THREE PHILOSOPHERS BELGIAN STYLE BLEND: Brewery Ommegang, Cooperstown, New York. Interesting, with warm dense chocolate notes. Made with tart and juicy cherry Lambic. 9.8% ABV.
KONINGSHOEVEN QUADRUPEL TRAPPIST ALE (ALSO BREWED AS LA TRAPPE QUADRUPEL): Bierbrouwerij de Koningshoeven, Berkel-Enschot, The Netherlands. This is the beer that supposedly coined the Quadrupel name. Raisin, cranberry, and clove, with bananas on the nose and a shot of whisky at the finish. 10% ABV.
It Hurts So Good: Sour Beers
There comes a time in every beer drinker’s life when you break through a beer barrier. A time when you drink a beer that your mother never would. A time when you try a beer that makes you stop after your first sip and go, “Whoa . . . is this good or bad? Is this the best beer I’ve had in my life or has something gone terribly wrong? Is this even beer?” Yes, we’re talking about sour beers here, folks. Sour beers are at once complex and acerbic and wonderfully and painfully tart. It’s the kind of pain that fulfills your desires and keeps you coming back for more. If a Pilsner is the nice comfortable down pillow of the beer world, sour beer is the leather whip. So coordinate your safe word with your respective craft beer drinking partner(s), and let’s start experimenting with sour beers that hurt oh so good.
Ich Bin Ein Berliner Weisse
THIS BEER’S FOR YOU IF YOU LIKE: SHARP PINOT GRIGIO. RAINBOW SNOW CONES. FRUITY ESTERS. CHAMPAGNE. LOW ALCOHOL.
To ease you into sour beers, the first style we’re going to talk about is the light and refreshing beer local to the city of Berlin called (what else?) Berliner Weisse. As the Weisse in the name suggests, the majority of this beer style’s malt source comes from wheat, so this beer is technically classified as a wheat beer (see Chapter 3). However, because the flavor profile of this beer is so different from that of a typical wheat, we felt that it actually belonged in the sour beer section.
Berliner Weisse beers are known throughout Germany as summer refreshers and thirst quenchers. They are lemony and super light bodied, with an ABV usually around 3% or even less. However, in addition to using normal ale top fermentation, Berliner Weisse brewers also use a lactic bacterial fermentation called Lactobacillus (see Chapter 9), which gives this beer style a flavor punch with a sizzle of puckering sour lactic acidity, much like the zing found in wine from malic acid. In addition to the acidity, these beers are effervescent and super dry, and have virtually no hop bitterness.
Because these beers are distinctly sour, Berliner Weisse is usually served with one of two sweet syrups: Waldmeister or Himbeer. Waldmeister is made from an herb called woodruff (scientific name Galium odoratum), which is super grassy and lemony with notes of anise and vanilla. Himbeer is a raspberry syrup (the beer means “berry,” not beer, in this instance). Sometimes other syrups, fruits, wines, and liqueurs will also be used to flavor Berliner Weisse, the most popular of these being Kümmel, which is a clear sweet-flavored liqueur made with cumin, caraway seed, and fennel.
But wait just a minute. Didn’t we say earlier that the Germans have a purity law governing their beer that forbids brewers from adding any fruit or herbs to the brewing process? Well, it’s true. Brewers can’t add these syrups to Berliner Weisse, but bartenders, customers, and drinkers can. Another unusual aspect about this beer is how it’s served in Germany. This beer is typically poured into a big bowl or saucer-like chalice and (get this) sucked through a straw.
Although we like the use of syrup, as it harkens back to the use of gruit in Witbiers (see Chapter 3), we also like to have a dry, clean Berliner Weisse without the syrup. In Germany, as a visitor, it’s almost impossible to get this beer served without the syrup, and in America, it’s almost impossible to find a Berlin-style wheat (Berliner Weisse made outside of Berlin) with syrup. Either way, it’s a delicious step toward getting your feet wet in the world of sour beer. Here are some that we dig:
TELEGRAPH RESERVE WHEAT ALE: Telegraph Brewing Company, Santa Barbara, California. Uses Lactobacillus and Brettanomyces. Brewed with lemon verbena. 5% ABV.
1809 (BERLINER-STYLE WEISSE): Brauerei Weihenstephan, Freising, Germany. Lots of lemon, green apple, and grapefruit. A citrusy clean unfiltered wheat with a super-dry finish and Champagne-like carbonation. 5% ABV.
