9

SIMPLE ADJUNCTS

“Thankfully, if you’re lazy, pragmatic, or just looking for the simplest way to do this adjunct thing, then we have the technology, we have the processes.”

Many brewers and beer enthusiasts treat the German Beer Purity Law, the Reinheitsgebot, as the be-all and end-all codex of brewing. After all, water, malt, hops, and yeast1 is simple, clean, and appeals to an orderly mind. A great case could be made that, really, when it comes to beer, those four things are all you need and all you should ever want. If that’s not simplicity we don’t know what is.

When you begin exploring humanity’s continuously evolving relationship with alcoholic beverages you’ll quickly notice that the preciousness around what ingredients belong in a particular drink—whether beer, mead, wine, cocktails, etc.—is a relatively new thing. Dig back into history and you’ll see a long line of “beery” beverages based around cereal grains that mix a bunch of different ingredients: grapes, honey, fruits, rice, corn. Virtually anything starchy or sugary eventually found its way into the local beverage. Modern brewers would call these extras adjuncts, basically sugar/starch supplements that aren’t barley. Historical brewers, including American stalwart lager brewers of the 1800s, would have called them “things we use.”

We both started homebrewing in the late 1990s, when the craft brew scene was the Rebel Alliance to the macrobrewers’ Galactic Empire. At that time, a ubiquitous rallying cry for the homebrewing community was, “We don’t want your cheap corn and rice beers!”

Let’s face it, these days we have other rallying cries and concerns and people have largely started to understand the purpose and utility of adjuncts. Seriously, adjuncts aren’t just all about being cheap or easy. Heck, some of them even qualify as “brewing the hard way.” Fortunately, we have a lot of options when it comes time to play in the field of other ingredients.

A LITTLE ADJUNCT HISTORY

Digging into brewing history, most of us know the story of beer. You don’t? Well, OK, it starts at the dawn of civilization, at least in writing, with the Sumerian Hymn to Ninkasi, a quasi-brewing process and recipe encoded in a prayer chant. There’s some debate about the legitimacy of this interpretation, because history is always up for debate. But look at the translation done by Miguel Civil, the world’s leading Sumerian expert:

Ninkasi, you are the one who spreads the cooked mash on large reed mats,

Coolness overcomes …

You are the one who holds with both hands the great sweet wort,

Brewing [it] with honey [and] wine …

(Miguel Civil, “A Hymn to the Beer Goddess and a Drinking Song,” Studies Presented to A. Leo Oppenheim, June 7, 1964 [Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 1964, 67-89])

The Ninkasi beer recipe starts with a baked bread called bappir, possibly made of unmalted barley and date syrup. Some loaves contained an early form of wheat called emmer. So here, in the beginning of history, we see beer made with multiple ingredients.

Research done by Dr. Patrick McGovern of the University of Pennsylvania takes us back even further to a beverage brewed around 9000 years ago in what is now modern day China. This Neolithic “beer” left chemical traces of rice, grapes, hawthorn berries (a relative of the apple), and honey. Examples discovered from other sites and time periods included grains like millet, wheat, and barley.2

What’s the point of this brief history lesson? Basically this: in most of humanity’s time as brewers, if you showed the level of assiduous preciousness about the base ingredients of beer as demonstrated by devoted adherents of the Rheinheitsgebot, you would have earned a lot of very strange looks for being so fussy.

HOW TO ADJUNCT

By now you’re used to the relatively simple process of making beer from grain: mill it, mash it, drain the liquid, and boil. Piece of cake!

It’s easy because our usual cereal players love to cooperate together. Barley begins to unleash its starches into liquid in the low 140s Fahrenheit (~60–61°C) in a process called gelatinization. Gelatinization occurs due to the combination of heat and water opening up the starch matrix, which allows the amylase enzymes to get to work transforming the complex carbohydrate chains into their simple, fermentable constituent sugars. Complete gelatinization does not occur until the temperature has reached 149°F (65°C), because some starch granules are harder to “loosen up” than others. The same process happens with wheat across a broad range of temperatures starting around 125°F (52°C); rye gets moving even lower at 120°F (49°C); and oats do their thing at 140°F (60°C).

The true difficulty lies in the fact that most other grains and starch sources aren’t so cooperative. Most other cereals require temperatures higher than our normal mashes. If you simply added them to your standard mash you’d gain very little from your extra fodder. You have to coax those starches out into the open. You have a few choices of what to do.

Adjuncting the Hard Way: Cook ’Em

If you can’t mash your starches into submission, then you’ll need to cook them harder. You could very carefully raise the grains to a precise set of temperatures, but there’s little call for that level of care here because we are all about making this simple. We’re trying to swell, hydrate, and blow out the starch granules, not massage them lovingly. Basically, you’re making gruel, porridge, the basic foodstuff of mankind and we’re feeding it to our mash. Bear in mind that this process will work with any grain/adjunct. It’s not the subtlest method, but it’s as simple as boiling and using. You’re not aiming for perfectly plump and separate fluffy grains of whatever, you’re going for a fully exploded thing.

You start by milling the grain, say, rice or corn, into smaller particles. (Drew has an old Corona® Mill on hand for this purpose.) Bring 1–2 quarts of water per pound of grain (2.1–4.2 L/kg) to a boil and stir in the coarse ground grits. Boil for 15–20 minutes, stirring constantly. Let cool slightly and add to your mash to boost the temperature.

