New NZ IPAS up for scrutiny

Last weekend Queenstown’s Smith’s Craft Beer House hosted its annual New Zealand India Pale Ale Competition. Held each year around the shortest day, the Shotover St bar invites brewers to submit all-new IPAS for judging and for sale at the bar. The competition’s only rule is that each beer must be hopped exclusively with New Zealand varieties.

The contest is limited to 22 entries – the bar’s total number of taps – but represents brewers from all around the country, this year from as far afield as Warkworth (8 Wired) and Helensville (Liberty). Although at the time of writing the results have not been revealed, the good news for those who weren’t in Queenstown at the weekend is that the beers will be gradually finding their way to other craftfriendly bars throughout New Zealand.

India Pale Ale first emerged in England in the early 19th century as an evolution of the pale ales of the time designed for export to the sub-continent, but today most IPAS pay homage to a comparatively modern, American reinvention of the style. Averaging around 6 or 7 per cent alcohol, modern IPAS are exuberantly hopped to showcase the citrus, tropical fruit and pine resin aromas and flavours of modern American, Australian or New Zealand hop varieties.

Since becoming the darling of the craft beer movement, IPA has spawned a raft of sub-styles. Imperial (or double) IPA style takes things to the next level. At 8 per cent and up, more alcohol and malt weight allow brewers to balance their beers with even higher levels of hop aroma, flavour and bitterness.

So-called ‘‘session IPAS’’ are the opposite. Designed to combine the robust hoppiness of an IPA with the low gravity of a session beer, it’s a tough style to pull off successfully and only the best examples manage to avoid being watery, astringent and unbalanced.

Red IPA is similar to a standard IPA but features a grist that includes some darker caramelised malt(s) giving the beer a candied sweetness and reddish hue. Then there’s Black IPA. Once you’ve got past the seemingly nonsensical concept of having a black ‘‘pale ale’’, you’ll find these similar to standard modern IPAS except in a dark brown to black colour. The aroma and palate are typically BEER hop-accented and may or may not include roasted malt and chocolate notes. Some examples remind me of Jaffas.

A pair of IPA sub-styles have a distinctly Belgian influence. The term White IPA indicates something akin to a Belgian witbier (such as Hoegaarden) but with elevated levels of hop aroma, flavour and bitterness, while a Belgian-style IPA is similar to a standard IPA, but fermented with Belgian yeast to give the beer an extra layer of fruit and spice notes.

Brettanomyces or Wild IPA is any IPA (or IPA sub-style) which undergoes primary, secondary or other fermentation with wild yeast, resulting in any combination of tropical fruit, funky, earthy and barnyardy aromas and flavours.

And it doesn’t stop there. Terms like fruit IPA, coffee IPA, rye IPA and wood aged IPA, merely indicate the use of a specific ingredient or process.

Most recently, and inspired by beers emanating from America’s Northeast, some Kiwi brewers have produced IPAS with a distinctly murky appearance. ‘‘First, the most obvious: It’s cloudy,’’ wrote Zach Fowle, in a column for Draft Magazine last year. ‘‘Far from the super-clear IPAS that you could read a book through, this offshoot sports haze that ranges from early morning fog to extra-pulp Tropicana. This ‘glow’ isn’t a bug, however; it’s a feature. Brewers add massive amounts of hops to beers late in the brewing process – while they’re fermenting, usually – that packs them with haze-causing compounds called polyphenols. When they choose not to filter the beer completely, these compounds remain suspended in the liquid, fogging it up.’’

But brewing expert Randy Mosher isn’t convinced it’s all down to the hops. In a recent column for All About Beer magazine, he suggests that in the so-called New England style of IPA ‘‘haze is being interpreted as a visual manifestation of the level of hopping, something to which it is only loosely tied, if at all’’.

Pointing to other ingredients, Mosher reckons: ’’The best of these use wheat, oats and/or spelt to achieve a creamy ‘milkshake’ body and a dense, but flavourless haze. Others use flour in the kettle or even fruit puree containing pectin, another carbohydrate capable of throwing an attractive and durable haze. Most brewers skip the usual kettle finings or any other normal procedures that would clarify the beer. Some brewers use yeasts with genetic connections to hefeweizen strains, which are notoriously difficult to persuade to settle out.’’

My own experience of the style – mostly gained in bars in Philadelphia, last year – was hugely varied. Many looked more like freshly squeezed orange juice than beer, something I found immediately off-putting. On tasting, some were undoubtedly pleasantly aromatic, soft and juicy, but I found many others tart, cloying and astringent.

However, as is always the case when it comes to the appreciation of things gastronomic, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So the only opinion that really matters is your own.

Cheers!

Since becoming the darling of the craft beer movement, IPA has spawned a raft of sub-styles.