The post The sour spectrum appeared first on DRAFT.

When DRAFT launched 10 years ago, there were fewer than 1,500 breweries in the United States; at the close of 2015, more than 4,000 were churning out beer, with thousands more in various planning stages, from freshly inked blueprints to finalizing test batches. That tidal wave of new breweries has brought with it an ever-growing fan base and a sea change in taste, with some of the most coveted bottles and revered brewers emerging only within recent memory. In fact, only five years ago, none of the breweries on this list existed. Today, they are at the top of the trading boards and rating sites, producing some of the most prized beers in the world. With their innovation, passion and eye toward where beer is going, we are certain that they are all poised to make waves well into the next decade.

Arizona Wilderness Brewing Co. azwbeer.com
Gilbert, Arizona
RateBeer’s 2013 Best New Brewery in the World can’t be stopped. They’re bottling sought-after sours like the orange-spiked, acidic wit Woolsey the Wild and pinot noir barrel-aged Rim Country Framboise, storing them in an outdoor, temperature-controlled shipping container (outfitted with solar panels) while the brews condition. They’ve hired a full-time community liaison whose sole job is to coordinate with local farmers to source the high-quality grains, meat, veggies and fruit that work their way into the brewpub’s food as well as its beers. They’ve even built a 150-gallon “mobile coolship,” strapped it to the back of a Ford F250 that runs on fryer oil and driven it to sites all over the state to ferment beers with yeast and bacteria blooms floating in the desert wind.

Bagby Beer Co. bagbybeer.com
Oceanside, California
Chances are you tasted a beer that Jeff Bagby had a hand in making long before he opened his eponymous brewery in late 2014. The guy’s been everywhere: Stone Brewing, where he was hired as a delivery driver in 1997 before being promoted to production brewer; yeast supplier White Labs; Oggi’s Pizza & Brewing Company in Vista, California; and four Pizza Port locations, including Pizza Port Carlsbad, where he headed brewpub operations and won Large Brewpub and Brewer of the Year at GABF in 2009, 2010 and 2011. Along the way, Bagby racked up more than 50 GABF and World Beer Cup medals; there are few brewers more acclaimed in the country. At his giant facility a few blocks off the beach, Bagby brings his experience to brews like the sweet Mootown Philly milk stout, snappy Sweet Ride pilsner and the pine needle-laden Nerd Herd double IPA, all of them pitch-perfect and award-worthy.

Bissell Brothers bissellbrothers.com
Portland, Maine
Two years after brothers Peter and Noah Bissell opened their namesake brewery in a graffiti-splashed warehouse at 1 Industrial Way, it was time to grow. In June, the brewery swaggered into larger digs at the Thompson’s Point development, a multiuse project that also includes a music venue, a distillery and a cryptozoology museum. Bissell now has more space to do its thing, namely, get its superb beers into eager customers’faces. Beers like Substance IPA and Swish double IPA (which has a perfect 100 rating on both RateBeer and BeerAdvocate) helped propel this brewery to the top of hop hunters’ wish lists; the new 2,000-square-foot taproom makes can release days feel a bit less cramped, though no less popular.

Black Project Spontaneous & Wild Ales blackprojectbeer.com
Denver, Colorado
James and Sarah Howat began fermenting the first Black Project beer in February 2014 in a back room at Former Future, the Denver brewery they were preparing to launch. Both breweries have found success, but Black Project stayed under classified status for a while.The husband-and-wife duo didn’t even tell most Former Future employees what was happening in that room; it remained an Area 51 until eight months later. Once the first Black Project beer was released, the floodgates opened. Geeks clamored for the sour and funky brews, all made with native, wild microflora (the Howats don’t purchase any yeast for Black Project beers from a lab). After two Black Project beers, Flyby and Ramjet, won medals at GABF in 2014 and 2015, word spread nationally. “You hear about engineered scarcity, but we’ve never been able to produce more than a few barrels at a time on our four-barrel system,” says James. “Right now, we’re literally trying to brew and bottle them one beer at a time.” The beers age 10-12 months on average and don’t lend themselves to repetition. But that’s not what the Howats seek anyway; Former Future is their outlet for clean, if not always repeated, beers including the Singularity Principle series of single-malt, single-hop pale ales. Black Project prizes variation. “Wild fermentation isn’t boring and it’s not even really understood,” James says. “It takes a long time to find your answer.” The Howats favorite results have been Ramjet, a red wine barrel- aged dark sour brewed with cherries, and Kalmar, a spontaneously fermented gose that has only improved in the bottle since its November 2015 release. Black Project is currently looking to expand production and distribute to other states. Safe to say the secret’s out.

Bottle Logic Brewing bottlelogic.com
Anaheim, California
Even founders Brandon Buckner, Wes Parker and Steve Napolitano were caught off-guard by the astounding response to Fundamental Observation, the 14.1% ABV bourbon barrel-aged vanilla stout they released last June. After every bottle of the beer sold out within an hour, it almost immediately became one of the most sought-after brews in the country. Now closing in on their third year in business, however, the mania shouldn’t surprise: Dark Star November, another barrel-aged stout, took home hardware at the 2016 World Beer Cup, as did the 8% ABV Cobaltic Porter. Lagerithm, the brewery’s American-style dark lager, has won GABF gold the last two years running. And as the Bottle Logic’s renown continues to grow, so does the brewery itself. Expansions to the tasting room and into the adjacent building, Buckner says, should enable the brewery to expand its collection of filled bourbon barrels to an even thousand and triple its production capacity—which means more Fundamental Observation.

Call to Arms Brewing Co. calltoarmsbrewing.com
Denver, Colorado
Jesse Brookstein, Jon Cross and Chris Bell are part of a new generation of brewery owners who, rather than bailing on accounting careers to turn a homebrewing hobby into a job, bailed on careers working for a brewery to establish one of their own. In this case, the brewery they left was Boulder, Colorado’s Avery Brewing Co., where Brookstein managed packaging, Cross maintained the cellar and Bell was assistant brewhouse manager. Between the three, those skills cover just about everything needed at their small taproom in the Mile High City’s Berkeley neighborhood. They’ve earned acclaim for an “old world meets new” approach typified by beers like the obscure, toasty Zoiglbier and tropical fruit forward Freedom Fries Saison, which combines classic French saison yeast with modern Nelson Sauvin hops.

