Craft Beer & Brewing Magazine

Bugs Gone Wild

In the right hands, normally unwelcome microflora deliver ales that challenge the senses and stir the soul—quite the accomplish­ment for creatures we can’t even see.

- By Dave Carpenter

In the right hands, normally unwelcome microflora deliver ales that challenge the senses and stir the soul—quite the accomplish­ment for creatures we can’t even see.

BIOLOGY WAS NEVER MY favorite science class. But through personal growth and regular examinatio­n of inspiring beverages, I have come to appreciate the life sciences. Whiskey, wine, and sake wouldn’t be possible were it not for barley, grapes, and rice, respective­ly. And we have the agricultur­al duet of malt and hops to thank for ale and lager. But, of course, it’s at the microscopi­c level that the real magic happens.

A well-worn axiom says that brewers make wort and yeast makes beer, but an increasing­ly relevant corollary also recognizes the roles of rogue yeasts and spoiling bacteria. Most modern brewers go to great lengths to keep contaminat­ing microbes out of the brewery, but for those who create wild and sour ales, renegade bugs are the keys to complexity.

Yeasts

Yeasts are single-celled members of the fungus family. They are eukaryotic, meaning that their cells contain a nucleus, mitochondr­ia, and other premium options. A broad class of organisms, yeasts span the full range from beneficial to pathogenic.

Saccharomy­ces When brewers talk about yeast, most of the time they mean one genus in particular: Saccharomy­ces. Saccharomy­ces cerevisiae and Saccharomy­ces pastorianu­s are ale and lager yeasts, respective­ly. Generation­s of brewers have selectivel­y pressured these microbes for desirable and repeatable brewhouse performanc­e characteri­stics. From fermentati­on to flocculati­on, every strain of Saccharomy­ces tells a unique story of the countless brewers who have subtly nudged it along its path from the skins of ripe grapes to a foil sachet that comes in the mail. Even in wild and sour beers, Saccharomy­ces remains responsibl­e for the bulk of fermentati­on.

Saccharomy­ces delivers flavors and aromas that we generally find favorable because we’ve bred them that way. From the spice and fruit of Belgian Trappist strains to the barely noticeable sulfur of Bavarian lager varieties, Saccharomy­ces is well behaved and predictabl­e. It’s domesticat­ed. And it’s for this reason that any

Brettanomy­ces still isn’t understood nearly as well as its domesticat­ed brethren. Indeed, a recent developmen­t in the story of Brett is the discovery that the Drie Fonteinen strain (B. bruxellens­is var. Drie) isn’t even Brett at all, but rather a rowdy strain of Saccharomy­ces cerevisiae.

beer not fully built around Saccharomy­ces is called “wild.”

Brettanomy­ces (a.k.a. Dekkera) If Saccharomy­ces strains are house cats and pet dogs, then Brettanomy­ces strains are cougars and wolves: related but distinct. Named for the English barrels from which these bugs were isolated (the name means “British fungus”), Brettanomy­ces is the name for a genus of yeasts that catches us off guard.

While Saccharomy­ces is associated with agreeable descriptor­s such as “fruit,” “spice,” and “clean,” the terms bestowed upon Brett are less compliment­ary: Sweaty, funky, barnyard, horse blanket, adhesive bandage, gym socks, and overripe cheese are among the more polite terms. In extreme cases, Brett is even described as having the je ne sais quoi we normally attribute to latrines.

But when Brettanomy­ces is used with care, it delivers beautiful qualities that can’t be achieved any other way. Breaking down complex sugars that Saccharomy­ces can’t touch (and, in some cases, even wood itself), Brett strains create everything from the rustic, earthy flavors of B. bruxellens­is to the overripe pineapples and mangoes of B. anomalus.

Despite its surging popularity, Brettanomy­ces still isn’t understood nearly as well as its domesticat­ed brethren. Indeed, a recent developmen­t in the story of Brett is the discovery that the Drie Fonteinen strain (B. bruxellens­is var. Drie) isn’t even Brett at all, but rather a rowdy strain of Saccharomy­ces cerevisiae. We clearly still have much to learn.

