Brewing With Style

The styles popularized by Belgian (and one Dutch) Trappist breweries and the secular abbey breweries are single/blonde, dubbel, tripel and quadrupel/strong dark. They may be identified by the old Belgian numerical degree system (Rochefort 8), style (Westmalle Tripel) or unique brand (Chimay Grande Réserve). Single/blonde (5 to 6.5 percent ABV) and tripel (8 to 9.5 percent) are gold to dark gold in color. Dubbel (6 to 7 percent) and quadrupel/strong dark (10 to 12 percent ) are deep copper to brownish-red. Pale beers will be grouped together, as will the dark, as they can be crafted with similar ingredients.

The similarities among them include raw materials, as well as technique and brewing philosophy. Abbey/Trappist beers are highly attenuated and never heavy or cloying, but retain a touch of sweetness. Adjuncts are universally used, usually sugar, but sometimes also wheat or maize. The beers are almost exclusively presented as bottle-conditioned products and often are rambunctiously effervescent. Forced carbonation is convenient, but it is dismissive of the nuance that the yeasts impart over time. Both Wyeast and White Labs offer strains culled from abbey and Trappist breweries. They are indispensable.

Great Grains

The favored base malt is the delicately flavored pilsner variety. It lends the high fermentability and lean body common to these beers. Pale brews will need very little augmentation with specialty malts, if any. I prefer a simple grist of pilsner and Vienna, in a 3:1 ratio. Munich malt at 10 to 20 percent will add a backdrop of maltiness. If you feel the need to add specialty malts, stick with Carapils, light crystal or Caravienne, at 5 percent or less to minimize caramel character. Malted wheat could be used to add some creaminess and heading. Mash at 148 to 150 degrees F.

For dubbels, quads and strong darks, the grain bill is a bit more complicated, but also more malleable. Because the beers are still quite light in body in spite of the color, the selection of malt is even more critical. The necessary specialty malts should be used judiciously to get maximum color and flavor characteristics without bogging down the beer. Combinations of pilsner, Vienna and Munich malts as a base are an excellent starting point. I have used 100 percent Vienna malt or a 3:1 ratio of pilsner to Munich with great results.

Sticking with the dark brews, Continental European specialty malts, used at 10 to 15 percent of the grist, will contribute loads of the signature flavors and aromas. The “Cara” family is very diverse, ranging from 5 to 120 degrees Lovibond, imparting sweet caramel, toasted malt, toffee, rum, raisin and fig flavors and aromas, depending on the color. Aromatic malts offer intense malty character. Small amounts of special B (very dark crystal) and chocolate malt add plenty of color, but also extra depth. For proper attenuation, mash at 146 to 149 degrees F.

Most homebrew shops stock French and/or Belgian malts, designed specifically for abbey and Trappist beers. As German malt is very similar to French or Belgian in variety and specifications, it is essentially interchangeable. Adjunct grains such as flaked wheat or maize are commonly used in Belgium, and very traditional.

Extract brewers have at their disposal all the ingredients needed to make these heavenly brews. Extra light and light extracts made from pilsner malt provide the same foundation as grain brewers. Munich malt and wheat malt extracts can be used in place of up to 20 percent of the light malt extract. Avoid adjunct grains unless you do partial mashes, and then ensure that there is enough diastatic power included in the grist (See the Homebrewing column in the March 2013 issue for details). The inclusion of specialty grains and sugars is no different from that of all-grain brewers. And it goes without saying that hop schedules and yeast performance are also identical to more-advanced brewing techniques.

Adjunct Sugar

Sugar is a critical component of abbey and Trappist beer. It serves to boost gravity and fermentables, but, more importantly, keeps body relatively light without compromising complexity and richness.

Homebrew shops stock Belgian candi sugar in three forms: syrup, soft (similar to brown sugar) and rock. They come in several color grades, from virtually transparent (no color contribution) to very dark (180 degrees L). With color comes more pronounced and complex flavor and aroma. The lightest will be mostly neutral, with increasing caramel, raisin, date, toffee, vanilla, molasses and chocolate notes as the color deepens. The darkest one available includes some date sugar in the formulation. Some syrups are even laced with spices, botanicals and flavorings. Different forms will contribute to gravity differently due to moisture content. My rule of thumb is to start with a pound per 5 gallons of wort, added during the boil.

Unrefined sugars, such as demerara, turbinado, jaggery, piloncillo and date sugar, are superb choices. Plain dextrose (corn sugar) and glucose (table or cane sugar) can be used, but will only contribute gravity and little more.

Varietal honey can be matched impeccably with a personalized recipe. Try buckwheat honey in a dubbel or quad, clover or orange blossom in a tripel, and sourwood or tupelo in a blonde. Remember that the aromatics in honey are quite volatile, so add it at knockout or at the end of the boil.

