by Bill Konig

Huh. If I had known the low-carbohydrate phenomenon could be so easily nut-shelled into a mere vogue of modern times, I would have given much more serious consideration to turning the car around and going back to Colorado Springs. Unfortunately, the multitude of companies jumping onto this new “health-craze” bandwagon seemed like more than just a passing trend.

No, the afro was a trend. Slap-bracelets were a trend. Things like bell-bottoms, the El Camino, and acid washed jeans were trends. Eighties hair bands, bowler hats, eight-track tapes, Y2K, and even the use of anabolic steroids in major league baseball are trends. For some reason, though, the idea that as many as forty-eight percent of the American population is cutting back on carbohydrates or plan to go on a low-carb diet in the next year, the estimated $1.4 billion dollars in sales of low-carb foods in 2003, and the rapid expansion of almost everything drinkable or edible into the low-carb frontier seem more than a mere trend.

I sat there on the hood of the car, listening to Rick’s opinion on the whole Atkins revolution as we both waited for traffic on northbound I-25 to start up again. Rick was the driver of a Budweiser beer shipping truck, which was parked alongside my car in the middle of the interstate, on that almost freezing day. I began to tell Rick of my own position on the low-carb wave of industry, but as I saw him flick his still-lit cigarette butt under my car, I began to wonder if he really cared. Besides, the accident had been cleared away, and traffic was starting to move again.

I first arrived in Golden, Colorado at a little past two o’clock, which was later than I had hoped, but still enough time to tour the renowned Coors Brewery. As I entered, I could not get the idea out of my mind that this experience would be something like that out of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” The first thing I had seen at the brewery was the larger-than-life beer kettle that sat outside the brewery, and since it was an older obsolete model from the beginning of Coors brewing, it appeared as some kind of compact and out-dated spacecraft, or something loony that served no real earthly purpose, just like many of Wonka’s hare-brain inventions.

I hoped to learn something about the new low-carb beer that Coors was producing this year, due out in March 2004, but only in select states. It will not be until the end of 2004 when we can expect the beer to hit shelves nationwide. It’s called Aspen Edge, and it is the hope of Coors that this will rival Anheuser-Busch’s attempt at a low-carb beer, Michelob Ultra. In stores since late 2002, Michelob Ultra has a year and a half head start on sales of Aspen Edge.

Since its debut, Michelob Ultra has captured about three percent of the United States market, and last July, Anheuser-Busch announced that its second quarter earnings had risen 7.9%, which Michelob Ultra contributed to with its increased sales. On top of this, Anheuser-Busch stated at the end of 2003 that Michelob Ultra had already taken a 2.1% share of supermarket beer sales. The short-term effects of A-B’s Ultra may turn out to be minimal, but the long-term effects could provide a hammering blow to the Coors low-carb beer industry.

Because Michelob Ultra has been on the market for some time, along with other new low-carb beers produced by other beer companies, Coors seems to be the last horse to cross the finish line. By the time Aspen Edge hits the shelves, people will likely have already settled on their favorite low-carb beers, making it harder for Coors to get their foot in the “beer diet” door. Rock Green Light, made by Rolling Rock, has been in forty markets since October, and boasts only 2.6 grams of carbohydrates, the same amount as in Michelob Ultra. Miller has even begun to put its weight behind the campaign of its already popular Miller Lite, which only has 3.2 grams of carbohydrates.

Even smaller brew companies have begun to journey into the low-carb realm. Matt Brewing in New York just put out Saranac Accel, which has only 2.4 grams of carbs, the lowest of any American beer. Outside the U.S., Brouwerij Martens in Belgium recently started to market Martens Low Carbohydrate, which has only 2.1 grams of carbs.

The fact is that so many industries have begun to travel the low-carb road to feed Americans’ hunger for a way out of the growing rate of obesity, that it has become a stable facet of our dieting repertoire. And what better to fuel America’s intoxication with low-carb foods and beverages than with new innovations in beer?

