Few beers divide drinkers quite like fruit beer.

Mention raspberry, cherry, peach, or mango in the same sentence as beer and you’ll probably get one of two reactions. Some people can’t wait to order one. Others think fruit has no business anywhere near a beer glass.

Funny thing is that fruit has been part of brewing for far longer than most people realize.

Long before American craft brewers started stuffing IPAs with every tropical fruit imaginable, brewers around the world were already using local fruit as an important brewing ingredient. Belgian lambic producers had been aging beer on cherries to create Kriek and raspberries to make Framboise for centuries. Traditional European farmhouse brewers often relied on whatever fruit was growing nearby, both for flavor and because it provided fermentable sugars.

In many ways, fruit beer is actually one of brewing’s oldest traditions. In the United States, however, it’s less of a standalone beer style than an addition to an existing one, whether that’s a Blood Orange IPA, a Mango Wheat Ale, or a Raspberry Stout.

For much of the twentieth century, fruit beer barely existed in the United States. The nation’s beer industry was largely dominated by light lagers that emphasized consistency over experimentation. Anything with obvious fruit character was often dismissed as a novelty.

That began changing during the craft beer revolution of the 1980s and 1990s, when American brewers started looking well beyond traditional ingredients.

Breweries like New Glarus Brewing in Wisconsin built devoted followings with fruit-forward beers made from locally grown cherries, raspberries, and other regional ingredients. On the West Coast, breweries experimented with apricots, peaches, blackberries, and citrus to create seasonal releases that reflected local agriculture.

It was a wild period of experimentation, and not every attempt was a success.

Then came one of the biggest fruit beer success stories in craft brewing. In 2014, Ballast Point’s Grapefruit Sculpin became an overnight hit, leading to Pineapple Sculpin, Habanero Sculpin, Watermelon Dorado, and other fruit-forward variations. The brewery’s rapid rise helped fuel its roughly $1 billion acquisition by Constellation Brands in 2015, a deal now widely regarded as one of the costliest miscalculations in modern beer industry history.

As fruit-forward IPAs became more common, some beer drinkers grew exhausted by what they saw as a passing fad. Critics argued that breweries were over-sweetening IPAs and relying on heavy fruit purées and extracts to mask flawed or overly bitter base beers.

The biggest shift came with the arrival of the New England, or Hazy IPA, which exploded onto the national scene around 2017. It represented an evolutionary leap in consumer tastes that continues today. Instead of adding literal fruit or citrus rind, breweries like The Alchemist used expressive new hop varieties and carefully timed dry hopping to create naturally juicy tropical aromas and a soft, pillowy mouthfeel.

Ironically, as hazy IPAs became America’s favorite craft beer style, many brewers started adding fruit once again. Purées, concentrates, and whole fruit found their way into fermentation tanks to amplify the tropical flavors already coming from the hops.

At the same time, another fruit beer segment was gaining momentum.

American sour beer exploded in popularity around 2014, and breweries quickly discovered that tart beer provided the perfect canvas for fresh fruit. Blackberry, blueberry, cherry, strawberry, plum, and countless other fruits added sweetness, acidity, and vibrant colors that looked as good on social media as they tasted in the glass.

Some breweries took things even further.

Massive “smoothie sours” packed with fruit purée became one of craft beer’s most polarizing trends. These thick, colorful beers often contained enough fruit to resemble breakfast smoothies more than traditional beer. Fans loved their intense flavors. Critics argued they blurred the line between beer and dessert.

Traditionalists claim these heavily fruited beers are little more than a marketing gimmick that undermines the very concept of sour beer. Many also reject modern kettle sours, a technique in which Lactobacillus bacteria is added directly to the brew kettle to sour the wort in as little as 24 to 48 hours, along with the generous amounts of fruit purée and lactose that often accompany them.

Supporters, unsurprisingly, see things differently.

Many brewers argue that making an exceptional fruit beer is actually more difficult than brewing a standard pale ale. Fruit introduces sugars, acids, pectin, and wild microorganisms that can complicate fermentation. Finding the right balance often requires multiple trials before a recipe finally comes together.

No matter where you stand, fruit beers remain one of craft brewing’s broadest and most successful categories. Golden Road’s Mango Cart Wheat Ale is one of the most widely distributed commercial fruit beers in the United States, while TailGate Brewery’s TailGate Orange has become the brewery’s bestselling beer in the Nashville market.

Love them or hate them, fruit beers have earned a permanent place in American craft brewing. Judging by the number of breweries still experimenting with everything from blueberries to yuzu, the debate is far from over.