Flanders Red Ale
When is the best time is to plant a tree? Twenty years ago—or today. It’s the same with long-aging sour beers, but if you get into the habit of brewing them twice a year, you’ll almost always have a good one on hand!
Style: If you’ve never had a classic Flanders Red, you really don’t know what you’re missing! They’re a riot of flavors, from rich fruity notes of black currant, plum, and berries to bright acidity and dark funk and even a raw-grain-and-biscuit malt background. Hops play a limited role, but there’s still more than enough to keep the palate entertained. They are nearly fully attenuated, and they are also lightly carbonated. And, of course, they are also red. These are beers with a modest 5–6% ABV range but still a noticeable amount of bitterness. Recipe: For grist, in truth, there’s no “go-to” option the way there is for, for example, lots of the Belgian styles or English beers. In considering grist, then, I like to work from what I want to taste and then fit grains to that profile. To ensure a rich, bready malt background, I like to start with a 50/50 blend of Munich and Maris Otter. Then it’s some Aromatic malt, Briess Special Roast, and flaked oats, and a touch of Special B. You’ll find recipes that drop in wheat, but to me the flavor is always too mild, and I’d rather have more of the others! This blend really ramps up the toast and grain complexity while adding a touch of malt-derived dark fruit character. Hops are easy: 15 IBUS of anything. If I have Hallertau on hand, that’s what I use, but you can also go with any European or English low-alpha hops variety.
Then there’s yeast…and more. I ferment this one with Wyeast 1007 German Ale yeast first, which is generally clean but adds some light red fruit esters. Then I let the Wyeast 3763 Roeselare blend finish it off in secondary. If there’s a criticism here, it’s that it’s a little too clean, but if I stick to these two, I almost certainly minimize both diacetyl and a strong acetic flavor, both of which are killers. Too much time and effort go into this one for me to roll the dice. Finally, you’ll (eventually) need some French oak cubes. Process: Do a standard mash and boil, then ferment as usual with the German Ale yeast at about 65°F (18°C). Near the end of primary fermentation, increase the temperature to 68–69°F (20°C) to ensure that any diacetyl/precursors are cleaned up. At this point, rack into a second (usually glass, to minimize oxidation) vessel and pitch the bug blend. Once I do that, I generally stash this under the stairs in my basement. Temperature control isn’t especially important, so long as there aren’t wild swings or extremes in temperature, and a basement does the trick in most cases. If you don’t have one, any relatively temperature-stable room in the house will do. You might consider a walk-in closet—they have little air movement, tend to be interior rooms with no light penetration, and there’s not much off-gassing to make your clothes smell funky.
When it comes to oaking you have two options: add the cubes at the start of secondary (after a healthy near-boil to kill anything on them), or add them at the end and age on oak, to taste. I say just toss them in now, but if you’re sensitive to oak/tannins, you can add them later and pull the beer when it hits your sweet spot. Also, which toast level? Some people say that medium-plus is too campfire-ish for Flanders Red (but not Flanders Brown), but I absolutely love the sensory contrast created by the relatively pale red color paired with the more toasty wood character, and it also adds a dry flavor that pairs well with the bright fruit.
Total aging time in secondary is six to twelve months, and probably more toward the twelve end of that range. To say you want a “complete” fermentation is an understatement. Once you think it’s ready, you can carbonate to about 1.75 volumes of CO2 (I cheat here, using a dedicated keg that I don’t mind getting all bugged up).