Hops and Spices

None of these styles particularly feature hops but, of course, warrant some bitterness for balance, with IBU-to-gravity ratio between 0.35 and 0.5. Flavor and aroma additions are also reserved, but blondes and tripels support late additions well. Styrian Goldings, Kent Goldings, Saaz and German nobles are the more traditional cultivars used, but Perle, Strisselspalt, Challenger and Target also fit the bill. I like the earthy, floral and subtle citrus notes of Styrian and Kent Goldings and Czech Saaz for flavor and aroma, especially in pale brews. Perle and Goldings are my choice for dark brews.

Spices are used as an accent by some brewers. Coriander or grains of paradise in very reserved amounts would enhance any of the styles, and spices such as star anise would fit well with a darker brew. Add them late in the boil and keep the measure to a minimum, under an ounce per 5 gallons.

Yeast

Belgian beers are immediately recognizable and often defined by the conspicuous yeast contribution. There are enough different strains from Trappist and secular abbey breweries (Rochefort, Westmalle, Orval, Achouffe and Chimay) available to fit any personal preference. Most ferment without adverse effect into the mid- and upper-70 degrees Fahrenheit or beyond.

In fact, yeast expression will change from the low to high end of the fermentation range. Westmalle yeast is used by three Trappist breweries, each of which uses different conditions and schedules to get its desired, unique product. Orval uses two strains of Brettanomyces in addition to its house yeast, which used alone will still make an excellent blonde. As always, investigate the specs of your chosen yeast carefully before brewing.

Belgian strains tend to attenuate slightly more on average, but grain selection, mash temperature and sugar additions are equally important to achieving the proper mouthfeel and attenuation, often as high as 80 to 90 percent. They are pretty determined rascals and will stand up to extended bottle-conditioning and cellaring. Selected for this very characteristic, they will metamorphose and dry out significantly over time.

The yeasts are famous for their aromatic and flavor contributions, lending clove and phenolics, fruity notes (apple, cherry, pear and peach), spiciness (vanilla, cinnamon and pepper), and even banana and bubblegum depending on the strain. Fermentation temperature will determine which of these are suppressed or accented.

The heartiest forms of the style survive today as Baltic and imperial porters. These two porter progeny represent a harkening to British maritime roots as well as a Continental modification. Siblings to the more famous imperial stouts, the strong porters became templates for brewers in Scandinavia, Russia and Poland and adapted to local brewing practices and preferences. Some versions are bottom-fermented, others top, and they range from malty brown to roasty black.

Porter was initially developed as a strong, aged, hoppy version of the sweet brown ales that dominated London during the early 18^th century. The generous hop levels (making it beer rather than ale) and seasoned “stale” character offered a welcomed counterpoint to London browns. Porter was also brewed to compete with upstart pale ales. Both porter and London brown ale were made with brown, or blown, malt, cured over wood fires, a rugged, smoky product that was cheaper than pale malt.

Porter was brewed from a blend of successive mashings and was actually known as entire-butt beer, or simply “entire,” for the first few decades of its existence, “butt” being the 108-gallon cask used for storage. The maturation period of several months to a full year tamed the rough, smoky edge, but also unleashed the wild vinous and tart flavors from the wooden butts and their native microflora.

Entire became the beer of choice for the laboring class and acquired the slang “porter,” as it was so favored by the street and dock workers known by that name, many of whom loaded ships destined for Indian, Australian and Baltic ports. The hops and requisite beneficial aging ensured that it would arrive shipshape.

The Baltic fleets visited numerous ports along the coastal bays and inlets, many of which had established routes inland. This voyage may have been advantageous to the beer, as the conditions were cold and the duration relatively short, resulting in what was essentially a congenial period of cool, cellarlike conditioning. Baltic markets were particularly fond of the strongest porters (stout porter) and in return, would send oak for vessels and isinglass for finings back to Britain. The two materials were essential for production of fine ale, porter and stout.

The Russians concluded that it was nigh impossible to brew porter or stout without water from the River Thames, so the import of those brews was deemed critical. The empress herself insisted on a sustained supply for her and her court. Even when the Russian government imposed a tariff on nearly all British commodities in 1822, porter and stout were exempt, keeping the empress happy.

The brewing industry back in Britain was as robust and far-reaching as ever, especially for those who included these “imperial” dark beers among their offerings. Since the newly invented (1817) and patented black malt was still not in wide use, nor wholly embraced by London brewers, these dark beers were mostly brewed with copious proportions of brown malt.

“Imperial” also came into common usage as a means to designate a brewer’s strongest beer rather than something specifically made for the Russian court. Imperial stout, imperial stout porter, imperial London stout and imperial brown porter were a few of the descriptive names that brewers gave their products in advertisements. The extra designation of “Russian” was routinely attached in the early 20^th century to market these creations.

