The first thing you should do when your ferry docks at St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands, is stop at a wharfside bar and enjoy a bottle of Virgin Islands Pale Ale. So advises a travel writer in The New York Times.

While the attitudes at this latitude combine with tropical air to make any beer taste extra refreshing, the visitor should be aware that the writer’s chosen beer from “St. John Brewers” is not the fresh, local microbrew it appears. In fact, there is no geologic water supply on St. John (households use either filtered rainwater or desalinated, truck-delivered seawater). So beermaking there is pretty much out of the question.

The fine print on the bottle confirms its distant origin: “Brewed & bottled by The Shipyard Brewing Co., Portland, ME, exclusively for St. John Brewers, St. John, VI.”

Although the Caribbean islands, like almost every place in the world, have enjoyed beers for hundreds of year, and although there may be no place where a cold one tastes better, the pickings for the beer aficionado are slim. Local products tend toward the bland, drafts are rare, and even imports may not be what they seem.

OK, on St. John you can get a microbrew, but one that has traveled at least 2,000 miles without benefit of preservatives. Their absence is indicated by the “best enjoyed before” warning on the label (which was left blank on my bottle).

As the brewers’ website boasts, the product does have a “subtle exotic fruit nose.” That should be perfect for the tropics, right? For those inclined toward the flavored beers of Belgium, the additive will be fine. But cynics might say  it is an attempt to mask the lack of real-beer flavor — like the widely followed ritual of dipping a lime into a watery Corona.

Another example of a nondescript local is Red Stripe from Jamaica, named “best Caribbean  beer 2005” by readers of Caribbean Travel & Life. It has become so widely popular on the mainland that yuppies choose it for their weddings. One reason people revere this bland drink may be that they recall how much fun they had with it — giving no credit to the equal or perhaps greater contributions of tropical nights or supplemental Jamaican intoxicants. (I refer to rum, of course.)

“My only experience with Caribbean beer is a half a bottle of Red Stripe that I managed to choke down,” writes Anna in her blog Eclectic Librarian. “It was at a party where we had drunk most of the good beer. It was down to Red Stripe or Corona Light, and to be honest, I should have just resigned myself to sobriety.”

Other generic-tasting offerings from the islands include Presidente from  the Dominican Republic, Corsaire from Guadeloupe, Biere Lorraine from Martinique and the ubiquitous Carib from Trinidad. On many non-American islands, the Cuban beer Palma Cristal will be available. Even undeveloped Dominica (population 70,000) has its own brand, Kubuli. The label on each of these should say “undistinguished though pleasantly drinkable.”

Beers with more local charm include Jamaica’s Dragon Stout (7.5% alcohol by volume!), Stingray Dark from the Cayman Islands (from “the only full-scale independent brewery  in the Caribbean”)  and the products of Banks Brewery in Barbados. (I won’t refer you to Banks’ tacky website.)

Probably most serious beer drinkers prefer draft beers, but they are tricky to maintain, especially in a hot climate, unless turnover is fast. So you won’t find them in the more atmospheric beach bars. The island of Vieques off Puerto Rico has plenty of bars left over from its Navy days, but as of early 2006 not a single tap could be pulled. link

In all-inclusive resorts, draft beer is a mainstay.  Just don’t expect it to be robust or complex.  In Jamaica, for example, resorts serve Red Stripe Light, a redundancy. Or as one consumer rated it, “Nothing there. No malt, no hops (no woman, no cry).”

On French islands, ask for  “une pression”; most likely you will not have to be more specific because there will not be a choice of brands on tap.

Packaged beer is another matter. In many places you can at least get away from Bud Light and choose European imports. My favorite on the French islands is Kronenbourg 1664 from Alsace (the year is when the brewery was born!). For a mass-market product, it’s surprisingly lively.

Also widely available are Stella Artois from Belgium and Bavaria from Holland. But beware of Heineken and Amstel, both from one parent brewer in Holland, and Guinness from Ireland. Mark McKenna found in McKenna’s Guide to Caribbean Beers: All the Islands, All the Brews (Parrot Publishing, 2003),  that those companies have licensed their recipes to several local contract brewers. They’re not the originals from Europe and their taste varies slightly from island to island.

Checking out the fine print may be the last thing you feel like doing when the waitstaff delivers a tray of ice-cold “local” brews just as sunset paints the harbor. But confessions on the label may surprise you.

“Blackbeard Ale — Virgin Islands Brewing Co.” Brewed in Cold Spring, Minn.!

“Red Dog Puerto Rice Premium Beer from the Plank Road Brewery.” Brewed in Milwaukee!

The authentic is worth seeking. As Tony Smith wrote for an online magazine,, “Slugging down an Iron City while sitting alongside the Monongahela doesn’t necessarily put you in the mindset of a steel-molding Pittsburgher. But take a few slurps of a cold, Ocho-Rios-served Dragon Stout and you can feel the dreadlocks beginning to grow.”  Happy Taveling

Captions: 1. Impostors: These “local” beers are really brewed far away in cold northern climes. 2. Actual local brews are authentic but mostly bland. 3. On many islands, tasty European imports are readily available. 4. Dragon Stout is a potent Jamaican brew.