Spring Flings
Fall in love with brews that are perfect for warm weather.
If only the Germans had colonized New England, we might all be reading this magazine in a biergarten, one of those magnificent 2,000-seat Bavarian alfresco oases where the menu is short (weisswurst, anyone?) and the stunningly fresh bier plentiful, even at breakfast.
Alas, the German immigrants who helped foster New England’s beer culture—Boston itself was home to 27 breweries in the 1890s—were no match for the teetotalers who backed Prohibition. But they didn’t slake our thirst for beer. Which means that unless you’re a certified bier geek (I was certified in 1987 when I drank seven half-liter mugs of creamy lager in a single Oktoberfest sitting in Munich’s Hoffbräuhaus), you might not know that beer is seasonal.
Seasonal, you ask? But isn’t Budweiser always in season? Well, yes. But many of the beers that taste best as temperatures rise—the lighter, crisper, fruitier ones—are available, as they say, for a limited time only. So just as many wine drinkers switch from robust reds to rosés and dry whites, and cocktail mixologists phase out whiskeys in favor of vodkas, beer geeks gravitate away from porters and stouts toward bock beers in the spring and then wheats and pilsners in the summer. Sound like a plan? Good.
>>BOCK A common misconception about bock is that it’s made from the dregs brewers discover when they clean out their tanks every spring. (Sounds more like blech, eh?) Not true. According to Stephen Beaumont, veteran beer writer and host of the website World of Beer, bock’s origins lie in the town of Einbeck. The Einbeckers, you see, wanted to sell in Munich, 250 miles away—quite a distance in the old days. So they created a beer with more alcohol, which is a great natural preservative. It became known as Einbecker beer, later shortened to bock.
While Germany’s Ayinger brewery exports a delicious doppelbock (double strength) called Celebrator to our shores, Portland’s Stone Coast Brewing Company also bottles a tasty Knuckleball Bock during baseball season. The Boston Beer Company makes a bread-and-caramel-scented Samuel Adams Double Bock that’s pretty respectable, while Berkshire Brewing Company’s Maibock Lager is refreshingly pleasant and malty, made with real German hops and yeast. And if you find yourself in the Berkshires, take a seat in Northampton Brewery’s beer garden and sample a pull of its Spring Bock, a mildly hoppy brew that tastes made for the outdoors.
>>WHEAT When wheat is added to a beer’s traditional barley malt mash, it makes it lighter in character, and often in color, too, from cloudy white to very pale gold. Beaumont finds that wheat also gives beer a slightly citrusy character, which, in turn, makes it more refreshing and perfect for high-heat thirst quenching. There are two basic styles of wheat beer: German and Belgian.
In the German style, called weissebier, weisse, or weizen, the fermentation process gives the beer two characteristics: a spiciness that’s often perceived as clove, and a fruitiness that’s often perceived as banana. “That may not sound appealing,” Beaumont says with a laugh, “but combined, they work really nicely to refresh.” A great example is Schneider Weisse, available in bottles and on tap.
The Belgian style, called witbier, is lighter still. These beers are brewed with a portion of unmalted wheat (malting gives beer more sugar, which ferments into higher alcohol and heft), so Belgians are lighter in color and flavor. It’s also the tradition, says Beaumont, to flavor them with coriander and orange peel during the boiling part of the brewing process. The most famous import you can find locally is Hoegaarden, a beautiful beer that’s the essence of summer.
Local wheat brews worth seeking out include Smuttynose Brewing Company’s Summer Weizen Ale, a hybrid German/Belgian-style brew combining wheat and golden lager styles; Harpoon Brewery’s UFO Raspberry Hefeweizen, a German-style fruit beer made with raspberries that’s available only in bottles; Boston Beer Company’s Samuel Adams White Ale, a traditional white ale brewed with a cornucopia of fruits and spices, including citrus peel, coriander, anise, hibiscus, rose hips, and tamarind; the Portsmouth Brewery’s Weizenbock, a German-style hefeweizen brewed with New Hampshire maple syrup; John Harvard’s Brew House’s Shakespeare’s Wit, a white ale lightly spiced with coriander and orange peel; and Concord Brewery’s Rapscallion White Ale, a Belgian-inspired, bitter orange brew that’s very pale and cloudy with rich orange and honey flavors sprinkled with a touch of pepper.
>>PILSNER The birth of pilsner beer can be traced back to its namesake, the ancient city of Plzen (or Pilsen) in the Czech Republic, which was once part of the Bohemian kingdom. Czech pilsner, also known as Bohemian pilsner, is light straw to golden in color, and clear, made with a good deal of hops that give it a spicy bitterness and a malty palate. Two great imports are Pilsner Urquell from the Czech Republic and Bitburger from Germany (available on tap at the Publick House in Brookline this month), which benefit from Saaz hops that are unique to their areas. I found a very good local version at Boston Beer Works; its Patriot Pilsner was hoppy and bitter, which is just what the doctor orders when thinking seasonally.
Once you’ve tried these styles of beer, you’ll understand why the big brewers’ generic styles fall flat when it’s hot (if not year round). In fact, I recommend you conduct a taste test of a Bud or Michelob versus a Pilsner Urquell or Bitburger. While both are made in the lager style, the differences are extraordinary. Instead of a sweet, watery flavor, you’ll get layers of hops, bitters, and fruit. Which, in addition to being oh-so-sophisticated, is an unbeatable thirst quencher. Just in time for spring.
