family’s biggest competitors, Coors Light.

Through a quirk in licensing arrangements with the NFL, Coors is the “official” beer sponsor of the Super Bowl – even though A-B is the sole beer advertiser during the telecast.

Thus, though Florida is not historically a big market for the Boulder, Colo., brewer, Coors Light is often the ONLY beer available at the host city’s game week events. The company’s logo is everywhere in this town, and so are empty plastic bottles of the stuff. One of the city’s main entertainment sites is named the Coors Light Stage at the Shipyard. Today, the popular Coors Light twins, Diane and Elaine Klimaszewski, will be in town, doing interviews and posing for photographs.

Meanwhile, A-B can’t even use the phrase “Super Bowl. ” Its press releases, for example, refer to the game as “the upcoming professional football championship. “

That’s life when your competitor shells out an estimated $75 million a year for NFL licensing rights, as Coors did in 2002.

Steve Foppe, the resident brewmaster at A-B’s mammoth Jacksonville facility, shrugged off Coors’ presence in his town when I met him the other day.

“Coors pretty much has the Alltel footprint,” said Foppe. “But we have a Bud Zone inside the stadium, so we’ll be there. “

He had the look of confidence of a man who knows his factory will produce 9 million barrels of suds this year, regardless of whether a couple of hundred thousand football fans are drinking his competitor’s product for a few days. “We run full capacity all year, so there’s no need to change our production,” he said.

But it’s not like A-B is sitting back and letting Coors run wild in its town. The brewery parking lot has been taken over by Bud Bowl 2005, a free entertainment attraction featuring music, beer, NASCAR and, of course, Clydesdales. Cedric the Entertainer will be bartending at the site tomorrow.

A-B will also pony up big bucks for 10 30-second spots during the telecast. “There is no other media event in which we can reach so many beer drinkers at one time, which makes this a very efficient media buy for us,” spokesman Rick Oleshak said.

The company is expected to use one of its Super Bowl commercials to tease the national rollout of Budweiser Select, its new, low-carb brew (3.1 grams of the nasties, 99 calories, 4.3 percent alcohol per bottle). Foppe poured me a cup – it’s crisp and clear, like you’d expect from an A-B product. It’s a bit maltier than your typical light beer, but with absolutely no lingering tastes it’s quickly forgettable.

Personally, I don’t need another beer from A-B. I’d rather see the brewer bring back the old Bud Bowl, those famous tackling bottles of Bud and Bud Light. Now, those were the days when Budweiser and the Super Bowl were truly one of a kind.

Beer radar

Contrary to the evidence in Jacksonville, the Super Bowl is not the No. 1 beer- drinking holiday in America. It’s No. 7, behind July Fourth, Labor Day, Memorial Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving and (?! ) Easter . . . Budweiser’s best Super Bowl ad won’t even make it onto the tube. It’s a spoof on singer Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction last year, which the Fox network rejected. See it at Budweiser.com . . . Looking for a decent craft beer in Jacksonville? Good luck – micros are almost invisible here. The most popular brewpub is River City (835 Museum Drive), but it’s booked with so many invitation-only parties, you’ll be lucky to belly up to the bar. And besides, their beer is horrible. You might have better luck at Ragtime Tavern (207 Atlantic Blvd., Atlantic Beach) or Southend Brewery on Jacksonville Landing . . .

Tom Mooney, owner of O’Neal’s (3rd and South streets), laid down a Super Bowl wager with the manager of Cheers, the Boston bar whose facade appeared during the long-running sitcom. The loser has to wear the other team’s T-shirt on the day of the winning team’s parade . . . Lucy’s Hat Shop (247 Market St., Old City) is tempting fate with a Super Sunday “all-the-damn-food-and-booze-you-can-drink” . . . Eulogy (136 Chestnut St., Old City) has dressed up its coffin skeleton in a Patriots sweater. The bar will host a Victory beer dinner on Super Bowl Sunday. That’s “Victory,” as in Victory HopDevil.

Joe Sixpack, by staff writer Don Russell, was written this week with a bottle of Pilsner Urquell. 

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Remember the good, ol’ days of beer commercials, when men were men and women were ridiculously endowed sex objects? Viewers drooled (or gasped, depending on testosterone) at the sight of cat-fighting lesbians and we all pondered a threesome with those twins.

That was just two years ago. Sure, those ads were semi-pornographic and exploitive.

But they were also something else: funny.

These are grim times, judging from Joe Sixpack’s 3rd Annual State of the Sleaze. The 2005 beer ad season was an unfunny – boring, even – exercise in clueless corporate shilling.

Humor was replaced by dopey sight gags, like Bud Light’s “Rusty,” the dude left alone in his apartment with a shock collar. You can see the joke coming a mile away, and after one viewing, it’s a good excuse to sprint to the bathroom.

