On Saturday, Insight Brewing hosted its first Dogtoberfest, a celebration of the humble hot dog featuring a coloring contest, weenie tees screen printed on site, and, of course, lots and lots of hot dogs for eating purposes. There was also, horrifyingly, the debut of a hot dog-flavored hard seltzer—Glizzy McGuire—available in limited quantities.
Fred Durst, eat your heart out.
Unfortunately, Glizzy McGuire is just the kind of beverage abomination that catches my eye. Silly name? Check. Mixes two things that have no business being mixed? Check. If it sounds disgusting, then it has the potential to surprise, and what is this one wild and precious life for if not to be surprised?
So last week, ahead of Dogtoberfest, I reached out to Insight’s marketing manager Joey Steinbach to learn a little more about how the northeast Minneapolis brewery came to make and serve such a haunting fizzy drink.
(When we spoke, he was busy cutting parachutes off of plastic army men to affix to tin foil hot dog sleeves that would soon be hucked off the brewery roof—“hot dogs from heaven,” he explained.)
Like many of the best worst ideas, Glizzy McGuire was first dreamt up at Insight’s bar. Steinbach was working on his laptop while director of brewing operations Sean Carnahan put in an order for assorted fruit purees the brewery uses in its seltzers.
“Eventually he was like, ‘Huh, they have hot dog extract,’” Steinbach laughs. “And I was like, ‘OK, Sean: hot dog water. Hot dog-flavored hard seltzer. We have to make it happen.’”
It took some convincing, but eventually the brewers agreed to work on a “really, super limited batch.” And yes, to head off any questions about the methods Insight employed, Glizzy McGuire is vegan. There’s no actual hot dog or hot dog water involved, only the delicate, doggy notes of hot dog “extract,” whatever that is.
Next came R&D: research and dog-velopment.
“It just started off with a glass of water, and a couple drops here and there of the extract,” Steinbach says. “Giving it a sniff, being like, ‘Wow, that’s terrible,’ and then thinking about how we could make it better, what it would need to actually be palatable.”
Some of these advancements in hot dog bev dev were more successful than others. One of the more off-putting attempts involved the addition of a powdered cheese extract—the brewers were hoping for a cheesy brat vibe—but the proteins in that powder left a rather unsettling sediment in the bottom of the glass, and this just is not a drink where you want any solids in the mix.
But by slowly infusing the keg and trying different carbonation levels, Insight was able to get the savory seltz to a point of almost passable. “I’m not saying it’s going to be good, it’s probably not going to be good. But good and passable… that’s a whole different thing,” Steinbach says.
Glizzy McGuire eventually came in at around 8% ABV and was limited to a single half-barrel keg, with tastes available in free 2.5-ounce samples or “shot dogs.” According to Steinbach, “Despite a lot of R&D, it never got to a point where it was like, ‘Ah, I could go for 12 ounces of this.’”
As I approached the tent where Glizzy was being doled out, I was delighted and disgusted to see a staffer garnishing those samples with a rim of ketchup, mustard, and celery salt seasoning, before filling them up with the gratis glizzy drink.
“I think it’s going to be kind of like Malört,” a guy in front of me suggested as he received his sample, “like a good-bad.” And perhaps because the memory of Malört’s gasoline-and-burnt-hair essence was front of mind as I took my first sip, I was surprised to find that Glizzy McGuire was actually… rather subtle.
Now, yes: It tasted of lightly fizzy hot dog water. If that’s enough to make you gag, well, sorry your palate isn’t as refined as mine!!
But the nose was the most offensive part, and if you could get past the smell, the flavor wasn’t all that aggressive. The various garnishes actually helped; with a mouthful of seasoning and mustard, it was surprisingly kind of subtle, and it didn’t linger on the tongue. It was gone nearly as soon as it arrived—not unlike Glizzy McGuire herself, who won’t be making a reappearance at Insight any time soon.
“Not that bad,” I mused, tossing the cup, and smiling to myself at the memory of something Steinbach had said earlier in the week: “At the end of the day, it’s like: Hey, it is what it is. It’s a seltzer that kind of tastes like hot dogs.”
And isn’t that sort of a beautiful thing?
(But no—I don't think I couldn’t have drunk 12 ounces of it.)