Want to be more traditional? Prepare to work for it, Sunny Jim! Cool the sticky boiled rice/corn glop with additional water to 150°F (66°C) and stir in 20% of your initial cereal weight in pale malt (e.g., if you mash 5 lb. of rice, add in 1 lb. of pale malt). After 20–30 minutes rest time, in which the enzymes are attacking the starch and helping prevent its retrogradation, hit the heat and start stirring to bring everything back to a boil. You’ll add this lava goo to your main mash as a heat booster. (You can skip the boil if you’re not trying to raise your mash between rests.)

Congratulations, you’ve just performed an American-style cereal mash. This standard, labor-intensive method is pretty much the way American lagers were brewed. Modifications and simplification to the method will work, just as long as you heat everything up and blow up the starch.

A caveat: if you try the above methods, don’t let the mass cool all the way. Retrogradation of the starch will occur—basically, everything will get bound up again but it’s slightly worse. You’ll have to heat up the cereal even more the second time to blow out the starches. Think how crunchy your leftover rice gets when left in the fridge overnight. It may be perfect for making fried rice, but it’s lousy for making beer.

We’ll get into some easy methods in a moment, but why go through all the hard work of cooking grains? Maybe you want to do things traditionally. Others hold that the less processed an ingredient, the better/fresher it will be as well as being less expensive.

A final note: this basic process will work on any grain out there. Quinoa, millet, amaranth, spelt, wild rice (OK, technically that one’s a grass, but still)—if you’re in doubt about the temperatures at which their starches will unfurl, a basic porridge will always do the trick.

Adjuncting the Easy Way

Thankfully, if you’re lazy, pragmatic, or just looking for the simplest way to do this adjunct thing, then we have the technology, we have the processes.

Flakes and puffs.

Remember, the whole purpose of that complicated cooking process above is to blow everything apart. It requires heat and water. If you take the grains, soften them with steam, and then flatten them between heavy heated steel rollers, you accomplish the same thing and make breakfast cereal or oatmeal in the process. Look around your homebrew shop and you’ll see flaked variants of wheat, barley, oats, corn, rye, and even rice. One of Drew’s favorites is flaked potatoes for their silkiness, but make sure you get the 100% flaked version because potatoes will usually come packaged with powdered dairy to make instant mash potatoes.

Flakes require no prep work, no milling, no soaking, nothing. All that’s needed is your mash to rehydrate and the enzymes of your barley to finish the conversion. It’s that easy.

Flakes do have some disadvantages. They have no husk material, which means your mash could get gummy and resist lautering. Also, because the grain has been smashed and more surface area exposed, the flakes can go stale and any fats (like in corn and oats) can become rancid with time. Look for fresh ingredients before getting flakey.

The other choice is to find your grains “puffed” or if you want to sound more proper, torrified. Most commonly, wheat, rice, and sometimes oats can be found ready popped via high heat. Think any breakfast cereal with the name “puff” or “krispies” attached. This also includes your air-popped popcorn. No need to crush or smash, just drop it straight into your tun and go!

Extract solids/liquids.

A number of adjuncts have extract forms, just like malt extracts. Some are ubiquitous, such as corn syrup and corn sugar, while others are a little harder to find, like rice solids. But, like your malt extracts, these powders and syrups go straight into the kettle and dissolve with a good stir. (Turn off the heat first unless, once again, you’re fond of scrubbing.)

When formulating recipes, remember that many of the wheat or rye extracts you find in the homebrew shop are mixed with barley extract as well. Wheat extract, for instance, is usually a 50/50 or 60/40 blend of wheat and barley.

One Final Tip: Hulls are Your Friend

Almost all of the adjuncts we use lack a hull. You know, that weird, tough, papery outer coating on our barley malt. The husk is incredibly important to the brewing process; it prevents our hot mass of water and starch from glomming into a giant ball of the world’s worst dough. The tough curls of husk cut through the dough and give our starch and sugar-saturated liquid space to move.

With adjuncts adding 10%–50% of doughy goo to the mash tun without any husks, they can get a bad rap for making nightmare lauters. It doesn’t help that many adjuncts get super gooey as well. It’s all a recipe for a long brew day … unless you use rice hulls. Any well stocked homebrew shop will have rice hulls available. They’re tasteless and are dirt cheap. Some brewers find that they absorb water and recommend pre-soaking them. If you’re going big on your adjuncts, buy a pound of rice hulls and mix them into your mash to save your brew day!

MAJOR PLAYERS OF THE ADJUNCT WORLD

Wheat

Barley’s more glamorous cousin, wheat has always gotten a pass from the beer snobs of the world. Barley and early versions of wheat grew up hand in hand, even back in Sumerian times. Wheat, with its softer, sweeter nature has usually occupied the upper hand in humanity’s estimation. After all, thanks to the bounty of gluten unleashed by kneading dough, wheat makes the oft-desired fluffy bread with light crumb and airy chew. By comparison, barley bread is a tough, flat, hearty biscuit. It’ll keep you on your feet, but you’ll grumble eating another flat cake. (Incidentally, bread is also the reason why wheat was kept out of the Reinheitsgebot. The Bavarian court needed bread to feed the army and the people.)

