From Farmhouse to Brewhouse: Saison

History is full of wonderful tales and stories that we tell to remind us of who we are and what our heritage means. Other times the stories we tell are good for selling products (see “eBay was founded to trade Pez dispensers”). And sometimes they’re both. 

The Belgian beer style of saison comes with a wonderful story full of vivid images of Walloon farmhands slaking their summer-fueled thirst while laboring in the fields. “They had to drink beer because the water was unsafe.” “The farmers could make beer with grains at hand.” Ah, You can just picture a frothy barrel and dipper waiting to provide cool refreshment.

There’s a lot of romance in that previous paragraph and plenty of existing farmhouse traditions in Europe. But the things you know about saison — like a lot of traditions — are lustrous pearls built around the grit of actual history. When it comes to modern saison, think more Brasserie Dupont (a full production brewery) and less Farmer Jean in the barn with the horses and cows. 

The story sells beer. It sells a connection with an idyllic past. I love the romance of it, but I also know that the “truth or fiction” doesn’t matter because what I love is a gloriously dry and complex saison in my glass. How it went from “farmhouse” to “brewhouse” is a long debate over drinks. Instead, let’s figure out what it takes to make one to share.

What Is Saison?

What then is this beer of half-myth and half-truth? The modern saison is a beer with a full-frontal press of spice — cinnamon, nutmeg, mace — mixed with a grounding, warming earthiness (not mustiness!). It ultimately ends bone-dry with a crispness bolstered by an intense effervescence. The top notes vary wildly: Dupont brings the spice; Hops shine in Thiriez’s brews; Blaugies harvests pears and cherries; and Fantôme showcases Founder Dany Prignon’s foraging skill and wild imagination. Trying to lock in a single “profile” is a fool’s errand, but that’s what makes the style so fun. To echo certain legal declarations, “I know it when I see it.” Even the Beer Judge Certification Program (BJCP) style guidelines focus on a narrow version of the style instead of trying to lasso the whole herd into a single set of numbers. Though they do give three strengths of table, standard, and super, as well as two color ranges of pale and dark. All combined, the BJCP outlines saison as: 

My basic outline of a saison involves a base of Pilsner malt, plus at least one adjunct grain and sugar. The hops will vary by goal, as will the yeast. Speaking of which, in the U.S., we tend to think of the style being yeast-driven, but Belgian brewers feel less beholden to the yeast strain and more to the beer profile. This less fussy attitude runs through their brewing practices and traditions. 

Given the number of different saison strains available to homebrewers, you could understandably be very confused as to what to choose. Since 2011 I’ve sporadically maintained a list of all the saison yeast strains that I’ve tested and my impressions of them, because of course I have. You can find the full chart, more saison thoughts, and my test recipe here.

Closing the Barn Doors

You’ll see both “farmhouse” and “saison” used by a lot of brewers to describe their beers. What’s the difference? First, there’s a large swath of farmhouse beers that are not Belgian-influenced, but let’s focus on saison vs. “Belgian farmhouse.” The answer you’ll get is all dependent on who you ask. Some see no difference. Others will insist it’s only a farmhouse if brewed on an actual farmstead, otherwise it’s a “sparkling rustic ale.” 

My — emphasis on “my” — dividing line is the use of mixed cultures. The modern saison is a “clean” beer with a focus on Saccharomyces. Farmhouse ales, particularly the North American interpretations of Belgian farmhouse, hit the deep funky notes of Brettanomyces and other microbes. It’s a fine line — Fantôme features a strawberry note from a house Brett strain. Yet, by and large, Fantôme’s crazy profiles pop with the spices and herbs that Dany finds. I still consider those to be saisons. 

The Manifesto

And that’s why I love saison. It’s surprisingly versatile in terms of flavors, ingredients, and presentations. Make it light. Make it strong as rum punch. Slap your face with hops, spices, or spooky plants picked under a blood moon. Swing the beer modern and clean like a chrome and glass kitchen or reach back to the golden rustic “past.” All of these beers can be united by observing a few simple points — cue the manifesto.

A Saison Must Be:

Dry – Saisons (and most Belgian beers) are defined by a dry backend. Terminal gravities landing below 1.010 are where I like to be. You want the beer to be well attenuated to let the flavors shine. Brewers are much better about this than they used to be, but it’s still the biggest flaw I see.