CRAFTSMAN BERLINER WEISSE: Craftsman Brewing Company, Pasadena, California. Light bodied, refreshing, crisp with bright lemon notes and just a touch of barny funk. But just a touch. 3.5% ABV.
I Feel Gueuze, I Knew That I Would
THIS BEER’S FOR YOU IF YOU LIKE: SOUR CANDY. GREEK YOGURT. FUNKY CHEESE. OLD WOODEN BARRELS. JAMES BROWN. A BLEND OF THE OLD AND NEW.
We’re about to get a little James Brown funky all up in here. And we mean funky. Why? Because the next beer style we’re offering you is just about the funkiest beer around. It’s a little beer style called Gueuze. This super-sour style has been called “barnyard,” which we like to call funky. Gueuze is a pale, dry, and obscenely complex beer, and it’s not for the faint of heart. This beer is definitely an acquired taste and will make a decision maker out of you because it evokes either love or hate. We are big fans of this style. But we were also the kind of kids who started our own “Lemon Club” in grade school, whose initiation rite was to bite into a big wedge of lemon without making a face. But we digress.
Just like the Berliner Weisse is technically in the “wrong” style category in this book by virtue of it being a wheat beer, a Gueuze should actually be in the Lambic category because this style of beer is a blend of unfruited mature Lambic (usually one to three years old) and young Lambic (possibly as young as five months old). Gueuzes are bracingly tart, stunningly sour, acridly dry, and medium bodied, usually running between 4% and 6% ABV. They are citrusy, woody, herbal, earthy, moldy, and spicy like the best stinky cheese. And unlike any other style, these beers bring the farmhouse funk with a vengeance. This beer would have James Brown shouting, “Haaaaaaaaay!”
Note: There is a pronunciation debate regarding this beer. When we asked some French winemakers how to pronounce it, they said “GOOZE.” However, we’ve also learned that the Dutch pronunciation of the word is something closer to “GER ZER.” Here are some Gueuzes you can drink to get your funk on:
LINDEMANS GUEUZE: Brouwerij Lindemans, Vlezenbeek, Belgium. Known for making very sweet Lambics, this beer is a great starter Gueuze. Not too assaulting, super dry, like a tart Champagne with brief fruit and citrus notes. 4% ABV.
CANTILLON LOU PEPE GUEUZE: Brasserie Cantillon, Brussels. A blend of one-, two-, and three-year-old Lambics. A copper orange Gueuze with grassy herbaceousness and an acidity more reminiscent of vinegar than Champagne. A more challenging Gueuze than the Lindemans. 5% ABV.
GIRARDIN 1882 BLACK LABEL: Brouwerij Girardin, Sint Ulriks-Kapelle, Belgium. Our favorite Gueuze. A funk bomb on the nose with citrus, apricot, pear. Super barnyard sour with good acidity, with green grapes and apples in the finish. 5% ABV.
Sweet and Sour Sauced: Flanders Red Ale
THIS BEER’S FOR YOU IF YOU LIKE: WINES FROM TUSCANY. SOUR BLACK CHERRIES. WONTON DIPPING SAUCE. OAK BARRELS. BALSAMIC VINEGAR.
If you find you like the sour beers, it’s time to try the Flanders Red Ale. Also called Belgian Red Ale, Flemish Red, or Old Red Ale, this style of ale hails from the western Flanders region of Belgium and uses the same kind of Lactobacillus that produces the sour flavors in some of the other sour beers. However, Flanders Red Ale distinguishes itself by using certain red, or Vienna, malts. The beer is matured, oftentimes for over a year, in large oak barrels, or tuns. It is this practice combined with the darker malts that creates the vinegar-like quality that gives Flanders Reds their exceptionally unique sweet-and-sour characteristics.
Because younger and older versions of Flanders Red are blended, similar to a Gueuze, and the permeating flavors are of dark fruits like cherries, prunes, and raisins, this beer style has prominent vinous or winey qualities, which has drawn comparisons to a Super Tuscan (a dense and tannic Italian red wine). Even though these Old Red Ales have a wi
de ABV range (4% to 8%) and can be anywhere from moderately to massively sour, you’ll know a Flanders Red Ale when you see it and taste it. Try one of these great examples:
RODENBACH: Brouwerij Rodenbach, Roeselare, Belgium. Brewed since 1836, this beer is a blend of 75% young beer and 25% aged beer. This deep, dark red-brown ale is fruity, slatey, and oaky, with a puckering tartness. 5% ABV.