In terms of beer history, wheat’s been there since things started with the Sumerians and has never truly left the beer pot. Before the rise of “styles,” European beer was a simple affair. Towns had a few varieties of beer, usually named for colors like “red,” “brown,” or “white.” The white ales—a broad style—were usually the beers for the richer classes and incorporated precious wheat. Though a number of historical examples have been lost over time, you still find the white ale tradition prevails in styles like Bavarian hefeweizen and Belgian witbier. Some of our more interesting wheat ales, like Gose and grisette, are extensions of this class as well.

Since wheat gelatinizes in the same range as barley mash temperatures, you really don’t need to treat it any differently than your regular mashed grains. Your real choices are going to come down to variety (red vs. white), origin (mostly US or Canadian vs. German), and malted versus unmalted.

Although we’re treating wheat like an adjunct here, it can also be a base malt, even as much as 100% of your grist, though you will want to add some rice hulls for that.

RECIPE

White Ale

Batch volume: 5.5 gal. (21 L)

Original gravity: 1.053 (13.1°P)

Final gravity: 1.009 (2.3°P)

Color: 4 SRM

Bitterness: 13.3 IBU

ABV: 5.5%

Malt

Mash

Hops

Yeast

Extras

RECIPE

Hefe

Batch volume: 5.5 gal. (21 L)

Original gravity: 1.055 (13.6°P)

Final gravity: 1.011 (2.8°P)

Color: 4 SRM

Bitterness: 19 IBU

ABV: 5.7%

Malt

Mash

Hops

Yeast

Chill after the boil

Rye

Like wheat, rye comes in both malted and unmalted forms. Unmalted rye is usually found as flaked rye; its flavor is slightly subdued compared to malted rye. Malted rye has a spicy flavor to it and adds a smooth, almost slick, mouthfeel to your beer; it also brings a lovely orange color. You can get all of those characteristics from flaked rye, but to a lesser degree.

Denny feels that you need to use a minimum of around 18% rye in order to really get much from it. He’s gone as high as 60% of the total grist, but that’s only for real rye lovers! The beer gets very spicy and almost viscous at that level.

Unlike crystal malts, rye is as fermentable as your favorite barley malt, unless you use crystal rye. You can also find chocolate rye, which is the same color range as barley chocolate malt but made with rye. The beer may have a fuller mouthfeel, but the rye won’t affect your final gravity in an adverse way.

Rye gelatinizes at mash temperatures, so you don’t need to do anything special to use it. Many people need to use hulls in order to get rye beers to lauter properly, but that’s not a given. Denny has made many rye beers and never needed to use hulls. As always, the key is to know your equipment and what it’s capable of.

So, what do you do with rye in either form? It’s a great addition to many styles of beer. Start by replacing 20% of the base malt in a recipe with rye malt: rye Pilsner, rye bock or doppelbock, rye saison, rye IPA (duh!), rye porter, rye hefeweizen … Think of your favorite beer style or recipe and put some rye in it! If you use a large amount of rye, you may want to consider its spiciness and how that could affect your perception of the hops in a hoppy beer.

RECIPE

Wry Smile Rye IPA

Batch volume: 5 gal. (19 L)

Original gravity: 1.073 (17.7°P)

Final gravity: 1.013 (3.3°P)

Color: 13 SRM

Bitterness: 74 IBU

ABV: 7.95%

Malt

Hops

Water

Yeast

Extras

Brewing notes

RECIPE

Rye Barleywine

Note: This is a beefed up version of the Wry Smile Rye IPA recipe above. Be sure to make a big yeast starter, or make a 1.050 OG beer first and use the entire yeast slurry from that for this beer. See, it’s the same thing we talked about on pp. 132–33 with our Template Pale Ale to Template DIPA recipes!

Batch volume: 5 gal. (19 L)

Original gravity: 1.110 (25.9°P)

Final gravity: 1.025 (6.3°P)

Color: 15.6 SRM

Bitterness: 104 IBU

ABV: 11.4%

Malt

Hops

Water

Yeast

Extras

Brewing notes

Oats

The humble oat. Avena sativa (Latin for “cultivated oat,” clever, eh?). It’s never been mankind’s favorite grain. It can’t make bread (no gluten) and it can’t make beer by itself (not enough enzymes—more on that in a moment). Oats are a sort of weird fatty thing that people find comforting in gruel or oat cakes, but otherwise, meh. Like non-malt quality barley, so much of the oat crop ends up being horse feed or in the slop of the poorhouse. Oats have been part of human history since roughly forever, although we didn’t start trying to purposefully grow the stuff until the Bronze Age, well after the cultivation of wheat and barley.

But that doesn’t stop us from using it in beer. Oats, for all their humbleness and associations with poverty, do have a place in brewing beer. They provide richness, an unctuous mouthfeel, silky, sweet, a little gritty and gummy in higher quantities. Oats are one of Drew’s favorite ingredients because they soften roasted and harsher notes and the sweetness they provide rounds the profile without being cloying.

Oats come in several usable styles. The least processed is the groat or oat berry, which is just the whole oat dried. They’re nutty and fatty, which is interesting but does present a challenge. The most common form of oats you’ll find are either steel-cut or flaked. Steel-cut, sometimes sold as Irish or Scottish oats, are just the groats chopped up into several smaller pieces; same nuttiness and earthiness as your regular groats, just more usable. Flaked oats are, like other flaked cereals, just flattened and steamed grains; but, unlike other flaked grains, you have several options with oats, from “regular,” to “quick,” to “instant” (in order of decreasing size and increased processing).

