#whatbeerwednesdays: Episode 4

Saison

After a week’s waylay it’s straight back into our wonderful Wednesday wanders through the walk-in wardrobe of beer styles.

So far we have covered the classic German hefe-weissbier, Belgian kriek lambic ale and the bold but beautiful American amber ale. This week it’s back to Belgium to explore a beer style whose real history totally belies the fashionable on as well as the understated finery of the style. We’re talking about saison.

Saison’s history isn’t the only beguiling aspect of the style. Those who are anything but new to beer exploration have watched saisons go in and out of fashion like literary fiction and thigh-high stilettos. We’re here to quite literally reverse the trends, which is to say remove trend-driven  decision-making while perusing the shelves at the liquor store, so that way saisons may find their way into your glass once again.

My own fridge feels particularly empty when there is no saison to be found, for it is a beer style that wears many hats, not just the hat of the storytelling grifter.

And we all know hats never go out of style!

La Sirene Saison, brewed in Melbourne, Australia is a fine modern example of the saison style. Image shows a tulip glass of saison with its head almost erupting over the rim, and to its right-hand side is its now empty bottle. In the background table decorations.

Saison: What You Need To Know

Origin: Liege, Belgium. Not Wallonia! See below. Now brewed all over the world.

Etymology: Saison translates to “season.” It denoted either a specific style or, when used as a suffix, any beer brewed in winter for keeping in readiness for summer.

Where to find them: Independent bottleshops, specialty bars and brewpubs.

ABV: 3.5-5% (table), 5-7% (standard), 7-9.5% (super).

Approachability: Very approachable. Complexities are nuanced and bitterness is restrained.

Glassware: Belgian tulip.

Seasonality: Any time of year.

 

A (not so brief) history of saison

First and foremost, I implore you to abandon the hopelessly romantic notion that saison originated in farmhouses in the idyllic Wallonian countryside. And I ask you, dear reader looking to reconnect with the modern saison style, please do not shoot the messenger.

Findings by the likes of beer historians Roel Mulder and Yvan de Baets over at Lostbeer.com paint a much grittier picture. You can read more in the links below.

Much like parts of Britain and cities along Germany’s Rhine river, the Belgian city of Liege is at the country’s industrial and mining heart. It is here the very first historical mentioning of saison Mulder could find, dating back to 1823. Indeed the first mentioning of saison within the Hainaut province dates back to 1858 and from the city of Charleroi. Much like Liege, Charleroi is an industrial town, thus putting the myth to bed that saison was brewed in winter when life on the farm slowed down before being stored in readiness for summer refreshment.

Ultimately what this suggests is that early saison, a pale, clear beer often brewed in Liege with malted spelt and unmalted wheat, was brewed to slake the thirsts of industrial, not rural, labourers. Meanwhile across the remainder of Belgium the suffix “de saison” did in fact denote a beer meant for storage, however this did not in any way announce a specific beer style.

I’m sad to say these home truths about saison will doubtless get in the way of its fashionably fantastical story. Moreover it can’t be understated these stories helped see in saison’s recent commercial renaissance. Above all else the real truth of the matter is saison emerged from humble beginnings to become one of the beer world’s all-round classiest acts.

Saison: A beer for all seasons

Modern technologies, namely refrigeration, mean that any beer style can be brewed and enjoyed all year round, which means that the traditionally interpreted meaning of saison is essentially now redundant. This is especially true when one considers saison,can be brewed in hot weather (up to 28°C thanks to its resilient yeast strain). Above all, it also somehow straddles the line between refreshing and warming, making t fit for any time of year. Think of your favourite item of clothing that‘s equally as appropriate in January as it is June and you get the idea.

Moreover, the style is as broad as it is versatile. There are delicate table saisons, the middle of the road "standard" saisons and the bigger super saisons are great for celebrations. Reach for the latter when the season calls for festive Santa hats (hey not all hats are fashionable per se). They are sometimes darker in colour, much higher in ABV and full of nuanced spicy aromatics, warming alcohol and complex malt character.

