Top Ten Virginia Beers - 2026

I love the end of July...our annual week at the beach in Florida is over, usually the temperature is starting to moderate (and it is a very pleasant mid 80s °F/upper 20s °C at the moment here), and in a couple of weeks Mrs V and the kids will begin their respective school years. It is also, obviously of course, Oktoberfest and pumpkin ale "season", at least for the package breweries that need their bottles in the stores as soon as possible, so yes, soon the leaves will start turning, and the happy dark days of autumn and winter will return.

For most years in recent Fuggled history, that has also meant time to post my annual list of the 10 Virginia brewed beers I have enjoyed the most in the last 12 months. For reasons that escape me right now, I skipped the list last year, but promised myself that I needed to get out more and bring the list back for 2026. I always say this, but it bears pointing out again, this is a purely subjective list, and as such will be heavy on the kind of beers I like drinking, so if you are looking for Virginia's most highly rated double IPA aged in gorilla snot barrels, you won't find that here. Hopefully though, the list will encourage you to go find some of the cracking brews we have in the Commonwealth, and in change from years passim, I will go in reverse order - you know, to heighten the tension and what not.

10. Alpine Goat Brewing: Pilsner

    Earlier this year, I wrote about finally getting back out to Alpine Goat Brewery in the Shenandoah Valley, having previously visited a couple of years back when a brewer transition was in progress. I hadn't expected it to take so long to get back, but when I did I found a brewery that ticks all the boxes for this mad Mitteleuropaphile. For most of that trip I was drinking their German style pilsner, and it hit all the right high notes. Obviously, as I had three or four pints in the course of our couple of hours there. We get over to the Valley pretty regularly these days, so soon I will introduce Mrs V to the delights of Alpine Goat, especially as their house beer is one of her favourite styles, kölsch. A welcome addition to this list!

9. Buffalo Mountain Brewery: Wolf Gang Vienna Lager

   Another new brewery to this list, and one that I stumbled upon by accident. Last autumn, I drove from my home in Central Virginia to the distant marches of Southwest Virginia to interview Diane Flynt for a Pellicle article about her work in orcharding and Virginia's cider scene. Rather than sit on the purgatory that is I-81, I took the Blue Ridge Parkway through Floyd County, and through the eponymous town itself. Having overestimated just how long it would take, myself and Mark (my regular photography collaborator) decided to stop in Floyd for a pint and a feed, thus ended up at Buffalo Mountain. Being a fan of Vienna style lagers in general, that was my choice. Pouring deep red, and being much more in the Mexican tradition of Vienna lager, this was a nice, suitably malty, but not syrupy pint. Not only was it a very decent pint, McDaniel's Tavern, the name for the brewery's taproom, is a delightful space that feels very much like a country pub from either the UK or Ireland.

8. Caboose Brewing: Voda Czech Style Pilsner

   I know you are surprised that it took this long for a Czech style pilsner to make its way onto this list. I can't remember if I have mentioned this before, but although I work remotely (or remotely work, haha!), my employer's main office is in Northern Virginia, in the city of McLean. At least once a quarter then, I have to go up there for team meetings, and an inevitable overnight stop, and invariably, as I am the team lead and get to decide where we have dinner, a visit to Caboose Brewing & Tavern in neighbouring Vienna. Thankfully the rest of the team like Caboose's food, and a couple of them also like good beer, so I am on safe ground. On one of our visits they had Voda on tap, "voda" of course is the Czech word for "water", and I drank it almost as such, even though it was far from watery and insipid, in fact it was lovely and hit the spot, with plenty of Saaz character to satisfy my cravings for hay, lemongrass, and the wonderful aroma of Czech meadows. A cracker, I hope it's around when I am up that way again soon.

7. Patch Brewing: Pylon Pilsner

   Not a new brewery to this list, but oddly a new beer (though a perennial in my annual review of the year in December), given that when I drag the kids off to run around in the field and playground at Patch, it is my go-to beer, usually in my ceramic pot that they graciously fill for me rather than having to deal with the plastic pots they use for the outside space. While this is listed as a German pilsner, the base malt is, I believe, actually Weyermann's Bohemian Pilsner, and so it has a touch more body and heft, coupled with a solid hop bite and floral character, it's really easy, and pleasurable drinking. Which reminds me, the kids need a play date with some of their friends soon.

6. Dynasty Brewing: Yorkshire Bitter

   On my previously mentioned regular trips to Northern Virginia, the only place on earth where the speed limit signs are aspirational, there is a British style pub that I love to get to called The Hawk and Griffin. Conveniently it is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Caboose. My primary reason for going is that they are a pretty fair bet for having some kind of cask ale available. When sitting myself at the bar on one such trip there was a pump clip with magical words "Yorkshire Bitter" on them, and on making sure there was a sparkler attached I knew what I wanted. Apparently it is hopped with just East Kent Goldings, and so there is plenty of that classic orange marmalade character, and without darker crystal malts it is very much a biscuity malt thing that dominates, and I thought it was lovely, served at proper cellar temperature to boot. I was a happy camper that night.

