Intense, hop-forward, and malt-forward, this style can sometimes be a catchall category for beers that don’t quite fall in with IPAs or other strong ales. It can also shift with age, losing some hop character while malt comes to the fore—something to bear in mind for competitions. But I make this to drink it, which is why I like to brew it in the fall. Then it’s really rocking come Thanksgiving, and the hops hold on well into the new year, and I can count on a flavor-stable malt-and-hops party through the Super Bowl and February snows. Likewise: If you brew it in the spring, its hop punch mellows into roundness by autumn—a fine thing to sip while brewing it again.
Style: Yes, this is a strong ale—but not so strong as to move it into the barleywine category. It often hovers around 8 percent ABV—a bit of warmth is expected—and IBUs also tend to run high. Color ranges from deep gold to amber. Why, then, isn’t this just an imperial IPA?
The answer lies in the malt. While these can seem like IPAs, there’s a richness and complexity here—more so, even, than the older-school American IPAs. Darker crystal malts are common, yielding toffee and raisin flavors. The body is full and rich. You might even have a touch of roast in the flavor—though it should never taste burnt. Ample bitterness and hop flavor balance the malt here; they’re co-stars. Think big and red with lots of hops—and it’d be a mistake to ignore those strong malt flavors. Finding complementary flavors on both sides—hops and malt—is the trick and the hallmark of the style.
Ingredients: To help fill out that body, our grist should “feel” rich. I start with a base of equal parts Munich and Maris Otter—I used to go with all-Maris here, but I started including some Munich, liked it, and kept bumping it up. (I’ve also tried all-Munich but found it a little over the top.) To that balanced base, we add layers of Victory, Special B, and Crystal 45, locking in some toasty and dark-caramel flavors. I’ve also found that adding some flaked barley here helps to smooth out the mouthfeel and boost head retention.
For hops, hit it with anything at 60 minutes for about 45 IBUs. For later aroma additions, go with your favorite fruit-forward American or Southern Hemisphere variety—I like Motueka here for its lemon-lime character, which cuts nicely through the rich malt flavors. Then go with something similarly citrus-forward at flameout.
Finally, I like to ferment this with the London III strain. The berry-like esters are a nice fit, and it helps that it’s not a bone-dry attenuator.
Process: Consider mashing a bit higher than usual here to build some body with less-fermentable sugars—154°F (68°C) should be fine. Ferment at 64°F (18°C) for the first week to limit the production of diacetyl and hot alcohols; then go ahead and raise to 68–69°F (20–21°C) to finish out the fermentation and clean up any diacetyl or precursors. This is where many people reach for the hops again—but I don’t recommend it. When I’ve dry hopped this beer, I’ve found that the resin and grassy flavors aren’t worth the extra punch of hops in the nose, so I end up waiting for it to fade out. If you’re not happy with the level of hop aroma, just increase those late additions—and don’t worry about IBUs. We’re only at about 54 with this recipe, and it can handle a few more.