Casey Brewing & Blending caseybrewing.com
Glenwood Springs, Colorado
Troy Casey opened his eponymous brewery in July 2014 and, in short order, established himself as one of the nation’s top producers of saisons, fruited sours and other wild ales. Looking back, the owner of RateBeer’s 2015 Best New Brewery in the World says if he were to open again, he’d only change one thing. “I wish I could go back in time and tell myself to find a location that has more parking,” he says. Yeah, that would help. Until recently, Casey was only open to the public one Saturday each month—a response to the brewery’s first public opening that drew more than 200 people who lined up hours before the doors opened. But even this limitation didn’t stop the flood of beer geeks each month. “Those Saturdays were becoming crazy,” Casey says. “It’s just so intense. It was affecting my life.” Nowadays, the small location in Colorado’s picturesque Roaring Fork Valley operates on a 100-percent RSVP model. Reserve a spot in one of two 10-person tours offered each day and you’ll get a chance to taste Casey’s creations and purchase beers like the immensely tart yet incredibly complex Cherry, Peach, Plum or Apricot Fruit Stand, or something from the Family Preserves series, double versions of Fruit Stand meant to be “a fruit delivery vessel.” Show up unannounced and, well, there’ll be nowhere to park.

Fonta Flora Brewery fontaflora.com
Morganton, North Carolina
Fonta Flora won GABF gold in the Field Beer category last year, but the true farmhouse experience eluded the brewery until it recently purchased a 10-acre farm in Burke County. This should catapult Fonta Flora from buzzy darling to full-out star, perhaps a bummer only to its neighbors (months ago, Fonta Flora stopped announcing bottle releases in order to reduce crowds). It’s attracted fans by creating an identity for “Appalachian-style” beers. They’re expressive of place and time: Ramp Table Beer, for example, is a cream ale made with North Carolina-grown barley, heirloom corn and foraged ramps, a type of wild onion. Co-founder Todd Steven Boera says the beers “spotlight lesser known ingredients that tell the story of Appalachia.”

Forest & Main Brewing Co. forestandmain.com
Ambler, Pennsylvania
In 2011, Gerard Olson and Daniel Endicott were looking for a space to build their brewery. They liked the creative spirit in Ambler, Pennsylvania, near where they both grew up. Their realtor suggested a warehouse— too expensive. The realtor then showed them the building next door to the warehouse—“But it’s a house?” Olson ventured. It was a house, an old Victorian one, but the duo squeezed a 7-barrel brewing system into the back and found that the quirky vibe fit the offbeat Belgian and British beers they’ve become known for. Three years after opening (at the corner of Forest and Main streets), Olson and Endicott now rent that original warehouse to house their barrels. That means more of their coveted brews, especially saisons and barrel aged, bottle-conditioned ales; the Marius series of saisons, for example, notches many variants in the top 97-100 percentile of RateBeer scores. “Those beers showcase the uniqueness of the culture we work with,” Olson says. “We [brewers] all source from the same suppliers; as long as you have a hop contract and you’re willing to throw a ton of hops in, you can make a tasty beer. I feel more drawn to the beers that are tied to this place, whether that’s our British beers that evolve on the hand pump or especially the beers we throw into bottles or wine barrels to watch that culture work.” For three years, that culture has included foraged yeast scraped from blossoms on the property. Olson says Forest & Main’s work in that vein is partially informed by the breweries they’ve recently collaborated with, including Jester King and Almanac. As Forest & Main grows, expect word to travel far beyond the walls of 61 N. Main Street.

Great Notion Brewing greatnotionpdx.com
Portland, Oregon
Though very young (the brewery opened in the former Mash Tun Brewpub space in Portland’s Alberta neighborhood on New Year’s Day), Great Notion has become one of the city’s most talked-about spots—tough in a town known as “beervana”— thanks to its turbid, juicy IPAs. While excessively hopped ales like Ripe, Juice and Juice Jr. get the spotlight, brews like the breakfast maple syrup- and coffee-spiked Double Stack imperial stout and Blueberry Muffin Berliner weirs are equally cheerful. Brewer founders James Dugan and Andy Miller, neighbors-turned-homebrewing buddies when a home remodel forced Miller to move his setup into Dugan’s garage, have quickly churned out some of our favorite brews this year. An expansion and canning line planned for 2017 poises these glowing IPAs for further fame.

Grimm Artisanal Ales grimmales.com
Brooklyn, New York
A couple years ago, when Joe and Lauren Grimm served draft samples of their revered Double Negative imperial stout at a beer festival, Lauren decided it would be cool to show attendees what the bottled beer looked like. But with only unfilled bottles on hand and a desire not to waste any of the nectar in the keg, she grabbed an empty bottle and filled it with a mixture of water and sumi ink—used for painting and calligraphy—to mimic the beer’s dark hue. The counterfeit brew looked real enough; as soon as the Grimms turned their backs, someone snatched it. The thief’s tasting was probably pretty unpleasant, but as enjoyable as the image of a klepto beer geek with ink-stained teeth is, can you blame him? In just three years, Grimm has become a name held in awe among drinkers for avant-garde flavors and techniques as well as exciting takes on traditional styles. The brewery’s imperial IPAs and uniquely flavored goses are some of the most sought-after in the country (as they should be—Lumen, a tremendously complex IPA juiced up with Citra, Mosaic, Equinox and El Dorado hops, was one of our favorite beers we tasted), and even the aforementioned Double Negative is stellar, having medaled at the last two GABF beer judging competitions. A recently expanded long-term sour program should only add to the prestige, and Lauren says a new imperial stout recipe is in the works—one designed with sweetness in mind specifically for aging in whiskey barrels. Its name? Sumi Ink.

Holy Mountain Brewing holymountainbrewing.com
Seattle, Washington
Holy Mountain isn’t tough to find; just look for the lines. They form outside the brewery’s Interbay taproom whenever there’s a new bottle release, which co-founder Mike Murphy (formerly of Schooner EXACT Brewing Co., which is where he met co-founder and head brewer Colin Lenfesty) says happens about every six weeks now that the just-under-two-year-old brewery has procured enough oak puncheons from local wineries to ramp up production from the 800 or so barrels produced last year. The wood was essential, Murphy says, since Holy Mountain’s focus has always been on tart and Brettanomyces-fermented brews like the plumaged, delicately balanced Empirium, though darker ales like Midnight Still, a bourbon barrel-aged imperial stout made by blending older batches of the brew, appear often. As do those lines.

Kent Falls Brewing Co. kentfallsbrewing.com
Kent, Connecticut
In a year and half, farmhouse brewery Kent Falls has earned serious attention. Most of its beers are only brewed a few times, part of an estimated 57 distinct releases, which include the fantastically named Walking Away In Slow Motion While The Car Explodes Behind You gose, Zep On The Jukebox IPA and Sweatpants pale ale. The 52-acre farm is home to pigs, chickens, a hop yard and an orchard, and co-founders Barry Labendz and Derek Dillinger live within 150 feet of the brewhouse. “It feels like each beer comes from spending too much time together,” Labendz half jokes. “So ‘farmhouse’ to us isn’t just a style or aesthetic or usingcertain yeast strains, it’s much more deeply rooted.”

