Wild Yeast

Chris White and Jamil Zainasheff’s Yeast: The Practical Guide to Beer Fermentation is a thorough review of the subject of yeast, with the practical (home)brewer in mind. It is mostly a treatment of commercial brewer’s yeast but there are some interesting observations about wild yeast, too. The authors define wild yeast as yeast “that is not in the brewer’s control.” For example, commercial Brettanomcyes is not wild yeast but native strains of Saccharomyces that (unintentionally) are introduced during cooling of the wort or barrel aging would be. Of course, today’s commercial strains of Brettanomyces may still have a lot in common with yeasts that are found in the wild, but one could imagine a scenario where the use of Brettanomyces becomes so popular that commercial yeast sellers increasingly select these strains for certain properties. As a consequence, wild yeast is not characterized by its aroma and flavor properties (such as tartness or funkiness) but by its involvement in (ambient) spontaneous fermentation.

There are a number of distinct traits that have been retained in wild yeast. Wild yeasts are usually diploid, form spores, and are still capable of mating. Commercial yeast, in contrast, has lost this ability because mainstream brewers desire consistent characteristics from their yeast. Wild yeast usually has low flocculation, which can produce higher attenuation because the yeasts will not quickly drop or rise in the wort. In commercial yeast, however, such a property is not desirable for many beer styles, where a quick and clean beer is the goal.  Unlike wild yeasts, which have evolved to compete against each other, commercial yeast can often co-exist and ferment at similar rates.

The book also includes sections on Brettanomyces and capturing wild yeast. Although the name Dekkera is often used interchangeably with Brettanomyces, it is only Brettanomyces that is of the non-spore forming type. One of the intriguing things about Brettanomyces, much to the chagrin of wine makers, is that it produces the enzyme Beta-glucosidase, which can convert the wood sugar cellobiose into glucose, a phenomenon that is more prevalent in new barrels that have higher concentrations of cellobiose. Brettanomyces is quite sensitive to oxygen, with moderate concentrations most favorable to its growth, and lower and higher concentrations, unfavorable. Increased oxygen produces more acetic acid as a fermentation product.

Instead of inoculating wort with commercial Brett, some (home)brewers aim to capture real wild yeast for fermentation. There is no shortage of methods for doing this, including ambient exposure of the wort, fermentation in “infected” barrels, the use of wild fruit and herbs to start fermentation, or using dregs from the bottles of traditional lambic brewers. Of course, such methods usually introduce souring bacteria as well, and the art is to discover and perfect a method that leads to consistent, favorable outcomes. Because many brewers prefer not to waste multiple batches of wort on spontaneous fermentation experiments, and the yeast captured in the wild may not be sufficient to start a healthy fermentation, one approach is to create ambient spontaneous starters (there is a lot of information about creating conventional starters in the book). At this stage, such efforts are still largely the work of some adventurous (home)brewers, and documentation of such efforts is still in its early stages (the Mad Fermentationist blog is an excellent resource). In the case of spontaneous starters it is important to avoid sampling at an early stage, where aerobic conditions, higher pH, and low alcohol still permit the presence of dangerous pathogens.

Because the book is mostly written for brewers who have control over their yeast and fermentation, a lot of information is not completely applicable to brewers who use spontaneous fermentation or incorporate spontaneous fermentation. But there is some information that is interesting for “wild” brewers as well. For example, proper wort aeration is important for healthy yeast growth but brewers who use barrels for (primary) fermentation may have problems in getting enough dissolved oxygen at the start of fermentation. The authors report on a New Belgium method where olive oil was added to the wort to supply the sterols that yeast cell membranes require for proper structure and function. One also wonders how the use of coolships (with their large surface to volume ratio) influences initial wort aeration. Temperature is another topic that affects conventional brewers as well as those using wild yeast. As far as I am aware, traditional lambic brewing does not necessarily exclude temperature control, but I think it is safe to assume that most fermenting lambic wort is subject to substantial seasonal and overnight temperature changes that would be contra-indicated for conventional brewers (Cantillon’s Jean-Pierre Van Roy once looked horrified when I asked him about active temperature control). It would be quite helpful to quantify and characterize the effect of ambient temperature fluctuations on wild yeast and bacterial growth, fermentation, and flavor.

