The Magic of the Yeast Ring

I’ve talked about farmhouse ales before and how they’re one of my favorite styles, but I’m not sure if I’ve explained why I love them so. In short: they’re magical.✨

The farmhouse style is really only defined by one ingredient: yeast. A farmhouse ale can feature any herb, spice, grain, or adjunct in the known world but there’s only one type of yeast you can use: and that’s the yeast in your farmhouse! 🏡🧪

Now you can’t ferment a beer without yeast, but we’ve been fermenting beer far longer than we’ve known what yeast is. Something we brewing humanity figured out awhile ago is that the wood and various porous surfaces of the places we brew must be what makes the beer unique. 🪵

Most famously, traditional Norwegian farmhouse brewers would have these intricate wooden rings called Kveik Rings that they would leave in the unfermented wort. As the yeast naturally found in the area ferments and multiplies it imbeds itself into the wood, ensuring that when the ring was added to future batches of beer they would have a healthy and quick start to fermentation. 🧙‍♂️🔁

These days, yeast scientists have isolated many of these unique Kveik strains so we can brew with them just like any other yeast. There are hundreds of different Kveik strains collected from farmhouses all across Norway—each with its own flavor personality, from sweet caramel to pineapple 🍍, toasted walnut 🌰, and even crisp lager-like profiles. 🍺

Another modern twist on this ancient magic? Open fermentation vessels (often koelschips) placed in wooden rooms. As each batch ferments, it throws yeast and bacteria into the air, embedding those wild microbes into the walls. Over time, the room itself becomes part of the brewing process—speeding up fermentation and producing those delightfully strange, funky, and beautiful flavors that define farmhouse ales.

That’s the charm. That’s the mystery. And that’s why farmhouse ales are some of the tastiest and most interesting beer styles around—and why I love them so! 😍

Adjuncts: The Hidden Heroes of Beer

You may have heard brewers refer to a beer as “adjunct-y” or maybe read a description on a menu that mentions adjunct grains. Let me tell you a bit about what that means and what those adjunct grains actually do (or don’t do in some cases). 

Adjuncts, simply put, are grains or other sugary additions that are not malt. This covers nearly everything that isn’t malted barley: sugar, corn, wheat, rye, honey, quinoa, fonio, etc. - the list is essentially endless. All of these non-malt ingredients are just another lever brewers can pull to achieve their desired result in the finished beer. Think of the American Light Lager for example: very pale, very crisp, and low on flavor. These effects are achieved primarily through the use of adjuncts, usually corn or rice. Unlike malt, corn and rice add no color, but they do add a little body, and some extra sugar for the yeast to ferment. So if you were to do a side-by-side comparison between an all-malt lager and one brewed with a large percentage of corn or rice you’d notice that the all-malt beer has a darker color, a richer flavor, and sits a little more heavily on the palate. So next time you sip into a snappy lager, thank the adjuncts!

But adjuncts don’t just lighten the color and body, do they? Absolutely not! One of the most ‘adjuncty’ beers you can find out there is a Sweet Stout/Dessert Stout/Pastry Stout. These styles are filled to the brim with oats that behave in the exact opposite way to corn or rice. While oats won’t add any color to the beer, they will add a rich and filling body with a sweetness that lingers long after each sip. They aid in the smoothness and creaminess of a beer while also adding a touch of nutty flavor that works wonderfully in darker beers.

Honey can add color (this depends heavily on the type and source of the honey that is being used) and a fairly strong flavor, but honey is mostly used for greatly increasing the sugar content and thus the ABV of the final beer. It’s the same reason why certain types of meads and wines are so biting on the palate - juice and honey are mainly just simple sugars that get readily turned into alcohol during fermentation. No residual sugar and no protein makes for a very very dry drink.  

These are just the most common of the adjuncts you’ll likely come across on your journey through the beer world. Next time you order a beer, see if you can tell if there are adjuncts in it and maybe even try to guess what kind! 

What do you mean by “Hoppy?”

Oftentimes I see people shy away from trying any beer that’s been called “hoppy”. But what do you mean by hoppy? For most, it seems to be a short hand for bitter, but for brewers “hoppy” is one of the primary and necessary elements of beer.