The beers came from Yorkshire, Scotland, Burton (in Staffordshire) and Dublin, but London unequivocally had the best brewers for these because of experience, conditions and raw materials, especially Thames water. By the mid-19^th century, roasted barley became a fairly common ingredient and helped create the pedigree for subsequent porters and stouts. Baltic, and especially imperial, porters would not be themselves today without noticeable additions of roast.

All of this explains how the Baltic regions fell in love with the strong porters and stouts of the 18^th and 19^th centuries, but doesn’t account for the actual brewing of porter in those regions. There were many breweries already in place: from Scandinavia, around the Baltic Russian rim and into Eastern Europe, many of which were poised to cash in on the love for porter.

The conditions were certainly different, being decidedly colder in northern and eastern environs, as were the brewing techniques, being heavily influenced by German bottom fermentation, especially on the Continent. This is where the Baltic style of porter really began to take shape.

Centuries of brewing in different regions of Europe meant that the yeast was selected over time to match the conditions of the brewery. Scandinavian yeast was different from that in Britain, which was different again from that of Estonia and Poland. Continental barley varieties differed from the British maritime cultivars, as did the malt, tailored specifically for the regional styles there.

The first Baltic brewery to specialize in porter was opened by Nikolai Sinebrychoff in Helsinki, Finland, in 1819. Its excellent porter is still made today, a remnant of the English imperial version with loads of roasted character and a base of kilned lager malts and German and Czech hops.

The Le Coq brewery was also opened in the early part of that century, in Tartu, in what is now Estonia. That site was selected because the water was deemed an excellent substitute for Thames water, the single most elusive and essential ingredient. Its beer relied even less on black or roasted barley, and tended to feature the toasty kilned malts favored by German and Austrian brewers. Those are also bottom-fermented and fully lagered, making for a rounded, bocklike profile.

Coincidentally, the early to mid-19^th century was the period in which bottom fermentation and lagering were becoming the norm, as was the fine-tuning of malt production and scientific brewing techniques. This made for a perfect storm in the development of Baltic porter.

In the United States, brewers make the British- and Continental-inspired versions and will generally designate them as imperial or Baltic porters. Generally speaking of European versions, Scandinavian porters resemble those of London imperial pedigree, with a firm roasted presence and top fermentation, while those brewing to the east and south (Estonia, Lithuania and Poland) are similar to the über-malty doppelbocks, with a touch of roast and bottom fermentation. All are roughly 7 to 9.5 percent ABV, with modest to minimal hop presence.

Baltic porters tend to be the tamer of the two styles, but are uncompromisingly deep. They are a brilliant composite of English brewing tradition, intrepid commercial savvy and regional, stylistic metamorphosis. Much of the complexity comes from use of Continental malts such as the kilned Munich or Vienna types for that malty base, as well as dark character malts that contribute notes of raisin, molasses, caramel and licorice. The reserved measure of roasted barley lends a deep reddish-black color as the norm.

Imperial porters rely on a heavier dose of roasted barley or black malt. Fermentation byproducts are usually somewhat muted, without much estery character, a result of subdued fermentation temperature and yeast selection. It is a perfect strategy to showcase the roasty notes and other contributions from dark malts such as the raisin, molasses and licorice highlights.

Porter may not be as highly regarded as stout, but remember that once it was truly the king of the beer world. And at the very top of the heap are the imperial and Baltic porters, beer that will make anyone feel like royalty.

Today, Belgian witbier, bière blanche in French, is among the more popular styles brewed and consumed in North America, and is fully embraced once again by brewers throughout Belgium and beyond. The unmistakable appearance and fresh, bountiful fragrance portends a refreshing, wholesome drinkability.

It has been postulated that the domestication of wild wheat (emmer) and “invention” of brewing were conjoined events some 12,000 years ago, and possibly the impetus for the earliest civilizations. Barley has largely replaced wheat as a brewing grain, but thankfully, not altogether. In more recent times, wheat-centric beers were common from Western Britain to Northeast Europe. Devonshire white ale, Broyhan mumme, lambic, witbier, göse, Bavarian weizenbier, Berliner weisse and Einbecker bock were all popular wheat beers in centuries past. Some of these have vanished, while others have been modernized, and some have even retained their wild, unruly roots.

Witbier evolved as the specialty of Dutch-speaking Flemish Brabant Province east of Brussels. There wheat, barley, oats and sugar beets are grown. The brewing legacy is just as fertile. Witbier breweries thrived in villages, abbeys, cities and farms.

Leuven was the premier witbier brewing city in Flemish Brabant a few centuries ago, but the hamlet of Hoegaarden, where brewing dates to 1318, would become world famous for it. Those brews were made with pale barley malt, raw wheat and oats. Hops were widely cultivated in the region, especially Germany, and the water was perfectly suited to brewing.

