When pumpkin-flavoured beverages start hitting bars and cafés in the mid-to-late summer, there’s an often pained chorus of “no, not yet, summer isn’t over.” I sympathise with this; summer has its undeniable perks, like going to the beach and not being cold. But fall is, without a doubt, the best season. Therefore, I couldn’t possibly blame anyone for being eager to get an early start.

I should probably clarify that I’ve lived most of my life in the northeastern US, where fall (autumn to our British readers) brings a rainbow of foliage, and crisp nights that feel full of possibility. Fall has arguably the best holidays—one devoted to dressing up and being spooky, and one devoted to just cooking and eating a lot of food. And you know what? Pumpkin just tastes good, especially when it’s in the form of a pie. Call me basic, unserious, whatever. You’ll have to pry my pumpkin spice-flavoured beverages from my cold, dead hands.

Regrettably, it’s not uncommon for pumpkin beers (or really, pumpkin anything) to be mocked and feminised, written off as gross, girly, or both. And of course for a lot of people, it’s neither of those things—it’s just not to their taste. I have found, though, that there’s one consistent exception: “Not Pumking, though. Pumking is great.”

Pumking—an imperial ale made by Southern Tier Brewing Company in New York state—seems to be the one pumpkin beer that can sway even the most hardcore hophead burdened with the biggest anti-pumpkin prejudice.

The packaging asserts that it tastes like “pumpkin pie in a glass,” which is completely accurate. The nose is pure pumpkin pie, a big wallop of pumpkin, nutmeg, clove, and cinnamon smacking you in the nostrils. And the aroma is true to the taste—it’s a flavour bomb of all the above, chiefly pumpkin and cinnamon, baked into a malty ale featuring strong bready and biscuity notes.

Thanks to the malt, it has some sweetness to it without being cloying, balanced out by a good dose of bittering hops. The descriptor “pumpkin pie in a glass” might sound like a stretch, like when someone claims that a crunchy health food tastes “just like” some decadent dessert. But truth be told, it really is the best way to describe Pumking. And, at 8.6% ABV, it’s significantly stronger than many of its contemporaries, usually weighing in somewhere in the 5-7% range. (I advise you to remind yourself of this next time you come across Pumking. You’ll need to, because it doesn’t taste alcoholic… it just tastes like pie.) But I suppose that’s what makes it an imperial pumpkin ale—like a regular pumpkin ale, but bigger.

As it turns out, an appreciation for “big” beers, styles that are boozy and packed with flavour, is exactly where Pumking came from.

“Our founder, Phin, was always excited about big beers—big flavours, big ABV,” says Matt Dunn, VP of operations at Southern Tier Brewing Company. “The Blackwater Stout series came before Pumking—big, flavourful imperial stouts that were 10% ABV and made with milk sugar, coffee, and chocolate, so Pumking was a natural extension of that. How do we make a non-stout beer that has the same spirit?”

The kind of beers that get imperial-ised, with few exceptions, are typically stouts and IPAs—the strongest, heaviest, most flavorful versions of their base style—and both are the kinds of styles that beer nerds tend to get hyped about. It’s quite clever, then, to think about developing an “imperial” version of a different style altogether, particularly a style known for being controversial.

The Pumking fandom built up quickly. Southern Tier began brewing his royal highness in 2007. By the next year, the beer already had clear devotees.

“In 2008 we had people driving from out of state to the taproom, before we had a lot of distribution, and they were purchasing ten and twenty cases to take home,” Matt says.

Southern Tier has grown significantly since it was founded in 2002, expanding from its original location in western New York state to include taprooms in Pittsburgh, PA, Cleveland, OH, Charlotte, NC, and Buffalo, NY. These days, the team at ST brews so much Pumking that they have to start in June to have it ready for release in early August. Throughout the fall, each taproom celebrates Pumking Fest, and the kingdom can be counted on to turn out.

“People have dressed up as characters in the past and outfit their cars to match,” Matt says. “People match our passion for Pumking, which is always exciting as a brewer.”

““Our founder, Phin, was always excited about big beers—big flavours, big ABV.””

— Matt Dunn, Southern Tier

Chris O’Leary, a NYC-based beer writer who’s been covering the craft beer space since about the time Pumking was born, recalls witnessing the nascent hype in the early 2010s.

“People in New York City were going from beer shop to beer shop when they heard it dropped for the season—typically in late July or early August, when no one else in their right mind would want to drink it,” Chris says. “The 22-ounce format, given its popularity and its ABV, seemed wildly irresponsible at the time.”

So what exactly is it about Pumking that sets it apart from other pumpkin ales? The obvious answer is that it’s just good. And of course, it is—I don’t think it would be controversial to say it’s one of the best pumpkin beers we can look forward to each fall. For some fans, the secret sauce is simply the way Pumking manages to be both intensely flavourful and yet, still well-balanced.

