American Wheat Beer
One thing I love about beer and brewing today is how new ingredients mesh with evolving beer styles (and even help them evolve). A major beneficiary of this globalization and democratization of beer is a style that hasn’t achieved its due notoriety quite yet: American Wheat Ale. But I think its time is now. New hops from the land of the Kiwis—with their unique blend of bright citrus, herbal, and floral flavors that pair so wonderfully with grainy spicy malted wheat—have given us the perfect tools to make better American wheat ales than ever before.
Style: American wheat beer should never be confused with German weissbier or hefeweizen. Yes, in both beers, wheat makes up about half of the grist. But American wheat beer doesn’t feature clove or banana, and unlike those beers, it usually does feature some moderate hops flavors and bitterness. A better way to conceptualize this style is to start at American pale ale. From there, we simply lower the bittering and add to the grainy, doughy malt character. It’s a much shorter trip and gets closer to the general qualities of the style! This is a pale ale with limited fermentation character and noticeable hops.
Ingredients: The grist in these beers is a simple 50/50 mix of American 2-row and wheat malt. It will give you a clean, bready, doughy maltiness on which to build. If you want to commit to the “spicy loaf of bread” flavor profile, you can split the wheat-malt addition into a wheat-and-rye addition at the same net weight, but I prefer the simpler all-wheat option. Also, if you find you are prone to stuck mashes or sparges, you can add some rice hulls.
We have a clean, grainy, doughy base, and this is where our hops come in. Traditional recipes often use a blend of noble and American hops (e.g., Hallertau/centennial, Saaz/amarillo). Instead, I propose that you use some Pacific hops: Motueka (7% AA) provides a minty lime note along with some subtle earthiness, and Sorachi Ace (14% AA) complements the lime of the Motueka with some Meyer lemon flavors and a hint of herb—most say dill, but I say marjoram. However you perceive it, I think you’ll love it—and you’ll love how we use it here because it’s foolproof. Add these with 5 minutes left in the boil to impart lots of hops aroma and flavor and contribute about 15–20 IBUS (just enough to add just a slight bite of bitterness).
Yeast is simple: Wyeast 1056 (American Ale). I don’t even use my light-ester-producing German Ale yeast on this one.
Process: This beer needs a clean fermentation to shine, and our yeast choice reflects that. We can further advance our cause by letting this beer hearken to its hybrid roots: push your fermentation temperatures well down, to about 60°F (16°C), and allow at least 2 to 3 weeks for primary fermentation to complete. You can gradually increase the fermentation temperature after the first 72 hours or so, but I don’t recommend it. An excess of esters or fermentation characters is a far greater sin in this beer than a slight underattenuation. Keep cool, literally and figuratively, and take your time.
There’s no particular need to try to clear this beer. A slight haze is perfectly acceptable, and as we taste first with our eyes, it may get your flavor perceptions leaning in the right direction even before your first sip! Use your standard clarification tactics, but don’t worry if a persistent haze is visible, even after several weeks.
In Closing: The overall impression is an intriguing blend of simple and complex flavors that makes this beer seem like “straitlaced and in-your-face” American pale ale’s scruffy but clever younger brother. You can decide which you prefer, but there’s no doubt that this is a beer worth making and making well!