It is unknown exactly when witbier acquired its signature spicy character, but it has been part of the profile for centuries. The Netherlands became a prodigious importer of exotic spices after widespread colonization and the formation of the Dutch East India Company in 1602. The witbier style is about 400 years old, so it coincides with that timeline.

Beers flavored with herbal blends called gruit were once the norm in Northern Europe, until those concoctions lost out to hops in most places. It may be that some brewers never saw a reason to eliminate them altogether, using them alongside hops, so a taste for botanical beer never disappeared. At some point, though, exotic botanicals were introduced to witbier. Today, classic witbier is made with a tropical ingredient (Curaçao orange peel) and a temperate one (coriander).

Witbier made Hoegaarden a commercial brewing hotbed for a spell. There were 19 breweries there in 1730 and 38 in 1758. By 1940 there were but three remaining in the village. In 1957 only one brewery remained, the Oude Brouwerij Tomsin. Its doors were closed that year, bringing commercial brewing in Hoegaarden to a sad finale. The brewery’s flagship beer was Oud Hoegaards Witbier, a hometown prototype destined for the dustbin of history upon closure. If not for the nostalgic lamentations of Pierre Celis, who dearly missed his cherished witbier, we’d not be enjoying wietbiers today.

Pierre Celis’ desire to recapture the history and brewing art of his hometown is legendary. The son of a dairyman, he loved nothing more than to relax with a witbier after a hard day’s work. Energetic and enamored with beer, he often helped Louis Tomsin in the brewhouse, next door to his own house. The story goes that while enjoying beers with friends in 1965, Celis vowed to revive witbier. He cobbled together a small brewery (21-barrel capacity) in a cowshed. He modernized a bit from the outdated manual-labor intensive operations of Tomsin, but kept his brewhouse simple and utilitarian.

He fiddled with the recipe for the better part of a year and released his first commercial batch on July 1, 1966, under the auspices of the Brouwerij Celis. His first year he produced 300 barrels, which increased to 250,000 barrels by 1990. The timing was perfect.

The 1960s was a period of great artisanal awakening in the culinary world. Fed up with industrialized food and drink, people turned to more natural, organic items and a rediscovery of traditional, old-fashioned sensibilities. CAMRA was founded on this principle, as was American microbrewing. Celis could not have found a more accepting public for his folksy wheat beer.

He changed the name of his brewery to De Kluis (The Cloister) in 1978, in reverence to the monastic roots of his beer and brewhouse. De Kluis was purchased by Interbrew a few years later, and the name changed to Brouwerij Hoegaarden. In light of those maneuverings, Celis was primed to explore other brewing options.

Celis was fond of the United States, and the blossoming specialty beer industry here loved Belgian beer. He chose Austin, TX, for his new brewery. The water was similar to Hoegaarden’s, and the hard, red winter wheat that he preferred could be grown in nearby Luckenbach. The gleaming, majestic Celis Brewery opened in early 1992. The quality of Celis White witbier was impressive. There is no downplaying the impact that he had on the worldwide scene.

Witbier has traditionally been made with roughly equal measures of Pilsner barley malt and wheat, and, optionally, a small amount of raw oats. The wheat portion is unmalted and raw, never flaked. Unlike some raw grains, wheat converts easily in the mash tun. Raw wheat is unkilned, keeping it lighter in color than malted wheat and giving true witbier an extremely pale, whitish-gold color. The high protein content of wheat and the unfiltered, bottle-conditioned state leaves witbier quite hazy. This also contributes to a fairly chewy, textured mouthfeel for a lower-gravity beer, 4.5 to 5.5 percent ABV on average.

Witbiers present a grainy, cereal profile, less “bready” than German hefeweizens. There is often a lightly sweet/tart complementary background.

Witbier yeast has a fairly neutral profile, though it does share some of the phenolic, vanilla and estery characteristics of Bavarian weizen yeast. Warm fermentation ensures that the footprint of the yeast will be fully articulated, often with notes of plum, apple, peach, apricot or melon. Hop rates are quite low, usually around 15-20 IBU. Hoegaarden uses East Kent Golding for bittering and Saaz for aroma. The bitterness is pleasantly subdued, and the hoppy aromatics herbal and floral. Most witbier brewers follow this general template.

The one thing that sets witbier apart from nearly all other brews is the liberal use of botanicals. Curaçao orange peel and coriander provide a potent but sublime citrusy and herbal nose, playing amiably with the discreet hop, grain and yeast components.

Some brewers personalize these additions, as grains of paradise, pepper, ginger and others are used. It has been surmised that Hoegaarden uses a third spice, but that has been debunked repeatedly, even by Pierre Celis himself. As delicious and quenching as witbier is today, imagine one of yore, with the tartness of spontaneous fermentation and some musty Brettanomyces.

