It’s never too early to start thinking about holiday seasonals, but autumn is ideal. You’ll thank yourself for getting those yule beers into the fermentors while the leaves are still turning. Winter seasonals are wide open to imagination and creativity, but this recipe is a perennial go-to for me. An important underlying principle, when using spices: Don’t throw in the kitchen sink. A winter beer should still taste like beer, and too many spices or too much alcohol can quickly hinder drinkability.
Style: Whether you frame it as a winter ale or a spice beer, any underlying base style is fair game—in this case, an amber ale. If you plan to enter the beer in competition, take note of the Spice Beer category. We want to clearly express the spice while avoiding or restraining any other “specialty” flavors—fruit, for example. The watchword, ultimately, is balance: The spice should be evident but should never overwhelm the beer character.
Ingredients: We’re aiming for an ABV of about 7 percent—just enough to notice some warming. We also want a good backdrop for the spice, and here I embrace Vienna—it’s got some nice, bready aromatics and its own hint of spice, but it’s not as heavy as Munich and makes for a terrific base malt. To that, I add light layers of chocolate rye (for color and some mild roast), Crystal 45°L (for a caramel-biscuit kick), and Crystal 90°L (for deeper notes of burnt sugar and dark fruit). I also include a bit of flaked barley, to soften the mouthfeel and aid head retention.
Hopping is simple: 30-plus IBUs from any variety at the start of the boil. We want balancing bitterness, but we don’t need the hop character to get in the way of the malt and spice. And any neutral ale yeast will do, so I stick with my trusty German Ale strain. (Let me plug, one more time, the value of really learning and sticking with a small collection of “house” yeasts.)
You’ll also need some spices on hand—in this case, vodka tinctures of cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg. Finally, our secret ingredient: one eight-ounce (237-milliliter) bottle of pomegranate juice. Trust me.
Process: Mash and boil as usual, chill, and knock out—don’t add the spices yet. Until primary fermentation is complete, this is just a regular beer. After about two weeks at 68°F (20°C), add half your pomegranate juice, keeping the rest in case you want to adjust the finished beer to taste. The flavor is subtle—it’s not much, after all—but it also adds something unmistakably “wintery,” evocative of cranberry or lingonberry sauce on a holiday turkey. It also does so without adding more fruit character than you might get from certain yeasts or malts. Finally, add your spices. You can add them ground to the fermentor, but my preferred method is to make vodka tinctures of each spice and, just before bottling, add them to taste. You can drink this beer as soon as it’s ready, and if you nailed that balance, you’ll enjoy drinking and sharing it throughout the holiday season.