Modern Times Beer moderntimesbeer.com
San Diego, California
It’s hard to believe Modern Times is just three years old, what with its Festival of Funk sour beer celebration or hop-focused Festival of Dankness—big-time annual events a larger brewery would be proud of—or its League of Partygoers and Elegant People, a reserve society created as a high-level reward for the brewery’s 2013 Kickstarter campaign into which fans clamor for entry every time more spots become available. But with gorgeously designed tallboys of the sticky-icky Blazing World red ale/IPA hybrid or velvety Black House oatmeal coffee stout available everywhere you look, as well as a cafe, restaurant and pilot brewery (code name: The Dankness Dojo) due to open in LA before the end of the year, this is a precocious brewery that acts like it’s been around for decades.

Monkish Brewing Co. monkishbrewing.com
Torrance, California
This summer, the popular four-year-old brewery ditched its distributor and moved to primarily brewery-only releases. To offset the risk, co-owner Henry Nguyen started brewing what he initially swore he wouldn’t: IPAs. Those have crept up in RateBeer scores alongside upper-90s-rated Monkish saisons Haiku de Saison and Rara Avis. “We didn’t want to do what everyone else was doing,” Nguyen says. “But we’d been thinking: ‘What would a Monkish IPA look like?’” The answer: cloudy, creamy, low in bitterness. “When we first made these, brewers here were telling me to my face these beers were ugly and not really IPAs,” he says. “Now after a few releases, they’ve seen the lines [of customers], and they’re asking me which yeasts we’re using.”

Other Half Brewing Co., Photo by Matt Furman

Other Half Brewing Co. otherhalfbrewing.com
Brooklyn, New York
It’s a wonder that Other Half brewers consistently churn out coveted IPAs and double IPAs (and have time to self-distribute), considering they seem to collaborate with every hot brewery on the planet: Holy Mountain, J. Wakefield, Cellarmaker—that’s just recently. Whether through teleportation or the ability to operate on three hours’ sleep, the Brooklyn wunderkinds pull it off, and have recently expanded their brewery into the next-door warehouse. Word of their dexterity with hops has spread since the 2014 opening, helping brewery-only can releases of All Green Everything and Green Diamonds double IPAs and Hop Showers IPA and Forever Ever IPAs sell out within a few hours. Don’t expect that to change, even after the expansion.

Phantom Carriage Brewery & Blendery phantomcarriage.com
Carson, California
Phantom Carriage’s taproom is worth a visit, even if just to experience the decor: Based just outside of LA in Carson, California, the brewery has a horror-show vibe (“Spooky but not kitschy,” says brewery co-founder Martin Svab) with scythes and other rusty farm implements stabbed into the walls; candles glowing inside fake human and animal skulls; and the “Phantom Theater,” playing a rotating lineup of scary movies. “I’ve always been into these old scary movies that unfortunately, this day and age, are being forgotten,” Svab says. “They’re just so beautiful. So the entire brewery’s just an homage to the old horror cinema.” That goes right down to its name: “The Phantom Carriage” was a Swedish film produced in 1921, notable for its early use of special effects and for certain scenes so iconic that Stanley Kubrick remade them in his own horror film, “The Shining.” (The famous axe-through-the-door scene? “The Phantom Carriage” did it first.) Come for the fear, stay for the beer: Inside the dark confines of the brewery’s taproom, nearly 400 oak barrels are filled with the creations of head blender Simon Ford, who was well-known in the LA homebrew scene for his downright fantastic sour beers long before joining the Phantom Carriage team. His skills are just as potent in the big leagues: Muis, a Belgian blonde ale melding honeydew melon, guava, spearmint and onion skin aromas with musty lemon and white pepper flavors, is one of the better 100% Brettanomyces fermented beers we’ve ever tasted, and beers like the Simcoe-hopped Annalee grisette and Broadacres Berliner weisse exhibit complex, slightly wild flavors that, like the environs in which they’re served, are scary-good.

RAR Brewing rarbrewing.com
Cambridge, Maryland
Since beginning to brew in March 2014, RAR (Real Ale Revival) has sold out its brewery only can releases in mere hours. The prized, hoppy goods including Pulp, Hyde and Chopdank place RAR at the fore of the trend toward juicy, low-bitterness IPAs. Those who can’t make the pilgrimage eagerly trade for RAR’s goods online; recent posts show folks willing to cough up Founders KBS and Jackie O’s bottles in exchange. But co-founders Chris Brohawn and J.T. Merry weather and brewer Randy Mills say success starts with their hometown fans. “There will be people waiting in line at 6 or 7 in the morning, and I’ll go out and thank them, bring them shirts and hats,” Brohawn says. “We’re not taking it for granted that people are waiting in line for our beer.”

Sante Adairius Rustic Ales rusticales.com
Capitola, California
This SARA that keeps popping up on trading boards is Sante Adairius, co-owned by Adair Paterno and Tim Clifford, and the “rustic ales” bit refers to the four-year-old brewery’s focus on saisons fermented with a house mix of yeast and bacteria. They’ve earned high marks, especially Saison Bernice, named RateBeer’s best Belgian-style ale last year. “Saison Bernice is the purest expression of what our house culture can do to a base saison without oak and/or a significant amount of aging,” Paterno says. “It’s a lovely, refreshing beer that I want to drink every day.” Yep, she and the rest of the world.

Scratch Brewing Co. scratchbeer.com
Ava, Illinois
Scratch wrote the book on seasonal ingredients (it’s called “The Homebrewer’s Almanac: A Seasonal Guide To Making Your Own Beer From Scratch,” published in September). Since opening in 2013, the brewery has quietly led the charge on brewing beers reflective of place; any brewer who wants to harvest sap, leaves and mushrooms has Scratch on speed dial. Their Single Tree series, brewed with parts of specific trees like Birch and Hickory, were some of the most-discussed beers at last year’s GABF, and with Scratch’s beers newly in bottles, their inspirational model should only spread that much farther.

Shady Oak Barrel House shadyoakbarrelhouse.com
Santa Rosa, California
In his former role as a winery lab technician, it was Steve Doty’s job to manage barrels and blending, monitor fermentation rates and cell counts, and eradicate Brett—considered a major flaw in wine—with extreme prejudice. For the past two years, however, the brewer’s relationship with bacteria has been much more amicable, and today you’ll find plenty of critters taking up residence in the oak barrels and puncheons that crowd “Shady Steve’s” sunny Santa Rosa blending house. Soon those bugs will also appear in Doty’s more outlandish experiments, like a sour ale aged in gin barrels and an all-bourbon barrel-fermented saison, but already they’ve earned him enough acclaim to land on RateBeer’s 2015 list of Top New Brewers in the World.