Witbiers are best fresh, as the floral, fruity and herbal notes will diminish over time, but aged, drier ones are also a great pleasure. This is an excellent gateway beer, intriguingly flavorful, yet enticingly mellow. There are numerous excellent examples made by North American micros as well as a dozen or more stellar imports. We can thank Pierre Celis, who died in 2011, for the wealth of outstanding witbiers available today. Brewers were quick to recognize his foresight and genius, and the world was wise to try them. That is witty indeed.

Varietal hop development has seen a vigorous upswing recently, while classic cultivars are just as popular and noble as ever. Brewers are finding creative ways to showcase them all. This wealth of variety and expression is pure gold to homebrewers, if sometimes a bit overwhelming. Skillful, expert hopping is not as daunting as it may seem, and an understanding of a few basic concepts is all one needs to fine tune that recipe—be it balance, bombast or something in between.

Hop Utilization

Most recipes require a certain level of bitterness, as measured in International Bittering Units, or IBUs. Attaining this level requires proper hop utilization, extracting the bittering alpha acids (AA) throughout the duration of the boil. To calculate IBU, all that’s needed is an IBU equation (there are several available) and a utilization chart that relates kettle gravity to boiling time. Sure, you’ll need a little mathematical moxie, but plugging in the variables will become second nature.

My advice is to pick one equation and one chart from a reliable brewing resource and stick with it. Then, critically evaluate your finished beer and adjust as needed. Find an equation that accounts for pellet vs. whole hops. A full rolling boil is the surest and best way to get consistency and adequate extraction from hops.

A hydrometer or refractometer will become your best friend on brew day, as it is needed to monitor gravity during a session. All of this will require some attention to detail and practice, but the results are well worth it.

Recipes will occasionally give bittering additions in AAU, or alpha acid units, which is the weight in ounces of hops multiplied by alpha acid percent. This is used in fairly standardized recipes as a shortcut and assumes that all other parameters will be met while brewing.

There are some considerations to make between using whole or pellet hops. Some brewers swear by whole hops as a superior contributor to flavor and aroma. They have a lower utilization factor. Pellets, macerated and extruded, are more processed. They are easier to store, and they separate from wort in the kettle better and provide superior utilization. Some brewers use a hop bag with whole hops in the kettle, but I do not recommend it since it can give inconsistent and/or poor hop extraction.

Building a Schedule

Putting together a coherent and effective hop schedule is artistic brewing at its best. The three common additions are known as bittering, flavoring and aromatic. Hop types are generally labeled by their best application: bittering (high AA, harsher flavors), aroma (subtle, pleasant flavor and aroma, low AA) or dual-purpose hops (fairly high AA, but still excellent contributors to flavor/aroma). There dozens of each and, in fact, quite a few new recent cultivars from the U.S., England, Germany and New Zealand. Hop vendors and homebrew shops offer full descriptions of each. Those specs are an invaluable resource for building hop schedules. Many of these new hop varieties are a result of the very influential and robust North American brewing scene.

Flavor components are best extracted at 20 to 40 minutes in the boil, and aromatics from 20 minutes to flame knockout. Boiling drives off aromatics over time, so choose your timing carefully: the later, the better. A “hot stand,” letting the wort steep without chilling for 30 to 40 minutes post-boil, will also help intensify late kettle additions.

If you are seeking to clone a schedule of your favorite commercial beer, check if the brewery offers some clues on its website.

First Wort Hopping

First wort hopping is an old German method used to smooth out the hop profile and marginally increase hop utilization. It has gotten the attention of modern brewers and is an excellent option for homebrewers. Hops (up to a third of the overall measure) are added to kettle while it is being filled, exposing the hops to hot, but not boiling, wort. This prolonged exposure seems to seal and enhance the more delicate flavors and aroma, while at the same time increasing AA extraction and softening the harsher, hoppy edges.

First wort hopping will increase utilization by about 10 percent.

Dual-purpose varieties are tailor-made for this method since they offer excellent flavor/aroma qualities as well as decent AA content. First wort hopping is wise for any beer that favors later hop additions, be it a modern hoppy barrage or something more subdued. Whole hop flowers are extraordinarily suited for FWH.

Dry Hopping

Dry hopping, originally used to help preserve aging cask beer, had the side benefit of imparting wonderful hop aromatics. It is now largely used for the aromatic effect, and seldom are those hops in contact with the beer for more than a few days. It is done at cellar or fermentation temperatures, and all fleeting volatiles are retained. Dry hopping is best employed late in the fermentation stage or in the keg/cask used for serving.

Brewers who opt for the fermenter method have a couple of options. Hops can be added to the primary fermenter as activity wanes, left for a few days and then racked to the secondary. Use pellets in carboy primaries and either pellets or whole cones in a bucket primary. Alternatively, the hops can be added to the secondary fermenter during racking. They will eventually sink to bottom of the carboy, out of the way of the racking cane during transfer to bottling bucket or keg/cask. Expect a little hazy carryover during the rack.