We highly recommend using the least processed oat you can get your hands on. Groats will need to be crushed, but all will hydrate and release starch at mashing temperatures without additional processing from the brewer. (We tested it!) Part of the reason you should go with the less-processed versions is to avoid the rancid and stale fats that bad oats can carry. The more surface area exposed, the more rancidity can happen. It’s a bad idea!

There are two unique brewing version of oats that we love, malted and Golden Naked Oats®. Like the term implies, malted oats are processed just like barley malt, that is, they are steeped, sprouted, and then kilned. Drew really loves the nuttiness of malted oats and their ease of use—just grind them up and take advantage of the extra husk material for less tricky lautering. Thomas Fawcett is the longtime maker of these beauties. Meanwhile, Simpson’s Maltings have created Golden Naked Oats, which are the oat equivalent of crystal malt. They’re nutty, sweet, almost caramel and brown sugar-esque—like a really good bowl of maple syrup and brown sugar oatmeal.

In general, with oats you’ll want to use somewhere between 5%–10% (e.g., 0.5–1.5 lb. per 5-gallon batch). But with some of the oat-specific styles we’ll discuss, you’ll see that you can get away with even more, at the cost of clarity and lauterability.

These days we tend to think of oats as being an element of British brewing, but, truthfully, outside of oatmeal or malted oat stouts, oats were never a big part of British brewing. You know who was oat crazy though? The Dutch. In the times of white ales, the Dutch had several oat-based white ales with up to 50% oats in the mash. After all, throw enough oats into a beer and it becomes a cloud factory. If only American craft brewers could figure out a way to use the oat to make things cloudy … Oh wait.

RECIPE

The Haze Craze Oated Pale Ale

Batch volume: 5.5 gal. (21 L)

Original gravity: 1.050 (12.4°P)

Final gravity: 1.011 (2.8°P)

Color: 7.3 SRM

Bitterness: 20 IBU

ABV: 5.0%

Malt

Hops

Yeast

Brewing notes

Corn

So common, so cheap, so ubiquitous, so misused, and so, so the enemy of “real” beer. Corn, or maize as it’s often known outside North America, is an interesting case of human intervention. It’s just about the most extreme example of agricultural manipulation that mankind has ever pulled off. It’s also one of the world’s largest crops, coming in second behind sugar cane.

If you came across the original plant that begat corn at a picnic, you’d be sorely disappointed at the weird, baby corn-looking, hard green thing you’d be expected to eat. In Central and South America, teosintes were selectively bred over time to yield modern maize. It took scads of human intervention to turn that weird grass into the big bountiful ears of summer goodness we slather in butter.

Of course, the corn that feeds the world’s food industry (in the form of corn syrup) or fuel industry (in the form of corn ethanol) doesn’t look a thing like those plump fresh delights we eat. Most corn is still ugly, but it’s hardy and plentiful and yields a ton of cheap sugar. But, as we know, beauty doesn’t matter when it comes to brewing, it’s all about the end result.

The traditional form of brewing corn would have been coarse corn grits or cornmeal. Yes, we know you smell creamed corn in something like Rolling Rock, but it was grits, not the canned vegetable. The grits would be cooked in the traditional American-style cereal mash method outlined earlier.

Eventually, due to the cost of labor and energy needed to convert grits to usable corn starch, the big brewers outsourced that portion of their brew day. Many breweries switched to flaked corn or corn syrup to save time and money. In fact, it’s not uncommon to pass by a big American brewery and see tankers from Cargill and ADM filled with corn syrup waiting for use.

For an unusual way to use corn in beer, try popcorn. Use 1–2 lb. of kernels (before popping) for a 5-gallon batch of beer; it will look like a huge amount, but once it gets wet in the mash it will reduce. Try a light lager made with popcorn to really let the flavor come through.

Rice

Rice is often overlooked by homebrewers for the same reason as corn, which is that it’s used by the megabreweries. Remember the rallying cry of, “If it’s good enough for Budweiser, it’s terrible for me”? Only, unlike corn, rice’s reputation as a cheap additive is largely undeserved. At least in the case of Budweiser, they use an expensive golden rice grown exclusively for them in Louisiana. It’s not cheap. In fact, when Drew was doing research, the golden rice turned out to be the most exclusive and expensive ingredient in a batch of Budweiser.

So sometimes we do want to use rice, even if it’s not for cheapness’ sake. Even if you’re not into brewing a light lager, as it’s traditionally used in, rice is still a great way to lighten the body of your beer and bring in a bit of unique flavor. Not a lot, mind you, but it will add a little bit of a grainy, nutty character to your beer and a light, crisp sweetness to the finish. But remember, it will cut into your beer’s body and the head, which can be a good thing if planned for.

Looking beyond our American shores, rice is important to the character of so many international lagers. No surprise, since rice is a fundamental and available foodstuff pretty much everywhere in the world.

To use rice, you’ll need to choose a form and a type. If you want to go the easy route, just look for rice solids. Rice solids work just like any extract or sugar—dump them into the boil, stir, done. There’s also puffed/torrified and flaked rice available, which you can just dump into the mash.

If you insist on starting with whole rice, and hey, we aren’t going to blame you, you’ll need to use the American-style cereal mash method we mentioned above (or one of the variants). Grind your rice up into coarse chunks and cook away!