What is truly remarkable is how drinkable saisons are. Complex but stripped back, raw but refined, yet always balanced. And with their golden hue, scintillating showiness and luscious white head they look damn good while doing it too.

Saison Dupont, brewed in Tourpes (almost incongruously in the Hainaut province, Wallonia) ticks every box and then some. Bottles are corked and caged for added sex appeal, as if the beer itself didn't have enough of that already...

Bumper edition: Saison is better than wine with...

Almost anything you care to mention. The style that wears many hats is also polite enough to take its hat off at the dinner table. It’s here saison shines with elegance, grace and aplomb.

You could start the meal by serving saison as an aparatiff. Carefully pour your favourite saison into Champagne flutes and enjoy the reaction from your guests. The high carbonation of the beer completes the experience while the grainy malt profile will inspire hearty conversation over the merits of Belgium and France’s finest exports.

Champagne is said to be versatile at the dinner table and its saison’s aforesaid grainy-bready character that echoes Champagne’s agility (and catwalk good looks). Truth be known, saison can do so much more, with or without consideration of the higher and lower extremities of its ABV range.

Seafood entrees (salt & pepper calamari in particular) and main courses (think seafood chowder) latch on to saison’s peppery character and fruity esters while the beer’s bready quality plays off the batter or bread, respectively. There’s enough racey acidity to cut like a knife through the fat as well.

Saison Dupont is perhaps the most sharply dressed and dynamic contender at the dinner table due to its yeast strain being said to be a very close relative to red wine yeast. Indeed for such a generally pale coloured beer saison will more than match the dark flavours of steak, mushrooms or even a hearty roast lamb thanks to its peppery phenols.

Saison Dupont in particular takes a shining to the robust dish of  toasted Turkish bread topped with hummus and mushrooms cooked in ginger, garlic, spices and tamari kepap mania soy sauce. This intriguing Middle Eastern meets Asian flavour explosion fits Saison Dupont like a glove. (Are gloves still in fashion?)

The beer’s bready-graininess adds depth to the Turkish bread and its subtle sweetness. The hummus’s tang and bright citrus flavours meet saison’s orange-lemon citrus esters. The peppery phenols - imparted by Saison Dupont’s peppery qualities match the mushrooms’ earthy flavours and soy sauce’s umami. The whole experience then becomes something so much more than the sum of its parts as the spices and dynamic elements of the beer and meal reach their crescendo. All of a sudden it’s time for another bite as the beer’s acidity, vigorous carbonation and dry finish sweep the palate clean.

What Was a 19th CenturySaison Really Like? Written by Roel Mulder.

And more on saison fromYvan de Baets.

The Daydreaming Blind Rebel

If you’ll indulge me, from time to time I will delve most deeply into my very personal connection with beer. Insodoing I hope to connect with you, the reader, while I share a little about yours truly. Ultimately as well as talking about all things beer I hope to increase awareness of blindness and vision impairment as well.
 

A blind rebel indeed, holding a can of beer at a tram stop in Melbourne. Image shows a vision impaired man wearing sunglasses, holding a can of open beer and holding a white cane beside a tram/bus interchange.

 When I’m not writing, I am a daydreamer. My imagination is so active it could easily be mixed with hot liquor (water) to make wort.

Like so many of you out there I dream of owning and operating my own brewery. But the stark realities of not having a seven-figure bank balance or investors willing to back me with said sum comes crashing in like an unwanted Brettanomyces infection in the brew.

Not to mention the reality that it’s not all glory and no mess.

But you can’t stop me from dreaming about owning, running and brewing at my own brewpub and packaged brewery operation. You can’t stop me imagining that it would be located in Melbourne’s north-east or perhaps even near the as yet to be opened Canning Vale metro station in Perth (close to family and where there is likely a huge gap in the market). And you certainly can’t stop me from dreaming about brewing hype-beast TDH IIPAs, eisbocks brewed with chilli and maple syrup or wheatwines aged in locally produced whiskey barrels.