Threes Brewing threesbrewing.com
Brooklyn, New York
For nearly two years, Threes has turned out farmhouse ales, IPAs, pale ales and a house German lager from a warehouse in Gowanus. It’s a diverse stylistic range, but Threes nails it, from the muscular but balanced Vliet pilsner to the soft, oak-aged Eternal Return Brett beer with raspberries. This summer, Threes moved releases to an online resale model to alleviate long lines at the brewery; “beer is supposed to be a leisure sport” it said in a message to fans. Demand necessitated expansion. Additional space has made room for about 200 barrels, two foeders, some wine casks and more fermenters. When they have time (as if), brewers collaborate with outfits as varied as Mikkeller, Allagash, Suarez Family Brewery and Brooklyn-based band The National.

Toolbox Brewing Co. toolboxbrewing.com
Vista, California
There’s a freezer in the back of Toolbox’s North San Diego County taproom that’s full of bugs—in the microorganism sense. “I have 30 to 40 strains of Brettanomyces; a lot of pedi and lacto; countless saccharomyces strains,” says head brewer Ehren Schmidt, who uses his education in geomicrobiology and experience brewing at The St. Louis Brewery to blend the perfect proportions of yeast and bacteria for every wild ale. “It’s about trying to find a more systematic approach to souring rather than letting voodoo take hold,” says Schmidt. And the results have been well-received: Bramble on Rose, the brewery’s blonde wild ale aged four months in neutral oak barrels and an additional six weeks on San Diego-grown blackberries, took bronze at the 2016 World Beer Cup. With many more of the two-year-old brewery’s sour ales finally coming of age, expect to see a majority of the taproom’s 16 faucets pouring barrel- and fodder-fermented, bug-filled beers.

Transient Artisan Ales transientartisanales.com
Bridgman, Michigan
Transient’s name perhaps made more sense when it was a gypsy brewery popping out mixed-fermentation and barrel-aged creations around the Chicago area. It’s since debuted a brick-and-mortar brewery/ taproom this spring in southwest Michigan, which founder Chris Betts chose for its proximity to fruit farms and vineyards (they supply the air with delicious yeasts and bacterial bugs to ferment his wild ales). Buckley Imperial Breakfast Stout made our 2015 list of the 25 Beers of the Year, and we’ve been smitten with how well Betts’ wild ales, such as Sporadic #3, develop over time. We’re not alone. When Transient launched, Betts offered a membership program to about 150 people; he’s since capped it at 250, and another 900 names crowd the waiting list.

Trillium Brewing Co. trilliumbrewing.com
Boston, Massachusetts
Though the brewery officially opened the doors to its original location in Boston’s Fort Point neighborhood in March 2013, Trillium’s true launch occurred four years before that, at the wedding of owners JC and Esther Tetreault. JC, then an avid homebrewer, brewed three beers for the big day, which he and his betrothed filled and decorated themselves with hand-drawn labels featuring a moniker they had come up with on a whim: Trillium. Say that name among beer geeks today and the image of a cloudy ale—the kind of juicy, excessively dry-hopped beer that’s recently come to epitomize Northeastern IPAs—appears in their heads. In the three-plus years since its opening, Trillium has earned cult-level status for its IPA iterations, and brews like Melcher Street, Vicinity, Upper Case and Scaled have solidified spots on lists of the top hoppy beers worldwide. The brewery quickly outgrew its tiny taproom in Boston and expanded to a 16,000-squarefoot production facility in Canton last year, and more change is in the air. Trillium partnered with a mobile cannery to introduce hazy IPAs in aluminum in June, with plans to invest in a canning line of their own early next year. It was something that had to happen, Esther says, after fans on social media began sending the brewery pictures of its labels pulled from bottles and wrapped haphazardly around cans, with captions like “When are we going to see this?” Wild ales are afoot as well: A mid-May addition of seven oak foeders brought its total up to 16, and the 300 oak barrels stacked beside them will start coming to maturity around October, meaning you’ll soon see an increase in Trillium sours like Stonington, an oak-fermented ale, fermented with yeast found on grapes the Tetreaults cultured from the very vineyard at which they wed.

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The exterior of Les Gamines, located on the Lomme River in Poix-Saint-Hubert. Photo by Joe Stange.

Against all odds, the hamlet of Poix-Saint-Hubert—too small to be a village—has its own train station. This is all the more remarkable if you consider that the rail network is sparse in this part of Belgium, the rugged and rural Ardennes.

Take a train from Brussels and you can be there in two and a half hours. Driving is an hour faster, but then you’d miss that distinct feeling of unlikeliness. Leaving the station, you look around to see that you’re in the basin of a lovely, thickly wooded valley bisected by a stream called the Lomme. This babbling water feeds the Lesse, which feeds the Meuse, which eventually flows into the North Sea.

Right there, across the road from the station, is the hotel Val de Poix, which can hold more guests than the hamlet has residents. From the back of the hotel an arched wooden footbridge extends over the river (watch the brown trout below). The bridge leads to a highly regarded restaurant called Les Gamines—“the Girls,” for the two sisters who run it⏤its existence here no more likely than that of the train station.

Picture windows over the river line one side of the restaurant. The rest is stone walls, and one features a neat stack of firewood. In the midst of the larger dining room stands a beautiful, shiny red meat slicer. The firewood and the slicer hint at the menu, which emphasizes local charcuterie and roasted meats. This is a restaurant du terroir, and the proprietors call themselves terroiristes—i.e. locavores.

The eyes of beer-preoccupied travelers are drawn to something else: One of those walls features a chalkboard map of Belgian Luxembourg, with 15 stars each marking a different brewery—Orval, Rulles, Achouffe, Fantôme, Sainte-Hélène and more, they’re all there. You can drink their beers with a sampler of dried sausage, fried croquettes of Orval cheese, or suckling pig from the rotisserie. Or in the fall, there is inevitably wild game, a specialty of the Ardennes.

A Luxembourg beer map at Les Gamines, located on the Lomme River in Poix-Saint-Hubert. Photo by Joe Stange.

Luxembourg province—which includes most of the Ardennes and its eccentric little cousin, the Gaume⏤is something like a Belgian Alaska. It’s the country’s largest province but also its least populated. It has nearly 15 percent of Belgium’s landmass but only 2 percent of its people, not counting the many thousands of clever Dutch tourists who flock here during summer for the hiking, biking, food and drink.