Earthy – The best saisons provide a midbody of chewy malt and warm toasty earth tones to set up that beautiful dry finish. A beer with just Pilsner malt and sugar will taste insipid and dull.

Spicy – Time for your palate wake up call. The spices (yeast-derived or added extra) provide the bite — the heat to keep the malt in balance while accentuating the other flavors in your beer. They pop right into your nose thanks to the blast of CO² and help drive the apparent dryness of the beer without making it harsh.

Yeast – I’ve noted a different emphasis on yeast between U.S. and Belgian brewers. Most of this manifesto’s preferred characters are yeast-derived. Maybe the right yeast for your application isn’t a saison-specific strain. Just find the one that delivers the dry and spicy characters you need.

Lively – “Dead” is a terrible thing, but a “dead” saison is a dull crime against life. The carbonation literally provides brisk prickling that perks up the beer and accentuates the dryness and the flavors. The best saisons I’ve had push the carbonation level well beyond the usual American range of 2.5–2.75. Volumes in the 3.25–3.75 area aren’t unusual, but require some care to achieve safely.

Fun – Lastly, whether it’s from a wild set of additions, a daring concept, or just a beautiful expression of yeast, saison should be fun. It should be a joy to drink and invite you back for another sip and another glass.

Formulating A Saison

We’ve covered the story, the why, and my “what,” so now it’s time to get to the actual brewing and make one of these things. Here are my guidelines on what makes a great saison base that you can further tweak, tinker, and customize to your own desires. 

Threshing Out a Malt Bill

Standing up to the strong flavors and aromas of saison yeast strains requires a sturdy base malt flavor, yet our desired end goal of dryness means we can’t load the grist up with high-color, super dense malts. I choose to mix classic Pilsner malts with a bevy of supporting characters to round out the picture. 

Most of my saisons start with a base of Pilsner malt — 60% or more. If you have access to fresh Belgian Pilsner malt such as Dingemans or Castle, use that. If the local supply of Belgian malts has been sitting on the shelf for a while, I’ll substitute German Pilsner malt. Another approach is to use local craft malts — the different barley cultivars and smaller malting techniques lend a rustic charm to the beer. (Beery bonus — you’re supporting local farmers while adding charm to the brew!)

The next largest component, usually around 20%, is at least one non-barley grain. Think wheat, oat, spelt, etc. This is also a style in which unusual brewing choices like quinoa can shine. A new favorite of mine, chit malt (yes, I know it’s barley) brings the rustic to our “farmhouse.” These grains give us a completely different set of flavors and textures to work with.

Lastly with our grain section of the bill, at up to 10%, I’ll add a backing malt to add color and support. These can be richer toasted base malts like Munich, lighter caramel malts for a hint of sweetness (Caramel Pils, Caravienne), and even some dark roasted grains (like de-husked Carafa^® III, Blackprinz^®) when I am looking for heavy color. 

The total sum of the grist should be crisp with interesting textures and flavors. It doesn’t lean heavily on things that leave overt sweetness and heft. For the record, I also don’t advocate a supremely simple malt bill of Pilsner and sugar. We’re making saison, not modern West Coast Belgian IPA. 

And then there’s sugar. I almost always use sugar (the remaining 10% of the grist) in my recipes because I want that extra seeming dryness that comes from a lower residual gravity (thanks to yeast eating simple sugars like a hungry farmer in from the fields) and increased alcohol bite. As for what I use, I’m simple and mostly use the cheapest bag of sugar at the store. Judging from what I’ve seen in Belgium, they’re not terribly fussy – granulated beet sugar, syrups, rock sugar, and more. Sometimes, when I want particular character, I’ll break out something different. The choice is very deliberate (e.g., using a dark candi syrup for color and dark fruit tones) because why spend money when you don’t need to?

