Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

Now that I have spent a couple of months easing you outside the barley beer blinkers, showing that other grains work well in beer, I now want to blow your mind and tell you that you don’t need barley at all to make beer. Good news for people who have Celiac disease or are otherwise gluten intolerant, who still possess the right to drink good beer (that’s in the Charter of Rights somewhere, right?)

Most of you have heard of gluten-free beer, but you may not know much about it. What is it made of? How do they get rid of the gluten? That is why I am here. Step one. What is gluten? It is a protein – more accurately an amalgam of two proteins (gliadin and glutenin) – found in some grass-like grains, most famously barley, wheat and rye. Gluten is the stuff that allows bread dough to rise without collapsing on its self and makes bread all chewy and yummy.

Gluten is an important nutrient for the human body. However for approximately one percent of the population, they have an auto-immune reaction to it. Again, for the sake of accuracy, the offending protein is actually gliadin, but since the two hang out together all the time they both take the rap. Reactions are quite varied, but never pleasant. So, it is a good thing to avoid all gluten if you have celiac disease. Until recently that meant living without beer – a harsh fate.

So what do they use? Well, obviously, grains that don’t have gluten – rice, sorghum, millet, buckwheat, teff, corn (oats don’t have gluten either, but often are contaminated with other grains processed at the same plant). As we learned last time, these grains, too, can be malted, mashed and used in beer. And, as we also learned, they will infuse their own special characteristics to the beer, making it taste quite different than barley beer. Hops, water, yeast and other adjuncts like honey or fruit are all good to go as well.

Let me state right here that making gluten-free beer is not easy. Barley took over the brewing world 1000 years ago because it is so damned well suited for it: its husk provides a natural filter bed, it contains more fermentable starches than other grains, it is high yielding and its flavour is soft and pleasant. Take that away and you have some extra work to do.

I will spare you the beer geek details about how to malt these grains and the steps you need to successfully prepare them for beer. Just trust me when I say that gluten-free brewers have to work extra hard. Plus these non-traditional grains are far more expensive than barley (and you need to use more to make up for the reduced sugar levels), so don’t go looking for buck-a-beer on the gluten-free shelf.

I hasten to add that there is a big difference between gluten-free beer and low-gluten beer. Some companies have tried to blur the line between the two, which is an unethical, potentially dangerous practice. A particularly bad seed on this front is Sapporo, who has publicly proclaimed that their beer is gluten-free because it contains a high proportion of corn. It. Is. Not.

All big macro lagers, like Sapporo because they use corn to lighten the body and their costs, will have less gluten than an all-barley craft brew. That is just logical. But that may not help a celiac, some of whom react to gluten at levels lower than 10 ppm. Any barley-based beer is going to have higher than that.
My survey of available gluten-free beer suggests that the most popular grains are sorghum, rice, a smaller amount of buckwheat, and some back up from corn. Thankfully there are few, diverse gluten-free breweries available in Alberta. In all there are nine beer, and there is more diversity than you might expect or fear. Yes, most – like Frio and Estrelle Damm Daura – are simply trying to duplicate the light-flavoured lagers that appeal to the majority of the market. A few try to do something different. Bard’s goes for a blonde ale taste, and the Green’s line is inspired by Belgian brewing methods.

I have sampled a few. When drinking them I think it is important to push out of your mind the barley-based equivalent, for the unusual grains will, as I have said, create their own flavours. They are not fabulous beer on the whole, but if it is your only option I can imagine you look upon them more favourably.

The gluten-free beer business is in its infancy. I trust that in time the beer will get better and gluten intolerant beer fans will end up with craft-brewed quality beer. Let’s hope so. Now I need to go lobby my MP for a beer amendment to the Charter.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

Last month I extolled the virtues of wheat as a companion ingredient to the staple barley. What I didn’t tell you then was that virtually any grain can be used for beer, at least in some proportion. Well, not quite – so don’t rip up your lawn and toss it in the mash tun. More biologically accurate is that you can brew with members of the Poaceae family of grasses, which includes barley, wheat, oats, rye, corn, rice, buckwheat, sorghum, millet, triticale and quinoa. (Yes, I know that you can brew with other non-grain additives that have mashable starches, such as potatoes, squashes and yams, but ignore that footnote for now.)

Barley was chosen historically for its hardiness, high starch and sugar content and pleasant flavour. But, just as with wheat, you don’t have to let historical convenience stop you. Most brewers haven’t. You will commonly find beer made with oats or rye and, of course, the big corporate brewers use corn and rice to lighten both the body and the hit on their wallets. More rarely you will find beer made with other grains, such as buckwheat, triticale or sorghum. In most cases these grains are a small proportion of the grist – 5-15%. Their purpose is to add a special quality to the beer but still allow barley to dominate the flavour.

In fact, there are some styles, both historic and modern, that explicitly call for the addition of one of these grains. The German style Roggenbier (roggen is German for rye) must have rye malt in it. And you can’t make an oatmeal stout without oats, can you? Small-scale African brewers still make a beer with the ancient grain “teff”, which I am told makes a sharp, quenching beer and is usually drank while still in mid-fermentation. It is important to understand that the addition of oats or rye or teff is not a marketing ploy, but an active attempt on the part of the brewer to alter the experience you will get from drinking their beer.

