Beer Sherpa: Upright’s Small Composition
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I was looking for a musical term that means “small composition” as a nod to musically-themed Upright Brewing. Bagatelle? Aria? What do I know—I’m a philistine raised by Joe Strummer and Lou Reed. In any case, today’s beer is a wee 3.5% gem, and a master class on doing more with less.
Called Midnight Reflection, the beer is a saison brushed very lightly by the flavors of wood and wild yeast. With a flagship pilsner, an increasing number of hoppy experiments, and a forthcoming cask-ale pub, Upright is hard to pigeonhole. Yet through his many explorations, Alex Ganum has always been committed to these kinds of beers, and they form the through-line of the brewery’s identity. As I was reminded with the first sip of Midnight Reflection, it’s well-deserved. I don’t know anyone who makes them better.
It is possible to make lush, full-flavored tiny ales, much as Americans refuse to try. The challenge is getting a rush of flavor that doesn’t overbalance a beer erected on delicate scaffolding. Moreover, including intense flavor components like American hops or wild yeast complicates matters. In Midnight Reflection, Upright manages the trick by using a very light hand with the wild yeast—and here the slight malt base is an important asset. I assume the brewery conducted a typical primary fermentation, and based on the fruitiness of the ester profile, probably a characterful one. (Upright has open fermenters, which accentuate ester production, and Ganum may have called them to duty as well.) That just doesn’t leave the Brettanomyces much to work with, so the wild yeast contributes only a hint of acid and funk. Where it really shines is the incredible peach note that emerges from all this biochemistry. It is above all a richly fruity beer. Skagit Valley obsidian barley and oats round out the grist, and the latter aids the beer in another key way—giving it a fullness and density that overcomes its low alcohol.
(Peach note you say? On Tuesday I quoted Imperial Yeast’s Owen Lingley describing a similar note his Loki strain produces at the right temperature—unique in his experience. In terms of single strains, I have no doubt that’s true. Good breweries can always find a workaround, though, and Upright, using the alchemy that comes from multiple strains and time, pulled it off.)
At twelve years, Upright is no longer the shiny new object in Portland’s beer scene. We recently voted on best brewery for the Oregon Beer Awards and it didn’t even make the short list for Portland. Yet my view hasn’t changed. Upright just doesn’t make bad beers and they rarely make average ones. And the number of beers they make that knock me down with their subtlety and mastery is all about of balance for such a tiny place. Anyone who isn’t trying these beers as often as possible (or visitors who skip the brewery when they come to town) are really missing something special. Grab a Midnight Reflection and see what I mean.
Working With Even Less
On Tuesday, Ezra Johnson-Greenough convened a tasting panel to consider non-alcoholic beers for The New School. I don’t want to step on that post, but the experience was enlightening in a couple of ways. I’ve had a fair number of NA beers already, but the exercise of slogging through dozens of them highlighted lessons harder to discern when you’re sampling only piecemeal.
NA beers are products of process more than anything else. They can be made a lot of ways, but that method will define the portfolio. When you taste them together, you see far more similarities among a family than among styles. That is, a stout made at one brewery will more closely resemble the same brewery’s golden ale than another brewery’s stout.
Some NA beers are listed as 0.0% ABV. Tom Bleigh, CBA (err, AB InBev, I guess) experimental brewer, knew what this meant: the beer didn’t go through any fermentation. The resulting products don’t taste like beer. They aren’t necessarily bad, but if you were hoping for a replacement for leaded beer, you’ll be disappointed.
A number of the NA beers did the job, though sitting with Tom and Breakside’s Ben Edmunds, another of the tasters, I realized they had a number of technical issues you can’t really escape. Yet one thing even the best NA beers lacked, however, was that crisp snap at the finish. Every NA beer we sampled ended on a sweet, flabby note. I hadn’t really noticed it before, but now I see it’s a dead giveaway.
Which were the best? Which were the worst? You’ll have to stay tuned and read Ezra’s post!