“I was never a fan of IPA,” says Eric Mitchell, head brewer at Heist Brewery. “I didn’t like the bitterness associated with them and that you couldn’t drink more than a few of them in a sitting. But it went from a beer I’d have in a lineup to being my preferred drinking beer once I tried some of The Alchemist, and especially when I started dabbling in Tree House and Trillium, who pioneered the New England IPA style as we know it.”

When Heist opened in late 2012, it had a classic ‘90s brewpub lineup of beers to satisfy an array of customers, including a Lager, IPA, Red Ale, Hefeweizen, Pale Ale, and Oatmeal Stout. Rotating taps were set to be dedicated for Belgian-style and seasonal beers. It was a plan that worked great for a few years, sprinkling in more specialty and one-off beers like a Rye Saison and a Chocolate Pumpkin Ale.

Then Heist learned to embrace the haze.

After gaining an appreciation for the turbid IPAs coming out of New England, Mitchell began to experiment with different yeast and hop useage toward the end of 2015, leading up to Heist’s first New England IPA release in March 2016. Like other breweries before it, Heist’s creation of a NE IPA—CitraQuench’l, an all-Citra, murky orange juice bomb—quickly gained the attention of drinkers with the release.

“We made a big enough batch for it to be a 14- to 16-day beer,” Mitchell recalls. “It ended up lasting two or three days.”

Other NE IPAs followed: Blurred is the Word, Not From Concentrate, and Reformed. Even a dry-hopped Honey Blonde Ale took on a slightly turbid appearance. Heist brought in a mobile canning unit to package a run of CitraQuench’l and a line formed out the door—they ended up selling 115 cases in two hours. People started proposing trades in online forums for Trillium’s and Tree House’s NE IPAs.

“There’s life before and after CitraQuench’l,” Mitchtell says with a laugh. “We’ve probably seen a 40% increase in beer sales over the past six months, distributors started knocking on our door, and we’ve had bottle shops and accounts coming in, asking for our beer. We were around for four years and people weren’t trading for our beer prior to CitraQuench’l. Maybe people weren’t talking about us before it. The New England style has been good to us.”

Counting the dry-hopped Blonde Ales produced at Heist, about 75% of production is focused on hops. When customers flock to the taproom, they now expect their IPAs to have a thick, hazy look. Mitchell, once a drinker who focused on Belgian and German styles, is on board, too.

“I brew what I want to brew,” he says, “but I also happen to brew what sells.”

These kind of hoppy surprises can come from small places, even in Upstate New York, a region historically known for its wineries. Such is the power of IPA, putting the name of a brewpub making 300 barrels a year in the hushed tones of “who’s who” among up-and-coming breweries.

In August 2016, Prison City Pub and Brewery ceased crowler fills of their own beers because there wouldn’t have been a way to keep their NE IPA, Mass Riot—and some others—on tap. In October, at the Great American Beer Festival, enthusiasts sporting Tired Hands and Trillium T-shirts stood in a line at Prison City’s table consistently at least a dozen people deep. In December, after considering locations to expand production, Prison City signed a lease for a space adjacent to the brewpub.