It would be a middle finger to every perceived notion of what blind and vision impaired people can and cannot do as held by collective society. It would be called Blind Rebel Brewing CoOperative, its slogan: “Walking on the edge of convention”, its primary image stylised footsteps on the wrong side of the yellow line and tactile markings at a train station. 

All in the name of going some way to spreading awareness about blindness and low vision through beer. Because though I can’t change being legally blind and living life in a sighted world, I can change the attitudes of people, misconceptions and accessibility both in the real world and the virtual one.

Alt Text altbier, Tenji Bock helles bock, Seeing Rye Dog red rye IPA, Wit Cane Belgian wheat, APS American peated stout, Beer My Eyes helles lager and of course Braille Ale British strong bitter cask ale would comprise the core range. Puns with a slice of awareness, what’s not to love?

By the way links have been provided at the bottom of this piece so you can learn more about alt text, Tenji blocks, Be My Eyes and the white cane.

Beer is all about community, bringing people together, over history it has helped shape and even save the world. It certainly has the capacity to help blind people integrate with the world and people around them. Thanks to modern and adaptive technologies blind and vision impaired people have never had it easier (the iPhone has enriched my life beyond my wildest imaginings), however there is still a long way to go yet.

Blind Rebel Brewing may be a dream that will never become a reality, but the dream of a better world for the blind and vision impaired is materialising one Tenji block at a time. 

More info about alt text: If you are a website developer, please use it.

Tenji Blocks Google Doodle.
 

APS (Accessible pedestrian signals, which I often refer to as traffic light audible indicators). If you do not have these in your city, write your MP/Congressman/your local road authority!

Be My Eyes.

The white cane: A tool and a talisman for the vision impaired, by Ron McCallum

#whatbeerwednesdays: Episode 3

American amber ale

Continuing BlindTasteTest’s series on beer styles you may have forgotten, let’s take a look at the humble American amber ale.

Autumn, Fall if you will, is descending upon the Southern hemisphere. There are no complaints about the milder temperatures and the sun rising at a civilised hour at this end, and ultimately this is a beer blog - not a weather channel. Plus I’m aiming for an overseas readership as much as a local one.

Anyway, the transitional seasons are perfect times to explore versatile session beers, those beers perfectly suited to 5°C either side of 19°C (or 41°F either side of 66°F). Not hot enough anymore/ yet for sours? The wind chill factor is a ways off/ a growingly distant memory and stouts, porters and strong ales are out of the question?

It is perhaps now the best time to seek the comfort and refreshment of the middle of the road.

But let’s say the good old fashioned American pale ale or even session IPA isn’t doing it for you anymore. You want malty body, you want soul, a bit of a dance of flavour, but still with a certain pronounced citrus driven American/ New World hop character. It’s worth noting the latter rules out many English bitters).

American amber ales might just be what you’re looking for.

They get even better when burgers are thrust onto the stage.

A great Australian example of the amber ale style, a more hoppy one at that, is Exit's Amber ale. Image shows a glass of amber ale with a branded Exit Amber can to just out in front but off to the side a tad for dramatic effect.

American amber ales: What you need to know

Origin: A modern take on the American pale ale which became popular among many US craft breweries.

Etymology: American ambers were for a time also referred to as simply red ales in the Pacific NorthWest during the ‘80s and ‘90s.

Where to find them: Good mainstream bottleshops/ supermarkets (depending on where you live) and independent retailers. It is a fairly common, even mainstream style.

ABV: 4.5-6.2%

Approachability: Very approachable. Because of their even balance between hops and malt American ambers are often seen as “gateway” beers.

Glassware: “ Nonic”pint glass (the sort with the convex protrusion forming a hoop about one-third down) if it’s not too warm. A dimpled mug is also a great option.

