What’s in a name?  A moniker?  A hashtag even?  So what’s in Rye?  Consider the rye, if you will, and tell me what you see.  Is it a toasty bread with fennel seeds, literally sandwiching a pile of salty pink meat?  Is it a brown liquor, kinda spicy and sweet and filling the glass of a man from the 1950s?  Or is it an IPA with a real animal spirit to it?  Yes, if the world of IPAs was football, I think Rye IPAs would be rugby.  Slightly different, a little more scary, but oddly unappreciated.  Not to mention largely ignored by the media.  Regardless, there are some real honeys of Ryes out there.  One of which are a seasonal release by the famous desert brewery, Sierra Nevada.  While it seems that they don’t get much play outside of their wheelhouse beers, this seasonal is more celebrated than any of them.  I’m particularly fond of their hefe, but that’s neither here, nor there.  You can find this IPA in grocery stores even these days, bought up by the sixer and twelve pack.  Of all the beers that occupy that kind of “no-man’s land” between bottom-shelf gas station fodder and proper bottle shop alums, Ruthless Rye IPA is certainly… one of them.

Ok, I have to admit, to myself and the world, that I just don’t really swallow the hype on this one.  I’m not saying it’s bad or anything, I’m just saying that to judge it as a Rye IPA, it doesn’t really cut the mustard (screw thousand-island, I’ll make my Reuben how I want).  I’m thinking that sometimes these kinds of beers are given a bit of a leeway with how they are judged, considering their middle-market competition.  It’s like the fact that you generally see something next to the shrink wrapped bud lite tall-boy three pack, anything above a “Blah” gets a gold star and a pat on the back and free tickets to a magician.  If Sierra Nevada wasn’t already so big, and the standards for big places so low, Ruthless Rye wouldn’t shake so many money-makers.  Or hell, at least it wouldn’t be a freakin’ ninety-something on review sites.  Alas, let us observe it objectively.
So Ruthless Rye pours a solid dark amber, pretty clear, and has a pretty large, fluffy, and retaining head.  I did mine in a tulip glass, but the aromas coming off of it were strong enough without it.  Very floral, and a good enough hit of a grapefruit citrus note, but all were cranked up to eleven.  It made it a little hard to appreciate the namesake, the rye.  Maybe in the taste then?  Well, the first thing you get is just a ton of resinous hops and a very sweet, almost cloying bready malt.  The overt sweetness I can contribute to the rye, and there was a kind of aftertaste of a spice, but for a Rye IPA to be a fairly one-dimensional IPA with hardly any Rye, I don’t think this is deserving of the praise.  The resin lingers in a kind of chalky dryness, dissuading me from trying more.  I think that is the real Achilles’s Heel here, it just brings down the drinkability so much.  I am sad to say that of the several I drank in this past week, I barely finished the first one, and let the other attempts at trying it out go to waste.