As I sat in the circle of the lobby at the biggest brewery on one site in the world, six other people also awaited our tour guide, Dave, who was to arrive shortly to take us on our beloved trip through the majestic hallways of the brewery. When he arrived, he immediately asked us if we all knew the names of the eleven beers that were brewed there. Members of the group quickly rattled off names such as Coors Original, Coors Light, Keystone, and so on and so forth. Due to my excitation in being able to learn about the mysterious Aspen Edge, which Coors hasn’t even announced a carbohydrate number for yet, I blurted out the name. “No,” Dave said. “That isn’t out yet.” Immediately I knew that the elusive secret of Aspen Edge was to be the Everlasting Gobstopper to the Charlie in me.

As we progressed through the labyrinth of hallways, shut in by doors entitled “employees only,” Dave mentioned several times the perks involved in becoming an employee at Coors. For one, the lunch room, the “Golden Grill,” where employees could go to take their breaks, served both Coors Original and Coors Light on tap for workers to drink. Also, Coors employees each get about a 40% discount on nine cases of beer each month. The benefits did not include, as I soon found out, the details to the upcoming release of Aspen Edge. Dave told me that it was pretty much going to be like the Gatorade of beers. When I asked him if it would replace my electrolytes and energize me to go out and get fit, he (somewhat annoyed) said no.

What Dave meant was that Aspen Edge is going to be targeted at the younger age group of beer drinkers, from 21-27. Coors has already developed a well-seasoned bond with this age group, especially on the younger end of the scale. Keystone, Keystone Ice, and Keystone Light (the best-selling of the three) are very popular among college students, due to its low price, and to us college students, low prices mean more beer.

Though Aspen Edge is not a pioneer in bearing the name of the prestigious ski resort, its young and healthy-living attitude will likely ensure greater success. Other “Aspen” beers include Aspen Gold, which was brewed in the 1970’s near Spokane, Washington, and Naked Aspen microbrews, which is brewed in Cold Spring, Minnesota. The fact that the new beer is named after yet another ski resort (Keystone is also), suggests the young, athletic nature of Coors’ new low-carb beer beast. This seems to be the real edge to Coors’ upcoming ad campaign, which will presumably be pushed very hard. Michelob, a product of Anheuser-Busch, which also produces Budweiser, has long been associated with the older, more sophisticated crowd, being more expensive, and, in my opinion, better tasting.

We stopped halfway through the tour for a beer while Dave went into more depth about the success of Coors and how it has expanded to the third largest beer brewing company in the country, behind Anheuser-Busch and Miller. My mind drifted off, since I had already read about this information while waiting in the lobby for Dave, and began to see mental images of Gene Wilder turning the corner and introducing himself, along with his entourage of half a dozen green-haired midgets wearing white overalls and orange makeup. Just then, Darryl, a tall, middle-aged balding man asked another question about Aspen Edge. When told that no, he could not have a free case of it, even though he promised to share and talk about the beer at his place of work, the rest of the tour group laughed, including myself (Darryl had told us earlier that he operated heavy machinery, and to us it didn’t seem like a good thing for Darryl to drink at work), to which Darryl replied by giving me a grim and piercing stare. I guess he was serious.

By the end of the tour, Darryl and I had made amends as we relaxed in the Coors Brewery lounge, where every type of Coors beer was served for free - except Aspen Edge, which wasn’t served at all.

As the low-carb revolution continues to boggle us with guilt-sparking advertisement and overpriced beer, the image of the young, healthy alcoholic spreads as an ideal alternative to the old, fat alcoholic, on which a startling amount of Americans have gained a head-start. As beer commercials are beginning to look more and more like Gatorade commercials, we desperately seek answers to the riddle of fitness, and attempt to mold new lifestyles out of this “health-craze liberal crap.” The real edge, in my opinion, is to save your money by getting a real beer, and spend those savings (which will add up) on a membership to a gym.