The Secret’s In The Flavour — Why Heritage Barley is Craft Beer’s most Exciting Ingredient
In the world of modern, industrial agriculture, cereal seed crops such as wheat or barley are designed with maximum yield in mind. The grains we sow, and eventually harvest, are the result of years of research and trials, aiming to deliver the highest possible levels of efficiency and, in turn, sustainable profit margins throughout the supply chain.
What might surprise you, however, is the shelf life of the varieties that support these supply chains is typically only around five years. This is because plant breeders are constantly looking for the next variety to sell to farmers, and those cultivators are looking for ways to sustain their profits amid inflating costs and undercutting by their competition.
Things look a little different, however, when it comes to some of the most popular barley varieties used in brewing. Whereas the majority of barley is bred for food, malting barley—especially that used by smaller, more artisanal producers such as brewers or distillers—bucks many agronomic trends. In fact, some of the most popular barley varieties have been in commercial use for over half a century.
Maris Otter is perhaps the most well known example of a barley that has far-outlived its supposed shelf-live, and it’s been in use for a lot longer than five, ten, or even twenty years. In fact, the variety was first commercially bred in 1966, meaning that it’s served as a popular brewing barley for a hugely anomalous 56 years and counting.
But why have malting barleys like Maris Otter and Golden Promise (also over half a century old) survived the test of time? Plant breeders definitely hate them, and farmers have the opportunity to invest in far more modern, commercially viable varieties that produce higher, more consistent yields. Brewers, however, love them. Maris Otter and Golden Promise mean flavour, and they mean consistency. While other sectors have pursued newer varieties brewers continue to ask for these grains, and thus do they continue to be sown, harvested, malted, brewed with and eventually drunk by we thirsty beer lovers year after year.
Maltsters, such as Crisp Malt in Great Ryburgh, Norfolk, know better than anyone why varieties like Maris Otter have stood the test of time. They are, after all, responsible for converting the grains into a usable state for brewing and distilling—it is the maltster’s job to unlock the flavour and the potential inherent in each and every kernel.
It makes sense then, that in its search for the “next big thing” (so to speak) Crisp decided to look backwards, instead of forwards. Thanks to what the maltster describes as a “happy accident” when its friends at the John Innes Centre—a world leading independent centre of excellence in plant science, genetics and microbiology—were researching into historic varieties resistant to a disease called fusarium head blight they happened upon a heritage barley known as Chevallier.
Said to be the first landrace barley from which modern malting varieties were selected, Chevallier was cultivated for use in malting from the 1820s, for almost a century—before eventually being replaced by increasingly modern varieties. It formed the core of many classic 19th century ale recipes, until it gradually fell out of use (its last known commercial use was in Australia, around the 1960s.)
When it was found to be resistant to fusarium head blight, the stage was set, not only for the return of Chevallier, but for a whole host of heritage barley varieties. The reason? They were packed full of interesting, and noticeably tangible flavours. Case in point: Crisp describes its Chevallier malt as “like Maris Otter turned up to 11.”
I feel a small amount of honesty is required on my part at this point. My dad, Frank, now retired, was a plant breeder for some 40 years. When I told him that heritage barley were once again being cultivated for malt and beer production, he scoffed, and for a while I too was convinced this was a backwards step. Surely the future of beer would be in newer varieties?
Thankfully it didn’t take me long to come around to the idea of heritage barley, as all it took was a taste (several tastes, in fact) of some fantastic beers produced with trial batches of the Chevallier, Hana and Plumage Archer varieties produced by The Cheshire Brewhouse (now sadly no longer brewing) and RedWillow Brewery in Macclesfield. My initial thoughts were “why would you pay extra for heritage malt when you probably can’t taste the difference”—but you absolutely can taste the difference. Just grab some Redwillow Heritage Mild or Porter, for example, and you will notice the sublime balance of well-defined sweetness and drinkability.
Earlier this year I was lucky enough to attend a tap takeover at Manchester’s Cafe Beermoth by Leith’s Newbarns Brewery. (A small bit of disclosure: Jonny Hamilton, who brews for Newbarns, is a friend and the co-founder of my own magazine, Pellicle.) If I wasn’t excited enough by the prospect of working my way through their beers already, I was thrilled to learn that they had brewed four different variations of a specific lager recipe, each one using a specific variety of heritage malt: Chevallier, Plumage Archer, Scotch Annat, and Bere, the latter which was reportedly used as long ago as medieval Britain. Oh my!
This gave me the opportunity to taste each variety side by side and understand the nuances that each barley variety lent to the beers they were used in. Chevallier was first up, a variety I’d now tried several times, and have begun to enjoy the nutty, bready, almost marmalade-like character it provides the beers it’s used in. Bere is all cracker-meets-biscuit, drying in the finish, and a little sparser than Chevallier, making it ideal for producing a delicate body in a lager.
Annat was perhaps the most interesting one. I remember describing the beer as tasting like “a €1 bottle of Helles from a Berlin corner shop” which is honestly a huge compliment, with the beer having a fresh, herbal note running through it. My favourite though had to be the Plumage Archer, which had such a distinct sweetness to it, not unlike cinder toffee.
The most important thing this tasting demonstrated to me was how markedly different the flavour provided by each of the varieties was. When we think about modern beer, we so often think about the hop varieties used, and how they dramatically shift the flavour of a certain beer from tropical, to citrus fruit and back again. But when you think of hops in brewing, they are actually more like the seasoning in the recipe than the main ingredient. That role goes to malt, and now that producers such as Crisp are investing more into the production of heritage malt varieties, it’s giving breweries of all shapes and sizes a brand new palette of flavours to paint with.
Here’s some of the heritage barley varieties Crisp are currently producing, how they taste, and what kind of beers they’d be ideal for making:
The classic, delivering hefty doses of biscuit, caramel, and freshly baked bread, with a rounded sweetness, dependable mouthfeel and balance throughout. This is a workhorse malt, suitable for producing anything from light golden ales, through to strong and bitter IPAs and Barley Wines.
With its nutty, bready and marmalade flavours, Chevallier is a bigger, bolder cousin to Maris Otter. I’ve had several fantastic beers made using this malt from Mild to Porter and more besides, but one of the best beers I’ve tried that uses it was a classic, English Hopped IPA, strong, bitter, and packed full of candied orange and toffee flavours. A real treat.
With its cinder toffee character, Plumage Archer really brings out the warm, fireside character of a good stout, adding a distinctive flavour to dark beers. I wouldn’t stop their with it though, as it would also be fantastic in a classic Best Bitter, or a stronger ESB. One for the purists.
Hana is the original pilsner malt that emerged from the Czech Republic in the early-to-mid 19th century. Flavour wise it predominantly delivers crunchy, biscuit notes that are sublimely refreshing, and provides lots of structure for plenty of bitter hopping. This is ideal for use in lager production, and unsurprisingly it excels most of all in a classic Czech Pils, as it just seems to love sitting in harmony with lots of luscious Saaz hops.
—Matthew Curtis