The Bitter Life

My current routine hop bill starts simple. I rely on the clean and neutral bitterness of Magnum to give me an unobtrusive bite. For most of my “traditional” saisons, I play against the old advice of “keep local to the style” (i.e., use Belgian ingredients). Like my recommendation of German Pilsner malt when needed, I use the freshest high-quality hops that deliver my desired flavors. That mostly means using “noble adjacent” hops — herbal and spicy — like Willamette and Mount Hood. If I can find them fresh, I’m particularly fond of Slovenian Styrian Golding as a finisher.  In trips around Belgium, I saw a plethora of European hops at the ready in breweries.

While the spotlight doesn’t often shine on hops in Belgian beer, they don’t have to sing backup. They can sing lead in a well-formulated recipe, delivering a hop punch to rival an IPA. My preference leans towards modern hops that are bright with citrus or fruits over “dank” hops. The strong resinous character in dank hops gets in a shoving match with the strong yeast character, leading to chaos instead of vibes. And like a modern IPA, I aim more of my hop additions to the end of boil/whirlpool to emphasize flavor over bitterness.

Don’t forget that with saison’s incredibly dry finish and low final gravities, you’ll need far fewer hops to achieve the same palate impact. You don’t need a ton of hops to make a point as you’ll see in the recipes included at the end of this article as well as the clone recipes in the accompanying article. Mostly, I land in the 20–35 IBU range for a standard gravity saison. Yes, that includes the hop-forward beers! Remember that heavy late charges don’t add a ton of bitterness — just a ton of oils.

Yeast of Wallonia 

Saison, more than any single style, has so many yeast options available to use. Yeast companies will pack at least two, if not more, strains with “saison” in the name. But even though I mostly use dried yeast these days, Saison is one style that I continue to reach for liquid cultures. 

There are three major families that you’ll see reflected in saison yeast catalogs, and please note that this is just a tiny segment of the farmhouse yeast world: 

“Belgian” / Dupont / “The Classic” 

It may be considered “the classic,” but like a lot of Belgian brewing traditions, it’s relatively recent. The Dupont family took over the old Rimaux-Derrider in the 1920s and reformulated the beers. They keep their actual yeast culture (believed to be at least two strains of yeast) propagated and controlled at the brewery. The yeast produces a beer that is dry with a light fruit character and expressive (but not over the top) phenols. 

Reputation – It’s considered tricky to use with a “Dupont stall” that occurs after an initial gangbuster of a ferment. It takes a week or two before the yeast gets going again. But when I use open fermentation, I avoid the stall. 

Target Style – Literally the classic – think 6.5% ABV, slightly orange in color with a balanced hop profile.

Strains – Wyeast 3724 (Belgian Saison), White Labs WLP565 (Belgian Saison I)

“French” / Thiriez / “The Monster”

From the other side of the border comes a family of strains that probably produce the majority of North American saisons. It pushes forward incredible spice notes of black pepper and cardamom with some woody tones. It also produces a beer with an increased mouthfeel in the mid-body. That is why this is my yeast of choice when making hop-forward saisons because I love the way a hop like Citra^® plays with the black pepper and the extra little palate support keeps the beer from being overwhelmed. 

Reputation – It is a monster. It ferments fast, it ferments vigorously, it ferments everything. Also, Daniel Thiriez will loudly proclaim that what yeast companies sell as “French Saison” is not his strain.

Target Style – Modern and clean hop-forward saisons. Works for saisons that are meant to be experimental (e.g., heavily fruited or flavored)

Strains – Wyeast 3711 (French Saison), Omega OYL-026 (French Saison), Imperial Yeast B54 (Napoleon), Omega OYL-500 (Saisonstein) (a hybridized version)

“The Other Belgian” / Blaugies 

Brasserie de Blaugies provides two foundational saison experiences for everyone to try – La Moneuse – a modern saison of 8% and liquid candy quality; Saison d’Epeautre – a spelt saison that revels in its rustic chewy nature. The yeast itself produces pear and cinnamon tones and is a steady fermenter – not as aggressive as the French strains, but more reliable in closed fermentation than the Dupont strains. 

Reputation – This is the user-friendly saison strain with tons of interesting character — including a unique pear ester that starts strong and then fades into the background along with some bubblegum. It hews closer to typical Belgian ale strains than the other saison strains.

Target Style – The hybrid saison – part saison, part Trappist ale where fruit notes will shine.

