Funky Summer Beer -- "Skipjack" Belgian Saison

[MannyEdwards]

Skipjack Saison – Batch #1

Track this project and see the recipe here.

“Probably what I like best about the Saison beer style is the….”

I stared at that sentence for a good ten minutes, trying to finish it. I went to the Keezer, got a small glass of my Saison — about 3 ounces — and studied it, trying to figure out what I liked about it. That’s the problem with an “untrained palate;” you can’t adequately describe what you’re experiencing.

In fact, you can’t even adequately apprehend the experience. Mortimer Adler explained that language is the means by which we apprehend concepts. That is, language is the means by which I think, or experience, and with language I handle the thought in a way that results in some sort of understanding sufficient that I can articulate it.

This is why it is impossible to translate things exactly from one language to another. There are expressions in French that just don’t exist in English. For instance, the French expression “j’en ai ras-le-bol” just does not translate precisely in English. I can sort of describe the literal meaning — “I have a bowl full.” I can give you some approximations — “I’m sick of it,” “I’m fed up,” “enough is enough.”

But they’re all just approximations. Because I’m bilingual, I can tell you that the French-speaker who says “j’en ai ras-le-bol” is expressing an emotion that no English speaker ever expresses. The English-speaker (or German, or Spanish, or Italian) literally cannot understand the concept, because he doesn’t know the language. Sure, he might be “fed up,” or “sick of it,” but he does not know what it feels like d’en avoir ras-le-bol.

See, I can’t even say “what it feels like to have ras-le-bol, because j’en ai itself does not mean, precisely, I have.

This all brings us to a truly astounding conclusion — if you don’t have the language to articulate a thought or emotion, you literally cannot experience it.

Many languages don’t have any word for the color blue, and the people who speak those languages do not perceive the color blue. If you ask them the color of the sky on a clear day, they’ll say bright or something similar, and they’ll use the same word to describe blond hair and other things that are fair or bright. Do a search for “no word for blue.”

But enough of this. By now you all probably en avez ras-le-bol and don’t even know it. (If you are interested, do a search for these other very interesting, untranslatable French words: Dépaysement, retrouvailles, and salaud. If you’re a Brit, you’ll have a better handle on salaud, which you’ll usually translate as bugger).

The point is, it’s not really my palate that’s deficient; it’s my language. I don’t have the language to adequately discuss and describe a beer’s aroma, flavor, and mouthfeel, or even to give my overall impression.

I need to find a certified beer judge or an experienced beer competitor in my area (middle Tennessee) and become his best friend. We need to drink beer and talk about it, so I can learn the language. Send me a message if you’re interested. I’m totally serious.

All that said (and I know it’s a long caveat), I will do my best, so let’s try again.

Now, About That Belgian Saison

I’m trying to describe what I like best about Belgian Saison beer, and for that, I have to go back a couple of decades, when I visited Belgium. Because, you see, my attraction to Saison is very much nostalgic.



My father lived in Belgium years ago, and I visited, and brother, we had a good time. We ate fries cooked in beef fat at a frites stand. I bought some Belgian lace in Brugges, of course. I stood in the Grand-Place surrounded by the medieval trade guilds for a half hour, just blown away at the phenomenal wealth on display. Some of those buildings are literally gilded. Imagine yourself surrounded by buildings made of gold. Think about it.

Late that same day, Dad took me to a Delhaize store, which is an international grocery chain operating in the USA as Food Lion. There was an entire aisle, the length of the store, stocked top to bottom and all the way down the aisle with beer in individual bottles, priced individually for sampling. I wanted to try every one of them.

Saison was one of the ones we selected. I have no idea which one, but I recall how much Dad enjoyed it, and I sucked it down while he extolled its virtues.

And he talked about its history, too, which I found interesting. It was originally a session beer — low ABV, crisp, dry, and refreshing. Seasonal agricultural and construction workers drank it throughout the day in lieu of water, and the low ABV was intended to keep them safely working. Nowadays it’s hard to find one at session strength, and the style ranges from 5% to 9.5% (although BJCP guidelines suggest an upper limit of 7%).

These pairings are right on, brother. My wife's crusty bread rolls, some Kerrygold butter, a few slices of my own Bresaola, a few olives, and some oiled, salted, roasted okra.

Skipjack Saison is in development. My boys and I want to develop our own signature Saison, eventually, but if we fail for the rest of our lives, we can always come back to this terrific kit from Northern Brewer called Synchronicity Extraordinaire Wheaten Saison. I highly recommend it. If I owned Northern Brewer, I'd have this in my inventory.

This is my favorite beer I’ve brewed. [Since this was written I have brewed a new favorite -- a mind-blowing Mango IPA using nothing but hops for the fruity aroma. I'm drinking one right now]. If you do nothing more than buy this kit and make it the same way we did, you’ll be pleased; they did a stellar job developing this. There are a few things I’d like to tinker with, of course, but not because there’s anything wrong with the kit. It’s just because I want to have some fun with it.

I mentioned in the video that I was confused about the very high attenuation in this beer, but it’s characteristic of the Danstar Belle Saison yeast, and saison yeasts in general. Still, my software predicted a FG of 1.010; actual FG was 1.004. I’m still researching this.

I've also been researching the beer jargon, so I'm going to give it a shot here with my tasting notes.

Aroma

Mildly funky, like a wheat beer should be. Orange/citrus, fruity, medium floral hops. A little spicy and peppery. A hint of sour.

Appearance

Golden, hazy to cloudy, with a thick, white, persistent head that leaves a pronounced lace. No alcohol.

Taste

The first impression is orange/citrus with spice and floral notes, just before a swell of moderate bitterness. This evolves into a pleasantly tart, very dry finish with a mild lingering bitterness. Very low alcohol presence, if any, despite a 6% ABV.

Mouthfeel

Light body. High carbonation makes it prickly on the tongue, and effervescent. It finishes pleasantly, lightly tart; no puckering.

Overall Impression

Fruity, spicy, and floral, with a tart, very dry finish. No single aspect dominates; well balanced, effervescent, and refreshing.

Project Notes

This is Batch #1, a wonderful kit from Northern Brewer.

• Finishing tartness and acidity complement the very dry finish, and work perfectly with the wheat and funky yeast, but I might like to try a wheatless version, to compare.
• My notes do not indicate how much (if any) lactic acid was added to the mash, so it’s possible I didn’t control the mash pH. (At that time I hadn’t started noting this addition).
• I’d like to try a batch without any fruit or spice additions, just to see what I can get from the main ingredients. If I can work up a spicy, fruity, floral combination with just yeast and hops, that will be interesting.
• It’s delicious, but I need someone more experienced to confirm that it is to style. If it’s not, I’m going to make up a cool name for it and create my own style, because, wow.

Track this project and see the recipe here.