Are the Great Beers of Europe Dying?
No discussion of European beer is possible without recognizing that all of the distinctive classes of modern beer made around the world originated in Europe.
The most impressive European contribution to brewing science came from Bavaria, where a special yeast was developed that had a unique ability to ferment beer at very low, nearly freezing, temperatures. At that time Munich, or Bavarian, beer was brewed dark but not always strong. The unique cold ferment was carried on in deep caves and the sub-40 F (4.5 C) temperatures were made possible by using ice harvested from frozen lakes in winter. The beer was made in winter and aged, or stored, until summer. Such beer was called “lagered” or stored beer, from the German lagern, “to store.”
The cold temperatures allowed an infection-free ferment with fairly low alcohol content and eliminated souring bacterial contamination, which could ruin its taste. This cold ferment was much slower and resulted in a smoother, mellower product. Munich beer was the first of the great modern European beer styles to be developed in the nineteenth century. It was mellow and malty, dark amber or copper in color, mildly hopped, and had a little less than 5 percent alcohol from a gravity of 12 Plato (British 1048). It was brewed in most countries about the world as simply “dark lager.” There were many fine examples.
Dark beers are brewed less frequently these days, even in the lands of their origin. Why? Our great American contribution to brewing science, aka Bud/Coors/Miller, is flooding European markets and the young drinkers (like our own young drinkers) are going for tasteless, colorless, character-free beer that is so popular in this country.
Our own indistinctive beers weren’t always thus. They originally attempted to follow a particular style: “pilsner” is the name found on many of our beers, and indeed on those from across the world.
The original pilsner beer is from Pilsen (Plzeň), Czech Republic. The brewery was said to have been established in 1280 by royal decree and, if you believe the importer’s press agent, they have made the very same beer since that time. The beer, of course, is Pilsner Urquell. “Urquell” means original, the Original Pilsner.
Pilsner-style lager beer is very pale, almost straw-colored, from medium gravity (12.1 degrees Plato), with medium alcohol (4.3% ABV) and a dry crisp taste. It has mellow bitterness (about 43 IBU—International Bittering Units), accompanied by a highly aromatic hop bouquet. When you crack a fresh amber bottle of Pilsner Urquell in Europe, the hop bouquet is nearly overwhelming; the delicate flavor quite intriguing. The beer has been brewed in almost identical fashion for over a 150 years, but only an ad writer would imagine that this is the very same beer that was brewed in 1280. In this country, the bottle is green and the beer has often deteriorated badly.
The American product we call Budweiser (11P/1044 British, 4.7 % ABV and 10.5 IBU) uses a large amount of rice in its production. The company claims not to have changed the recipe over the last 130 years. Can you imagine that? We know that the taste threshold in hops is at about 12 IBU, which explains the lack of perceptible hop character in this beer.
The real story behind the so-called “pilsner” is much more interesting than any PR agent could imagine. In 1842, a number of small householder brewers united to form a Citizen’s Brewery in Pilsen. They produced 96,000 gallons (3,100 bbl) that year, and the beer, at that time, was unique. It was very much like the present-day product. This was possible owing to malting methods developed in the latter part of the eighteenth century, which had made very pale barley malt possible. Until then most beers had been relatively dark in color, even when called pale.
More importantly, there was a new yeast strain that had been brought from Munich, in Bavaria, to Pilsen by a monk in 1840. The combination of very pale Bohemian malts, lovely Czech Saazer hops and a long, slow, cold ferment brought about a revolution in the world’s brewing industry. With the possible exception of the invention of mechanical refrigeration (1860s), this was probably the most important development in brewing history. Modern examples of this beer type are most often called “pils” and they dominate the world market.
The Great Ale Nations
No discussion of the effects of the Bud/Coors/Millers invasion on the European brewing scene, however brief, can exclude the beers of Britain and Belgium. The range of British ale styles have filled many books on beer and the Belgians’ easily fill many others. However, let me just babble on about two favorites of mine: Belhaven Scottish Ale from Dunbar, near Edinburgh in Scotland, and Orval Trappist Ale from Villes-Devant-Orval, Belgium.
Belhaven 80 Shilling Ale is brewed from 10-degrees extract (1041) in 4,300-gallon (140-bbl) batches, using well water from deep Dunbar wells. Traditional English East Kent Goldings hops are added in the boil and a batch is boiled in two segments in the brew copper, (the British call the brew kettle a “copper”), which can only hold 2,600 gallons/9,800 litres (84 bbl) at a time.
The beer is fermented initially in 40 hours at 58 F/14.5 C, followed by four more days of slow ferment at 52 F/11 C. The result is a rather mild alcohol content of 4.25 percent, with no additives or adjuncts. Belhaven started brewing in 1719 and is a small brewery, by American standards. I tasted it here (on nitrogen draught) just last week. Wow!
Belgian Orval Trappist Ale is one of only a handful of Belgian beers allowed the Trappist appellation on the label. It is certified by the Brussels School of Brewing to be a totally natural beer with no artificial ingredients or flavorings. Three separate yeast strains are used in the triple ferment, along with Belgian-grown and malted barley and hops plus water from the famous Matilda Fountain inside the monastery. The usual initial (or primary) ferment is followed by a second ferment during the two-month aging process at 59 F/15 C), and finally a third ferment, in the distinctive baroque bottle, after the addition of a champagne-style dosage.
When bottled, the beer is allowed to age for at least three months. In Belgium, each label has a Roman numeral indicating the month of bottling, which is lacking in the import version available here. I’ve tried it both before and after the aging cycle, and the beer definitely does improve in the bottle. That’s what a bottle-ferment does for you—but the beer tends to cloud if it is not decanted carefully to avoid disturbing the yeast sediment on the bottom of the bottle. As for me, I don’t mind if the beer is not perfectly clear, and I know the yeast is good for me. Orval Trappist Ale has a typical “Belgian” flavor and 6.7 percent alcohol.
What lies ahead for these outstanding traditional beers? Too many of Britain’s young citizens are switching to America’s anemic brews, to the detriment and loss of many of their fine breweries. And a number of Belgian brewers seem to be taking a hit and that’s pretty serious, because the Belgian brewing scene, although-world class and very distinctive, is quite fragile. Many of their brewers are very small by world standards. More to the point, we need them.
The only good note we can find here is the great American craft brewing industry, which seems to be becoming (in Slow Food terms) an “ark” of beer. We are brewing and preserving some great examples of Belgian, English and German-style production, so all is not totally lost, at least not yet. In fact, American craft brewers are busy inventing great new beer styles as well as improving some great “old” beer styles. Witness the great wave of wonderful India pale ales, with IBU counts of up to a hundred. Not everyone’s piece of cake, but they certainly make my day!
We are still in need of low alcohol brews in this country, not just for those of us who want to drink more than two in an evening, but also for our youngest citizens, the 18 to 20 year olds who could easily use mandatory training brews they could order in public houses. This could help teach them about the effects of alcohol. Sadly that won’t happen soon because Americans wouldn’t buy a beer called “mild,” just as they didn’t buy ones labeled “low alcohol.”
Fred Eckhardt, lives in Portland, OR. He is still giddy from his last IPA, one with a hundred IBUs and at 4 p.m. today, he’ll have another if he can remember the name of that beer.