Those are facts. Here is an opinion: This part of Belgium punches far above its weight when it comes to great beers.

You can make an argument that they have terroir, too, but it depends on how strict you want to be about what that word means. According to some, it has to do with the people and their history rather than the soil. Tim Webb⏤my co-author on the Good Beer Guide to Belgium, and the man who started the book in 1992⏤is among those who believe beer has terroir, but “not for the soil where the grain or hops are grown, but for the people in the area for whom the beer is brewed, who shape by their cultural expectations how that beer will be.”

About those beers. I’ll mention a few.

Their chief is none other than Orval, that most idiosyncratic of Trappist ales with its bone-dry taste, its generous hopping and its edgy dose of Brettanomyces. It’s an important beer to Belgium but it’s especially important to this region, where I have seen locals enter ordinary cafés and toss them back like pils despite the higher price. These days, even many Luxembourg drink warehouses limit their customers to a six-pack each, since demand outstrips supply. Thankfully, it is ubiquitous in the region’s cafes.

The local palate is accustomed to Orval, and this helps to explain the character and distinction of other beers in the region. Another important factor is Orval’s own laboratory, which shares its testing facilities and house yeast with other brewers of Luxembourg⏤a major boon for smaller brewers who lack resources. The yeast it provides is not the Brett but rather the primary strain, less spicy than other Belgian brewing yeasts. It tends to produce a dry, clean frame for showcasing hop character.

Another seminal beer from the region is none other than fruity, spicy La Chouffe. It came on the scene in 1983 amid a tide of brewery consolidations and increasingly corporate beer lists. Along with contemporaries like De Dolle and Abbaye des Rocs in other parts of the country, La Chouffe would help inspire a generation of brewers who wanted to make and drink something different. Also influential: The beer’s convivial 75 cl format. It’s nice for sharing with friends over a meal but founders Pierre Gobron and Chris Bauweraerts liked it because the bottles were easier to clean.

They performed another feat a decade ago with Houblon Chouffe, among the country’s first (actually, La Rulles was doing it first) to give pride of place to citrusy American hops. Bauweraerts says that Duvel CEO Michel Moortgat enjoyed drinking Houblon Chouffe as they discussed purchasing Achouffe that year. Duvel Tripel Hop came soon afterward.

A La Rulles Pils. Photo by Joe Stange.

There are too many worthy beers to mention, but here are a few other highlights I’d recommend without hesitation.

• La Rulles Estivale is that brewery’s lightest offering at 5.2% but also one its bitterest at 42 IBU, balanced by a complex citrus and berry character—a product of both the hops and its open fermentation. It’s utterly quenching, and La Rulles’ usual 25 cl glass frankly isn’t big enough. More difficult to find but with more obvious terroir is Houblon Sauvage, brewed with foraged Gaume hops. It’s said to have a minty, herbal character, but I have yet to find the beer in the, er, wild.
• Lupulus is the flagship of 3 Fourquets, founded by Gobron after Duvel bought Achouffe. In fresh bottles, its smack of herbal, spicy hop-bitterness is more than enough to balance its mellow residual sweetness. It’s often overlooked by Belgian beer geeks because it’s widely available, and an attitude of “oh, it’s just another strong blonde ale.” But, in my view, this is one of the country’s most underrated beers.
• Sainte-Hélène Simcoe Lager is exactly what it sounds like, and it’s only 3.5% in strength⏤just to back up that whole theme of improbability. It also happens to be hugely entertaining, its aroma evoking more peaches than pines. You should not feel guilty about keeping a 75 cl to yourself, if you can find one. But drink it fresh.
• Bastogne has only been going since 2009, and brewer Philippe Minne is increasingly confident in brewing the stuff that he most wants to drink. His darlings include the beefy, balanced and impressive Ardenne Stout, 8%, but I lean toward the Ardenne Saison at 5.5%, amply dry-hopped and dosed with Brettanomyces at bottling for a huge aroma that mingles citrus, bookshop-must and barnyard. They harvested the Brett strain from the skins of local apples.

Again defying the odds, one of Belgium’s best beer shops is in the provincial capital of Arlon, tucked into the country’s far southeast corner. I asked Mi-Orge Mi-Houblon‘s Chris Gillard what sets the region’s beers apart.

He mentioned the presence of Orval for both its popularity and its lab as well as Achouffe. He added that in this region,  “we do not have any traditional styles, like saison in the west part of Belgium, Flemish red and so on, so brewers just did beers.”

He also said that the personality of the people affects the personality of what they drink.

“To answer your question, you have to understand the people in Luxembourg, who are known to be stubborn,” Gillard said. “In this area people do what they want, without taking care to the fashion, buzz, hype and so on.” That’s why you don’t see many bland wheat or fruit beers, “but a big majority of beers with a lot of character.”

The same principle applies to those who make the beers. “When you speak to the brewers, they answer when you ask why they are making beers with this profile, ‘I’m brewing beer I like to drink.’”

It would be nice to think that all brewers should follow that philosophy, instead of allowing themselves to be steered by the latest fads and ideas from the sales and marketing departments. But could such a thing happen?

Not likely.

The post The Improbable Ales of Belgian Luxembourg appeared first on DRAFT.

Photo by Joe Stange

Odds are that you, like me, were not able to attend this year’s Carnivale Brettanomyces in Amsterdam, one of my favorite fests in the world. That’s OK. We make our own fun.

Besides an array of truly strange beers in an appropriately strange host city, this event has a strong educational component: a series of lectures and tastings hosted by people who really know their stuff. This year’s series included talks by Jean Van Roy of Cantillon and Chad Yakobson from Crooked Stave, among others, so I was sad to miss it. But while visiting family in Missouri and browsing one of the St. Louis area’s more voluminous liquor superstores, I noticed something: There are enough Brett beers populating the shelves these days to make our own Carnivale Brettanomyces at home. So that’s what I did⏤and so can you.

And I noticed something else: A lot of these beers are fucking expensive.

They are cheaper than a flight to Amsterdam, sure. But considering these beers are made in our own country and sold for home consumption, they’re a splurge. I mean, if you’re used to paying for fancy wine, maybe they don’t seem that pricey to you. Or, if you’re the type to build an evening around tasting one or two beers but but not drinking several, then maybe it’s a cheap date and you’re fully entertained.

Personally, I like to taste beer⏤but not as much as I like to drink beer. Perhaps I fear that I will really like one of these dainties and want to buy lots more of it.

For comparison: To have some stuff to enjoy during a hot sunny weekend of swimming, fishing and grilling, we bought a sixer of IPA, two four-packs of pint cans (pale ale and fancy lager) and two half-liters of imported German pils. The total: $38.22.

