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Make Your Best Northern English Brown Ale

The Northern English Brown Ale is the perfect brew for fall, and, if you’re so inclined, you can add that popular orange gourd nobody wants to admit to liking (you know the one we’re talking about).

Josh Weikert Sep 4, 2016 - 6 min read

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You may have noticed that it’s that time of year when a certain style of really-for-fall-but-it’s-already-out-beer is hitting the shelves. I won’t mention its name here because I know some of you have a visceral, burning reaction to it, and I’m not going to be telling you how to make one, but...if I did tell you how to make one, the base style I’d use is my Northern English Brown ale. So if you’re of a mind to take this beer and add…something to it, this guide is a good place to start!

Style

Northern English Brown ale (now sometimes referred to just as British Brown or English Brown) is not even a proper “brown” ale. My version, in fact, is lighter in color than my mild, and comes in more at a medium-amber! But the name indicates that it’s simply darker than your bitters, but not as dark as your porters. As a style, there’s a lot of room for interpretation here, and if you’re traveling around the British Isles you’ll find a wide range. What they have in common, though, is a fundamental drinkability (as most British beers do—even the old ales and barleywines).

It’s a beer that relies on malt character, but at the same time isn’t particularly malty: you should taste a good amount of medium-crystal flavor (caramel, toffee), but this is a beer you can drink by the (real) pint, and it should have a nice balancing bitterness to it. It should also (at least in my humble opinion) taste fairly “light,” both in terms of mouthfeel and alcohol. Despite being a darker beer, much like its cousin the mild, it typically has no more alcohol than an English bitter (at least at the heavier end of that style).

Ingredients

There’s good news: we’re back to a very straightforward recipe after some recent forays into complex-grist territory. The key to this recipe is good-quality ingredients that shine through, which means that going overboard on a panoply of malts and hops might actually make your beer worse. Our grist will actually be composed of one of each class of malt:

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  • Base: 8 lb (3.6 kg) of Maris Otter
  • Crystal: 1 lb (454 g) of British Medium Crystal (65L)
  • Chocolate: 0.25 lb (113 g) of British Pale Chocolate (220L)

And that’s it. Some like to add flaked maize, torrified wheat (fun note: autocorrect twice changed that to “terrified” wheat), or flaked barley to smooth out the texture, and that’s fine. If I happen to have some flaked barley on hand (as I often do, to promote head formation and retention, especially in higher-alcohol beers) a half pound (227 g) might find its way into the mash. The important thing about this grist, though, is that you end up with a predominately caramel/bread flavor profile, with a touch of toffee and some slight drying roast, all for about 48 gravity points that yield an ABV of about 4.8 percent. If you notice a coffee flavor in the finished beer, increase your crystal malt addition and back off your roast addition until it goes away! But this ratio works well for me.

Hopping is, likewise, pretty simple. One ounce (28 g) of East Kent Goldings at 60 minutes will impart about 25 IBUs, and an ounce (28 g) of Fuggles at flame-out will give you that great, earthy, “I love the smell of England in the morning” aroma.

And for yeast, I prefer Wyeast 1028 (London Ale). It’s one more backstop against an overly sweet beer, since the mineral finish it imparts is a marked contrast to the more richly malted flavors left behind by my normal go-to British yeast (Wyeast 1318, London Ale III). I once ran these side-by-side using this very recipe, and the result from the 1318 was a beer that had a flavor that was more raisin than toffee, despite the absence of any darker crystal malts. Yeast cells are amazing, folks…

Process

Nothing too special in the fermentation here, except the usual caveat to start relatively low in the ale temperature range (I like 65°F/18°C) and increase throughout fermentation to promote attenuation and hold off/clean up diacetyl. Your yeast (if you’re using the 1028) is a great attenuator and isn’t particularly prone to diacetyl, but it’s still good practice.

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And resist the urge to overcarbonate this beer. It’s terrific at cask pressure (about one volume of CO2), and increasing it to the “usual” 2–2.5 will probably result in a beer that tastes a little stark and Spartan. At lower carbonation, however, the malt flavors are wonderfully delicate, and your guests will pack this away by the dimpled mugful.

In Closing

So…if you wanted to make this beer into a beer-that-shall-not-be-named-while-it’s-still-technically-summer, you absolutely can. I like to cut and roast my…gourd material and add it to the mash, then add my…other ground-up special ingredients post-fermentation, to taste. Use a light hand with both and you’ll get a beer that is reminiscent of the season without overpowering anyone! In fact, they’ll wonder if you’ve really made a…seasonal squash-based fermented beverage at all.

Cheers!

Find more about brewing with fresh hops, brewers who are using foraged ingredients, and pumpkin beers in Issue 8 (August/September 2015) of Craft Beer & Brewing Magazine®. Order your back issue today.

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