Let’s walk through a couple of the more common alternative grains found in beer. Obviously corn is the most ubiquitous, as it is used in most macro-lagers. There can be completely legitimate purposes for using corn (more accurately “maize”) – I use it occasionally myself in my homebrewing. Corn ferments out almost entirely, leaving very few traces of itself. Consequently it is perfect for lightening the body of a beer without compromising alcohol. In a cream ale or an English ordinary bitter, corn can make the beer appear more subtle and nuanced. I am pretty sure Fuller’s uses corn in its organic Honey Dew ale to great effect.

Rice is more rare, famously used in Budweiser. It, too, ferments out completely but offers a touch of sharp flavour in its remains. This gives Bud a taste ever so slightly different than other adjunct-laden beer. Some recent arrivals from Japanese microbreweries use rice very differently. By varying which rice they use – white, red, brown – they can create stronger rice impressions that allow rice to become a full partner in the beer. Hitachino Nest, in particular, has some interesting variations of rice beer.

Rye is most commonly compared to wheat in its impact on beer, it has become particularly popular in recent years. Maybe it is appropriate in Canada given that generally our whiskey is made from rye. I find rye has some wheat characteristics, but offers its own profile. It, too, adds an earthy sharpness to a beer. But I also believe it to be spicier and more assertive than wheat. I find it can be quite angular in its presentation, with some pepper and arugula tones. In general rye adds complexity and depth to a beer. I understand why you want to avoid fruit with rye, and maybe instead go for peppercorn, as Dieu Du Ciel does with Route des Epices.

The final common grain is my favourite – oats. Oats are head killers, due to their residual oils, but I love how they soften a beer and create a silkiness to the body not achievable any other way. They work well in stouts as they counter the astringent dark malts to create a multi-dimensional profile for the beer. In lighter beers they add a soft background to make the beer more quaffable. Oats are quite versatile and can be added, in small quantities, to almost any style without wrecking it. St. Ambroise Oatmeal Stout is probably the best example of how to use oats as a compliment to other flavours.

I have known brewers to use other grains like sorghum, millet and the like in their beer. I tried triticale a couple of times as a replacement for wheat. Each brings its own unique properties to the beer, which can only enhance the drinker’s experience of the beer.

Note I have, for the moment, left out the whole world of gluten-free beer, which makes full use of these alternative grains. That is the topic for next time.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

Everyone knows that the most important ingredient in beer is barley. Sure, brewers might throw some oats or rye into the mash to add a unique flavour or mouthfeel. Or they might toss in some flaked corn or rice to lighten the body (and, if they are a big corporate brewer, to lower the cost). These are all valid additions to beer, but none change the fact that the bulk of their grain bill will consist of malted barley. None of those other grasses can anchor a beer.

But there is one grain that can muscle barley to the side and dominate the ingredient list in a beer. Wheat. Yes, in certain styles wheat might get co-billing on the marquee or even majority attention. As it is summertime, the perfect season for wheat beer, I want to look a little closer at barley’s little sister in this lesson.

Wheat has been with us for thousands of years (along with barley). Earliest evidence of its domestication goes back 9000 years ago in what is now Turkey, although most experts think it was intentionally cultivated long before that. And whenever humans cultivate grain, alcoholic refreshment made from that grain is surely not far behind.

Wheat has always been a part of brewing traditions, going back to the Sumerians. So it is only natural that it continues to be a significant ingredient today.  In fact the oldest brewer operating today is a wheat brewery. Weihenstephan, a former German monastery, has been around since 1040. Sadly, Weihenstephan is not available in Alberta.

Wheat contains much higher proportions of protein than barley, which create complications for mashing and for achieving a clear beer. Also wheat is huskless also presenting malting and mashing concerns. The husks in barley create a natural filter bed, while wheat can get gummed up, messing with the brew day. It is this problematic no-husk quality that likely led brewers to gravitate to barley over time. No beer is 100% wheat, for all the reasons stated above. To be classified as a “wheat beer” it must contain at least 30% wheat and preferably more than 50%. You can get as high as 70% if you want.

Enough pesky science. What does wheat do for a beer? I argue it does three things. First, it alters the flavour, giving a sharper, more earthy sweetness It adds a refreshing edge to a beer, lightening the sweetness and body. Second it assists head retention, allowing for rocky, longstanding heads that give a beer an impressive look. Third, it resists clarification. All that extra protein in wheat hangs around post-fermentation and can create significant cloudiness in beer, if not aggressively filtered. This doesn’t necessarily change the flavour of the beer, although I think it does contribute to the sharper impression a wheat beer leaves.

You will note I didn’t talk about fruitiness, clove, spiciness or any of the other flavours often associated with wheat beer. That is because that is not the wheat talking, but the strains of yeast used to produce wheat beer. If we remember that beer styles evolved and shifted over time, then it makes sense why particular yeasts or other brewing practices have become associated with wheat. Over time brewers learned that some things complimented wheat, others did not.