But for our blind tasting⏤our own Carnivale Brettanomyces⏤we bought seven individual bottles, ranging in size from 375 to 750 ml (or, 12.68 to 25.36 ounces). The total for these seven beers: $85.24.

I understand that these beers are special, and that we as drinkers have shown willingness to pay more for this sort of thing. But consider where we were likely to find Brettanomyces in beer, historically speaking: old British porter; Belgian lambic and saison; Berliner weisse, etc. In their home contexts, none of these would have been upper-class drinks. They were only beer, after all.

So, while I wish for a new wave of unpretentious, reasonably priced Brett beers, maybe I can help you shop.

In picking out the beers for our blind tasting, I had only two rules: It must say “Brett” or “Brettanomyces” clearly on the label, and it must have no spices listed on the label. We rather easily found seven beers and probably could have picked out more.

Back at the farm, my wife Kelly deftly handled the pouring from behind a screen, randomizing the beers for us. We did not know what we were drinking. My fellow judges were her parents, occasional homebrewers who enjoy tasting all sorts of things. They’re not geeks and had never taken notes on beers before. I’ve included some of their comments; the scores are my own. Even so, we found an easy consensus on the top three beers and order of preference. If we had been a judging table in a competition, we could have assigned gold, silver and bronze medals without debate.

Judging was hedonistic. We noted the appearance and aroma and mouthfeel and so on but in the end, our scores were based on a simple question: How did you like it and to what degree would you enjoy drinking more of this?

The results included plenty of surprises. I list the beers alphabetically. Warning: There will be highfalutin descriptors.

Anchorage Mosaic Saison with Brettanomyces, 6.5%, 750 ml, $13.99  ✭✭✭1/2
Pours clear, pale gold with lush, sudsy white foam. Distinct notes of dry cider, Chardonnay and pineapple with underlying straw, nuts and cellar-must. Taste brings a firm smack of bitterness, with rough resin building on the tongue with repeat sips. Dry, but not to the bone. Brutish bitterness gets in the way of this being a really entertaining beer, depending on how you feel about brutish bitterness. The in-laws said: “Just didn’t care for it.”

Boulevard Saison-Brett (2016), 8.5%, 750 ml, $11.99  ✭✭✭
Brilliant yellow-gold with some evident sparkle and resilient meringue-like foam. Vaguely artificial lemon-lime scent, like a half-full soda can left out after picnic. More: lime leaves, light nutty malts, sourdough. Tastes quite sweet, not quite balanced by a snap of bitterness, with more than a bit of alcohol burn. Ethanol and gin more evident in aftertaste. Lovely nose but off-balance with unpleasant alcohol. The in-laws said: “Not much nose. Like a bitter Budweiser. It was pretty, though.”

Crooked Stave Brett d’Or, 7%, 375 ml, $9.99  ✭✭✭✭1/2
Very pale yellow-gold, lightly hazed, its white foam sticking just a bit. Smells of unripe pineapple and musty lemon, with a bit of goaty, tangy sweat. Flavor is quite tart, lemony and grapefruity with low bitterness. Lambiclike but simpler; not as dry as an oude gueuze but nearly as complex. A fine, lemony, tart, tangy summer drink. The in-laws said: “Sweat socks, but I like this. Refreshing.”

New Holland Mischievous (2015), 5.5%, 22 oz., $13.99  ✭✭1/2
Deep, old gold color, lively, with geometric bubbling like octagons unless you look closely. Smells of mushy, musty, overripe apples and tomato jam drizzled in syrup from a can of tropical fruit cocktail. Potent but not entirely pleasant. Flavor leans sweet with not quite enough bitterness, accented with woody tomato. Odd beer, too challenging to want more. The in-laws said: “Like apple cider. But something ain’t right about it.”

Prairie Vous Français, 3.9%, 750 ml, $7.99  ✭✭✭1/2
Very pale yellow, hazy, polygon bubbles stacking down as lots of sparkles fall up. Nose of lemon, cider must, wine barrels and sweet spillage. Utterly bony-bone dry, floral like chamomile in a soap shop, fairly thin body but lively. Compelling beer but wanting a light touch of sweetness or acidity to balance the impression of drinking dried flowers. The in-laws said: “Very light. Fruity aftertaste. OK but not great.”

Stillwater/Oliver Tuppence, 7%, 22 oz., $9.99  ✭✭✭✭
Black beer with lush tan foam, ruby highlights if held up to the sky. Smells of lightly sweetened dark roast coffee and toasted nuts. Moderately roasty-bitter, nicely balanced with light sweetness, finishing fairly dry with more coffee and nuts in the aftertaste. Lovely roast malt does the talking while brett is a silent partner, though no doubt that would change with age. Superb porter, as it is, and more pints would come easily. The in-laws said: “Too much coffee.”

Urban Family Through the Eyes of Babes, 6.89%, 375 ml, $9.99  ✭✭✭✭1/2
Not so pretty: Looks like murky apple cider, a dull brown-tinted orange-amber, but with a sturdy layer of pale foam. Smells a like canned pear syrup, fruit cellar, cider must. Lightly tart with a elegant bitterness that is earthy and spicy, sparkling on the tongue and splintering into a parching dryness that wants another gulp. A complex beer with false promises of sweet fruit that slides through pepper and finishes in the cobwebs. The in-laws said: “Tasted like blackberries. A little sour in the nose. Rich-tasting.”

A footnote: We shared a year-old Orval afterward, though not blindly, and it was ✭✭✭✭✭. To me. The in-laws didn’t care for it.

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Patience is key when cellaring beer; you’ve got to give it the proper time to develop. Since Stone Brewing Co. conveniently provided a guideline in the name of its Enjoy After 12.26.15 Brett IPA, we waited until Boxing Day had passed to crack open a bottle.

The beer pours a semi-occluded straw color with an enormous fizzy head that lingers forever. A delicate barnyard bouquet, laced with pome fruit and floral sweetness, wafts up from the glass; with hints of spice buried deep in the roiling effervescence, the aroma lacks the heavy funkiness often present in Brettanomyces-spiked beer. A citrus-forward sip booming with bright lemon washes over the tongue, joined by funky hay and moderate spiciness before a very dry finish. The hops lend the distinct bitterness one would expect from a 70-IBU IPA—it drinks like a hoppy saison.

Waiting until the prescribed date certainly allowed the Brett enough time to do its thing as the bubbling carbonation and delightful aroma can attest. More cellar time might allow more complexities to spring forth, but further aging runs the risk of the hops dropping out altogether.

