American Throwback Cream Ale

Joe Stange & Jeff Alworth

Page 24

This recipe is inspired by tantalizing descriptions of cream ale from the early 20th century—though it combines ideas from both the pre- and post-prohibition eras. For details and some variations, see “Brewer’s Notes” below.

ALL-GRAIN

Batch size: 5 gallons (19 liters)

Brewhouse efficiency: 72% OG: 1.058 FG: 1.011 IBUS: 35 ABV: 6.2%

MALT/GRAIN BILL

8 lb (3.6 kg) pale six-row 3.4 lb (1.5 kg) flaked corn

HOPS SCHEDULE

0.5 oz (14 g) Cluster [6% AA] at 60 minutes

1 oz (28 g) Cluster [6% AA] at 30 minutes

1 oz (28 g) Hallertauer Mittelfrüh [4% AA] at 10 minutes

1.5 oz (43 g) Hallertauer Mittelfrüh [4% AA] at flame-out/whirlpool 1 oz (28 g) Hallertauer Mittelfrüh [4% AA] at dry hop

YEAST

Nottingham

DIRECTIONS

Mill the malt, then mix in the flaked corn. Mash at 149°F (65°C) for 1 hour, then raise the temperature to 168°F (69°C) and mash out. Lauter and sparge to get about 6.8 gallons (26 liters) of wort—or more, depending on your evaporation rate. Boil for 90 minutes, adding hops according to the schedule, then whirlpool for 10 minutes. Chill the wort to 68°F (20°C), aerate well, and pitch the yeast. Ferment for 7–10 days at 68–70°F (20–21°C), then add dry hops for another 4–7 days. When fermentation is complete, crash and lager for 1–2 weeks, then package and carbonate to about 2.5 volumes.

BREWER’S NOTES

Following Wahl & Henius of 1901, we have a grist of 30 percent corn. If you want to go really authentic, get grits instead of flakes and do a cereal mash (see “Cereal Mashup,” beerandbrewing.com). Another variation they describe: Go with 25 percent sugar instead of corn. The purpose of these adjuncts was to lighten the color and body.

We’re also embracing their 1901 reporting of up to 1½ pounds (680 g) of hops per barrel (almost 4 oz/113 g per 5 gallons/19 liters). We push much of that later in the boil, to avoid harsher bitterness and because the alpha-acid content and storage of the hops back then is a big question mark—and because hop flavor is delicious. The mix of Cluster and imported hops is another reasonable guess, but feel free to stick with U.s.-grown Noble-ish hops—or get more creative.

Following Wahl’s 1937 description, we’re definitely dry hopping—as many ale brewers back then did—and we’re aiming for a gravity of 14 Balling (i.e., 1.057ish) and an ABV upward of 6 percent.

The yeast is another guess, since many breweries at the time used heirloom British ale yeasts. The Nottingham strain ferments pretty cleanly and flocculates well, bearing in mind that these beers were also called “sparkling” ales. If you want a cleaner, more lager-like profile, you can sub in Chico, German ale, or even a lager strain (such as Saflager W-34/70), but at similar temperatures. a characterful and old-fashioned ale—not “mainstream,” according to Gary.

“There was a certain group who liked 12 Horse, and every time the brewery discontinued 12 Horse, there was a cry and they’d reintroduce it,” Gary says. “But there just wasn’t enough of a following to maintain the volumes we needed to put through the production cycle. Cream Ale came along because the marketing people were asking [for a new product]. My father and his team put together Cream Ale. It was a little lighter and smoother and sweeter than the regular 12 Horse.”

All Ale or a Blend?

Genesee has always been cagey about how Genesee Cream Ale is made. In 1982, Michael Jackson wrote, “The company is noticeably secretive.” That’s also what I found when I probed into Genesee’s brewing methods in 2017. Yet Jackson surmised that Genesee Cream Ale is actually a blend of ale and lager. Philadelphia beer columnist Don Russell, aka Joe Sixpack, confirmed this in 2009. “It’s still a closely guarded secret after all these years,” he quotes Geminn as saying, but then adds: “But he acknowledged that it’s essentially a blend of that old 12 Horse and the brewery’s lager, Genesee Beer.”

If that sounds a bit like a cheat, it’s worth tasting the beer again with a fresh palate. The original 12 Horse was apparently so strongly ale-y that it alienated many drinkers. Despite being dismissed by some as mass-market and mainstream, that charac

ter is still quite evident in Genny Cream. It’s obvious from the first sniff—the fruity aroma of an English pub rises off a glass. There’s no way to confuse it with a lager.

Mike Mueller, the brewmaster who followed Gary Geminn, went to Rochester in part because he loved the Cream Ale. He agrees the yeast is a big part of the character. “The ale yeast produces some very fruity, estery character … My personal opinion is the yeast we have is what gives [it] its unique flavor and character.” It’s made with corn, which gives it a sweeter palate, and it’s fuller-bodied than a lager. Genesee Cream

Ale “was in its heyday when I started working here,” Mueller says. “And it was different. At one time, it was one of our ad campaigns: ‘It’s something different.’”

Two Waves of Imitators

Genny Cream was a hit, and it inspired imitators such as Narragansett Brewing’s ’Gansett Cream and Lion Brewery’s Stegmaier Liebotschaner Cream Ale, as well as a few Midwest examples. By that time, cream ales seemed slightly nostalgic and homey. They offered enough of a difference to give drinkers a change of pace, while keeping them firmly in their comfort zones.

More interesting, perhaps, was a second wave of cream ales that came well into the craft era. By the second decade of the new century, most drinkers had been exposed to beers far more exotic than cream ales. So, while a number of breweries have made a return to the classic profile—such as Oregon’s Pelican Kiwanda or Wisconsin’s iconic New Glarus Spotted Cow—others have wondered about revisiting the “cream.”

No brewery has riffed on this more than New Jersey’s Carton Brewing, which has done a series. A classic Jersey beer—which draws on the regional heritage of cream ale—is Regular Coffee, a boomer at 12 percent ABV that nods to the classic paper-cup morning fix. In Seattle, Georgetown found similar inspiration in Gusto Crema, at 4.5 percent ABV with lactose and coffee. Southern California’s Mother Earth gave us Cali Creamin’, made with vanilla. Another California brewery, Anderson Valley, adds an unnamed flavoring (woodruff?) to create a cream-soda resonance. Brewery after brewery is now taking the old adjective in new directions.

As we enter an era where flavored beer is not just considered acceptable but is sought after, this seems like an excellent development. Cream ales have always depended on a little glam and sleightof-hand, seducing us with promises of velvety textures. Why not, finally, 150 years later, make good on the promise?

Cream ales have always depended on a little glam and sleight-of-hand, seducing us with promises of velvety textures. Why not, finally, 150 years later, make good on the promise?