Since most homebrewers keg rather than cask their beer for serving, 5-gallon corny kegs offer a superb chance to duplicate the cask method. Whole hops are preferred to pellets. Stuffed into a muslin or hop sack, they can be suspended with a string in the keg or the “pillow” allowed to sink to the bottom. The flavor will change dramatically over a few days as the scrumptious soluble compounds are leached from the cones. There is no need to pasteurize the hops used for dry-hopping.

SMaSH and Single Hop Brewing

There is no better way to investigate the footprint of a single-hop variety than with SMaSH (Single Malt and Single Hop) brewing. Dual-purpose hops fairly scream for the practicality and simplicity of this strategy, especially if you are a minimalist brewer, as I am. There are so many American hops available now that a virtually endless array of beers can be crafted. Classic noble hops are excellent candidates for German or Czech SMaSH brews. Explore English dual-purpose hops, such as Bramling Cross, First Gold, Pioneer or Progress, and one can’t go wrong with the classic East Kent Goldings. Once a recipe has been honed, iadjustments are easier to make.

Body and mouthfeel can be adjusted by altering mash temperature, color and caramelization, and intensified by prolonging the boil. With some creative thought, you’ll be amazed at the number of beers that can be made this way with English pale ale, Pilsner, Vienna or Munich malts and two to five single-cultivar hop additions. If single-malt brewing isn’t your thing, add some character malt to the grist, but keep the grain bill simple to tease out the hop character more distinctly.

Hop Bursting

The popularity of hop-forward beers has brought the concept of hop bursting to the forefront. If you’ve ever wondered how brewers get that sublimely round bitterness and enormous flavor and aroma into their beer, it is probably via hop bursting. The method entails adding nearly all hops within the last 30 minutes of the boil, including the bittering hops. This will preserve all ephemeral flavor and aroma, and softly contour the bitterness. It requires at least twice the normal amount for bittering, and even more for subsequent doses.

Boil for 30 minutes to get good kettle interactions and then start the hop schedule over the next 30 minutes. An addition every 5 or 10 minutes through kettle knockout followed by a “hot stand” and dry hopping will furnish an impressive burst. I think this method works impeccably for regular IPAs, offering an intense hop profile with less potential palate fatigue.

No matter what kind of beer is on your brewing docket, there is always a way to make it better. These simple strategies should help get you there. From helles to hop bombs, all will benefit from a deft hoppy hand.

English IPA
(All-Grain)

5 gallons, OG 1.065, 55 IBU

Mash 1# 60° L crystal malt and
12# English pale ale malt
for one hour at 152° F

First Wort Hop: .5 oz Bramling Cross

Bittering: 40 IBU (about 1.5 oz) Bramling Cross, 60 minutes

Flavor: 1 oz First Gold, 20 minutes

Aroma:  z Bramling Cross,
10 minutes; 1 oz East Kent Goldings, 5 minutes

Ferment with Wyeast 1028 or White Labs WLP005

Dry Hop: .5 oz East Kent Goldings whole hops in keg/cask if serving draft, pellets in secondary fermenter if bottling

Hop Burst American IPA (Extract)

Full wort boil (starting with 6 gallons to yield 5 gallons), OG 1.070, 60-65 IBU

Steep 1.5# 40° L crystal malt for 20 minutes at 155° F and add 7# Light DME

Boil for 30 minutes and add
2 oz Centennial hops

Boil for 10 minutes and add
2 oz Amarillo hops

Boil for 10 minutes and add
1 oz Amarillo hops

Boil for 10 minutes and add
2 oz Cascade hops

Turn off the burner and do a 30- to 40 -minute “hot stand”

Chill as normal and ferment with Wyeast 1056 or 1332 or White Labs WLP001 or WLP041

SMaSH German Pils (All-Grain)

5 gallons, OG 1.052, 40 IBU

Mash 10# German Pilsner malt at 150° F for one hour

First Wort Hop: 1 oz Hallertau Mittelfrüh,
Tettnang or Hersbrucker hops

Bittering: 30 IBU, same hops as FWH

Aroma: 1 oz same hops as FWH

Ferment at 50 to 53° F with Wyeast 2124 or 2042, or White Labs WLP830 or 838

Alternative Recipes

Replace Pilsner malt with up to 30% Vienna or 15% Light Munich

For Czech Pils, use Saaz hops throughout and Czech or Bohemian Lager yeast

For American Pils, use Mount Hood,
Liberty or Vanguard hops

Try a blend of hops or some new German cultivars: Opal, Saphir or Smaragd

For extract, use 5# Extra Light DME and
1# Munich LME

Barley wine was once a loosely applied designation, and the attempt today to distinguish English and American barley wine stylistically is a valuable reference point for brewers and beer lovers alike. Strong, hoppy ales have an interesting lineage, and we can all be thankful that they have been reintroduced in recent decades. Evocative of strength, barley wine delivers great depth and complexity via extensive maturation.