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Photo by Sarah Haughey

All sorts of odd words show up on our bottles and cans and tap lists these days. Some of them even mean something, though it can take some geeky detective work to figure out how these ingredients are supposed to bring us added pleasure. Anyway, who is this “Brett” guy?

Briefly, Brett is short for Brettanomyces, a type of yeast found in the wild—on the skins of fruits, for example. Winemakers fear it as a culprit in spoilage, although a few allow a bit of it for house character. Modern brewers also tend to avoid Brettanomyces, preferring to control fermentation with aseptic conditions and pure yeasts.

But, by and large, it is perfectly cool to harvest wild yeast and simulate old-fashioned beers descended from the days when microscopes were rare and these things were not well understood. And, it’s a growing trend. There are festivals dedicated to Brett—like the Carnivale Brettanomyces in Amsterdam—and there are breweries that give it pride of place—notably Denver’s Crooked Stave, helmed by yeast expert Chad Yakobson. He even wrote the Brettanomyces entry in the “Oxford Companion to Beer”: “Craft brewers casually refer to the yeast as ‘Brett,’ a name that sounds appropriately like an old friend.”

Indeed more brewers are getting friendly with it. In deciding how best to make use of Brett, they can draw inspiration from each other, or from history.

Its name means “British fungus,” since scientists discovered it while studying the souring of aged British ales. It’s also an important player in the acidic lambics of Brussels and Pajottenland, and the Trappist brewery at Orval famously uses it for bottle conditioning. In Germany, modern Berliner Weisse tends to have a straightforward lactic acidity; beer historian Ron Pattinson believes that older examples had greater depth thanks to the presence of Brett.

So what does it do to our beer? How does it smell, and how does it taste?

The answer depends a lot on how it’s used. When used for secondary fermentation—that is, the brewer first uses a normal yeast, only later adding Brett—the effects can be subtle, though they can grow and evolve as the beer ages. Meanwhile, it’s becoming more common for brewers to use Brettanomyces for primary fermentation, which can produce completely different, less subtle aromatic traits.

But what are those traits? If forced to choose a word to sum it up, I’d say “rustic.” Some call it “funk.” Anyway, we can be more specific.

Depending on the strain of Brett and when it enters the brewing process, these are adjectives you might hear—or better yet, discover for yourself: leather, musty, pineapple, tropical fruit or floral. Those are some of the nice ones. It can also have some not-nice smells, including medicine and bandages. Ideally your local adventurer-brewer will know how to avoid those. Also, a Brett beer is not necessarily sour—again, that depends on how it’s used, and whether certain bacteria are present (on purpose, you hope).

No need to be slavish to the usual flavor descriptors, either. The first time I tasted an authentic gueuze—I hadn’t really learned about Brett yet—I scribbled something down about “musty lemons stuffed into an old gym sock and thrashed around a used bookshop a few times.”

I wasn’t crazy about it, then. But the most rewarding tastes tend to be the ones we acquire.

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The unpredictable yeast Brettanomyces (alias Brett) has been used to ferment beer overseas for more than a century, and has gained popularity in American over the past few years. It’s used to ferment wild ales, a varied group of tart and funky brews that span the flavor spectrum. And these sour and wild ales are in-demand. They’re highly sought-after from breweries like Side Project, de Garde, Crooked Stave, Wicked Weed and Jester King. (When made by Belgian breweries, Brett-fermented sours generally include styles like gueuzes, lambics and oud bruins.) But wild ales, for all the love they get from the geekier end of the beer fan spectrum, still won’t win a popularity contest against IPAs. What if the two could combine forces?

They have. Brewers continue to push the stylistic boundaries, and some have lately produced a sort of hybrid wild ale-IPA fermented by the funkmaster Brettanomyces. Hops and Brett seem, at first blush, like strange bedfellows. In theory, these Brett IPAs combine the variable aromatics (including hay, barnyard and tart fruit) of Brett with complimentary hop aroma and flavor. It’s a daunting brewing challenge, best left to those who can rein in this unpredictable yeast. Tasting four Brett-and-hops beers side-by-side revealed just how wide a range of flavors the combo can produce. Here’s a quick rundown of the four we tried, ranked from most like an IPA to most wild:

Manayunk Dr. Drei Brett IPA: This was the darkest beer of the four, pouring a deep, clear golden color. The duo of Brett and earthy hops produced a perfumey, incenselike aroma with light spice around its edges. The sip was also the smoothest of the four beers, with a pleasantly weighted mouthfeel and dank, floral hops wrapped in a lightly funky blanket. If you’re an IPA fan just dipping your toes into the Bretty waters, start here. It’s mostly an earthy IPA, slightly skewed by Brett’s more pleasant characteristics.

Avery Twenty Two: The 22nd anniversary release from Avery is labeled a “100% Brettanomyces drie-fermented dry-hopped wild ale.” Let’s parse that out: Brett drie is the specific strain of Brett (the yeast has different species that all produce different flavors in beer), and the beer is dry-hopped with Lemon Drop and Hersbrucker, meaning hops are added after the boil to produce maximum aromatics. OK. On to its characteristics: The Brett produces complex aromas of light red wine vinegar and some sweaty sock (in a good way!), while the hops express themselves more on the tongue. There’s a light grapiness and peach from the Brett drie, and the hops contribute complimentary citric tartness that riffs on the fruit theme. It’s pleasing despite its complexity, and doesn’t veer too far toward Brett’s stranger side.

Crooked Stave Hop Savant Citra: Crooked Stave has released multiple versions of this Brett-fermented pale ale brewed with different hop varieties; we tried the Citra-hopped version. In this beer, hops and Brett intertwine expertly: hay and barnyard scents coat a juicy grapefruit aroma, while the sip reveals even more prominent, fresh citrus pith flavor with just a touch of Brett mustiness underneath. Despite its grapefruit-forward flavors, the sharp aroma of a horse stable might not be everyone’s cup of tea. Share this with the adventurous drinkers in your life.

Green Bench/Trinity (collaboration) Sauvage Blanc: There’s a “Sauv” theme running through this 100% Brett-fermented saison—Nelson Sauvin hops, sauvignon blanc grape must, and the beer’s been aged in sauvignon blanc barrels. Yes, there’s plenty going on in this tiny bottle. This is the haziest of the four beers, with a white wine hue that’s almost tinted green when held up to light. Aromas jump off the pour: a nearly manurelike funk lets you know you’re in for something earthy and, well, kinda weird. Nelson Sauvin hops mimic some of the flavors of white wine grapes, which connect with Brett’s rustic, wet earth flavors to create the impression of a vineyard after a storm. Sound quite poetic? That’s what the intense side of the Brett spectrum inspires.