For example, the light body wheat imparts is well-suited for fruit additions and for gentle spiciness. Big bitterness however, is likely to clash, creating too much harshness.  Consequently wheat beer are always lightly hopped.

There are five broad styles that rely heavily on wheat. First is what most Canadians would associate with wheat beer - American Wheat. Here we see wheat most clearly. The yeast is ordinary, only the malt bill changes.  Grasshopper might be the most well known of this style. Although a more flavourful version is Wild Rose’s Velvet Fog. Often we find American wheats spiked with fruit to create a refreshing summer drink.

Throw a special yeast in that beer however and you get the classic German Weizen. Special yeast produces banana and clove qualities that turn the beer into something unique. Weizen is actually a family of styles, varying by colour, strength and serving appearance, but sharing that fruity, spicy character.

As usual the Belgians go their own route, using unmalted wheat to produce Witbier. They also add orange, coriander and other spices to produce a more citrusy, delicate wheat beer. Hoegaarden is the original Witbier, but you must try Unibroue’s Blanche de Chambly or St. Bernardus’ Wit as more assertive examples.

The last two are officially wheat beer, but grain takes a back seat. Berliner Weisse is low alcohol, sour and, sadly, not available in western Canada. Lambics are also made with a significant portion of wheat. However, after all its spontaneous fermentation, oak aging and inoculation with wild yeasts and bacteria, this intensely tart, complex beer is less about wheat and more about process. Cantillon is the best example possible.

Wheat is perfect for summer because it increases the quenching factor in beer, plus most are light bodied and fresh. So this summer order a wheat ale and tip your glass to barley’s little sister - finally getting the credit she deserves.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

So in the last few “Beer 101″ I looked at beer freshness, staleness and how to determine its age, all for the purpose of helping you determine when your beer is at its best. This month I want to finish this particular unit by looking at special beer meant for storing over many years.

Twenty years ago a western Canadian was unlikely to find any beer appropriate for cellaring. However, times change and today your favourite beer store (and we know which one that is) stocks dozens of beer appropriate for storing until a special occasion. These are beer that will not only survive, but get better with age. And, no, it is not O’keefe’s Extra Old Stock (can you even buy that stuff anymore??) .

What makes a beer age-able? Two features. First, is alcohol content. Most cellared beers have an alcohol content above 7-8%. The alcohol acts as a preservative by killing any invading life forms, and allowing the beer’s natural components (like residual sugar) to persist over a longer period of time.

I should quickly mention that there are a few exceptions to this rule. Lambics and Bieres de Garde, which are spontaneously fermented and taste quite tart and sour, can also last decades, despite being only 4-5% alcohol. They are the exception. Their high acidic environment is just as lethal to unwanted organisms as alcohol, and so they can age for years. The perfect example is the new line available at Sherbrooke from Cantillon in Belgium. While expensive, they provide the best example of lambic I have tasted.

But I digress. The second necessary quality is complexity. The beer needs to be brewed with an eye for a multi-dimensional richness - with a number of malt varieties, interesting hops and other flavours. The key here is that you need a lot going on in the beer if it is going to survive the aging period.

Because what happens during aging (just like wine) is the flavours blend, mellow and shift. Hops become less assertive, malts take on different qualities and new flavours introduce themselves. If a beer is one-dimensional (even if well-made), there is little to alchemize and the beer will not improve. So, you need to start with a bold beer, one that has the fortitude to stick its chest out at Father Time and declare “do your best!”

It can be a magical process. Malts that at first seem too overpowering in their diversity blend and mellow, forming a symbiotic sweetness. Hops that early on rip the skin off the roof of your mouth become less aggressive and submit to a supporting role. Even the dreaded oxidation (when beer reacts with oxygen to create off-flavours) works. Instead of turning into some insipid liquid cardboard, like most beer would, in an aging beer oxidation creates sherry and dark fruit notes which add complexity and a wine character.

So what are the main styles that can be aged? It is important to divide them into two categories - medium-term aging and long-term aging. Medium-term aging beers are Dopplebocks, Strong Scotch Ales, Baltic Porters and Imperial IPAs. These are all beers with higher alcohol content which allows them to survive for a year or maybe two. But each carries a characteristic that does it in eventually. For example, Imperial IPAs depend on a big hop aroma and bitterness. That fades with time. Dopplebocks are rich and sweet, but do not have sufficient bitterness to prevent a breakdown of the malt quality.

Long-term beer are Old Ales, Barley Wines, Russian Imperial Stouts (RIS), and Belgian Dubbels, Tripels and Quadrupels (and their relatives). Each is age-able over the long term for different reasons. Old Ales and Barley Wines have a malt complexity that grows old with wine-like grace. RIS’s are just so honking big that it takes time for all their flavours to come to compromise. And Belgian beers have their funky, spicy yeast qualities which keep working on the beer over time. How long is long? Well let’s talk about 10 to 50 years.

