A Season for Saisons

In 19th-century Belgium, farmhouse brewers every late winter or early spring would produce a final batch of beer that was meant to last through summer, until the fall weather turned cool enough to permit brewing again. Since the consumers were the farmer, his family and their crew of laborers, the brewer had to walk a tightrope. The beer needed to be strong enough to resist spoilage but moderate enough to allow farmhands to rehydrate without getting too intoxicated to work.

Originally, these saisons (from the French word for "season") might have contained as little as 3 percent alcohol by volume. Today's versions of this country ale -- meant for computer programmers and government bureaucrats rather than thirsty field workers -- are much stronger, between 6 and 9 percent alcohol.

Early brewers of saison used widely varying techniques and recipes, but modern versions have a few common characteristics. A fermentation at warm temperatures, sometimes involving a mixture of yeast strains, releases a melange of fruity and spicy flavors. Condiments might be added to supplement the hops. Fermentation continues in the bottle, resulting in a lively carbonation and dense, rocky head.

Today, saisons are most often packaged in champagne-style bottles with a cork secured by a wire cage. Be careful where you point the bottle. No sooner had I removed the cage from a bottle of Foret organic saison-style ale than the cork shot out like a rocket, ricocheting off a light fixture with a loud gong.

These gold- to amber-colored ales often have a sour edge that occasionally verges on a metallic hardness. They can be extremely refreshing and are especially food-friendly, pairing well with dishes from salads to stews to piquant Asian cuisine.

Saison Dupont, from the Brasserie Dupont in Tourpes, Belgium, is considered the exemplar of the style. The brewery is on a working farm that also produces bread and cheese, where beermaking dates back at least to the mid-19th century. Saison Dupont has a peppery aroma and aftertaste, bracketing a flavor full of sour orange and lemon and softer notes of vanilla that emerge as the beer warms up. Brasserie Dupont also brews Foret, an organic saison that's higher in alcohol content than the Saison Dupont (7.5 percent vs. 6.5 percent) but maltier and softer on the palate.

Foret and Saison Dupont are imported by Vanberg & DeWulf in Cooperstown, N.Y. This town of 2,000, best known for the National Baseball Hall of Fame, is acquiring a secondary reputation as a brewing center. It's also the home of Brewery Ommegang, a microbrewery that seeks to emulate the farm breweries of Belgium in rustic charm and creativity.

Its Hennepin is named for Father Louis Hennepin, a Franciscan priest and missionary who was born in what's now Belgium's Hainaut province (regarded as the birthplace of the saison style) and who was the first European to see Niagara Falls. Spiced with orange peel and ginger, Hennepin has a fresh, bready aroma, a sweet-tart fruitiness and a dry, herbal finish. It would go superbly with Thai ginger beef or chicken.

Victory V Saison, from Victory Brewing in Downingtown, Pa., has a bracing sourness, a flavor full of grapefruit and a prickly dry aftertaste from the use of English, Czech and German hops. Brooklyn Local 1, from Brooklyn Brewery in New York, has been described as a Belgian-style strong ale, but its flavor has more in common with saisons than with other Belgian styles such as abbey beers or strong golden ales in the Duvel mold. It has a sweet, herbal aroma, subtle notes of citrus and a tingly, peppery spiciness. Demerara, a type of raw cane sugar imported from the island of Mauritius, imparts a creamy mouth feel and smooths out the rough edges. Caution: At 9 percent alcohol by volume, Brooklyn Local 1 is nearly twice as strong as a typical American beer, and the flavor masks the alcohol well.

Available in draft only, and at just two restaurants locally, is Pilot House S8zon from Sierra Nevada Brewing in Chico, Calif. Dave Alexander, owner of the Brickskeller and RFD Washington, was one of a select group of publicans who helped formulate and brew this experimental beer at a "beer camp" that the brewery held in August. Alexander admits that saison is not his favorite style; he had suggested doing a "West Coast witbier" with an extra dose of spices and hops. His comrades had other ideas, but they did make a concession by adding coriander and orange peel -- the traditional spices in a witbier -- to the brew kettle.

"The head brewer was freaking out," says Alexander. "He had never done a spiced beer before." Specifically, there was concern that white pepper -- a third condiment added to the mix -- would dominate the flavor. That fear proved groundless; the pepper is noticeable only in the aroma. The beer has the sour tang and fruitiness of a saison, but there is a strong note of coriander and the softer mouth feel of a wit.

For obvious reasons, Alexander and his collaborators have avoided calling their beer a half-wit.

Greg Kitsock's column appears every other week. He can be reached at food@washpost.com.