The expanse between black and white is filled with infinite shades of gray; the space occupied by pure black and white is thin indeed. When we call something black or white, we almost invariably talk about its relative proximity to black or white, not its absolute identity. Whether we are conscious of it or not, we dance in a universe of grays.

Relativism, however, has its natural limits - it collides with the human need for certainty. Without an understanding of black and white we can make no sense of the grays in between. And whether we call something black, white, or any of the myriad shades of gray, will others perceive it the same? And don't we sometimes perceive a particular hue the same but use different words to describe it? We all seek terra firma. Getting everyone to agree is terra incognita.

And so it is in the community of beer. The specialty brewing movement springs from the very notion of the difference between good beer and bad. We hold competitions and award medals to identify and honor those beers of true quality. We brew in search of that quality. Clearly we believe in and care about the concepts of black and white. The truth, however, is that our beers - from goldens, pales, and ambers to browns, porters, and stouts - all fall along a continuum of gray. No matter how hard we strive for purity, the best beer is still the next one. And as if it weren't hard enough to satisfy our own standards, the mere presence of another's opinion further mires us in the shadows of gray.

This predicament is particularly difficult for commercial craft brewers, whose survival depends on the ability to sell the concept of quality to the general public. That sell can be tough when competitors present radically different products under the same style or descriptive umbrella. And what about outright flaws, such as infections or condition problems? It is hard to train the public to recognize and appreciate quality when the teachers themselves can't agree on what quality means.

It is this predicament that prompted the Oregon Brewers Guild to develop a formal program that essentially certifies the quality and stylistic integrity of the beer produced by Oregon's participating breweries (see story, page 15). The beers are laboratory and taste tested to verify that the beer is what it claims to be. All beers that pass muster earn the right to bear the Quality Mark, which the guild hopes will be useful for the breweries' marketing efforts.

The effort is worthwhile, though not without its challenges. Objective criteria are easy enough to analyze and validate. As guild director Mike Sherwood says, "If someone says their Pils is 25 IBU and golden and it comes in at 45 IBU and amber, it'll probably raise some eyebrows." And creating a formal process for microbiological monitoring for small breweries is a great service to everyone involved - brewery and consumer alike. Here black, white, and specific shades of gray carry accepted shared meaning.

The issue of stylistic integrity is another matter, one that plunges us headlong into a fog of ill-defined grays. Last issue, I presented the British point of view that holds that styles are anything but clearly defined and are, in the end, irrelevant. What matters in Britain is drinkability - will I have another one? What matters to the brewer is whether the brewery can sell the beer.

I find it fascinating that in America we have taken the opposite approach to achieve the same end. Here, what differentiates craft breweries from industrial megabreweries is their innovation and quality values, all of which are expressed in the range of diverse styles produced.

Fortunately, the guild sees its work as supporting breweries, not judging them or squelching creativity. "We won't pass judgment on whether a particular beer is a gold medal IPA," says Sherwood, "but should validate that it is at least within the IPA category and not, say, a witbier."

The proof is in the program, and in this case the level of brewery support and participation validate the guild's efforts. During two years of development, competitors sat together in earnest discussions over questions about quality, stylistic integrity, and the role of the breweries and their beers in the marketplace.

"I just think it's amazing that all these players are willing to help each other make a better product in the hope that everything people try that was brewed here in the state is a satisfying experience," says Sherwood. "That's bold.

I salute these Oregon pioneers for bringing terra firma closer to the craft brewing landscape - and for the spirit of cooperation that underlies their efforts. Both are welcome contributions.

Stephen Mallery
Publisher