What are some good examples of cellar beer? I personally keep a few bottles of every Olde Deuteronomy from Alley Kat for aging (for three reasons: it is local, it is relatively inexpensive for a barley wine and it is a great example of the style), but also collect Thomas Hardy’s Ale, Fuller’s Vintage Ale, anything big from St. Bernardus or Westmalle, or the many quality seasonal offerings, like Wild Rose Barley Wine, Half Pints Burley Wine and Brooklyn’s Local series (One and Two). Plus there are a number of worthy RIS’s and other Belgians you could put aside if so inclined.

So finally, how best to store cellared beers. Keep them upright in a location where they are not exposed to light. Cellar temperatures are best (10-15 degrees Celsius), which means pick the coolest corner of your basement. The best strategy is to buy a few bottles, so you can sample them over time. Plus, if you have bottles from multiple years (many cellar beers put the date on their label) you could do a vertical tasting to see how the beer progresses over time.

I warn you of one risk in aging beer. You may never want to open that 20-year-old Thomas Hardy’s Ale, believing that a better occasion might come along in a few years. I have certainly befallen such a fate. This is the risk you take.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

So, class, we have had a few months to hang out together and learn some important beer basics -malt, hops, yeast, importance of region. This month I think you are ready to jump into the deep end, into the world of beer shelf life. Be warned, it is not an easy world. Sure, the basics are pretty straightforward, but just wait until you try to figure out the age of that beer you want to purchase.

Let’s start with the easy stuff. As I mentioned last month a standard strength beer that has been handled properly and is in an appropriate brown bottle(read the column on skunking - see, it pays to follow along), will easily last 4-6 months. After that time? Well, beer is not like milk. You can still drink it (again as I mentioned last month - check those back issues!). It is that the flavours deteriorate. The hop quality will shrink. Subtle flavours will disappear. The beer will seem to lose its edge. And undesirable flavours will increase. It will begin to display oxidation flavours like cardboard, wet paper and, if you are lucky, sherry (sherry is intentionally oxidized to produce that quality). It also flattens the overall impression of the beer. Any faults in the beer will also become more pronounced.

I understand that you want to avoid spending your hard-earned dollars on a beer past its prime. The good news is that most breweries put a code on their bottles or cases that tell you either when it was brewed or when it is past its best-before date. The bad news? There is no standardized system for the codes, meaning no two breweries are alike. Local and widely distributed brewers try to educate retailers about their code so the store can pull it from the shelves. Imports, brought in by a third party, will likely have no such education.

Either way this can be horribly frustrating for consumers. However, if you channel a little bit of Sherlock Holmes, you can figure out what the code might mean. The first hurdle is that some breweries print a “brewed on” or “bottled on” date, while others print a “best before” date. Sometimes the code is written as a straightforward date but more often it uses some esoteric system the consumer needs to decipher. Some of the codes can resemble hieroglyphics. For example, a Guinness code might read: 16B0. Negra Modelo can be even more incomprehensible: 2121C0.

How to make sense of it all? Well, let’s start with some specific examples to guide your way. Local Edmonton brewer Alley Kat is quite straightforward. Their boxes have a clearly marked best before date in the format year/month/day. The bottles also have a code, marked BB and then day/month/year. Easy!  (I must add here that microbreweries tend to be significantly more transparent with this information than bigger breweries. I am just saying…)

Big Rock gets more creative. They have a five digit best before code. The last two digits are the year, while the first three digits are the day of the year, numerically speaking. A code of 15210 means it is best before the 152^nd day of 2010 - June 1. A bit more challenging, but still fairly clear, all said.

It is with the big boys where things get more complicated. Many use a letter code for the month (A=January, B=February, etc.), followed one or two digits for the year. For example, that Guinness code reads February 16, 2010. Now, just to keep you confused, they use a Bottled On date, not expiry date. Sigh.

Negra Modelo is also a bottling date, and, as a way to throw you, the first four digits are meaningless (for you - they are a production number). All that matters is the C0 - March 2010. Molson, possibly the king of confusion on this issue, has a 13-digit code, most of which is not the date. The opening letter is the month, the first two digits the day and the last the year. The stuff in between - irrelevant!

The range of code options is dizzying. But this short lesson gives you a few clues. First, if it looks like a date, in whatever version, it likely is. Second, if it has one letter in it, that letter is the month, and the year will be directly connected to it, often the day as well. Third, there is no way to tell whether it is a best before or bottled on date; you are on you r own on that front. Fourth, if it has 13 digits, well, good luck to you.

One final piece of advice to help you avoid stale beer. When in doubt ask the store staff. They may know and can help you out. If they don’t know, they should (and you should be shopping somewhere else). In the end the best piece of advice might be to purchase from stores that you know sell a lot of beer (like Sherbrooke). The best security for procuring fresh beer is knowing that the stock moves at a brisk pace.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

When something gets better as it grows older, they say it “ages like a fine wine”. Note the saying is not “ages like a good beer”. There is a reason for that. Today I want to talk about why, in general, beer is best consumed fresh.