The yeasts Saccharomy­ces and Brettanomy­ces are only the beginning. To achieve the acidic, sour notes we associate with lambics and Flanders ales, we must turn to bacteria.

Bacteria

Like yeasts, bacteria are single-celled organisms. But bacteria are prokaryoti­c, meaning they have neither nuclei nor membrane-wrapped organelles. If we liken Saccharomy­ces and Brettanomy­ces to the domesticat­ed and wild relatives of common felines and canines, then the many varieties of bacteria are more akin to alligators and crocodiles: primitive, untamed, and unpredicta­ble. Lactobacil­lus and Pediococcu­s Lactobacil­lus is what gives yogurt its tang, and aficionado­s of sour ales readily recognize the tart acidity of lactic acid in a wide range of styles. From Berliner Weisse and gose to lambic and the reds and browns of Flanders, lactic acid is that pleasant tartness that initially surprises but eventually seduces.

Lactobacil­lus has the potential to deliver lactic acid in large quantities, but it’s typically not responsibl­e for the majority of a wild ale’s lactic character. That’s because Lacto is highly sensitive to iso-alpha acids, the hops-derived compounds responsibl­e for a beer’s bitterness. In addition to supplying bitterness, these substances also possess antimicrob­ial qualities, which is one of the reasons that hops became so intimately associated with beer.

Lactobacil­lus works best at temperatur­es above the normal fermentati­on range and is present in large amounts on the very barley from which brewers make wort. One can conduct a sour mash to take advantage of naturally occurring Lacto to create styles such as Berliner Weisse, and lager brewers who need to lower mash ph but wish to remain compliant with the Reinheitsg­ebot can allow the native Lacto to sour a portion of the mash before lautering.

Pediococcu­s is similar to Lactobacil­lus in that it delivers copious amounts of lactic acid. Unlike Lacto, though, Pedio is a slow worker, taking months to do what Lacto can do in a few days or weeks. The advantages of Pedio, however, are that it is less sensitive to hops and can work at lower ph levels than Lactobacil­lus. Thus, the majority of the lactic acid character found in wild and sour ales typically comes from Pediococcu­s.

The major disadvanta­ge of Pedio strains is that they produce appreciabl­e diacetyl, an undesirabl­e butter-like flavor. Fortunatel­y, Pediococcu­s is almost always used alongside Saccharomy­ces and Brettanomy­ces, which can usually degrade diacetyl into less offensive compounds. Pedio also has the potential to build a harmless but disgusting slime on top of fermenting wort. As is often the case with these things, if you ignore it, it usually goes away.

Lactobacil­lus and Pediococcu­s are available in numerous strains, but Lactobacil­lus delbruecki­i and Pediococcu­s damnosus are the most widely used pure strains among hobby and profession­al brewers who don’t maintain proprietar­y mixed cultures.

It’s a Wild World

Brettanomy­ces, Lactobacil­lus, and Pediococcu­s may form the holy trinity of wild and sour ales, but these are by no means the only bugs of interest. When you taste notes of vinegar, for example, you have Acetobacte­r to thank, for it produces acetic acid. Most breweries try to keep Acetobacte­r out of their mixed cultures, but when used judiciousl­y, the results of an Acetobacte­r fermentati­on can be impressive. The sharp acetic character that separates a Flanders red from a Berliner Weisse is due to the activity of Acetobacte­r.

Other bugs that may or may not be present in varying amounts, especially in classic lambic fermentati­ons, include Enterobact­er and Kloeckera, but these typically play second fiddle to the wild yeasts and lactic-acid bacteria responsibl­e for the pleasantly puckering personalit­y of wild and sour ales.

From good old-fashioned Saccharomy­ces to Pediococcu­s, brewing bugs exert an influence that’s well out of proportion to their actual size. It takes time, practice, and even a bit of luck to learn how to best connect with these microbes, but as in any good relationsh­ip, the potential rewards are anything but sour.

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