Don’t forget, you can always cheat and just use precooked rice, but you’ll want to reheat the rice to re-break the starch matrices. It’s a little less efficient and probably not as “good” a method, but hey, we’re homebrewers, since when did we care about efficiency?

What about a par-cooked instant rice, like Minute® Rice? Like instant oats, they’re chopped up and steamed to the point of really just needing to be hydrated. They too can go directly in the mash, although Drew is usually paranoid and cooks them up. Old habits and what not. (Denny isn’t paranoid and experience has taught Denny that Drew is wasting his time.) A word of warning though, make sure your par-cooked rice doesn’t come coated in oil. Some variants do and, boy, do you not want that in your beer!

All told you can expect around 32 PPG when you add rice to your mash and from 37 to 42 PPG from rice extract.

We haven’t even touched on rice varieties, like the wonderfully aromatic basmati and jasmine rices that can add unique aromas to your beer. Some folks love playing around with short-grain rices, like the proper Japanese sushi rices or the more commonly available Calrose medium-grain sushi rice from California. Even wild rice, which is technically a whole other genus of grass species, can bring something interesting to your beer, including a fair amount of color. Denny loves a wild rice lager in the vein of a Pilsner. Remember, when playing with these other variations, you’ll want to keep your beer fairly subtle because their contributions will be hard to sniff out at first. Play and learn!

So, remember it’s not that rice deserves its bad reputation, just that some brewers use rice to a beer’s detriment. Actually, the same could be said for all adjuncts, not just rice.

RECIPE

Cream Ale or Lager

Batch volume: 6.0 gal. (22.7 L)

Original gravity: 1.052 (12.9°P)

Final gravity: 1.010 (2.6°P)

Color: 3.4 SRM

Bitterness: 19 IBU

ABV: 5.5%

Malt

Hops

Yeast

Brewing notes

Potatoes

Even the humble and lowly pomme de terre wants in on the beer action. Since potatoes are cheap, they’ve frequently been used as a starch extender, particularly in times of privation and rationing. Turns out potatoes are a hardy crop that can be reliably counted on.

They’re also mostly water. No, seriously, a potato is something like 70–80% water by weight. Contrast that to malted barley, which comes in around 3–6%. So, the first question any brewer must ask is, “Just how many potatoes am I going to need to bump my gravity?” The safe answer, if using raw potatoes, is five times as much as you think. We say this because a potato provides roughly 20% as much starch as the equivalent weight of barley. For example, if a pound of barley provides a maximum gravity of 1.038 in a gallon of water (assuming 100% efficiency) then a pound of potatoes would provide a gravity of 1.0076.

With whole potatoes, first you need to choose a variety; we recommend a starchier, less waxy variety like the classic russet from Idaho. You’ll want to slice the potatoes into thin medallions and either boil or steam until tender, then process with your handy dandy food mill/potato ricer and mix the potatoes into the mash. No ricer? OK, smash them into a fine paste and mix that in.

Better yet, let’s skip the whole potato thing and just use potato flakes. Make sure you find flakes that are 100% potato with no dairy or other additives. You want flaked potatoes not mashed potato flakes (a.k.a. instant mash potatoes). The flakes just mix right into the mash and go to work. If you can’t find flakes, you can also try potato flour or potato starch from the grocery store. This was a big go-to for brewers under rationing, but we can’t speak to how well it works because we’ve never done it.

What quality does potato give your beer? If we’re being truthful, not much. It gives you sugar. It gives you water. But, depending on how you structure the beer, it can also give you an incredible silkiness.

RECIPE

Earl Grey Saison

Batch volume: 5.5 gal. (21 L)

Original gravity: 1.058 (14.3°P)

Final gravity: 1.006 (1.5°P)

Color: 4.5 SRM

Bitterness: 33 IBU

ABV: 6.5%

Malt

Mash

Hops

Yeast

Extras

Variations

If you want a different spin on the tuber, you can use sweet potatoes, yams, cassava, yucca, or other starchy tuber in the same fashion as a plain russet potato.

Sugar

It’s almost unfair to include sugar as an adjunct, but sugar is a major ingredient in both English and Belgian inspired brews. Whether whole candi sugar, like that used by a few traditional Belgian brewers, or the invert sugars of the British brewhouse, sugar has a place. We would argue that it’s near impossible to make a number of beer styles without reaching for the sugar. And if you want to get weird about it, remember all that fancy mashing we’re doing is converting grain starches to a fair amount of the simple sugars you can add via your grocery store shelf.

Many brewers stress out over finding the exact ingredients for their beers, but for regular sugars we say don’t sweat it. Seriously, when you really dig into the variations between corn, cane, and beet sugar (a source of constant angst amongst homebrewers because Belgians like beets while most American sugar is cane), there’s no discernable taste or aroma difference. Heck, go wild and crazy and play with different sugars; the Latin and Asian sugars you can now find in the grocery store—those have flavor! Sugars like demerara or piloncillo add a distinct character to your beer.

The place where we do think sugar choice matters is when it comes to syrups. While we still don’t have ready access to the dark British invert syrups, which are critical to many of the classic bitter characters, there is an easy way to fake it by combining an invert syrup with blackstrap molasses. Here’s the trick: invert’s are numbered and the higher the number, the darker the color and the more character the sugar imparts. If you’re looking for a light invert syrup, the easy answer is to use Lyle’s Golden Syrup.