You might be surprised to learn that more than IPAs can be hoppy. Pilsners are actually one of the hoppiest beers around both in terms of relative bitterness and hop flavor. Pilsner hop flavor is often expressed as spicy, floral, and herbal (these are Noble hop characteristics, but that’s for a later talk), a marked difference from the citrus and pine of IPAs. Don’t let the name scare you, but an English Bitter is barely more bitter than a cup of tea. The English hop flavors are generally berry, woody, and earthy. Hazy IPAs, on the other hand, have incredible hop flavor with relatively low bitterness. These flavors are largely tropical, juicy, and sweet. Every beer has hop flavor even if you don’t realize it. What’s most important is finding the style that fits your preference.

So if you’re hesitant to try a beer because it’s “hoppy” take a moment to determine is it truly hop flavor you don’t like or just bitterness. Hop flavor is present in every beer from light to dark, heavy to sessionable, and macro to craft. It shows itself in many different ways, but they are all “hoppy”. Tell our expert beertenders what kind of flavor you enjoy (fruity, piney, herbal, juicy, etc.) and they’ll be happy to guide you to your new favorite beer!

This Tastes Like a Barn!

Allow me to set a scene. It’s the mid 19th century and the sun is falling fast over the Wallonian farmland. Your breakfast is wearing off, but there’s still work left to do. You need a break - something to help you recover so you can finish your day. You grab your cup, head to the barn, and pour yourself some crisp, bitter beer. Time to find a shady tree and recuperate before the day ends so you can move onto something a little stronger once the work is truly done.

What beer were you just thinking about? For us modern American beer drinkers, we were probably thinking about a crisp, ice cold light lager - bland and bubbly. But for our imaginary Belgian farmhand, that beer was almost certainly a saison (Anglicized as a farmhouse ale). Historically saisons were lower in alcohol than some modern variants, but it still has its light body, funky flavors, and bitter, peppery finish. Great for an afternoon break. Stronger saisons were usually left for the evening when you weren’t expected to be a competent farmhand. 

“What is a saison?” is a pretty common question we get at Mountain Toad. And frankly, there is no clear answer - saisons can vary from pale straw to black in color, 3.5% to 9+% ABV, and feature every flavor from earthy to hay and strawberry to horse blanket. Historically, saisons would be fermented with whatever yeast and bacteria was floating around your barn or home, which unsurprisingly lead to each saison’s flavors being entirely unique to the farm where it was brewed. 

Compared to other styles, the saison cannot be easily pinned down. It changes with the seasons and it changes with the terroir. The only way to know if you’ll like it is to try it!

What’s in a stout?

Ahh February, the most difficult month to spell. Love is in the air, golden retrievers will soon be descending upon Golden en masse, and barrels upon barrels of stout will be filling the taprooms. What’s that? You didn’t know? Yes! February is Stout Month in Colorado which means we’ll be exploring the dark and brooding world of stouts and why they're special. 

First off, what even is a stout? Well believe it or not, stouts actually started as porters. You had your porters, a dark beer popular with the English working class (specifically those who worked at ports - hence the name). Eventually some brewers decided to make something a little stronger (a little more stout one could say) and along came stout porters. Stout porters were essentially porters with a higher ABV which is one reason why there is debate, even today, on whether or not stouts and porters are the same thing. In my opinion, the two have become pretty drastically different over time. Aside from the difference in ABV, the two styles have developed distinct flavor profiles, though with an admittedly large amount of overlap between them. Stouts are typically roastier with a dryness that accentuates their bitterness. Whereas porters are often smoother, choosing to showcase the sweeter, maltier flavors of dark malt. Many commercial porter examples feature an addition of vanilla bean to compliment that sweetness. But there are also oatmeal stouts and sweet stouts that opt for the smoother creamy textures similar to what you’d expect of a porter. Like I said, there’s a large amount of overlap and I can really only speak on American stouts and porters. I am not an expert on their English and Irish ancestors.