Compare that to Miller Lite’s infamous cat fight. Americans – even finger-wagging prudes, bless ‘em – couldn’t take their eyes off the girls.

In the post-Janet Jackson, holier-than-thou age of Bush-style evangelical hypocrisy, beer-makers have virtually turned off the sex spigot. It’s perfectly alright, apparently, for pharmaceutical companies to promise four-hour erections, but God forbid we see someone having fun with a glass of suds.

Indeed, imagine the grief Anheuser-Busch would get if it started marketing a high-alcohol malt liquor, for example, with Levitra’s horny voice-over: “Strong! Lasting! When he wants it!”

New Bud Headbanger: Side-effects may include all-night benders, spontaneous blathering and, in rare circumstances, instantly improved chances of picking up that babe at the end of the bar. In cases of prolonged exposure, consult your toilet.

Laugh it off, but in a rough count during the NFL playoffs, I saw about two Cialis ads for every three Miller spots. This weekend’s conference championships may be the last time booze out-numbers boners.

Meanwhile, here’s Joe Sixpack’s 3rd annual State of the Sleaze, rated on a scale of 1 to 6 (with 6 being an ad that might actually make me forget my principles and drink factory-made swill).

        Bud Light – 4

Spot: Refs running off with cases of Bud Light that they swapped for Miller Lite.

Even without sex, this is the one set of beer spots that has provoked the most controversy this season.

ABC and ESPN supposedly both rejected three similar A-B ads that spoofed Miller. That followed a row over a trio of Miller ads that were pulled when A-B complained they made unsubstantiated claims.

Meanwhile, the Center for Science in the Public Interest notes that Bud Light’s referee ads run afoul of the Beer Institute’s voluntary ad and marketing code barring ads that “portray or imply illegal activity of any kind.”

“One can’t help wonder whether the ads also have some other message in mind, namely, that breaking the law and bamboozling law enforcement efforts is a fine way to get a Bud Light,” wrote CSPI’s alcohol policies director George Hacker.

(He might’ve also noted that NFL referees are officially an over-used gag in commercials.)

In a reply, A-B basically told Hacker to lighten up. “They are clearly meant to be a spoof,” the company said, referring to them as “over-the-top humor.”

I’d tend to agree with A-B, except THEY AREN’T FUNNY.

Hey, Bud Light: Whatever happened to Real Men of Genius? Now, that was over the top.

        Miller Lite. 3.5

Spot: Challenging the call at the bar.

It gets an extra point for those Coyote Ugly bar girls, but like I noted above, the series is already tired.

Spot: “I can’t taste my beer.”

I’m taking away that extra point for its National Geographic docu-drama approach. Yeah, it’s satire, but it’s way too subtle for a Sunday afternoon of bone-crunching football. Last year, the same series featured a Return of the Living Dead-like panic, with desperate guys throwing themselves onto car hoods. This year, the gag is just dull and pathetic.

        Beck’s. 2

Spots: Bikinis in black and white.

A rare moment of cleavage, but how dumb is the voice-over: Friends and beer. The trick is never confusing the two.

What “trick”? Beer is always by your side, joining you in life’s best moments, comforting you when you’re down. Friends, on the other hand, steal your beer.

At least, that’s what Beck’s would admit if its ad people had a sense of humor.

        Coors Light. 2

Spot: The coldest-tasting beer in the world.

What the? Tell me something: What does cold taste like? Cold is not a freaking taste, you boneheads.

“When beer starts out this cold,” the voice-over assures, “it ends up this refreshing.”

This is the emptiest claim in advertising since the Phillies promised us a pennant.

        Aspen Edge. 2

Spot: Insults around the barbeque.

Something about carbs – I don’t recall the details. All I remember is the guy tossing a perfectly good steak on the ground. And then it ends with a possibly homophobic joke about a man purse.

        Guinness. 3

Spot: The invention of the little black book.

Brilliant? Well, the Monty Pythonesque animation is eye-candy, but this series just leaves me empty.

And, now, they’re trumpeting the fact that Guinness Stout is just 125 calories. Note to Madison Avenue: No one drinks Guinness because they’re on a diet. We drink it because we like the taste, and we like those creamy bubbles.

        Michelob Ultra. 3

Spots: Rollerblading at lunch, wind-sprints on an oval track.

Nice, crisp shots of carb-obsessed athletes. Notable for their use of the most flat-chested woman in the history of beer commercials.

        Budweiser. 2.

Spots: Joe Buck and a donkey bonding with Clydesdales.

I dunno, maybe Bud will redeem itself in the Super Bowl, but this season’s ads have been a real disappointment.

What happened to Leon? Somehow, white-bread Joe Buck (and his “slama-lama-ding-dong”) stole the spotlight.

If A-B had any balls, it would bring back Leon and have him riff on Randy Moss’s moon.

Now, that would be funny.

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