The other syrups are the Belgian candi syrups, a by-product of the sugar making process and long used in the Belgian brewing industry. For years, we American homebrewers struggled to replicate that holy grail of Belgian brews, Westvleteren 12, that magnificent quadruple produced by the Saint Sixtus Abbey in Vleteren. We tried all sorts of recipes and malts; Drew had one from a friend that felt pretty close that used six malts and two sugar additions. Turns out that once you get your hands on Belgian candi syrup the answer is simply a bunch of Pilsner malt and a pound of midnight-dark candi syrup. Nowadays, we even have American companies making brewing syrups, so you have no excuse! Yeah, sometimes ingredients matter.

To use sugar syrups, treat them like extracts: turn the heat off and stir them in vigorously; stir until you’re certain the syrup is dissolved and then stir some more; finally, bring back the heat (or, if you’re being tricky, add them to the beer during fermentation). Speaking of which, let’s talk timing—when does it go in? Depends on what you want. If you just want the gravity and don’t care about hop utilization, get it in during the early part of the boil. If you want to preserve sugar character or increase the amount of hop bitterness you obtain, add it late to the boil. If you want to maximize yeast health, there are some who would argue for adding the sugar to the fermentor after primary is rocking at high krausen to avoid overstressing your yeast. If you’re going for a fermentor addition, make sure you have the sugar in a syrup form—adding crystalline sugar to a fermentor will cause the CO2 to rush out of solution due to the nucleation sites provided by the sugar. This causes a messy beer geyser. You don’t want that!

AND NOW IT GETS WEIRD

All of the adjuncts we’ve talked about up to now are at least passingly common in the brewing world. But, if you’re like Drew, you want to go farther. You want to use stuff that will make Denny go, “What ARE you thinking?” And when it’s that time, you need to have at least some idea of where you’re going and what to expect. Well, we’re just the guys to help you with that.

What follows is a list of fruits and veggies you might want to use in your brew, if you’re crazy—OK, make that creative—enough. Most of the fruits will add sugar, so if you add them post-primary fermentation, be sure to give them enough time to let the sugars ferment out. A good rule of thumb with most fruit is to add a 1–2 lb. of fruit for every gallon of beer (120–240 g/L). Adjust that amount based on your tastes and how flavorful the fruit is. We know it seems like a lot, but some fruits only really sing when you’re closer to 2.5–3 lb./gal. (300–360 g/L) … looking at you, strawberries!

The PPG estimates are just that, estimates. If you use fruit juice, it’s a simple matter of taking a direct gravity reading so you know what you’re getting. This list below is not exhaustive, but covers many of the ingredients that homebrewers love to use.

Fruit

Apple juice. The specific gravity of apple juice averages about 1.045. It’s a reasonably subtle flavor, so try it in a beer that doesn’t have a lot of other stuff going on. Apple juice can be added after primary fermentation has taken place, but be sure to give it enough time to ferment out after you add it.

Apricots. Apricots have about 45 PPG. It’s a delicate flavor and you might want to consider boosting it with a bit of quality apricot extract. You can add dried apricots to secondary (make sure they’re not sulfured) or add apricot juice. Again, be sure to give it time to ferment after adding.

Blackberries. Considered a weed where Denny lives, you’ll get around 40 PPG from blackberries. Again, they’re a subtle flavor, so you’ll want to use at least a pound per gallon of beer (120 g/L). We recommend adding blackberry juice to secondary.

Cherries. Cherries are a classic flavor in many Belgian and sour beers, but don’t limit yourself to those styles. Cherries in a porter or stout recipe, for example, can be wonderful. To avoid blowing out your taste buds, use less sour cherries for a beer than if you were using something sweeter like Bing cherries. Expect around 79 PPG.

Cranberries. Cranberries are a popular addition in the winter holidays. Remember, cranberries are tart and tannic, so take that into account when you design your recipes. You might want to cut back a bit on bittering hops when you use them. Expect about 44 PPG from cranberries.

Lemons. Lemons can add a bright acidic note to your beer. If you use the sweeter Meyer lemons, you can use more of them. You will get around 36 PPG.

Limes. Using limes can give you the same brightness as lemons. If you use key limes, you can use more than if you use the more acidic Persian lime. Expect 36 PPG.

Mangos. Mangos are tropical fruit that can make a great sweet/tart addition to your beer. Try a mango wit. Expect around 70 PPG.

Melons. There’s a world of melons out there and pretty much all of them can make an interesting sweet, earthy addition. Try making a puree with several varieties for a more complex flavor and aroma. You’ll get around 57 PPG.

Oranges. Oranges can go in various styles, from Belgians to IPAs. They can vary a lot in tartness and sweetness, so be sure to taste them before adding their juice. Expect to get 48 PPG.

Passion fruit. Passion fruit (along with guava) is pretty common in South American beers. It can be a flavor that you just can’t put your finger on, but can make a definite contribution to your beer’s flavor. As Drew says “deeply odd” … but in a good way! Expect to get 61 PPG.

Peaches. Peach is not an uncommon addition to find in beer. Peaches have a sweet, earthy flavor and aroma that complements many styles. But they can be subtle, so you’ll need to use a lot of them and possibly boost the flavor with extract. You can expect to get 48 PPG.

Pineapple. Pineapple can be an interesting flavor addition. If you add it to the fermentor, be aware that it will drive the pH down, possibly enough to affect the yeast. We recommend adding pineapple post-primary fermentation. Give it some time after that to see if it’s going to ferment more. You will get around 57 PPG.