Gregory Guidarelli, a craft beer fan and Pumking enthusiast from Columbus, Ohio, praises it for being as bold as it is without becoming overly sweet or letting any single flavour overpower the rest. Or, as he put it: “it invites craft beer drinkers to experience the autumn season in a bold imperial form without excessive sweetness or overwhelming spice.”

“Pumking should be the brewer’s target for a pumpkin beer,” he adds.

Critics and craft beer fans alike echo this, crediting the balance between spicy, sweet, bold, and bitter. Personally, I think it manages to strike a balance in another way: the type of drinker it attracts. Though pumpkin ales are traditionally maligned, there's something about taking one and turning the volume up to 11 that transforms it into a magnet for craft devotees.

And yet, you don’t need to be a beer geek with an encyclopaedic knowledge of hop varieties to appreciate Pumking. You don’t even need to be a beer drinker, really; anyone who likes pie is likely to find the phrase “pumpkin pie in a glass” tempting. Drinkers come for the pie and stay for…also the pie, because in this case, there’s truth in advertising.

What fascinates me about Pumking, however, is how it’s won the favour of people who would otherwise never touch a pumpkin beer. The ABV, I suspect, doesn’t hurt; in addition to adding some pleasant, cosy warmth, it gives the beer a bit of an edge. 8.6% isn’t unheard of by any means, but it’s awfully strong considering how drinkable it is—think, by contrast, of a pastry stout or a Belgian tripel. Delicious, but best enjoyed in moderation.

Pumking has body, but not so much that you can’t drink a couple of them at a time. And yet, it’s definitely not the kind of beer you can crush a six-pack of. It’s just a high enough ABV to toughen the pumpkin ale up, both in terms of image and in the drinking experience. The beer’s strength, I think, makes it more approachable to the kind of person who would usually be self-conscious about ordering a novelty beer—let alone a pumpkin beer. It’s too hardcore to remind anyone of Pinterest bloggers who love Starbucks and wear Uggs. And yet, those women would probably like Pumking, too. It really runs the gamut of appealing to not just a wide array of beer drinkers, but of people in general.

“Pumking, bafflingly, was a gateway beer for more than a few friends of mine,” Chris recalls. “It was a pioneering beer in the sense that it broke through several barriers at once: it was boozier than most beer, it used ingredients not typically found in beer, and it very much didn’t taste like beer.

“Looking back now, it helped pave the way for things like fruited sours and pastry stouts that appealed to drinkers who enjoyed the experience of beer but not the taste of traditional flavours and styles,” he adds.

Personally, I’ve always found the blanket cultural animus toward pumpkin a little unfair (in case the prior 1200 words didn’t make that clear). Unlike the sugary confections from your favourite (or least favourite) coffee chain, craft beers typically aren’t flavoured artificially. Pumking, for its part, uses real pumpkin puree and carefully chosen spice extracts. The extracts in particular, Matt Dunn says, are the “most important part” of Pumking.

“The spice extracts,” he says, “have been sourced from the same vendor since day one.”

““Pumking should be the brewer’s target for a pumpkin beer.””

— Chris O'Leary, Beer Writer

If anything, pumpkin beers—including and especially Pumking—have been ahead of their time. The craft world today has an obsession with locavorism, the practice of choosing and celebrating foods grown or produced locally. Many breweries boast that their hops, malt, and adjuncts are grown nearby. Sometimes they’ll even name a specific family farm from which they source ingredients. These days, being highly selective about adjuncts is the standard for any self-respecting brewery. Southern Tier has had this covered since the most recent Bush presidency.

Without a doubt, Pumking has had a lasting impact on the craft beer industry. Justin Buiter, co-owner of Railtown Brewing Co. in Caledonia, Michigan, credits it as an influence behind Railtown’s “Yammit All!” sweet potato casserole beer.

“Southern Tier has certainly challenged our notion of what a pumpkin beer (or any pie beer) could be,” Justin says. “We take those experiences and examples into account as we develop new recipes and reimagine styles.”

16 years on, Pumking is not only still going strong, but is arguably more revered than ever. Southern Tier refers to their seasonal fall releases as the Pumking’s “court,” which this year includes not only the Warlock pumpkin imperial stout, but a new heir to the throne: Caramel Pumking. It was the winner of the audience taste tests held during last year’s Pumking Fests, where visitors voted between limited-edition caramel, “fire” (spicy cinnamon, reminiscent of a certain flavoured whiskey), and habanero variations.

Maybe it should be surprising that the most dessert-like alteration was the one that resonated most with fans, who on the whole praise Pumking for not being too sweet. But maybe that just speaks to the Southern Tier brewing team’s talent for striking a balance between bold flavours. Caramel Pumking, after all, has a higher IBU and darker malt selection than his predecessor. All signs suggest that they’ve created another winner.

As of July 31 2023, Pumking season is already underway. If you live in the Eastern US, you may have even seen him at your local beer bar or bottle shop already. August heat may not exactly inspire a craving for a big, warm, pumpkin beer, but for my part, I know I won’t be able to resist next time I run into Pumking on draft. After all, fall starts when the Pumking says so.