Much of the information on yeast growth, handling, storage, and labs is not applicable to spontaneous fermentation but some of the techniques (such as wild yeast tests and forced fermentation) can be used by adventurous brewers to study wild yeast and the conditions that influence spontaneous fermentation. Ultimately, there is an increasing need for an extensive book treatment on (home)brewing with non-conventional and wild yeast. Modifying or ignoring (!) procedures for brewing with domesticated yeast will only take you so far, and the homebrew recipes that can be found in some classic lambic and wild beer books give little guidance about expected fermentation behavior and troubleshooting. Of course, no matter how much our knowledge about spontaneous fermentation grows, beer that is produced in this way will always have more variability than beer that is produced with domesticated yeast under highly controlled conditions. But this is also one of its strengths, and like authentic wine, can lead to surprising results. Many readers of this blog will agree that the best beer in this world remains a product of spontaneous fermentation. If you brew conventional beer in addition to wild beer, Yeast is an invaluable resource.


New Belgium Le Terroir

Sour beer does not commit one to a particular malt or hop bill. It is possible to leave out the wheat (Cantillon Iris), add oats (Cantillon Zwanze 2010), or (partially) substitute fresh hops for aged hops (Cantillon Iris). Jef van der Steen has documented that traditional lambic brewers did not always exclusively utilized aged hops. But there is a difference between allowing (a portion) of fresh hops with low alpha-acids that add little to the bitterness of the beer and explicitly aiming to add hop bitterness to a sour beer. Cantillon’s Iris is currently the finest example of a sour beer with subtle hop notes, but the sheer amount of hop varieties and (dry) hopping suggest endless possibilities.

I was quite pleased to see that New Belgium had bottled Le Terroir for its Lips of Faith series because it was my favorite non-lambic sour beer at the 2009 Belmont Station Puckerfest. Le Terroir is a sour ale that is dry hopped with Amarillo hops. The New Belgium website also indicates that Target  hops were used during the boil. Le Terroir has a very distinct aroma, unlike anything I have ever smelled in a sour ale. The sweet and peachy Amarillo hops are certainly there and there is also a little wood. I did not detect any signs of brettanomyces yeast in either the aroma or the taste. Le Terroir does not hold back on the (lactic) sour scale, which makes for an interesting combination with the earthy green notes in the beer. Light bodied and smooth (oats), the beer ends with a fairly long sour/bitter finish. Its alcohol content puts it somewhere between a real session beer and a sipper.

With the exception of Cantillon’s Iris (and perhaps Cantillon Mamouche) I have little context to go on as far as imparting green notes to sour beers is concerned. If such brews become more prevalent I doubt that Amarillo will be my favorite hop to use, but as someone who is quite interested in imparting an herbal character to wild beers, I am quite impressed. I did have a hard time establishing whether wild yeasts were present and perhaps some additional “barnyard” character could have improved the beer. Le Terroir certainly induces one to ponder the topic of harmony versus contrast in sour beers.  This is a very interesting beer from New Belgium, and the best I have ever tasted from them.


Vrienden

Vrienden (Dutch / Flemish for friends) is a “collabeeration” between New Belgium and Allagash in the Lips of Faith series. The bottle identifies brettanomyces, lactobacillus, hibiscus flower, and endive (!) as the main players in this brew. Depending on the relative contributions of these components and the brewing process, the results could range from a distinctly herbal sour beer to a more balanced product. New Belgium and Allagash definitely aimed for the latter and the result is quite pleasing. The beer spots a clear (filtered?) red / copper color and pours with a good head that dissipates quickly. The aroma showcases yeast, flowers, cinnamon and spice. Not terribly complex, but the combination works for me. For an 8.5% alcohol beer it tastes surprisingly clean and refreshing, with some rather distinct green apple notes. The initial light tartness gives way to creamy apple to end with a long grainy and spicy finish. There is some bitterness (the endive?) but I was not surprised to discover that Target and Cascade hops clocked in at only 12.2 IBU. The low hop use allows the brettanomyces,  lactobacillus, and hibiscus to express themselves quite nicely.

Sometimes brewers offer colorful descriptions for experiments that may have been better off to remain at the brewery, but in this case their own characterization of the beer captures the restraint and balanced nature of this beer very well, including their recommendation to pair it with soft, creamy cheese. I would have preferred a more intense, sour interpretation of this beer personally, but the brewers have conveyed that such an attempt reduced the hibiscus notes. Connoisseurs of rustic barnyard and raging acidity should look elsewhere.


A celebration of sour beers

I have been reluctant to write about Belmont Station’s 2010 Puckerfest because there were few local sour beers on tap that I find appealing, and this opinion is not due to a lack of trying! I still am not aware of any Pacific Northwest brewer who can consistently produce a good consistent sour ale. I am inclined to think that this is the result of the tendency to engage in excessive experimentation in the world of microbrewing. Experimentation is great for innovation but the usual order of things is to master the basic style first. One of the sour ales on tap tasted like the soft drink Fanta, another one displayed a rather unsuccessful combination of brett and oak, and one brew could only be classified as “theoretical” because it probably sounded good on paper, but the execution left a lot to be desired. Like last year, I liked the Russian River and New Belgium brews the best. New Belgium has the annoying, but understandable, habit of producing its best beers in tap-only limited quantities, although their more available La Folie is a serious contender for the best sour ale in the United States.

