If you’ve never heard of haskap—we had not—here are a few reasons why that may be the case.
One is that not many places cultivate it, although that’s gradually changing as more people discover and taste the previously wild shrub. Another is that most of those places are farther north, where it grows best. Finally, it’s possible that you simply know it by a different name—because it has many.
Camerise. Honeyberry. Blue honeysuckle … or blue-berried honeysuckle, blue fly honeysuckle, sweetberry honeysuckle, and other names besides. In fact, we get the idea that you could make up your own name for it, if you wanted, and nobody’s really going to call you out on it.
Still, we’re sticking with haskap, derived from its name—hasukappu—among the Ainu people of Hokkaido, Japan, a country that’s done a lot to develop the plant. English-speaking Canada appears to have embraced that one, while Quebec is going with camerise—and we think that sounds nice, too.
Whatever you call it, there’s a lot to love:
- Haskap is hardy, growing on shrubs that prefer lots of sunlight but are otherwise content in northern parts of the Upper Midwest, New England, and on upward from there.
- Its status as “superfruit” comes from its high antioxidant content—triple that of blueberries—plus lots of vitamin C.
- The fruit’s punchy berry flavor is its own, but many describe it as falling somewhere betwixt blackberry, blueberry, and raspberry.
- It’s darker and “purpler” than blueberries—whose inner flesh is really more of a pale green, while haskap’s is more burgundy.
For brewers looking to make striking and distinctive fruit beers, those last two properties might be its most attractive.
Brewing with Haskap
Wherever there are brewers in the north looking to incorporate some tasty terroir, you’re likely to find at least one making beer with haskap. A couple of the bigger names that have embraced the fruit are Cantillon in Brussels—its camerise lambic is called Sang Bleu (6 percent ABV)—while Maine’s Allagash in 2023 put locally grown “honeyberries” into its own spontaneously fermented beer to produce Coolship Camerise (7 percent ABV).
Yet there may be more haskap beers in Canada than anywhere else in the world. Ontario’s London Brewing Co-operative brews its kettle-acidified Resolution (4.2 percent ABV) with both haskap and hibiscus, achieving a vibrant pinkish-red color. Quebec may be the province that’s embraced camerise with the most enthusiasm. Many of these beers are kettle-acidified, with light and wheaty bases, or else farmhouse-inspired, mixed-culture concoctions—but not all. On the stronger end, Quebec City’s La Souche uses a Belgian-style tripel as the base of its Haskap Grand Cru (9.3 percent ABV).
One rural brewery that’s embraced this local produce is La Ferme in Shefford, Quebec, about 35 miles north of the border with Vermont. Its Sure Camerise includes large quantities of haskap atop a soft base of raw wheat and pale malt, acidified by Lactobacillus and fermented with kveik. The resulting liquid is a deep, dark, hazy magenta in the glass, gently tart and packed with berry flavors.
La Ferme works with a local farmer who specializes in growing haskap, and that’s allowed the team to taste multiple varieties and select a blend that’s specifically meant for their own beer. “Fresh haskap berries have a distinct flavor that’s a bit tricky to describe,” says founder and brewer Jonathan Thibault. “They offer earthy notes similar to açai and Saskatoon berries, combined with a tangy component reminiscent of raspberries.” While people often compare haskap to blueberries, their texture and color are more similar than their flavor, in his view. “They have a ‘polyphenol-rich’ signature, for lack of a better term.”
There are many varieties—Canadian researchers continue to work on breeding them—and they’re all a bit different in flavor. “Sweet varieties like Aurora are outstanding to eat fresh,” Thibault says. “But for brewing purposes, we prefer varieties with slightly more tannins and tartness, such as Tundra, Indigo Gem, and Boreal Beauty. These flavor compounds transfer beautifully to the beer, allowing the fruit to truly shine. I find brewing with haskap is much more rewarding compared to blueberries, as blueberries tend to lose a lot of their flavor in the process.”
It’s possible to brew with the fresh berries, of course, but at La Ferme they don’t mind freezing them. “Freezing allows ice crystals to break the fruit cells, eliminating the need for crushing,” Thibault says. However, “the main advantage is that we can use the fruit year-round.”
As with most brewers working with fruit these days, La Ferme adds the haskap berries late in the process to preserve their aroma and flavor. “In our case, we add the haskap berries to the Sure Camerise on the cold side, once fermentation is almost complete,” Thibault says.
While haskap works well in wheat beers, he says, there are other possibilities. “I would also be curious to try it in a chocolaty porter, for a more adventurous combination.”
Finally: If it tastes great, why hold back? In Sure Camerise, La Ferme adds those berries to the tune of 100 grams per liter, or more than 13 ounces per gallon. “While it’s possible to use less and still get great color and flavor,” Thibault says, “we wanted to make haskap the star of the show.”