5. Selvedge Brewing: Chain Stitch

   It's pale, it's Germanic, it's damned well made, and when it is on tap at Selvedge then you can almost guarantee that I will have at least one pint of Chain Stitch. It's a beer that many times I have joked about needing to become the equivalent of a full kit wanker but for bike riding, prop my underused bike up next to one of the picnic tables out front, and just spend a sunny afternoon drinking. Hopped with the classic Halletauer Mittelfrüh and lagered until it damned well ready (the best kind of lagering process in my opinion), it is as close to Bavaria as you will get in Virginia. It is difficult to really opine about how much I love Chain Stitch, but often that first mouthful is followed by an exclamation of "echt!", and another Willibecher will soon be on its way...

4. Fine Creek Brewing: Farmhouse Lager

   Very few beers make it onto this list having only been drunk once. Very few beers only drunk once, make this kind of impression. Fine Creek are literally just up the road, a relatively quick and easy 45 minute drive, just round the corner from one of our favourite state parks for camping, and much to my shame we still haven't managed to make it to the brewery itself. However, Josh from Selvedge gave me a bottle of the Farmhouse Lager, and as I said in an Instagram post, it is the "perfect marriage of elegance and rusticity". If you can imagine sitting at a Franconian bierkeller drinking their local brew, I imagine it would have a similar effect on you, this was just a gorgeous beer - and I promise, Brian if you are reading this, we will get out there soon.

3. Superfly Brewing: Private Number (cask)

   It could be recency bias, it could be nostalgia having recently been back in the UK and had something of a revelation about bitters which have darker crystal malts in the grist, it could just be sheer glee at a Charlottesville brewery having an actual cask ale program headed up by brewers who get it. First though, let me tell you a story, the first time I had Private Number, several years ago, I was not a fan. I really wanted to be, because I think what Ed and co are doing at Superfly is fantastic, and best bitter is a style I love. That iteration just didn't work for me. Fast forward to Mrs V's birthday weekend and we headed over with friends to have fish and chips for lunch - SuperFly now has a chip van, and they have quickly become the default place for folks who know about these things to get their fish supper on. They also had Private Number of the beer engine, and I was keen to give it another chance. It took that chance with aplomb, laden with toffee, dark fruit, and rich fruit cake maltiness, balanced with a hefty hop bite to scrape the palate clean. Painfully easy to drink and drink it I did. I am looking forward to more of their cask offerings...

2. Selvedge Brewing: Coat Czech 12°

   That there is a new batch of Selvedge's dvanáctka hitting the taps next week makes my life just a little simpler. Every time I go to there these days, I struggle to decide which of the several superb Central European style lagers I want to drink first. Do I want Batiste, their German Pils? What about Chain Stitch, which I mentioned earlier? Do I fancy Vested Interest, a Franconian kellerbier? Decisions, decisions. Yes, I have got to the point where I just ask Erin to bring me a lager because I trust her judgement and honestly they are all magnificent. Once Coat Czech is back, that indecision will disappear because I know what I want first, not necessarily the only beer I will have, though there is always a strong possibility of that too (yay cans to takeaway for porch drinking). Coat Czech is the epitome of great Czech style lagers, decoction mashing for those subtle Maillard reaction flavours, masses and masses of Saaz hop character, with an almost sherbert like note that reminds me of Unětický Pivovar's superb 12°. I am confident that were you to serve this blind to any well regarded beer writer with extensive knowledge of Czech lager - looking at you guys, Evan and Max - they would not be able to tell it was brewed in far off Virginia.

1. Selvedge Brewing: Spoolboy 10°

   Take pretty much everything I just wrote about Coat Czech and add a couple of caveats for Spoolboy: it won't be on tap next week, and when it is on tap I almost exclusively the beer I drink. Desítka, that's a 10° lager (regardless of colour technically speaking) for the non-Czech speakers of the world is just my preferred Czech beer "style" (ugh, I hate that word when it comes to Czech beer). Again with the decoction mashing, again with extensive lagering until it is good and ready to be on tap, Spoolboy hits every spot that a great desítka does. Yes it is ridiculously easy to drink, yes it positively reeks of Czech hop goodness, yes you will never only have one, and yes it has the Mrs V seal of approval. There was a point when it was on tap that Mrs V and I would be lost in a revelry of Czech Ostalgia (not a typo) for our years in the Czech Republic. It was a beer that took us, even after 17 years in Virginia and neither of us being actually Czech, home. It is the beer that we dragged many of our Czech, and Czech adjacent friends to Selvedge to try, and watch as their faces almost instantly go full on Anton Ego. Byla to dokonalost.

So there we are, my (revived) annual list of the beers I have enjoyed most in the last 12 months - as subjective and lager centric as always, anyone would think I had a type...