Current barley wines evolved from strong ales regionally cultivated in Britain, where hops were not a common brewing ingredient until the 15th century. This singular inclusion, and its preservative properties, changed the direction of ale brewing there, leading to the development of multiple stronger, more stable and storable types.
Indigenous British strong ale or beer included Yorkshire Stingo, Scottish wee heavy, and London October beer. All were kept for months or years before consumption, and hops were essential to shepherd the ale through this prolonged period.

At Burton upon Trent, the potent, eponymous Burton Ale became that city’s first celebrated export, predating the more fabled romantic IPA. Burton Ale was a strong, sweet and dark ale. Dry-hopped upon casking, it developed an intricate character during maturation. It was exported east via the Baltic Sea in the mid-18th and early 19th century, primarily to Russia, Poland and Germany. Fortitude and copious hopping were insurance against cask invaders, but also made a beer worth coveting. Among the exporters was Michael Bass, a familiar surname in brewing.

When Russia placed a stiff tariff on beer imports in 1822, the eastward export ceased, leaving quite a back stock of long-in-the-tooth Burton ale back home. It was subsequently made less sweet and more hoppy by prodigious exporter Samuel Allsopp, and it eventually won over the home crowd back in Burton.

Exporters turned their sights from Russia to India, and from Burton ale to India pale ale, and IPA subsequently filled the lucrative export void. Lighter and more highly hopped ale than Burton, it was different altogether. IPA and Burton coexisted for at least another century. Burton Ale faded into obscurity, but never vanished entirely, living on as barley wine, the lees of history leaving a residual footprint on our contemporary strong ale.

The term barley wine was sometimes used during the latter 19th century, mostly as a retail descriptor rather than a style, while brewers usually referred to their strongest ales as No. 1 or Strong. These often topped 10 percent ABV and required maturation to temper the flavors and allow full fermentation, while they garnered lusty, fancied Brettanomyces character from the wood. Cask hops helped thwart unwanted off-flavors. Strong stock ales were often referred to as “old,” or old ale. Burton Ale, Old Burton, old ale and barley wine became interchangeable to some degree, given the whim of the brewer, retailer or consumer.

Bass began using “barley wine” on its label around the beginning of the 20th century. The 1903 label of the North American export Bass No. 1 called it “Bass and Co’s. Barley Wine, The Royal Tonic.” In England, Burton, strong and No. 1 ales became known as barley wine, and the Brett character was largely winnowed out as brewers turned away from wood and implemented modern microbiology techniques.

Fairly popular in England into the 1940s and ’50s, barley wines fell out of favor in the ’60s and ’70s. America, conversely, was in its microbrewing infancy, and barley wine was ripe for the picking by eager artisanal frontiersmen.

Barley wine originally gained a foothold in America in 1840, when Scotsman Peter Ballantine brought a little Burton to his Ballantine Brewing in Newark, NJ. Along with his Ballantine Ale XXX and IPA, Ballantine also brewed bona fide Burton Ale, aged up to 20 years in oak barrels, then bottled and given to loyal customers only. It was last brewed in the 1950s.

Ballantine’s Burton ale is long gone, but it allegedly inspired the modern archetype, Anchor Old Foghorn. Minted by icon Fritz Maytag, Old Foghorn was introduced to the public in 1975, becoming the nouveau prototype. Because it is made entirely with American-sourced ingredients, there is no more significant symbol of the Yanks’ spirit and approach to brewing. Old Foghorn set in motion affection for big beers in North America. Sierra Nevada Bigfoot was born in 1983, and within a few years barley wines were seemingly everywhere.

When the world, especially North America, was introduced to the concept of formal beer stylization, there was often little to draw upon with emerging styles. Michael Jackson’s Beer Companion underscored this realization, followed by the beer judge certification program (BJCP) guidelines. Most beers already had some simple lineage that allowed for classification, but the nascent North Americans brewers were reformulating classics, warranting a separate taxonomic niche.

Strong, nondark beers were especially tough to put on a family tree. Old ale and barley wine were never really different historically, so brewers and beer stylists charted their own courses. Barley wine came to encompass two distinct, or at least allegedly distinct, varieties: the supposedly sweeter, less hoppy English style, and the fully hopped, drier American incarnation. Thomas Hardy’s Vintage Ale and Young’s Old Nick were held up as examples of the former, with Old Foghorn and Bigfoot the torch bearers for the latter.

As North American brewers tended to use their own homegrown hops (and lots of them) and malt, their barley wines were often very bitter and hoppily aromatic, as well as somewhat attenuated. English barley wines relied more on a malty and estery presence, subdued hoppiness and a more vinous, aged profile.