Plums/prunes. Plums and prunes seem to be a natural for dark Belgian styles, since those have so much of that flavor from the ingredients already in the beer. Denny’s favorite method is to wait until primary fermentation has finished, then heat a wok until it’s red hot. Add the plums or prunes to caramelize them, then deglaze the wok with some of the beer. Add all of that to a secondary fermentor and rack the beer on top. Expect 57 PPG for plums, 70 PPG for prunes.

Pomegranates. Pomegranates add brightness and acidity. Pomegranate juice is the most common way to use this fruit in beer. You can also use pomegranate molasses for a more intense flavor (and higher PPG). Expect around 75 PPG from the juice.

Raspberries. Raspberries are a classic in sour beer, but can be added to just about any style. Raspberry may be the most popular fruit flavor in beers. Expect to get 44 PPG.

Strawberries. Strawberries are something homebrewers love to talk about using, but it can be very difficult to get strawberry flavor into beer. You need to use more than you ever thought would be enough, and you’ll likely have to bump up the flavor with some extract. Expect to get 61 PPG.

Tamarind. Tamarind is a citrusy sweet, tart, sour fruit usually sold as a paste, although you can find tamarind seeds also. It’s a very intense flavor so approach with care. Use it on the last minute in the boil, about ⅛–¼ lb./gal. (15–30 g/L).

Watermelon. Watermelon is best used by juicing and/or pureeing, but be careful not to get any of the rind in with the flesh, unless you like the flavor of jalapeño mixed with grass! Expect around 61 PPG.

Vegetables

OK, so fruit’s not weird enough for ya? How about a veggie beer? Yeah, now that’s weird! We dealt with the humble potato earlier in this chapter, but here are some options from the road less traveled.

We’re not going to provide PPG estimates for vegetables because, other than carrots and corn, there just isn’t a lot of sugar there (typically 0.08 PPG or less). But they still need to go into the mash because there’s starch there that needs to be converted into the minimal amount of sugar they have. Unconverted starch can be a breeding ground for bacteria, so you need to deal with that.

Aloe vera juice. Aloe vera juice has a bitter bite that can be interesting in a beer. Use ⅛–½ lb./gal. (15–60 g/L).

Beans. We don’t think we’ve ever seen a beer that uses beans, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it! Dried or canned beans should be rinsed and added to a cereal mash (unfortunately, beans need to hit 185°F/85°C to be useable). Dried beans should be broken up or milled before mashing. Use 0.5–2.0 lb./gal. (60–240 g/L).

Beets. Beets can lend a purple color and a sweet earthy flavor to your beer. Steam the beets before adding them to the mash. Use ¼–½ lb./gal. (30–60 g/L).

Carrots. Carrots are best juiced or steamed and added to the mash. Peel them first to reduce the earthiness. Use 0.5–1.0 lb./gal. (60–120 g/L).

Celery. Using celery can provide an elusive aroma that adds an indescribable “something” to your beer. Use 0.5–1.0 lb./gal. (60–120 g/L).

Chili peppers. Chili peppers are one of those things that you see in beer frequently. Maybe too frequently. We prefer the more aromatic, earthy varieties rather than the “blow yer face off” hot ones. Be very careful when using peppers—less is more! We like them roasted and added to secondary or a keg. The amount is up to you!

Corn. Corn (maize) has a long history in brewing. Some homebrewers like to use fresh corn in place of flaked corn when making a cream ale, although it changes the character considerably from a light corny flavor with flakes to a more intense, sweet, vegetal flavor with fresh corn. There are even breweries using corn chips in their beer! About 0.25–2.0 lb./gal. (30–240 g/L) is a good place to start.

Cucumbers. Cucumbers can be a great addition to a refreshing summer beer. One of Denny’s favorite beers is a Berliner weiss made with cucumber juice. Just the thing when it’s 95 degrees and you’re sitting on the deck! Juice them, skin and all. Use 0.25–1.0 lb./gal. (30–120 g/L).

Lettuce. Lettuce, lettuce … let that sink in for a moment. You can add lettuce to beer for a unique bitterness. It takes a lot, but hey, we’re homebrewers, we can do weird stuff. But no iceberg lettuce! Chop or puree and add to secondary. Use 1–2 lb./gal. (120–240 g/L).

Peas. Peas are a traditional ingredient in beer. You can use fresh or dried peas. Before using fresh peas, smash them up (pods too) before adding them to your mash. Use 0.25–1.0 lb./gal. (30–120 g/L).

Pumpkin/squash. Pumpkin and other squash show up every fall in holiday-themed beers. Although it’s usually the pie spices people think of when they imagine these beers, you can get flavor from the gourds themselves. The best way to do that is to roast them in an oven before adding to your mash. Use ¼–½ lb./gal. (30–60 g/L).

Spinach. Spinach and its kale and chard brethren have assertive flavors and add a mineral quality to the beer. Some people like that, others not so much. Puree them and taste before adding to secondary. 0.25–1.5 lb./gal. (30–180 g/L).

Not Weird Enough Yet?

For the ultimate in unusual adjuncts, try adding mushrooms to your beer. Sure, they’ll bring a certain amount of earthiness to it, but mushrooms have some wonderful subtle flavors underneath that funk. Adding them to beer transforms them and brings out flavors that you didn’t realize were there.