Looking Back and Forward

If you've been following along recently, you'll know that several weeks ago I spent 9 days in the United Kingdom, split pretty evenly between getting home to Scotland and being at a conference in London. During those 9 days, I spent a decent amount of time in pubs, brewery tap rooms, and even the classic Highland hotel public bar. Since I got home to Virginia, I have spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about those spaces, the beers I drank, and the emotions that they inspired - and if you don't think pubs are emotional places then maybe I can change you mind by the end of this post.

The last few posts have not been a blow by blow account of my drinking whilst in the UK, as I mentioned in one of them, I haven't posted about drinking Tennents in the Station Hotel in Alness, or my afternoon pub crawl in Inverness. I've not discussed drinking London Pride and Guinness at Lords while the rain stopped play ad nauseum, meeting Phil Tufnell at the Danubius Hotel bar, or the Harvey's Sussex Best at The Washington in Hampstead. Not everything needs to be shared, and in some cases there are blanks in my memory...

As is probably evident, I was taken aback at how much I really enjoyed the kind of bitters that get roundly derided as being "boring" and "brown". I have mentioned several times that I am working on formulating a version of my best bitter that incorporates crystal malt, and indeed I have an ordinary bitter on keg right now that has some crystal 40 in it, but it is still rather paler than the beers I reveled in back in the UK, so I guess I need to buy some crystal 120, or maybe even some 260 if Murphy & Rude ever make that again. It is also a result of at least one bitter, in this case a strong bitter, that has me hunting for a supply of Admiral hops. I've played around with some of the newer British hops, especially Endeavour, and while Admiral isn't really all that modern, having been released in the 1990s, I feel like I need to explore beyond Goldings, Fuggles, and Challenger a bit more, especially given this autumn and winter could very easily become the season of Bitter.

The main thought that has pottered and re-pottered around my noggin is just what a fantastic place the British pub is, whether that incarnation is in Inverness or Westminster. Of course every serious beer drinking country has it's pubs, from Ireland to Czechia, and all stops in between, people love to drink in communal locations rather than just getting battered at home. Perhaps it's that there isn't an undercurrent of puritanical shame about going for a pint or two and just hanging out, there doesn't need to be a purpose or an excuse to go for a drink. Anyway, back to British pubs - and of course this is all just subjective - but being, still, even at nearly 51, a rather introverted person, I find it interesting that going into a British pub is the easiest thing in the world for me. Let me give you an example, a few years ago, back in the before times (you know when I mean), I went to Bamberg, and had several pints of magnificent beer at Schlenkerla. Before I could muster up the courage to enter those hallowed halls, I had walked past the door several times, scoping out the flow of patrons, the places to sit, and the general vibe. When I went to any pub in the UK, there was none of that, I would just go straight in the door, get my pint and worry about where to sit, or stand, when I got there.

I realise that actually says more about me not wanting to stand out as the obvious outsider with my rusty school boy German, which brings me back to the introvert within. I feel instantly at home in the British pub because I can so easily be anonymous, and I love being anonymous. Let me sit with my beer and just people watch, and when I am ready for another pint, I will address myself to the stout yeoman of the bar. I have got used to table service, you really have no other choice in the US, and most places in Europe to be honest, but I love going up to the bar to get my next pint. It's almost a diagnostic thing, it's easier to tell how tiddled you are if you have to walk to and from the bar, half way with a pint in your hand, hopefully one that you're not slopping all over the place. With table service you are insulated from that until it is time to leave and suddenly your head spins as you get to your feet.

It likewise struck me that for such a country so renowned for our reserve, the pub is the place we let our guard down and open up a little, and perhaps becomes a little more observant of, and for, our fellow human beings. For example, I was standing in the St James Tavern, tending a pint of London Pride, enjoying the buzz of an early Friday evening crowd. To my left a couple were standing at the bar, clearly wanting to find a table to sit at, being 6'4" (that's 1.93m in the modern world), I could see a table opening up on the other side of the bar, so I let the couple know and off they tottered to claim those seats. Again, I am not the kind of person to just point things out to people in the normal run of things, but put a pint in my hand in a pub, and that goes out the window a little - don't worry I don't turn into mister gregarious or anything crazy, and I am not sure the rumours of me smiling a little in the pub are true or not. So, yeah, I miss the pub.

The weird thing here is, I left the United Kingdom nearly three decades ago as a 23 year old, and since then I have probably been home fewer than a score times. I have drunk in hospody, bierhalle, brewery taprooms, and cafes far more regularly than I have a British pub, yet the sense of instant familiarity stays with me, like a well loved security blanket whenever I get back to the UK. I have been told in the dim and distant past that I am more "pub-centric" in my approach to beer than a craft beer fan, and there is a lot of truth to that. Pubs, regardless of where you find them, are special, almost liminal places and we fail to value them at our peril.