Much like our bodies, aging is a battle between the inevitable effects of the elements and our determination to resist them. A person who exercises regularly and takes care of their health is going to fare better in holding off the ravages of time than someone who does nothing but eat potato chips and watch television. The same goes for alcoholic beverages.

In one corner of the ring are the natural elements.  Four things conspire to break down the yumminess of beer. First is oxygen. That essential for life is also a beer thief. When oxygen comes in contact with almost any substance, it initiates a chemical reaction called “oxidation” - the oxygen steals an electron from the other molecules, causing instability. If you leave a half-eaten apple on the counter, its surface quickly turns brown. That is oxidation.

Oxygen alters beer’s flavour and aroma profile, and at extreme levels alters colour as well. Oxidation flattens out the aroma and mouthfeel, and will also generate off-flavours of wet paper, cardboard, sherry or mustiness.

The second conspirator is bacteria and wild yeast. Micro-organisms are, of course, everywhere. Beer even relies on a particular strain of microscopic life - brewing yeast. However, there are hundreds of competitors for the food and nutrients that beer offers. Modern brewing methods of sanitation and aggressive pitching of brewing yeast ensure that foreign micro-organisms stand no chance during fermentation. However no system is perfect and over time bacteria might catch a toehold. In normal circumstances this process takes months, however poor handling or inadequate sanitation at source can speed it up. Micro-organisms can create sour, medicinal, plastic, musty or barnyard flavours and aromas.

I hasten to add here that nothing harmful to human health can grow in beer. The bacteria and wild yeasts found in beer may make it taste bad, but they won’t hurt you. Only a narrow sub-range of micro-organisms can survive in the acidic, alcoholic environment of beer. So don’t worry about salmonella or e-coli from beer - can’t happen.

Third is sunlight, as I discussed in my last column. Beer in clear or green glass will quickly go skunky if exposed to sunlight or fluorescent light, creating an awful taste and smell.

Fourth we find that warm temperatures act as an evil catalyst to the other combatants. At warmer temperatures the reactions that cause beer spoilage will accelerate, causing the beer to go off more quickly.

In the other corner are the qualities of the beverage which hold off the four enemies. In normal circumstances, wine possesses more of these qualities than beer does - which is why it handles aging better.

The first is stability. Wine, coming from a single fruit, is quite stable. Beer on the other hand is a blend of a variety of ingredients, which is a more delicate balance. Many qualities of beer, such as hop aroma and crisp malt flavours, are fairly volatile and short-lived, meaning an older beer is going to lose these hard-to-hold qualities.

Second is alcohol. Alcohol is a natural preservative and anti-bacterial. Most organisms have a hard time living in alcohol (which is why we use it to disinfect cuts), which means the higher the alcohol content, the longer the shelf life. Micro-organism growth is retarded in high alcohol environments, and oxidation effects are more pleasant in alcoholic conditions (more sherry and less cardboard).

In short wine at 11-14% is more able to fight off the effects of aging, and even turn it to its advantage. Beer, at 5% normally, is more inadequately armed, and therefore falls apart more quickly. Beer also tends to have a higher level of residual sugars and proteins, which is a more friendly environment for micro-organisms.

One thing going for beer is hops, which is one of the strongest anti-oxidants known. Hops helps preserve beer and forestall staling effects, which means the hoppier the beer, the longer we can expect it to last.

So, how long can a beer last? Well in proper conditions (kept cool, out of sunlight, and properly packaged) it can survive 4-6 months. Hoppy beers can last longer. However, it remains true that beer is best fresh, within the first few weeks after bottling. That is why Pilsner-Urquell (or any other classic import) will taste best at the brewery.

And not all beer is created equal. A light lager is going to show signs of aging quicker than a robust stout. Beer with fresh yeast in it will last longer than filtered beer. And there are beers that intended for long-term cellaring. These beers, such as barley wines and Belgian strong ales, are higher in alcohol and complex in profile so that they benefit from aging. I will talk about cellaring beers in a future column.

In most cases, beer needs to be consumed sooner rather than later, which is maybe a good thing, as it gives you an excuse to pick up a fresh six-pack. Next column I will tell you how to determine the age of the beer you are buying.

Jason Foster

Check out more of Jason Foster’s beer news and views at onbeer.org

Think about sitting around enjoying a glass of beer. Maybe you are on your deck on a sunny summer afternoon. Or you are in a pub chatting with a few mates. Something you are not likely to be thinking about is how the bottle or glass that your beer comes in might affect the taste.

Well, it can in the most telling fashion. In the wrong container, your delicious beer could quickly turn into something undrinkable. The wrong colour of glass can create the most unpleasant beer taste imaginable. Allow me to explain.

In short, if a beer is not protected by the right kind of glass, it quickly becomes “light-struck”, or in the beer biz what we call “skunked”. Beer, as it turns out, is very sensitive to light. Or, more accurately, the hops in beer are sensitive to light.

