"Polar" -- It's How Venezuelans Say "Beer Me, Dude!"
Jul 11 '03
The Bottom Line When in Venezuela, do as the Venezuelans do. Even if it means drinking Polar Beer...
What's the first thing you do when you roll into a new town? Catch some rest? Maybe sightsee?
Not me. Whenever I'm traveling and I come into a town I've never been in before, I head straight for a bar. A brewpub, ideally, but let's face it, not every town has a brewpub. Especially once you get outside the borders of the U.S. of A. (or England, but that's another matter). In all of Latin America, I know of maybe three brewpubs (well, not including Monterrey -- that fine city alone has at least three). But anyway, it's not exactly high density. But that's okay, because I can almost always count on their being beers that I've never sampled before.
Such was the case on my recent trip to Caracas.
It was early evening by the time my plane touched down in Caracas. A good half hour cab ride to the El Tamanaco Hotel, and there was still plenty of time to shower off the funk of a 5-hour plane ride and then stroll downstairs to the hotel bar for my first taste of Venezuelan liquid refreshment.
The bar wasn't too crowded, and a quick look around showed that either local preference or marketing appeal dictated a decided preference for German beer, notably Becks. Not a bad option, but I was in a more exploratory mood, so I asked the bartender what kind of local brewskis he had back there.
"Polar," the guy said, pulling out a frosty little baby-sized 20cl bottle of a beer that was definitely a new one on me.
Passing a critical eye over the label revealed that it was a light pilsner style beer (ain't they all) that delivered a punch of 5.0 percent alcohol by volume. The beer was proudly brewed and bottled in Venezuela by the Cerveceria Polar del Centro, Carretera Pan Americana, San Joaquin, Estado Carabobo.
The only other thing the label revealed to me was that their logo looked more like it belonged on a Klondike ice cream bar than on a chilly brewski, but that's just my opinion (Oh hey! That's what this site is supposed to be about!)
The beer pours to a very light, straw-like yellow color with aggressive carbonation that quickly forms a well-rounded head. The beer has brilliant clarity and a steady column of coarse bubbles trail their way upwards through the ambrosiatic elixir.
A quick sniff shows no obvious faults, though the light sulfury scent of corn just barely peeks its nose out (though it becomes more apparent as the beer warms). Like most American-style lagers (which is what this beer most certainly is), it's fairly clear from the light body and the light corn scent that it's brewed with at least some adjunct grains.
It's an extremely light-bodied beer -- to my mouth, it's closest match in the U.S. market would almost certainly be Coors (which is among the lightest mainstream beer). Very poundable, if that's what you're after, and I have a feeling, that's exactly what most locals are looking for. The flavor is very light with just a bit of a sweet flavor to it. Hops must be used just to balance because, try as I might, I can't really conjure up so much as the faintest hint of true hop flavor or bitterness.
Overall, this isn't a particularly noteworthy beer. It's watery, bland, and uninteresting. I'd probably rate it at 1-1/2 stars on any typical day. The only good thing I can say about it is that the hotel bar sure seems to have a lot of it, and that deck out by the pool sure does look inviting...
But wait! There's not just Polar, there's also Polar Ice!
As you might surmise, it's even lighter, duller, and less interesting than it's big brother. Polar Ice clocks in at 4.5 percent alcohol. It pours extremely light. As I hold the glass up to the light I have to squint to make out so much as a hint of yellow. This is a beer that's so pale it makes even Coors Light look a friggin' Guinness. I'm being serious when I say that this beer might be below 1 on the SRM color scale. It could give Zima a run for its money in the "least appetizing looking drink" category.
The flavor isn't much better. The only flavor I really pick up is a harsh oiliness that puts me off right away. Think whatever U.S. mainstream brand is the ultimate el cheapo brew -- then make it light -- that's what this is like. Stale Keystone Light, stale Busch Light -- you pick the poison, this is just as "good". A solid zero-star performer.
I don't know if Polar is exported or not, but for all your sakes, I fervently hope it never gets off the ship.
Until next time, see you on the road. As always, look for me in the bar...
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