For
the first time this year I went to a hop farm during the harvest. The gardens
are overflowing with bright green hops while speeding tractors carry piled-high
loads of hops to be processed by huge, clunking old machines, filling the air
with the dozy, fresh, spicy and grassy aromas. To see the scale and speed of
it, to hold a handful of plump, soft hops, to pick them from the bine yourself
and rip them open to rub the sticky oil on your fingers, to have your senses
flooded by the unique aromas, to see how one variety looks different to
another, to be surrounded by the thing which makes you love the taste of
beer... it’s evocative and extraordinary and anyone who loves beer has to go to
a hop farm when they are harvesting – it gives you a whole new appreciation of
where beer’s most amazing flavours come from.
Having
lived in Kent my whole life (where almost half of Britain’s hops are now
grown), I’ve always had a close link to hops without ever really knowing.
There’s the Hop Farm, but I never went there on a school trip; there’s oast
houses across the county, the white tips high in the air, but I thought they
were just fancy farm houses; those fields with tall trellises which smelt spicy
on hots day as we drove through the countryside was just the smell of being
outside.
Hops
are brilliant and I love them, but British hops are on a bit of a downer at the
moment and need some cheering on. One great way of doing this is with green
hopped beers. As a beer-loving Man of Kent, the Kent Green Hop Fortnight, which
saw 20 breweries make at least one green-hopped beer with fresh Kent hops, made
the Invicta horse inside me kick with excitement.
Most
hops are dried before they reach the brewhouse. Green-hopped beers are
different: picked fresh from the bine, hops go from field to kettle as fast as
possible in order to capture the maximum amount of oils into the brew. These
volatile oils, many of which are lost to the drying process, give a delicate, fresh
cut grassiness, floral and stone fruit flavour different to anything you’ll
find in a dried hop. Only brewable during the harvest, these are the ultimate
seasonal beer where local hop farms and breweries come together – they also
require the brewery to be bold and brave with their hop additions, often
needing 10-times the weight of wet to dry.
What
makes green-hopped beers great is that they somehow capture an essence of the
hop garden, a flavour of the countryside, of freshness, evocative of sticky
green fingers and grass stains on your knees. Getting 20 of Kent’s breweries
together has also highlighted the hop growing in the county as well as showing
off the variety of beers brewed in the south east. It also gives a big backslap
to British hops in general. That can only be a good thing and while all of the 2012
beers have been drunk, I’m already looking forward to 2013’s harvest when
hopefully all of Kent’s breweries will brew again and so will others around the
country, really showing off the brilliant hops grown in Britain.
Had a couple of green hopped beers this year. One bottled and one cask. Neither seemed that great, but that might have been the brewing.
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed that visit to the hop farm. Fascinating...
ReplyDeletePete made a green hopped beer from the small harvest from our own hop, planted earlier this year... he was quite pleased with it, I think...