Here is what happens. Hops contain something called alpha acid, the substance that gives beer its bitterness. When dissolved in beer it isomerizes and turns into something called iso-humulone. Beer also naturally possesses undetectable trace amounts of sulphur.

When iso-humulone comes into contact with light, it triggers a photo-chemical reaction with the sulphur to create 3-methyl-2-butene-1-thiol - not a very pleasant compound. In fact, it is the same substance skunks spray to ward off attackers. Yummy!

The reaction can happen very quickly. Exposure to the sun of even 10 or 15 minutes will create noticeable levels of this compound. Leave an unprotected beer in the sun for a few hours, and it will taste and smell of skunk to almost any palate. This effect happens in both natural and fluorescent light.

If you don’t believe me, try it yourself.  A few years ago in preparation for my beer judge certification exam, I intentionally skunked a beer to familiarize myself with the taste. I put a clear bottle of beer in the sun for 12 hours. Upon opening skunk aroma filled the room in seconds. I will never forget the horrid taste and smell.

Before you panic, there is some good news. This reaction only occurs with light wavelengths closer to the violet spectrum. This means something can be done. Brewers have discovered that brown beer bottles filter out the offending wavelengths and the beer is protected from skunking. That is why most beer is bottled in brown glass.

You may see where I am going with this. Clear or green bottles are no help whatsoever to prevent skunking. Which naturally leads to the question - what about those beers in clear or green glass?

Quite frankly most of them are skunked before you even buy them from the store (since most stores are lit by fluorescent light).  Maybe, luckily, you buy it soon after it hit the shelves and the skunkiness is mild.  At low levels it can add a sweetness and silkiness to the beer. Or more likely the beer has been sitting on the shelf for three weeks. Skunk-a-rama! There is a reason why some of those companies advise adding lime or lemon to the beer. The fruit masks the skunk with strong citrus flavour and aroma.

If you are perplexed by the thought of professional brewers packaging their beer in a fashion that guarantees it will develop off-flavours, I share your confusion. The explanation is, unfortunately, rather cynical. A while back I had a chance to ask a European brewer why they put their beers in green bottles for North America (in Europe they use brown bottles). His response? North Americans apparently like skunked beer because it seems “European” to them.

The reason brewers use clear or green glass is marketing pure and simple. It makes the beer more attractive, especially if it is a summer-inclined brew. For Europeans, it is a way to distinguish themselves on the shelves as an import. They are all hoping that beer drinkers don’t notice.

Avoiding skunked beer is not that difficult. The easiest approach is to buy beer only in brown or other light-impermeable packages. If your favourite beer does come in clear or green glass, I suggest you do your best to keep it out of the light. Buy it fresh and keep in an enclosed container until consumption.

This can be a challenge. Even in the best liquor stores the beer cooler is lit by fluorescent lights, and the beers sit exposed on the shelf. Try encouraging them to package clear and green bottles in cardboard box or similar solid container.

Beer in mugs and pint glasses can be more difficult. At home on a sunny day, go for a ceramic or opaque mug. On a pub patio, where you can’t choose your glass, just do your best to shield it from the sun and try to drink it as efficiently as you can. For most drinkers exposure of 30-60 minutes will not create noticeable off-flavours.

But mostly don’t let it wreck your enjoyment of the moment. Beer is supposed to be a relaxed beverage. Enjoy your friends and the time you are having. That is more important than some photo-chemical reaction.

Jason Foster

Last lesson we discussed the basics of hops and how they affect beer flavour and aroma - a crucial lesson for any aspiring beer drinker. However, it is the equivalent of learning the rules to football.  You can watch and know basically what is going on, but to really understand the game, you need to know the difference between Canadian and U.S. football. Same game, vastly different results.

It is the same way with hops. There are dozens of varieties of hops available, and each offers different characteristics. They all impart bitterness and hop flavour and aroma - but what exactly does that mean? The answer depends on which type of hop you are using.

The best way to understand the differences between hop varieties is to compare them to grapes. Certain grapes are better suited for certain climates and soils. As a result, certain regions naturally grow certain types of grapes.

Hops are similar. Traditionally, there were four major hop growing regions in the world, and, not surprisingly, each region’s plants had particular qualities. These hops offered different flavours and aromas to the region’s beer. In today’s globalized world region doesn’t matter anymore. A brewer can use any hop from anywhere in the world, and every variety can be grown in any region.

Many craft brewers tell their drinkers what type of hop was used in the beer. For most drinkers this is superfluous information, but if you understand hop varieties, it can tell you a lot about what to expect from the beer. So, let’s walk through the basic varieties.

If we look to England we find hops that are very floral and earthy. English hops have a soft aroma that reminds me of spring meadows and fields of clover. They are a delicate hop and are particularly well-suited in beers aiming for balance. Classic English hops include Goldings, Fuggles, Challenger and Target.

Over in Germany, they, too have rounded hop varieties, but with a different quality. German hops are also floral, but a little spicier. They are fuller and deeper in their aroma and bitterness. The difference can be subtle. Indeed, often brewers will swap English and German styles without most drinkers noticing it. For German hops, look for Spalt, Hallertauer, Perle or Tettnanger.