One real problem for the American sour beer consumer is that even the better producers like Russian River have to release their beers with a price tag that is usually higher than, let’s say, a great traditional Gueuze blender like Hanssens – and that is after import from Belgium to the United States! It is interesting to note that the Pacific Northwest is plagued by a similar curse in the case of wine. Pinot Noir is a notoriously challenging grape to grow and the price reflects this. For a fraction of the price of a decent Oregon Pinot Noir, good organic reds from France are available at local wine retailers like Liner & Elsen. This should not be read as a United States vs. Europe issue. The United States can claim some world class beers (Deschutes’ Green Lakes, Russian River’s Pliny the Elder, Great Divide’s Yeti Imperial Stout) but I am not holding my breath for an affordable year-round top-notch sour ale anytime soon.

At this point in time, Portland’s best local sour drink on tap (!) remains Kombucha.


Belmont Station Puckerfest 2009

One of the most interesting innovations at Cantillon are the Lou Pepe lambics. Unlike the traditional gueuze, which is made by blending lambics of various ages, the Lou Pepe beers are made by blending 2 year old mellow lambics from wine barrels.  This method produces a wonderful “gueuze” that is distinguished by its  smooth and elegant character.

There is no young beer to start fermentation so the Lou Pepe beers are  fermented through the addition of a sweet liquor. This fermentation method opens up the possibility of creating distinct fruit lambics with a higher proportion of fruit (300 grams instead of 200 grams per liter). Since this is Cantillon, the fruit is completely fermented (Trimbach-style) producing an intense fruity lambic that has more emphasis on the acidity and fruit than the Brett. These beers should be consumed at a relatively young age to experience the expressive fruit notes.

It is rare to find lambic on tap in the United States. It is even rarer to find traditional lambic on tap. And is it extremely rare to find Cantillon Lou Pepe Framboise on tap. Therefore, it was extremely encouraging that Belmont Station in Portland tapped a keg of this beer during its annual celebration of sour beers called “Puckerfest.”

Another debut at Belmont Station was New Belgium’s “Le Terroir.” Le Terroir turned out to be a pleasant surprise.  Presenting itself with a golden-orange lambic-like color, the beer fused grapefruit and lemon with hops. This medium bodied, moderately carbonated beer had a fascinating tart taste of grapefruit and tangerine, more reminiscent of a traditional lambic than a Flemish Red. Great drinkability. Less obscure is New Belgium’s “La Folie,” a Flemish Red that gives most Belgium beers of this style a run for their money. Dark red and brownish with an aroma of brown sugar, vinegar and wood, La Folie has a soft taste and light tannins; the sweeter brother of Le Terrroir. If Le Terroir announces the end of summer, La Folie rings in the beginning of autumn.

It is impossible to beat Cantillon so Belmont Station should be praised for tapping another great beer of their impressive line-up; Saint Lamvinus, a lambic made with merlot and cabernet-franc grapes. Sporting a cherry  red color, this beer has the classic Cantillon signature aroma of brett and focused acidity but more vinous. Like all great lambics, mouthfeel is on the lighter side and carbonation is moderate with a slightly astringent aftertaste. It cannot get any better than this.

The real surprise of the event, however, was Le Terroir, the best New Belgium creation I have tasted to date. This is yet another example of the magic that is possible when wild yeast and hops meet.

Professional obligations prevented me from sampling some of the other beers on tap. As much as I like the idea of supporting the local “sour” beers, as a general rule, most of them are just too sweet and “boozy” for my liking and no amount of innovation or complexity can make up for that. For a thoughtful review of some of the beers that were on tap, see Beervana.

The prospect of sampling new sour and wild ales gave me some pause to reflect. I think that most craft beer drinkers enjoy the idea of a brewer trying “something different” and releasing all kinds of seasonal and experimental brews, but I find myself more drawn to the idea of brewing one basic style and mastering it. This may explain my preference for brewers with a distinct house style like Deschutes (brewer of the magnificent Green Lakes amber ale) and Sierra Nevada. And what else do most traditional lambic brewers do than create gueuze and kriek? When any special releases are made available to the general public, these are typically hand selected vintages or lazy lambics (Loerik, Doesjel). Like a good wine, the wonder of lambic is the subtle variability that is associated with the brewing process. Things happen but one does not “push the sound around” as the American minimalist composer Morton Feldman once put it.

Less is more.