The most recognizable feature of these beers is, of course, their color. Ranging from a deep brown to an almost inky black that could swallow light like a black hole. Fun fact, the world’s most famous Irish stout (you know the one) is not actually black or brown but a “dark ruby red” according to their brewers. And if you hold a light up to many dark beers you will see these brilliant garnet highlights along the sides of the glass, try it next time you drink a stout! Those ruby highlights, aside from being really cool looking, are actually indicative of what makes the stout so special: roasted malt. It all started with Daniel Wheeler and his invention of drum roasted malt in 1818. Before the drum roaster, malt was dried on a flat grate over a direct fire which gave it a harsh, smoky flavor and uneven coloring with some barley kernels being burnt to a crisp while others remained relatively green. The drum roaster gave maltsters more control over the uniformity and quality of their malt which, in turn, gave brewers more control over their beers. Beer color and flavor were no longer dependent on the whims of the maltster, but could now be consistently controlled to create dark beers without it tasting like char and ash. Roasted black malt is essential to some of my favorite styles, but a little goes a long way. It often makes up only a small percentage (less than 10% typically)  of the total amount of grain in a batch of beer - just enough to provide color and a little roasty flavor. Too much more than 10% and you might as well be eating charcoal.

Stouts, as I’m sure you are aware, can vary wildly from incredibly sweet, chocolate syrup pastry stouts to might-as-well-be-eating-coffee-grounds levels of roast and bitterness. Both have their time and place and all of them will be celebrated this coming month! Mountain Toad has a few weird ones coming out I think: an imperial stout (seems pretty normal), a beet stout (beets?), a Belgian stout (I don’t even know what that means), and a Golden stout that takes everything I just wrote about and throws it out the window. Well, that’s craft beer for ya.

Cheers,

Vinny the head brewer

Home for the Holidays

Happy New Year Toadies! I hope the holidays have been as kind to y’all as they have to me. My family is currently experiencing a baby boom and as such I’ve been busy cementing my place as the cool uncle. Hopefully bringing some Colorado sunshine to the long, grey curtain that is the midwestern winter. I am currently writing from my hometown in Indiana; full of homemade ravioli, holiday ham, delicious cannoli, and, of course, some fantastic midwestern brews. 

Indiana, if you didn’t know, has a bit of a beer scene. We’re fairly spoiled for breweries in Colorado, but what Indiana lacks in quantity they make up for in quality. Some of my favorite Hoosier breweries to visit (in no particular order) are Taxman, 3Floyds, Upland, and Metazoa. Each of them has inspired me and (still inspires me) to make the best beer possible and to always be authentic in my brewing.

I used to really dislike Belgian beer until I had Taxman’s Tripel, Exemption. It was one of the first craft beers I ever had and its spicy and floral notes blended so marvelously that it tasted like some overly dedicated brewer snuck fresh cut daisies and fresh ground black pepper into my glass before every sip. It had me questioning everything I knew about beer down to the last drop. This isn’t your dad’s beer - unless your dad happens to be Belgian. 

3Floyds introduced me to Indiana’s craft beer culture. I didn’t know beer could be a collectible or even so sought after. I thought everyone just grabbed the can with the coolest art on the front and called it a day. But walking into a liquor store where the 6-packs of Zombie Dust (a magnificently smooth IPA) were placed right in the middle of the store so they were easier for the clerks to keep an eye on. Affixed to the middle of the stack was a note that read “1 PACK PER CUSTOMER”. Are people really just stealing and hoarding this IPA? Yes, as it turns out! “Well then it’s gotta be good”, I thought. So I bought a pack - just one. Zombie Dust feels a little like an old school IPA now and its production has increased enough to make the purchase of a 6-pack feel less like a well kept secret. But its stunning popularity surrounded by handshake deals in the back room of a liquor store and tight lips on release day is burned into my mind.

I could go on and on about midwestern beer: Bell’s gave me an undying love for the Centennial hop, Upland’s Wood Shop and their amazing sours gave me new insights into what beer production could be (think towering wooden foeders and the sweet smell of wild fermentation), and Metazoa is frankly some of the best beer I’ve ever had to this day. Coming to Colorado was nice but I found myself missing those Hoosier breweries more than ever. So when I became a brewer I decided to bring what I love about my home state’s beer to the mountain west. Some of my favorite results of that effort are our Derby Days Kentucky Common, a common ale born out of Louisville, Kentucky (pronounced LOO-uh-vuhl for you non-midwesterners), and Hoosier Cabin Persimmon Brown, a cozy beer made from persimmons grown by my family in western Indiana, and I’ve got many more plans for the future. After this holiday visit I’m filled with ideas for new beers and I’m excited to bring this energy back to Mountain Toad and to create and share more great beer with y’all! 

 Happy New Year!!!