Strains – Wyeast 3726 (Farmhouse Ale), Imperial Yeast B56 (Rustic), Omega OYL-042 (Belgian Saison II)

Honorable Mention / “The Ghost”

There are a few “Ghostly” yeasts floating around out there isolated from various bottles of Fantôme, like RVA Yeast Labs RVA-263 (Ghost Ale). It’s hard to tell what you’ll get from the yeast bank as Fantôme is such a wildly variable brewery!

One other thing to be aware of: These saison yeast strains are generally S. cerevisiae var diastaticus strains. That means they produce enzymes while working that convert longer chain sugars remaining in the wort into simpler sugars, leading to more yeast chow and a drier beer over time. This is not a problem for homebrewers who package well-fermented beer and thoroughly clean and sanitize their equipment, which you already do, right?! Just be careful with your cleaning/sanitation routine because if you leave any traces behind they’ll love to feast on your next batch.

Emptying the Cupboard

With the grist, hops, and yeast decided, let’s tackle saison’s reputation as a “brewer’s playground.” Brewers have a habit of dropping every herb, spice, fruit, and oddity they can fit into the kettle when it comes to saisons. Sometimes it’s lazy reflex — “All Belgian beer is spiced with orange peel!” Once, it was a necessary defensive brewing practice. Loads of cinnamon, nutmeg, and black pepper were added to replicate intense yeast characters that North American brewers couldn’t get with commercially available yeast strains. While I may still add black pepper, coriander, and bitter orange peel to guarantee maximum saison, I generally skip those additions now with all my hard-won yeasty confidence. 

When it comes to non-defensive flavors, I’m dead to rights guilty of raiding the cupboard, the pantry, and the specialty online store for unusual flavors. I’ve used farmer’s market fruits, tea, nuts, all the sugars and even ultra-dense wine concentrates (not great for winemaking, but spectacular for beer flavoring!). But no matter how far afield I go, I keep my flavors unified in a sensible way. 

Despite my infamous Clam Chowder Saison (a bad dare that Denny Conn lost), you won’t find me making a Saison Frutti di Mare. You will find me making a Saison Figolla, inspired by a Maltese Easter pastry filled with almond paste, lemon, and orange.  

My big advice: Keep your flavor envelope sensible; Keep your additions focused; keep your amounts reasonable. You are making a saison with flavors; not flavors with a hint of saison. Lastly, when you break these rules (because we always do), make it out of deliberation, not maenadic frenzy. 

The Water of Life

And after all the stress and strain of the other ingredients, we have water. What can I say about water in such a broad style? 

Most of the water in Wallonia is fairly mineral-laden with broad variance, but don’t just use a location’s water profile because that’s where the beer style is from. Use a water profile that fits your flavor needs. 

In other words, if you want to push the hops then make sure you create a sulfate-forward water profile to accentuate them. Calcium carbonate (or my preferred solution of a judicious dose of calcium hydroxide) works wonders, providing alkalinity to keep a deep dark beer’s roastiness in check. 

Where I live, my water works well for orange and amberish beers with a slight favoring to the hoppy side – which, happily, is where my saisons usually land. It would be story appropriate to let your natural water lead your recipe decisions. Don’t forget, before brewing remove chlorine and chloramine if your water supplier adds them!

Brewing Season

With the recipe decided and ingredients gleaned, it’s time to put grains to water and make soup. 

Mash in Three Part Harmony

I have two basic thoughts on mash regimens for saison — the easy and the “sure, I want to spend longer brewing.” For the easy brew days when I want to get the beer made and be reasonably certain I’ve made style-appropriate wort, I choose a single infusion mash with an hour’s rest at 148 °F (64 °C). The lower mash temperature favors a more fermentable wort while remaining hot enough to ensure that the barley converts without issue. 

For days when I feel like I must sacrifice for my art, I will employ a multi-step mash schedule inspired by Brasserie à Vapeur — a living history brewery in the village of Pipaix. Everything in the brewery (mill, mash rakes, pumps, etc.) is driven by steam power. It’s an intense experience as you brew in clouds of beery steam. They brew with a multi-step mash schedule that harks back to the days when you had to cajole and work the grain over to get it to convert. 

I have modified their mash schedule to fit what works for my needs with modern malts.