Bohemia, now in Czech Republic, has the most unique, and possibly most appealing, hop - Saaz. It is related to German hops, but offers a crisper, grassy profile. Its affect is sharp, but remains flowery. It is an enticing and extremely inviting hop.

As a group the hops mentioned so far are classified as “noble hops”, as they are older and more traditional in brewing. If we cross the ocean to the U.S. we enter a whole different world of hops. American hops are sharper and more assertive - much like their country of origin. They tend toward a more citrus and grassy characteristic, sometimes providing woodiness or pine to the profile. They are not as soft, offering an edgier bitterness and more pronounced flavour and aroma. Grapefruit and other citrus qualities often come through, as do resin and mint notes. The classic American hop is Cascade, but other types, such as Chinook, Northern Brewer, Centennial, Williamette and Columbus also exhibit American characteristics.

A few adjectives describing the different hops are woefully inadequate to the task of informing you of the difference between hop varieties. Your best bet is, as usual, a taste sampling. The beers I suggest below are each excellent examples of the four hop families.

For an English hop effect, I can think of no better than Fuller’s ESB. The rich, caramel malt is accented by a soft, floral hop aroma and bitterness that screams of London. For the German hop, turn to Warsteiner. While not the best lager you will ever taste, it does display German hops relatively well.

For a Saaz hop tribute, look no further than Pilsner-Urquell. It exemplifies this hop. There is a big, grassy hop nose in this beer that will teach anyone what Saaz is all about. The challenge is finding a fresh bottle that has not been light-struck.

There is no shortage of beers exhibiting American hops. Maybe try Anchor Liberty Ale or Dogfish Head 90-Minute IPA to get a strong sense of what cascade and other American hops taste like.

Once you learn the different varieties of hops, a whole new world of beer appreciation opens up to you. I regularly enjoy a game of “guess the hops” when I sip a newly found beer. Not only do hops provide a wide range of flavours to a beer, they can also tell you quite a bit about its origins.

Jason Foster

Hops make up only a tiny fraction of a beer recipe - almost un-measurable. Even in the most bitter of beers, hops makes up less than 2% of the total mass of the ingredients (excluding water). Malted barley makes up the remaining 98% in weight. Throw in the reality that beer is mostly water, and the total significance of hops in terms of components becomes infinitesimally small.

Yet that little flower throws a big wallop. It offers all the bitterness and much of the flavour and aroma in beer. Whether you are a hophead or like a crisp light lager, hops is crucial to your appreciation.

So, let’s take a look at hops for a bit. First, it is, indeed, a flower from the plant Humulus lupulus, an aggressive vine that is in the same botanic family as cannabis. The hop flower, which actually blooms only on females of the species, grows overlapping green petals forming a shape similar to a pine cone. In fact the flower is usually referred to as a “hop cone” for that reason. These cones are the only part of the plant used for brewing.

It isn’t really the petals brewers are after, but the yellow dust found inside the layers, called lupulin, which contains resins (alpha and beta acids) crucial for brewing. This stuff is intensely bitter, which is why it is so sought after.

But why hops at all? Barley is different than grapes. Barley sugars are more complex, meaning the yeast cannot consume it all, leaving a degree of sweetness behind in the finished product. This is a good thing. However on its own barley-alcohol is too sickly and cloying. A brewer needs to balance that sweetness with something tart, bitter or earthy to make it drinkable.

Before the 1500s brewers used all kinds of things - tree bark, heather flowers, spices, vegetable roots, and so on to create that balance, with hops only a minor player. However things changed for two reasons. One, hops has a potency unmatched by any other agent, meaning smaller volumes could be used for similar bittering results. Second, politics came into play. Certain kings in England and Bavaria (the leading brewing cultures at the time) had certain “interests” in common with the hop farmers, and passed a variety of laws and tax rules to favour the use of hops over other traditional ingredients. Soon, hops were the dominant bittering ingredient, and the brewing world never looked back.

Hops are used in three ways to affect the perception of your beer. Hops added at the beginning of the pre-fermentation boil give beer bitterness - the sharpness you find at the back of your mouth. Hops added near the end or after the boil will impart a hoppy aroma and subtle flavour to the beer. Finally, if hops are added after fermentation is complete - called “dry hopping” - they add an intense flavour and aroma.

The easiest way to determine the flavour and aroma effects of hops would be to do a side-by-side taste test. Pour out a glass of O’Hanlon’s Yellow Hammer and then beside it some Tree Cutthroat Pale Ale. The grain bill in these beers is similar. What is different is the hop schedule.  The hops in the Cutthroat will quickly make itself known to you.

Your palate will quickly learn to discern hop bitterness, flavour and aroma. And with such knowledge you will be able to distinguish different beers by their hop quality. The big commercial lagers from Molson or Labatt are very lightly hopped. Alley Kat’s Full Moon Pale Ale or Anchor Steam, by contrast, use hops more liberally without losing overall balance. And then there are BIG hoppy beers, like Tree’s Hophead or Half Pint’s Humulus Ludicrous (which proclaims to be Canada’s most bitter beer).