When the idea of adding mushrooms to beer comes up, Denny usually gets one of two reactions. The first is, “Eww, that sounds gross and disgusting.” The other one isn’t so positive! But mushrooms can add great flavor to certain beer styles, so get over your bad self and let’s talk fungi!

So, what beers benefit from mushrooms? How about a wee heavy with chanterelle mushrooms? Chanterelle have a lovely apricot quality to them that really sings with the malt in the style. Or what about portabellas in a brown ale? The earthy richness of portabellas really complements the beer. Candy cap mushrooms, which have a distinctive sweetness, go great in a porter. Or, if you have the budget, the exotic matsutake mushrooms work beautifully in a Belgian golden strong ale. Matsutake have been described as being like “dirty socks and Red Hots,” but once they go into the beer they’re transformed into a slightly funky, slightly earthy flavor and aroma that adds another dimension to the beer.

So, if you decided you want to take a leap of faith and add fungus to your beer, here’s how you do it …

PROCESSING THE MUSHROOMS: DENNY EXPERIMENTS

Figure 9.1. Fresh matsutake mushrooms.

Figure 9.2. Processed mushrooms ready for freezing.

Look, we could keep going in this vein for a good long while. There are so many starch and sugar sources we haven’t even touched. You can be a purist, if you want. We think ignoring adjuncts not only skips over the majority of humanity’s fermentation history, but misses out on a broad swath of interesting flavors.

Having said that, we still encourage you to avoid adding everything all at once. You’re making beer, not stone soup!

PROFILES IN SIMPLICITY: MIKE WILLIAMS OF CANDI SYRUP, INC.

If you don’t remember the pre-candi syrup days, you’ll be forgiven for wondering why we’re talking about sugar syrups at all. Belgian candi syrups were first imported into the US via Los Angeles and instantly made dark Belgian beers a breeze. The introduction of this traditional brewing adjunct transformed brewing of Belgian style beers in America overnight, replacing the overwrought grain bills of yore with a lot of Pilsner malt and a bit of syrup to achieve the same goal.

Candi syrups in Belgium are a traditional by-product of sugar production, but Mike Williams, of CSI Confections, took on the challenge of making candi syrups domestically in the US. Mike came to the adjunct realm after a couple of decades at Hewlett-Packard. Mike gave us a bit of the history of candi syrups from his perspective:

Candi syrup originated in England during colonial expansion when sugar was a premium commodity. Candy making by-products were washed from copper basins and sold to brewers as residual syrup (thus its name to this day). It is interesting to note that the English used these “cooked” syrups in brewing, which exemplifies the frugal nature of brewing. Some of this tradition made it to the American colonies in the form of porter ales that incorporated sorghum and molasses into the fermentation bill. Ales using candi syrup were remarkably varied and complex. It was innovation from the simple conservation of resources. Candi syrup became such an integral part of ale production that it began to be produced specifically for brewing and ceased to be a by-product.

Now, if you’re a home cook of any sort then probably at some point you’ve made your own caramel. So, it should be just as simple to get a pot of sugar and water and go to town with the heat to make your own syrups, right? Well, making caramel is a little simpler and safer than candi syrup. In this case, we suggest you think about the value of your time; after all, you’re not going to make your own malt, right? Besides, the candi syrup process isn’t that simple, and is a jealously guarded secret to boot! Here’s Mike again:

We thermally invert sugars then cook them under specific environmental controls. Some of our candi syrups take four days to produce from sugar to packaged product. We never use additives and never use pre-inverted sugars. It’s done the old-fashioned way each time. No shortcuts and no fillers, ever. We think this makes a better product.

Mike reinforces this point:

In the present day, making even a small amount of candi syrup requires patience. Heating and cooling over many cycles is time consuming, with each cycle taking as much as 1–2 hours depending on the microvolume. With as many as 3–6 cycles (depending on color desired) this can take the better part of an entire day. Buying candi syrup is also expensive at the retail level.

However, the frugal home brewer might calculate the cost comparison of 10 to 12 dollars in candi syrup versus the cost of 6–8 hours making something similar. Making truly fine ale with the same ingredients used in Trappist ales is possible in our world market today. The option to buy a consistent product is available to make your brew day simple, precise, consistent, and straightforward. Color, flavor profiles, and fermentation will match prior brews of the same recipe each time. Our best wishes on your next brew!

Seriously, thanks to the introduction and development of candi syrups here in the US, we can finally capture the nature of both Belgian and British brewing styles, which routinely rely on candi and caramel syrups. Give one of our favorite recipes for a Belgian quadruple a try. It just needs 20 lb. of Pilsner malt, a pouch of Candi Syrups, Inc. D-180, a tiny bit of Magnum for ~20 IBUs of bitterness, plus your favorite Belgian yeast.

This is why we like adjuncts, they can simplify the heck out of everything!

1 Caveat: yeast wasn’t part of the original, mystical 1516 Reinheitsgebot. Brewers didn’t know enough about the stuff at the time to specifically call it out. Also, go read about the actual law—those simple “four” ingredients have so many exceptions it makes the English rule of “i before e, except after c” look consistent and clear.

2 Patrick E. McGovern et al., “Fermented Beverages of Pre- and Proto-Historic China,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 101, no. 51 (December 21, 2004): 17593–17598, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.0407921102.