Alas, the German immigrants who helped foster New England’s beer culture—Boston itself was home to 27 breweries in the 1890s—were no match for the teetotalers who backed Prohibition. But they didn’t slake our thirst for beer. Which means that unless you’re a certified bier geek (I was certified in 1987 when I drank seven half-liter mugs of creamy lager in a single Oktoberfest sitting in Munich’s Hoffbräuhaus), you might not know that beer is seasonal.
Seasonal, you ask? But isn’t Budweiser always in season? Well, yes. But many of the beers that taste best as temperatures rise—the lighter, crisper, fruitier ones—are available, as they say, for a limited time only. So just as many wine drinkers switch from robust reds to rosés and dry whites, and cocktail mixologists phase out whiskeys in favor of vodkas, beer geeks gravitate away from porters and stouts toward bock beers in the spring and then wheats and pilsners in the summer. Sound like a plan? Good.
>>BOCK A common misconception about bock is that it’s made from the dregs brewers discover when they clean out their tanks every spring. (Sounds more like blech, eh?) Not true. According to Stephen Beaumont, veteran beer writer and host of the website World of Beer, bock’s origins lie in the town of Einbeck. The Einbeckers, you see, wanted to sell in Munich, 250 miles away—quite a distance in the old days. So they created a beer with more alcohol, which is a great natural preservative. It became known as Einbecker beer, later shortened to bock.
While Germany’s Ayinger brewery exports a delicious doppelbock (double strength) called Celebrator to our shores, Portland’s Stone Coast Brewing Company also bottles a tasty Knuckleball Bock during baseball season. The Boston Beer Company makes a bread-and-caramel-scented Samuel Adams Double Bock that’s pretty respectable, while Berkshire Brewing Company’s Maibock Lager is refreshingly pleasant and malty, made with real German hops and yeast. And if you find yourself in the Berkshires, take a seat in Northampton Brewery’s beer garden and sample a pull of its Spring Bock, a mildly hoppy brew that tastes made for the outdoors.
>>WHEAT When wheat is added to a beer’s traditional barley malt mash, it makes it lighter in character, and often in color, too, from cloudy white to very pale gold. Beaumont finds that wheat also gives beer a slightly citrusy character, which, in turn, makes it more refreshing and perfect for high-heat thirst quenching. There are two basic styles of wheat beer: German and Belgian.
In the German style, called weissebier, weisse, or weizen, the fermentation process gives the beer two characteristics: a spiciness that’s often perceived as clove, and a fruitiness that’s often perceived as banana. “That may not sound appealing,” Beaumont says with a laugh, “but combined, they work really nicely to refresh.” A great example is Schneider Weisse, available in bottles and on tap.
The Belgian style, called witbier, is lighter still. These beers are brewed with a portion of unmalted wheat (malting gives beer more sugar, which ferments into higher alcohol and heft), so Belgians are lighter in color and flavor. It’s also the tradition, says Beaumont, to flavor them with coriander and orange peel during the boiling part of the brewing process. The most famous import you can find locally is Hoegaarden, a beautiful beer that’s the essence of summer.
Local wheat brews worth seeking out include Smuttynose Brewing Company’s Summer Weizen Ale, a hybrid German/Belgian-style brew combining wheat and golden lager styles; Harpoon Brewery’s UFO Raspberry Hefeweizen, a German-style fruit beer made with raspberries that’s available only in bottles; Boston Beer Company’s Samuel Adams White Ale, a traditional white ale brewed with a cornucopia of fruits and spices, including citrus peel, coriander, anise, hibiscus, rose hips, and tamarind; the Portsmouth Brewery’s Weizenbock, a German-style hefeweizen brewed with New Hampshire maple syrup; John Harvard’s Brew House’s Shakespeare’s Wit, a white ale lightly spiced with coriander and orange peel; and Concord Brewery’s Rapscallion White Ale, a Belgian-inspired, bitter orange brew that’s very pale and cloudy with rich orange and honey flavors sprinkled with a touch of pepper.
>>PILSNER The birth of pilsner beer can be traced back to its namesake, the ancient city of Plzen (or Pilsen) in the Czech Republic, which was once part of the Bohemian kingdom. Czech pilsner, also known as Bohemian pilsner, is light straw to golden in color, and clear, made with a good deal of hops that give it a spicy bitterness and a malty palate. Two great imports are Pilsner Urquell from the Czech Republic and Bitburger from Germany (available on tap at the Publick House in Brookline this month), which benefit from Saaz hops that are unique to their areas. I found a very good local version at Boston Beer Works; its Patriot Pilsner was hoppy and bitter, which is just what the doctor orders when thinking seasonally.
Once you’ve tried these styles of beer, you’ll understand why the big brewers’ generic styles fall flat when it’s hot (if not year round). In fact, I recommend you conduct a taste test of a Bud or Michelob versus a Pilsner Urquell or Bitburger. While both are made in the lager style, the differences are extraordinary. Instead of a sweet, watery flavor, you’ll get layers of hops, bitters, and fruit. Which, in addition to being oh-so-sophisticated, is an unbeatable thirst quencher. Just in time for spring.
Originally published in Boston magazine, May 2006
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