American Wheat
The craft beer revolution in the late 1980s introduced Americans to an abundance of flavor that had been missing from their beer — if not altogether, at least for a long time. For the most part that flavor came from hops. It was as though brewers had just discovered hops and how they could add bitterness and flavor; they tended to go wild with them, sometimes completely overboard. Pyramid Pale Ale was so drenched in Cascade hops that one glass would ruin a drinker for any other beer that evening — you couldn’t even taste anything else. Bridgeport Golden Ale (gone now, alas) originally was so thick with hops that the lupulin coated the roof of your mouth. A number of beer drinkers became instant hopheads, but the flavors weren’t for everyone.
Unfortunately for hop freaks there just weren’t enough of us around to sell beer to. After all, Americans had been told for years that bitter is bad, and the idea of beer with a lot of flavor seemed alien to most people. In response to this less-than-enthusiastic reaction to hop teas, microbrewers began to experiment with a different approach: brewing beers with a bit less intensity and a lot less hop presence.
In England brewers had always offered two basic options for the drinker: bitter and mild. People who liked their beer with some bite drank bitter, and those who favored malt and richness drank mild. During the microbrewery surge the term “mild” never caught on (and marketers tended to steer away from references to “bitter”), but the concept did. What emerged as the American mild was the American wheat beer, a beer that profiled the malt and downplayed the hops.
There’s a certain amount of bickering about where the first new American wheat beer appeared, but it was probably an experimental offering by the Anchor Brewing Co. Other versions appeared in the Northwest, including a wheaten ale from Pyramid. What is not arguable, I think, is which brewery had the greatest success with a wheat beer and persuaded virtually everyone to include a version in their line of beers.
Here in Portland, Ore., Widmer Brewing Co. got into microbrewing with a beer that appealed to a real hard-core beer fan, a true-to-style Dusseldorfer altbier that was rich, intense, and very bitter. Great stuff but with a limited market. Other seasonal beers appeared that were less demanding and found a greater appeal, but it was with the release of its “weizenbier” that Widmer really found its niche. And it was the brewery’s “hefeweizen,” an unfiltered, murky beer invariably served with a slice of lemon, that propelled Widmer into the lead in Oregon’s highly competitive market.
Widmer’s wheat beer has retained its appeal over the following decade. Oregon has a much wider draft sale than most regions of the country, and Widmer’s hefeweizen was second only to Budweiser in sales (although still way behind Bud). This spring the beer appeared in bottles for the first time and swamped the retail market.
Throughout the region and around the country American wheat beers (sometimes with the addition of fruit flavors) have developed an amazing popularity, accounting for a significant portion of the craft brewery market. American beer drinkers still, apparently, aren’t especially comfortable with heaps of hops. However, they seek some more flavor in their beer and, perhaps, want to catch a ride on the craft-brewery bandwagon. Like their Bavarian counterparts, they seem to view unfiltered wheat beers almost as health food, a rich source of vitamin B.
In Europe wheat beers have a lot of character. Bavarian weissbiers are rich in clove, vanilla, and fruity flavors, while Belgian witbiers are spiced with coriander and bitter orange. Distinctive yeasts and a high proportion of wheat in the grist help the beers stand out from more “mainstream” lagers and pils.
American wheat beers, by contrast, are considerably toned down, although generally with much more malt flavor than in the basic American pilsner. Most are top fermented, using the same yeast strain the brewery uses for its line of ales, but bigger breweries are beginning to produce similar beers using lager strains. For example Blitz-Weinhard Brewing Co. in Portland, Ore., brews a very credible version with a lager yeast (and honey).
What isn’t obvious is how much difference the contribution of malted wheat really makes to these beers. In Bavarian weissbiers the high (60 to 70 percent) proportions of wheat affect the flavor, color, and even the dense head, but in American wheat beers the proportions are lower (30 to 50 percent), and the critical decoction mash is eliminated. American wheat beers rarely look different from blonde ales, except that they tend to be clouded by protein haze. It seems likely that a fairly small amount of malted wheat could be included without changing the beer’s character much, as long as hopping rates are held down and an emphasis on malt flavor is continued.
Unfiltered versions, of course, are often served with a dense haze of yeast. At one time Widmer responded to customer demands by changing its racking process to increase the amount of yeast carried over into the kegs; hefeweizen fans objected to beer that was too clear.
In general American wheat beers are pale. Dark versions (“dunkelweizens’’) appear but lack the overall appeal of the paler beers. In some cases, of course, fruit extracts have been added and the beers take on some color (pink or even blue!) from the fruit, but even then, the contribution is not great.
The malts chosen for these beers are simple: pale lager malt (two-row), some pale caramel malt (cara-pils is common) and, of course, some malted wheat. Richer, highly colored caramel malts don’t work well in producing a very pale beer, although they might be included in very small portions. In the early experimental days Pyramid Breweries Inc. fiddled with a roasted wheat malt, but the beer never caught on. I recently discovered cara-wheat in the market, and it might be an interesting ingredient for the experimentally minded homebrewer.
Extract brewers need not be left out. Wheat malts are now widely available in extract form, either pure or blended with malted barley. I look for the palest possible brands, such as Alexander’s. For added body some cara-pils malt and some pale lager malt can be used in a mini-mash and added to the extract wort.
As pseudo-Bavarian beers, many American wheat beers are hopped with German varieties or, more likely, American clones of German varieties. But the familiar Cascade and other American hop varieties are widely used. In fact a blend of continental and American hops may be considered essential to a true American wheat beer. Because bitterness and hop presence is subdued in these beers, low-alpha hops are the best bet (at about 7 percent Cascades are pushing the upper edges and need to be used with caution). New strains, such as Mt. Hood, Liberty, and Ultra, are good choices, along with traditional varieties such as Tettnanger and Hallertauer. Willamette, a very floral variety, works well blended with the Continental types.
Any good ale yeast is appropriate, especially one with a neutral profile. Fruitiness isn’t a common characteristic of American wheat beers, so some of the more estery British strains probably wouldn’t work well. Widmer, for example, uses a German top-fermenting strain from a Dusseldorf alt brewery (try culturing some from the bottle) that emphasizes malt. Most yeast companies carry a similar strain. Certainly the most prevalent brewpub yeast is the “Sierra Nevada” strain, Wyeast’s 1056. Brewers love this yeast because it is vigorous, works in a wide range of temperatures, and is very neutral in flavor — definitely appropriate for American wheat beers.
Brewing these wheat beers, even from all-grain, is very simple. A two-step infusion mash can be done to include a protein rest, but many brewers use a single British-style infusion mash, at about 150° F. Because some haze is typical of the style, it isn’t necessary to struggle too much with the proteins from the wheat. Higher temperatures (around 155° F) will increase the maltiness of the beer. Original gravities are moderate, around 1.045, much like a standard pale ale.
The same methods used for fermenting and bottling ales are followed for American wheat beers. They are best served fresh (they’re unlikely to need, or benefit from, any aging) and fairly cool. Diehard yeast gobblers can roll the bottle before pouring or swish the last few ounces of beer to disturb the yeast sediment. Adding a slice of lemon can give the beer a little zip and a refreshing tartness.