My “Everyday” Mash Regimen

148 °F (64 °C) — 60 min. (Mash In)
168°F (75 °C) — 10 min. (Mash Out)

My “Spend Longer” Mash Regimen

122 °F (50 °C) — 15 min. (Mash In)
131 °F (55 °C) — 15 min. (Low Rest)
142 °F (61 °C) — 30 min. (Beta Rest)
154 °F (68°C) — 30 min. (Alpha Rest)
167 °F (75 °C) — 10 min. (Mash Out)

BYO’s Vapeur Mash Regimen

113 °F (45 °C) — 15 min. (Mash In)
131 °F (55 °C) — 30 min. (Low Rest)
143 °F (62 °C) — 45 min. (High Rest)
161 °F (72 °C) — 15 min. (Mash Out)
Recirculate until clear, then sparge at 176 °F (80 °C)

When do I break out one of the more involved schedules? When I’m aiming for a more rustic saison approach with heartier adjuncts (such as spelt, chit malt, etc.). 

Putting Flame to It and Out of It

A boil should be a relatively straightforward thing, right? Again, it depends on what you’re going for. While you still see a few Belgian breweries with fireboxes under their kettles, the age of licking flames is long past. One thing I do hold onto from older recipes is a longer hard boil. 

I’m not talking about the monster 3+ hour boils of “labor is cheap” days, but a more reasonable 90 minutes. Even with all of my “short boil” evangelism, I prefer a longer boil with Pilsner-heavy brews to drive off SMM (S-Methyl Methionine) and avoid even the barest risk of DMS (Dimethyl Sulfide). There’s enough of the field in the beer without having to include the creamed corn crop. The other advantage is plenty of time to form a hot break and get some wort concentration to happen. Breaking out a (much) longer boil is a fun technique to try for making a weirdly dry but chewy darker saison.

Otherwise, treat this as a normal boil and add your hops and kettle additions as needed. If you’re adding a sugar syrup to the boil, treat it like extract and turn off the heat and stir it until dissolved completely. If you’re adding crystalline sugar, let the boil do the work for you by putting the mass in a hop bag suspended in the kettle. As the wort roils, it will dissolve the sugar easily and painlessly. I usually wait until 20 minutes remain to add the sugar. 

When the boil is done, cool the wort to pitch yeast. There’s internet lore that says “cool it to like 80 °F (27 °C) and let ‘er rip, man. It’s all good.” After all, Dupont runs hot so the yeast is meant to take it. I don’t like this approach as I think it leads to beers with high fusel alcohol tones that provide the warm loving sensation of a dental drill working over your nasal cavities. Instead, I go for a solid chill to ~63 °F (17 °C). 

How you get there is entirely up to you and your chilling capacities. I’ve even had great success with no-chill brewing, which feels like a safer version of the coolship practices of yore, minus the wild fermentation critters. 

Chow Time

With the wort sitting at pitching temperature, it’s time to get the ferment going. The usual advice of plenty of vital yeast still applies, even with saison strains’ “monster fermenter” reputation. Since I’m almost exclusively dealing with liquid cultures for saison, that means a 1- or 2-quart/liter starter for a 5- to 6-gallon (19- to 23-L) batch.  If using dry yeast, follow the manufacturer recommendations.

Like hot pitching above, there’s tons of discussion around purposefully under-pitching saisons to induce stress characters from the yeast. I don’t think the majority of homebrewers (myself included) have strong enough yeast and fermentation practices to make this a reliable technique. We already face enough challenges that under-pitching is like tying an arm behind your back before facing a Major League fastball!

My typical Belgian fermentation schedule involves starting low (63 °F/17 °C) for the first two to three days. Allowing the yeast to reproduce and build up momentum under cooler temperatures brings forward the spicy phenol character and avoids excess fusels and esters. After that I let the beer warm up naturally to 70 °F (21 °C) or so. Sometimes I’ll add a little heat to kick the temperature up, but most batches just ride naturally. You can go higher – again, Dupont is reputed to climb into the 80s °F (upper 20s °C) — but I don’t like the flavors generated in smaller batches homebrewers are making at those temperatures. Don’t forget, Belgium is not a hot country with the August average high being ~73 °F (23 °C).