DUCHESSE DE BOURGOGNE: Brouwerij Verhaeghe, Vichte, Belgium. Known as the Burgundy of Belgium; sour cherry ale, deliciously layered. A blend of 8- and 18-month-old ales. 6.2% ABV.
LA FOLIE: New Belgium Brewing Company, Fort Collins, Colorado. An American example, wood-aged and conditioned in French oak; earthy with sour apple acid and a dry finish. 6% ABV.
Born to Be Wild: American Wild Ale
THIS BEER’S FOR YOU IF YOU LIKE: RIDING AMERICAN HOGS ON THE OPEN HIGHWAY. INNOVATION. EXPERIMENTATION. A RENEGADE SPIRIT. RARE BEERS. LIMITED QUANTITIES AND NUMBERED BOTTLES.
Some innovative American brewers have headed out on the highway in pursuit of the American Wild Ale (AWA). These are American-made beer styles that might have used any kind of wild fermentation to achieve their flavor. They also sometimes use barrel-aging (see Chapter 6) and other advanced souring techniques (see Chapter 9). These beers are definitely influenced by Belgian ales and can be similar in style to any sour beer. But because sour beer styles like Lambics, Gueuze, and Berliner Weisse traditionally carry the style name that reflects their region of origin and specific ingredients, many American-made sour beers are grouped into a vaguely defined category called American Wild Ales.
So why, then, do we call La Folie (made in Colorado) a Belgian-style Flanders Red instead of an American Wild Ale? What’s the difference? Well, from what we have gleaned in tasting these beers, what the beer is called and how it’s classified into a style really comes down to the beer’s trueness to a particular style. La Folie, for instance, is brewed as a very true Flanders Red style, with little variation from the traditional and quintessential style parameters. American Wild Ales, in contrast, have a tendency to be a bit more experimental and usually have more intense flavors and higher alcohol contents, ranging anywhere from 6% to 12% ABV.
American Wild Ales are an exciting trend in the American craft world. With this style, the artist that exists in every craft brewer can come out to play. Many of these experimental beers are released in limited amounts (sometimes just once a year) and, because of their deli ciousness and their rarity, have developed a cult-like following. We know—we’re cult members! Try some of our favorite AWAs that get our motors runnin’:
LA ROJA: Jolly Pumpkin Artisan Ales, Dexter, Michigan. Amber AWA, brewed in the Flanders tradition. Earthy and funky with notes of caramel. The barrel-aging brings out the sour fruit notes. Aged from 2 to 10 months. 7.2% ABV.
RUSSIAN RIVER CONSECRATION: Russian River Brewing Company, Santa Rosa, California. This sour AWA is aged for six months in Cabernet Sauvignon barrels; currants added to the brewing process. Earthy, funky, sour, complex dark fruit profile. 10.5% ABV.
PISSAMAUVAIS: Cambridge Brewing Company, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Named for the famed “wicked pissah” expletive uttered proudly by many a Bostonian. Medium bodied and tasty, with smoky, toasty, woody notes and a sour finish. 7% ABV.
Beers That Bite Back
You thought sour was serious? Well, get ready to rumble, because these bitter beers will teach your tongue a thing or two. If you are into hops in a big way, these will be your good friends on your Beer Journey. Careful about sharing these babies with neophytes, though; they might not be ready yet. An über-bitter beer can be a rude awakening to someone who is not well-adjusted to the hop experience. But if you feel it’s time, and if you think you are ready, then go ahead and take the plunge into these frisky ales, and feel the wicked pleasure in the punch of hops.
A Hoppy Ending: American IPAs, Double IPAS,
and American Strong Ales
THIS BEER’S FOR YOU IF YOU LIKE: BITTER DRINKS. BITTERNESS. BEING BITTER. HOPS. MORE HOPS. HOP-HEADS. HIGH ALCOHOL. THE RED, WHITE, AND BLUE. BOLD MOVES. AND DID WE MENTION BITTERNESS?
As we told you in Chapter 4, British IPAs and Bitters are not nearly as bitter as our American-style IPAs. American IPAs tend to boast a big hop profile. Perhaps this is because we Americans turn the rock ’n’ roll way up; we add extra sauce to everything, we can throw a flashy half-time show like nobody else, and our fireworks are always bigger than theirs. Whatever the case, extreme craft beers seem to be much more popular in America than anywhere else, and hoppy beers are a huge part of that genre.