Both substyles rely heavily on light base malt, generally English pale ale or American two-row. The light to dark amber color comes from the sheer amount of malt crammed into each mash tun, slight augmentation with crystal malts (most commonly) or a prolonged boil. The extensive kettle time serves to reduce the wort to proper strength, but also imparts depth and complexity through caramelization and Maillard reactions, creating malty flavors and aromas and a degree of unfermentability. A prolonged boil may even eliminate the need for any character malts.

Obviously, English or American hops would further define the desired distinction, as would English versus American yeast. Patience is a necessity, since fermentation may be long, either due to a surfeit of fermentables and the sluggishness of yeast in the presence of the high alcohol content of the finishing beer, which weighs in from 9 to 13 percent ABV.

Like its forbears, a well-crafted barley wine will age gracefully. In that respect, perhaps the barley corn has not fallen so far from the stalk. Barley wines are particularly excellent for barrel aging, a popular technique among American brewers. It is yet another nod, intentional or not, to the conditioning of bygone strong ale, though mostly it is done now to express woody character or former contents rather than to counteract “staling” organisms.

Barley wine is rarely drunk young, so proper aging is imperative. It must be long enough to smooth out the rough edges and temper the strong flavors of such a behemoth. Archival vertical tastings are very popular among barley wine lovers, so get started on your cellar. Buy them now, and drink them next year or far into the future.

The more elusive, though, are German Kölsch and altbier of the Rhine Valley. Not only are they quite different from all other German brews, but each is also distinctive enough to be the calling card of a city, and it is this provenance that sets them apart.

The two cities that they call home, Köln (Cologne) and Düsseldorf, are separated by barely 20 miles, but the cultural differences and rivalries are great. Ironically, the two beers share some essential brewing methods, and they are both something of a challenge to make well. If you’re up to the task, they can be brewed by following a few unique and rigid guidelines. Beyond that, the possibilities are actually rather broad if you want to make some interesting and very personalized hybrids, German-accented or otherwise.

Hybrid Defined

Kölsch and altbier combine top fermentation (typical of ales) and cold conditioning (typical of lagers). I love the self-explanatory, seemingly oxymoronic designation obergaerige lagerbier (top-fermented lager beer) that is often used to refer to these two indigenous German brews.

The yeasts used for both are specialized, selected over centuries to accommodate the environs and critical to their brewing. Tailored to the mild climate of the Lower Rhine Valley, Kölsch and altbier yeast work most comfortably at 55 to 65 degrees F, conditions that suppress the fruity esters and spicy notes associated with the ales of Britain and the other top-fermented brews of Europe.

Lagering is done at a modest 40 degrees F for about four to six weeks, warmer than the near-freezing condition of bottom-fermented lagerbiers. The character of the yeast and the lagering method suggest that these strains have been culled from bottom fermenters but adapted to slightly higher temperatures (much like the California Lager yeast used to make California common).

Beyond that, brewing Kölsch and altbier is merely a matter of selecting a proper grain bill and hop schedule, and selecting one of the several yeasts available to craft your homebrew. The stickiest requirement is ensuring that the yeast is comfortable during fermentation, always a consideration, but more so with these.

Brewing Kölsch

Kölschbier is the lighter of the two, always a shade of gold. This means, of course, that it is made primarily with Continental pilsner malt, and usually that malt alone. A simple bill of pilsner malt from Germany or Belgium, mashed for high fermentability, will produce classic Kölsch. Traditional wort strength is OG 1044 to 1048. I like to mash at about 148 degrees F, leaving little residual dextrine.

Malted wheat is not a stranger to Kölschbier grist, and it will add a bit of mouthfeel and depth. A touch of Vienna malt, up to 15 percent, will also provide extra character and deeper gold color.

Should you opt for a more dextrinous brew, mash into the low 150s, or use about 5 percent dextrine malt in the grist. Caramel flavors are not part of the Kölsch profile, so stick with dextrine malt over light caramel/crystal varieties. If you use American two-row malt, light specialty or toasted malt addition is advised. Extract brewers should use the lightest malt extract available, either on its own or with a touch of wheat or Munich malt extract.

Hop rates in the low- to mid-20s provide the perfect complement to the elegant malt character. Minimal aroma hops are traditional and, in a beer this delicate, even a meager aromatic addition will be noticeable. As one who loves to make classic versions of beers, I usually stick with German low-alpha-acid varieties such as Tettnang, Hallertau, or Hersbrucker, as well as Czech Saaz for aroma. American hops with German pedigree are also acceptable.

There are several Kölsch yeasts available from both Wyeast and White Labs; all of them are highly attenuative and will serve to retain the feathery malt character that you have so ardently striven to achieve. I have found that some lend an herbal character, enhancing the hops, while others provide a soft malty and even vinous note. As always, consult the vendor specs online.