Then there’s the question of open or closed fermentation. Remember the “Dupont stall” from earlier? Because open fermentation stops the stall for me, I open ferment almost all of my saisons. Casual speculation abounds — Is it back-pressure? Is it CO² toxicity? Is it the alignment of Mars? — but I’ve observed a clear pattern in my brewery. 

There’s nothing truly scary about open fermentation. Skip the airlock at pitching, cover the opening with sanitized foil, and let it ride. During active fermentation, the outgassing from the fermenter keeps germ-carrying dust motes at bay and the foil keeps every wind gust from bringing bacteria to the pool. As the fermentation slows and kräusen falls, make yourself more comfortable and put the airlock back. From that point on, you’re back on normal footing with a non-stalled ferment and a happy yeast colony. 

Packaging Saison

We are so close to drinking this lovely glass of Belgium, but we need to get it into the package first. After the beer has hit terminal gravity (under 1.008, usually), you’ll be ready to bottle or keg. The first question to answer is just how much carbonation do you want in this thing? My manifesto demands a lively glass with swirls of fine, zippy bubbles with a Champagne tickle. For me that means 3–3.5 volumes of CO² in contrast with the typical North American habit of ~2.7 volumes. It doesn’t sound like much, but it makes a world of difference to the beer’s presentation.

Next, are we bottling or kegging? I almost always surrender to the ease of kegging my beer, but saison is one of the few styles where I think to myself, “this would be better bottled.” Even with that intrusive thought, I still mostly keg. 

Kegging

If you’re kegging, you’ll need to change your draft plan. North American draft systems are set to handle beers at typical carbonation levels. Pouring a highly carbonated saison instead will result in violent bursts of foam and a frustrating drinking experience. The trick is to create enough resistance in the system so that the relative pressure at the faucet is minimal (i.e., 19 PSI on the keg means 19 pounds of resistance to hit equilibrium at the faucet). The beer flows smoothly, CO² stays in solution, and the head develops during the pour instead of spraying everywhere like a punctured can of shaving cream.

I have longer cobra lines (8–10 feet/2.5–3 m long of narrow 3/16” ID) to pour my gassy beers at home. Every foot of line adds extra resistance (dependent on the line material and diameter), getting you closer to that ideal of pressure neutrality. A flow-control faucet to dial in a smooth pour is also a wise investment.

Bottling

If you decided that bottling is the only reasonable way to go, don’t reach for your standard 12-oz. (355-mL) brown long neck bottle. Attempting to hold 3+ volumes of CO² in a standard beer bottle risks serious safety risks in the form of flying shards of brown glass!

You need sturdier bottles. You could fall prey to romance and buy fancy Belgian cork and caged bottles, but that requires a fair amount of expense and gear. Champagne bottles and other formats take crown caps (note if they take North American 26 mm caps or European 29 mm caps). Even your standard flip-top bottle will withstand the extra pressure. 

And don’t listen to the “Green Bottle Mafia” who insist that a true saison requires that light struck feature that happens with green bottled beer. I think they’re nuts (looking at you, Mr. Bob Sylvester), but they’re less scary than the “Dirty Glass Mob”. 

Otherwise, prime and cap/cork as normal. Wait two weeks, chill a bottle, and try. Warm storage (75 °F/24 °C+) during carbonation is a typical Belgian practice so don’t fret the heat.

What about that diastaticus thing? Again, this shouldn’t be a concern for homebrewers as long as you make sure to hit terminal gravity before packaging. Keep bottled beer cool after it’s carbonated and you should be fine. The commercial problem with diastatic yeast comes from cross contamination into beers with higher residual sugar levels. 

Pop a Cork

After all of that work, you now hold a piece of romance in your hand — a dry, spicy, bubbly connection to a gauzy image of the past. What’s in your glass is wherever your wild imagination can take you. It’s why the style, despite its commercial shortcomings, remains a favorite of craft brewers. It is playful and experimental and drinkable in a way that IPA #223 with Citra^®, Nectaron^®, and Mosaic^® isn’t. Embrace your rustic dreams and make a saison — one for every glass, for every season, and every mood!

And with that in mind, I present four saison recipes that illustrate how diverse this style can be. 

Saison Recipes