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If you’re a fan of sour beers, you’ve definitely seen some tough-to-spell bacteria and yeast names thrown around. Brett, lacto and pedio are sort of the Three Musketeers of sour beers, producing some of the flavors that make beers distinctly funky, sour and tart. (I spotted a guy at Upland‘s Sour, Wild & Funk Fest two years ago wearing this shirt. Well played, sir.) Though people often refer to these bacteria and yeast in the same breath, it’s worth taking time to explore each on its own. I asked Michael Dawson, brand manager at Wyeast Laboratories, which supplies liquid brewing cultures, for the lowdown on what each microbe does.

To understand these three terms, though, we need to begin with the two types of fermentation: wild and single-culture. Single-culture means one strain of yeast is introduced to eat up the sugars in wort, converting them to alcohol. Sour beers, on the other hand, undergo wild or mixed fermentation, meaning multiple types of yeast and bacteria work together symbiotically to turn sugar to alcohol. Within the category of wild ales, beers can be subject to either controlled or open-air fermentation. Controlled fermentation means brewers use multiple types of yeast and bacteria, but have selected exactly which strains enter the tanks. Open-air fermentation is exactly what it sounds like: Tanks are left partially open, allowing bacteria and wild yeast to drift in naturally from the environment. This method gives the beer a sense of place; open-air fermentation is what makes some Belgian beers taste so characteristically Belgian.

Prior to the work of Louis Pasteur, the invention of modern refrigeration and the discovery of microbiology, beer underwent mixed fermentation. Most non-wild beer today, though, is fermented with a single yeast strain, saccharomyces. But it is when brewers deliberately introduce other yeasts and bacteria that things get funky, mostly through the addition of these three microbes:

• Brettanomyces (aka “Brett”): A strain of yeast, not a bacteria, that Dawson refers to as “the wunderkind of the wild beer world.” It serves the same function as saccharomyces does: fermenting beer. But Brett works more slowly, meaning a beer that could have fermented within days or weeks with saccharomyces will take weeks, months or even years to display its full character when Brett is used. Dawson rephrases a quote from the late beer author Michael Jackson: “Saccharomyces is like a dog and Brett is like a cat. It’s a little less predictable. It’s going to do its own thing; it’s not going to come when you call it and sit when you say sit. If you can respect its individuality and suggest rather than dictate what it does in your fermentation, it can reward the brewer and the drinker.” There are different strains of Brett, each of which produces its own flavors ranging from tropical pineapple and fruity peach to the intense flavors described as sweaty horse blanket, dirt, earth and barnyard. TL;DR: Brett is the microbe responsible for funk.

• Lactobacillus (aka “lacto”): A bacteria, not a yeast. Lacto eats up the sugars in wort and, rather than converting them to alcohol, converts them to lactic acid. This lowers the liquid’s pH, making it sour. Lacto also shows up in plenty of food fermentation, from kimchee to yogurt. It’s a relatively clean taste for drinkers, since lacto doesn’t produce much besides lactic acid. It’s responsible for the tang of German styles like goses and Berliner weisses. TL; DR: Lacto produces lactic acid, resulting in a clean, sour taste.

• Pediococcus (aka “pedio”): A bacteria, not a yeast. Like lacto, pedio produces lactic acid and lowers pH. But all things being equal, Dawson says, many people find the resulting sourness from the introduction of pediococcus “harsher” than that of lactobacillus. While lacto produces a clean sourness, pedio can contribute other funky aromas and flavors to the mix. It gives Brett more fuel to work with, so they’re often used together. It’s the bacteria that sours beers like lambics and Flanders reds. TL; DR: Pedio produces lactic acid as well as other funky and sour flavors.

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Usually, the only thing beer geeks agree on is that they don’t agree on much. But beerophiles tend to put differences aside for a few really stellar beers, and one of them is Boulevard’s annual Saison-Brett. It’s a GABF gold medalist and a RateBeer 100-pointer, not to mention one of Boulevard brewmaster Steven Pauwels’ favorite creations. It’s also a significant beer for cellar folk.

An 8.5%-ABV riff on the brewery’s Tank 7 Farmhouse Ale, the beer’s dry-hopped and bottle-conditioned with Brettanomyces yeast. First brewed in 2008—back when Brettanomyces wasn’t even a blip on most brewers’ radars—the beer was something you could put in the cellar and have almost zero clue how long to leave it there, let alone grasp how it would emerge when you finally decided to pop it open. Over the past five years, the beer has become a teaching tool for both drinker and brewer on how wild-yeast beers age: Because the beer so purely focuses on highlighting the funky, earthy, pungent character of Brettanomyces, the brewery and its customers have spent the last half-decade studying the nuances of the yeast’s maturation.

In May, Boulevard brewer Jeremy Danner told the KC Beer Blog that the brewery bottles and conditions the beer off-site to avoid cross-contaminating its other beers with the notoriously nosy Brett yeast; then, the team constantly monitors Saison-Brett’s development. “We pull several bottles at various times during the bottling run for quality assurance testing,” he told the blog. “In the first few weeks, we’re monitoring CO2 levels, making sure that the beer bottle-conditions. Once it gets past a few weeks, we taste bottles every couple weeks to wait for Brett character to develop.”

The 2012 Saison-Brett vintage released this month, and the beer’s as delightful as it ever was: A snappy, wheaty base makes a great stage for a lemony opus with floral hop and horseblanket notes playing backup. And the yeast: Barely tart and totally funky.

We have a second bottle (No. 17116, thank you very much) that we’re putting away, so we touched base with Pauwels and Danner for a bit of background on how the yeast develops, and their advice on how long to age the beer.

Pauwels had this to say about the yeast’s development: “We release Saison-Brett from the brewery after it is stored at our warehouse for 3 months. At that time, the Brett notes are noticeable and blend with the grapefruit character from the hops. For the next 3 to 6 months (depending on the storage temperature), the Brett notes are increasing, but still play nice with the other aromas. During the following phase, the Brett takes over, and the fruity, estery aroma disappears, while the hop character diminishes. We have found in some bottles that after 2 to 3 years, the Brett character fades and hop notes return.”

Danner suggested a more conservative cellar time. “With extreme aging, the body tends to thin out and the Brett character can become a bit overwhelming,” he says. “For this reason, I don’t usually age my bottles past 18 to 24 months.”

We’ll meet both experts in the middle and age our bottle 2 years… though, in the past, we’ve opened up bottles after a year of aging and been quite pleased with their profiles. If you open yours up sooner, let us know!

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Conceived on Odell’s pilot brewing system, Shenanigans is an extremely smooth oak-aged ale, packed with wood, fruit notes and a ton of funky Brettanomyces.

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