The distinction between top- and bottom-fermented beers is familiar to all homebrewers, but the term “hybrid” is often met with curiosity. And while many of our styles were forged by the clash of ingredients, technology, and local and outside influences, there are a few that are defined by their own duality. California common and cream ale are two that Americans can claim as true hybrids.
Fall always offers a chance to kickstart that homebrewing motor. We can take advantage of the cooler fermentation temperatures and move from heat-slaying brews to something more rich and substantial to pair with invigorating weather and culinary traditions of autumn. Of course, Thanksgiving is the culmination, a grand finale to the harvest and an ushering in of winter. Crackling fires, toasty kitchens and the earthy aromas of the outdoors beg for a brew to match the ambience.
I am an unabashed lager lover. My first beer epiphany came from a glass of Hacker-Pschorr Dunkel in the mid-1970s. A few years later, homebrewing brought the giddy realization that I could brew my own. Much has changed on the homebrew front in the past 25 years, making the chasm between commercial and homebrewed lagers a matter of brewing skill. The equipment and know-how is the same, but the availability of top-notch ingredients has eliminated all compromise. We now have the option of making authentic, classic versions with ingredients from Germany, the Czech Republic, Belgium, the United States, Canada and England. The initial hardware investment, a refrigerator or freezer unit and temperature regulator, is modest and all that is needed beyond routine brewing equipment. A little patience and extra attention will also help. Read More…
No brewing culture mirrors that of the homebrewing community quite like that of Belgium. The romantic perception is that Belgian brews are closer to their agrarian and monastic roots. Romantic and idiosyncratic, it is a parallel universe that homebrewers can relate to since their own creations are based on personal whim and unconventional ingredients, not to mention the intimacy of the homestead. Witbier (Flemish for white beer), or biere blanche (French) fits this philosophy perfectly, with its rough-hewn yet delicate profile, infusion of exotica and rustic ingredients. It is a style that can be highly personalized, made in relative traditional fashion to fend off the blazing summer heat or used as a canvas to create infinite interpretations.
A few years back, everybody and his brother were brewing up red ales and naming them after some furry woodland critter, hoping to make a fast buck in the microbrew biz. Most of the brews went skulking back into the forest after the boom faded, and that’s probably a good thing, because many of them were pretty insipid. The style has more potential than demonstrated by this superficial craze.
