What Is “American IPA”? Craft Beer Experts Explain the Substyle

For a long time, two regionally termed IPA subcategories have dominated U.S. beer cans: “West Coast” signaled clear and bracingly bitter with a piney, citrusy, resinous hop profile, and “New England” meant juicy, hazy and sweeter with tropical hops. Suddenly, however, a label that’s maintained a lower profile since craft beer’s early days is showing up on more tap lists, muddying that understanding: “American IPA.” What even is this style? The name suggests some overarching combination of the two coastal substyles, a less-than-helpful and vague umbrella term, or, potentially, its own new thing. 

The answer, it seems, is all of the above. 

From the late 1970s into the 1990s, brewers started making IPAs based on their knowledge of English IPAs, but with an American twist. Thus “American IPA” made sense.

“English IPAs were the originators, what everyone was used to, and then suddenly we were setting our own standards with our own flavors,” says certified Cicerone and beer educator Anne Becerra. Even with noticeable hop bitterness, English IPAs are balanced between malt and herbal, floral, earthy hop character. American brewers cranked the hop volume up to 11, defining their own IPAs with a more bitter balance. They used American hops, with those citrus, pine and resin notes. 

But two things happened to erode that simple definition. For one, American craft beer took off, and American-brewed IPAs overtook English-style ones. For another, West Coast and New England substyles appeared, further delineating the category. “American IPA” all but disappeared as a label. 

“Now, we’ve started to see the ‘American IPA’ term come back, but when you see it on the menu, you’re not sure what you’re going to get anymore,” says Jared Williamson, head brewer at Schlafly in St. Louis. 

For some brewers, “American IPA” now indicates a specific set of characteristics that warrants being set apart from West Coasts, New Englands and even English IPAs. To Williamson, who brews the style at Schlafly, an American IPA strikes a balance between West Coast and English IPAs. It’s closer to West Coast with American hops, assertive bitterness and clarity, but it has a bit more character from malts like caramel and crystal, which can also yield a more copper tone than golden West Coasts. 

“American IPAs [finish] with more residual sweetness, while West Coast IPAs are expected to be lighter in malt flavor and have a dry, crisp finish,” explains Ben Kehs, innovation brewing manager at Deschutes Brewery in Bend, Oregon. (Deschutes’ own American IPA, Fresh Squeezed, is a well-liked example.) While it’s agreed that an American IPA should not be hazy or as sweet as a New England IPA, an American IPA can still capture certain NEIPA notes with tropical fruit characteristics. “It can embody the West Coast’s visual clarity while incorporating the hop profile typical of the East Coast,” says Daniel Sickmen, head brewer at Virginia’s Lost Barrel Brewing, where an American IPA is a menu staple.

But not everyone sees American IPA as such a defined substyle. “My general thought is ‘American IPA’ is marketing talk,” says advanced Cicerone and beer educator Chris Cohen. Using “American IPA” might be a safer, more general label that won’t alienate people who think they hate hazies or West Coasts; it conveys an IPA that won’t be either of those extremes. Plus, “American IPA” encourages conversation, Becerra says. People can ask questions, and bartenders or servers can provide exact details to help steer them in the right direction and help them find an IPA they like. 

“Imagine if someone said, ‘I don’t like American red wine,’” Becerra says. “There’s such variety within that, you wouldn’t dare write off that entire category.” The “American IPA” label leaves the door open for people to explore some range in terms of bitterness, sweetness, malt character and hop character, and learn what they like. 

For that reason, American IPA might at this point be more of a vibe than a style. It’s an IPA that lives in the middle of the tropical-sweet and piney-bitter extremes, open to brewer interpretation as well as to consumer discovery. “It’s big, it’s bold, it’s intense,” Becerra explains. “You know it when you taste it.”