Understanding the separate roles of malt and hops can help drinkers figure out where their personal preferences lie. Hop bitterness, unlike the universal attraction of sweetness, can be an acquired taste. Many beer fans can attest to how their interest in hoppy beers grows as they experience beer. Many beer drinkers become bona fide hop-crazy - we call them “hopheads” - and seek out increasingly hoppy beers.

You don’t have to go that far to appreciate a nicely-hopped beer. Personally I continue to prefer a beer that isn’t afraid of hops but remains committed to overall balance.

Going this far is important for understanding hops, but there is another step that hop-interested beer drinkers need to go. In our next lesson I want to talk about the varieties of hops and their impact on beer. But for now go do some homework and seek out a nice pale ale or pilsener on which to practice your new hop skills.

Jason Foster

Beer is an international drink, appreciated worldwide. And in the past 50 years it is an increasingly homogenized, globalized one. Who cares whether the beer is made in Canada, England or Bangladesh? As long as it is made right and tastes good.

In one respect that is true. In my home brewery I can make every style of beer that exists, as long as I can procure the right ingredients. Beer styles do not belong to a particular region, unlike wine where certain grapes only grow in certain climates. But that is not to say that the geographic coordinates of a beer are irrelevant.

Quite the opposite, actually. In fact, region is deeply ingrained in the history and character of beer. And despite globalization and corporatization, it continues to display a proud connection to local tradition. Understanding beer and how to appreciate its flavours relies surprisingly upon knowing its regional origins, because it can tell you much about what to expect and about why it is brewed the way it is.

To prove my point, let’s start with one of the oldest and more obvious differences in regional beer tradition: England vs. Germany. Think about an English beer. What do you expect to find? Myself, I think of a couple of key characteristics. I expect it to be an ale, not too dark, nor too light. Fruitiness and balance will be distinguishable qualities. British brewers like their hops, but not in an overpowering fashion - preferring to counter it with some rich caramel, toffee malts. Classic versions of British ale are Fuller’s ESB or Newcastle Brown ale.

Contrast that with Germany. Their non-wheat beers are cleaner, crisper and more accented toward one extreme or the other. They make rich, malty beers like Ayinger Celebrator, and sharp, hoppy beers like Warsteiner or Konig Pils. They aim for a full experience of one quality in beer.

Why is that? It comes down to a matrix of water chemistry, climate, government regulation and historical accident. Water in Germany differs wildly between cities. Some areas, like Munich and Bavaria have water better suited for malty beer (moderate carbonates). Others, like Dortmund and Hamburg, have water that accents hops (higher in sulphates). England has more uniform water chemistry (for the most part), leading to a more balanced beer profile.

Plus, a few hundred years ago, depending on where you lived the government might encourage hop or barley use in beer or it might discourage it through taxation. And that shaped what brewers did, based on simple economics.

The historical reasons for why regions established their own style of beers is complex, but rather interesting. And it informs why we can still taste the difference today. Beer drinkers’ palates developed over centuries to prefer beers of a particular flavour and style. It has demonstrably carried itself down through generations. The English are still not huge fans of German beer, and vice versa.

Region matters. Even in our globalized world the location of the brewer can tell us a lot about what to expect from the beer. It can tell us what brewing tradition they come from and what their water and local ingredients encourage.

So here is a quick and partial guide to what to expect from beers from particular regions:

Scotland/Ireland - Reflecting their colonized status with England, their beers are quite different than English beers. Fewer hops (due to taxation and shipping costs) and more malt accent their styles. Think Kilkenny, Traquair House or Belhaven. Rich and sweet beers.

Eastern Europe - Following the lead of the Czechs, eastern Europe leans toward crisp lagers with a hoppy accent. Blame it on their unbelievable ability to grow impressive hops. Pilsner Urquell is the classic.

Belgium - Their beer is less about climate and more about personality. For Belgians, a standard 5% barley-based beer is boring. The fun begins after that. Odd spices, funky yeasts, and big alcohol characterize Belgian beer.

Northwest Coast USA - The northwest coast of the US has fallen in love with hops. The region is well-suited for growing hops, but generally varieties that are citrusy and bold. Their beers are hop accented, usually with a beautiful hop aroma.

Latin America - Heat creates a desire for a thirst-quenching beer. Beers from central and south America are scarily easy to drink, with low levels of hops and a refreshing balance of sweet and dry.

Canada - We can’t claim a style all our own. We generally steal from others. However, I will say that I believe Canadian brewers hybridize their beers well. Canadian versions of classic styles tend to be a little fuller with a focus on refreshing. But, our lack of history is a handicap. What may be the classic Canadian beer is Yukon Gold.

While this is an incomplete accounting, I hope it gives a sense that location matters. Different regions have distinct brewing traditions, which lead to unique tastes and characteristics in their beer. So when next shopping for a beer, think about where the beer comes from and consider how it will affect aroma, taste and overall impression.