Flavor Fever: Sour IPA
In the past few years, a cluster of new beer styles has created a lot of excitement: sour IPAS and/or milkshake IPAS. They really are quite unlike anything we’ve seen before.
WE TRIED TO FIND
a shorter title, but it takes a ton of words to capture the vibe of this bunch of beers. Typically built atop the hazy/creamy base of the New England–style IPA (NEIPA), the style has two main forks: sour IPA and milkshake IPA, although many have characteristics of both. They almost always include fruit, although some of the milkshake beers may be based on spices and other ingredients. Both typically include some noticeable hops aroma.
The sour IPAS are typically quick soured by a lactic fermentation in the kettle. Breweries specializing in these sometimes get cleaner results in a dedicated fermentor. Fruit itself adds acidity, which amplifies the fruitiness.
Milkshake IPAS may have some sourness if they’re fruit-based (most are) but aren’t always purposefully soured. The milkshake name refers to the addition of lactose, an unfermentable milk sugar, plus an overall presentation that’s creamy, sweet, and rich, with vanilla often added to reinforce those qualities.
So, that gives us sweet, sour, creamy, and bitter in our mouths along with additional flavors from fruits and spices. Each sip is a smack in the kisser, which is what enthusiasts like about them. But with so many flavors vying for attention, making a harmonious whole can be tricky, compounded by the fact that bitter and sour can sometimes clash. And because these beers veer strongly in the direction of food flavors, bitterness can feel a bit alien because it’s usually absent in that context.
It’s worth asking, “Are these really IPAS?” If you’re a style classicist, then these depraved mutations will be a final indignity for your long-suffering favorite. If you’re a new-school enthusiast of these brilliantly futuristic variations on a theme, then you’ll find plenty in these beers to connect them back to the IPA branch of the beer evolutionary tree. So, it’s a divisive topic. In my view, they are just barely IPAS, but the term “style”—as with any kind of language—means what people think it means, so, yes, they’re IPAS.
The Fundamentals
Alcohol follows the IPA style: roughly between 6 and 8 percent ABV, although stronger versions are possible.
Malt is a minor player in both styles, but as with the NEIPAS from which they’re derived, it’s not the star. Pilsner malt is the base, with perhaps a little pale ale or lightly caramel malt (Caramel 10 or Vienna) for a little additional richness. Unmalted wheat, rye, or oats add a palate-filling creaminess that’s especially important in the milkshake variant. The beers are either pale or tinted with the fruit. Hibiscus or other additional ingredients are sometimes used to deepen the color.
It’s worth asking, “Are these really IPAS?” If you’re a style classicist, then these depraved mutations will be a final indignity for your long-suffering favorite. If you’re a new-school enthusiast of these brilliantly futuristic variations on a theme, then you’ll find plenty in these beers to connect them back to the IPA branch of the beer evolutionary tree. So, it’s a divisive topic. In my view, they are just barely IPAS, but the term “style”—as with any kind of language—means what people think it means, so, yes, they’re IPAS.
Kettle souring brings lactic acid, which has a perceptible sourcream aroma and a certain softness—very different from the sharp citric and/or malic acids generally found in fruit. Also, a ketone called acetoin may bring a yogurt-like dairy note. Under certain conditions, however, acetic-acid bacteria can also produce some mercaptan off-flavor notes of garbage truck or old sewer pipe, which, when perceptible, besmirch the creamy/fruity delights of this style.
Hops, when evident, tend to be fruity. In fact, these styles really wouldn’t be possible without modern hops bringing pineapple, pear, apricot, mango, berry, white grape, melon, and more. Hops must be chosen carefully to enhance or add depth to the actual fruit. Old-school hops such as Cascade, with their pungent floral and piney notes, aren’t a great fit here.
With the majority of hops added either at the end of the boil (whirlpool) or in dry hopping, it’s just about impossible to calculate bitterness. And because the many different hops compounds from those processes can add bitterness, measurement doesn’t correspond to how bitter these beers actually taste. What’s more, acidity and sweetness can counterbalance or mask bitterness to some extent. If you have a trained palate, these beers might feel like they’re from 25 to 45 IBUS, the entire span of the “moderate” range.
Like the NEIPAS from which they sprung, these beers are usually double dry hopped: once during active fermentation and again a few days later when fermentation is done. The first dry hopping allows the yeast to “biotransform” a few of the hopsaroma chemicals, changing them from floral to more desirable citrus and lemony notes. The first dry hopping also creates the permanent haze. But no matter how cloudy, these beers shouldn’t have more than a trace of yeast, as having dead creatures in your beer will come to no good as they decompose.
Fruit Additions
With a few exceptions, both styles revolve around fruit. These are not simple summer-fruit beers, but in-your-face fruit forward. This requires a lot of fruit, typically in the form of aseptic or frozen purée. Natural fruit extracts are sometimes used as well, but they’re best employed to restore some aroma that may get