Once hop lovers developed a taste for big IPAs, they wanted more; enter the Double IPA (often called Imperial IPA; see page 148). An all American invention, a Double IPA boasts nearly double the hops and alcohol of an IPA. These beers are also bigger and much more bitter, offering an intense experience all around. The hop flavor profile can vary depending on the hops: grapefruit, grass, apricot, marijuana, and so on. Some Double IPAs overdose on just a couple different kinds of hops, whereas others use three or more different varieties. The secondary flavor behind the hops in a Double IPA varies, from rich caramel to deep toffee to bold fruit. Though this can be considered a rather lopsided style, some Double IPAs are more balanced than others. Some flow seamlessly between bitterness and toffee sweetness or fruit; others can be all hops and no balance. The latter can make more than a sip unbearable (unless you’re a hop-head).
Double IPAs are nothing to fear, and no one expects most newly baptized craft beer drinkers to make them a regular in the fridge. But they are great for those days when you just want something to shock the system. Those days when you want to erase the memories of work, of being stuck in traffic for three hours, or of a bounced check, take one sip of a super-hoppy Double IPA and everything else seems to disappear.
Beyond the IPA and Double IPA are other hoppy beers that don’t necessarily fit a specific style. Beers like the (in)famous Arrogant Bastard, classified as an American Strong Ale, have a high hop profile and a nice dark-roasted malt presence. Many seasonal beers, often Christmas Ales, also have a big hop presence. This may be due to the seasonally appropriate pine-tree smell of northwest hops. Sierra Nevada’s winter offering, Celebration, is considered an IPA with its intensely bitter, piney taste.
HOW TO TELL IF YOU’RE A HOP-HEAD
Do you ask for a bitter beer every time you go to the bar? Do you think American Pale Ales are watery? Do you think most IPAs are too sweet? Do you think all styles of beer are better when they’re more bitter? Do you get all excited when you hear the phrases dry-hopped and wet-hopped? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may consider yourself a hop-head. Hop-heads tend to be beer drinkers who can immediately acclimate to the bitterness of hops. These are people who have no problem with the intense flavors of any American-style IPA. These people often pooh-pooh more mild beers and seek out the extreme hop offerings from any craft brewery. They gravitate toward beers with hop written all over the label.
These beer lovers seem to dominate the craft beer websites; their addiction to hops drives them to rate hoppy beers the highest, which can sometimes skew the rating system. And indeed, we feel that the American beer rating system grades on a high-hop curve. This isn’t necessarily bad, but it can be misleading for those who don’t have such love for the super-bitter. We hear many a hop-head recommend bitter beers to unsuspecting new craft beer drinkers, which can lead to a bad beer incident, leaving new beer drinkers with the impression that all craft beers are super-bitter. So while we appreciate the hop-heads as a strong force in beer—hell, we love a good Double IPA ourselves—we encourage the hop-heads out there to admit their addiction and respect differing palates.
Whether or not people are predisposed to liking hops, most craft beer drinkers go through a hop-head phase. After people get past the “I don’t like bitter beers” phase, they start to crave that all-encompassing bitter mouthfeel. It’s a fun phase, challenging fellow drinkers to find the ho
ppiest out there. This is definitely a milestone in your beer growth. Loving hops means you can handle pretty much any beer (the next milestone perhaps being the sour beer phase); however, most beer drinkers move past this point and learn to appreciate the dry, less bitter Belgian hops, seeking out a more nuanced, balanced beer, reserving Double IPAs for the rare occasion when their hop-lover past rears its ugly head. True hop-heads never move past the hoppy milestone; they have found happiness there and set up camp. We don’t mean to say that they are immature in the beer world, just that they have found fulfillment in a certain style of beer and don’t feel the need to look further.
Here are a few of the best of the bitter:
RACER 5 IPA: Bear Republic Brewing Company, Healdsburg, California. Our favorite West Coast IPA. Well balanced, with juicy hops and a fruity background. Great with food and refreshing on a sunny California day. 8% ABV.
MASALAMAMA IPA: Minneapolis Town Hall Brewery, Minneapolis, Minnesota. The Midwest favorite; bitter with three different kinds of hops, caramel and citrus in the background. 5.9% ABV.
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