Seasonality: Year round, but amazing in milder weather

Serving temperature: 6-8°C (42-46°F). Serve colder if it is on the warmer side of 19°C / 66°F.

American amber ales: A (not so) brief history

Simply put, American amber ales evolved out of American pale ales, themselves inspired by English bitters. (I am a big fan of Sierra Nevada pale ale as it harks back to English strong bitters but with a decidedly Californian sensibility).

Many American beers during the 1970s and ‘80s were born out of British brewing traditions due to the brewing literature available at the time.

American amber ales, or red ales, morphed out of the pale ale style as brewers amped up the malt base with crystal malts (these impart quite caramelly notes) and Continental specialty grains (hearty Munich or Vienna malt) to add colour and depth of flavour.

During the ‘80s many enterprising American breweries slapped together apathetic examples of the emerging amber ale style and gave them woodland critter names so as to cash in on the trend. As ever the market decided and these critters soon retreated back into the undergrowth from whence they came.

 The amber liquid

Sessionable and approachable they may be, American amber ales can be a confusing bunch. The term is almost a catch-all in that there is plenty of overlap. The darkest of pale ales impinge on amber ale territory equalling the palest ambers, while the palest of amber ales can be equal to the darkest of pale ales.

In terms of appearance, we’re talking about a moderate amber to coppery brown hue with a relatively persistent off-white head. Unless dry-hopped to the wazoo, amber ales should also boast an attractive clarity - the sort I hope to leave you with after navigating the murky waters of this intriguing modern style.

As if the style’s colour wasn’t confusing enough, since the ‘80s and ‘90s amber ales have morphed several times over, the style ever evolving. Some examples are known to be as aggressively hopped as American pale ales.

On the other hand, some examples’ malt character masks the hop character almost entirely.

When choosing an amber ale always have a read of the spiel and from there you can generally tell what the beer has in store. Words like “citrus, New World hop character and even simply “hoppy amber” will of course denote a beer whose balance is slightly to the bitter side. “Caramel, toffee, richness, creamy head” suggest you’ll have an amber ale somewhat on the maltier end.

Either way the malt-hop balance sees the pendulum swing not too far in either direction. Any emphatic hoppy zing will have the measuredly caramelly malt to rein it in, while less hoppy versions will most certainly have a characteristic New World hop aroma about them (think citrus, a touch of pine, stone fruit and maybe even some berries).

What they both have in common is their clean American yeast profile, meaning you won’t detect any red apple, pear or other yeast serived aromas and flavours. It’s malt and hops, straight down the line.

Why are American amber ales so awesome?

Few beers could be quite as sessionable as the humble American amber, which is precisely what they are intended to be.

Pale ales can sometimes err on the lean side. Session IPAs, in most cases, are certainly too lean for certain times of the year. American amber ales promise both flavour and refreshment, deliver both, and add in a touch of proper fulfilment for good measure.

American amber ales are better than wine with...

American ambers make for a fantastic table, picnic or barbecue beer, adept at linking arms with all sorts of foods, but where they shine is when they are enjoyed with a hearty cheeseburger or mushroom burger.

Think a toasted bun, the start and the end of any burger experience really. You want something that has enough of a very slightly toasty, malty-rich character to meet it at the centre of the dancefloor.

Then the tango commences. The meat (or indeed mushroom) needs both enough malt for the lead and follow routine before the beer’s hoppy character cuts through and sweeps the burger off its feet.

Caramelised onions heel-toe with the beer’s own caramelly malt notes. We’re looking at a unanimous 10 out of 10 score from the judges here. If bacon is involved, any impression of sweetness from the beer will contrast the saltiness of the meat while the hearty maltiness plays off the fat.

Got pickles? I should bloody well hope so. Hoppier examples of American ambers will further enhance pickles’ cutting and balancing power. Given the beer’s hoppiness and moderate to high carbonation, there is enough there to cut through the beastly richness and refresh the palate (even when salty chips are involved).

 And with that the dance on your palate is over and everyone is applauding.