Drink Your Dinner: How Breweries Are Approaching Culinary Brewing | Draft

This story was first published in 2014 in Draft magazine.

On a madcap New York afternoon, my stomach grumbling from lack of lunch, I board a train bound for Grand Central Terminal. This thrumming nerve center of transit and tourism may appear an unlikely pit stop for sustenance. But I slink underground, elbowing past picture-snapping out-of-towners, my appetite locked on the Grand Central Oyster Bar.

For a century, this elegant refuge tucked under a vaulted tile ceiling has fed seafood to scores of New Yorkers, both temporary and permanent. I sit at the counter, a lengthy menu of bivalves hanging above my head, and order the oyster pan roast and Flying Dog’s Pearl Necklace Oyster Stout. I nip the longneck while a muttering man in a paper hat whips together butter, cream, chile sauce and oysters into a silky indulgence served over toast points. I sip the soup, relishing its briny complexity, which is echoed in the inky stout that underscores the oysters’ inherent sweetness. Sip. Slurp. Swallow. By both the bottle and bowl, drinking my meal has never been so divine.

In a simpler brewing era, brewers mainly relied on hops, grain, water and yeast to create an endless range of ales and lagers. But for modern brewers, the power of four tends to bore. In search of new flavors, brewers have begun digging into the pantry and refrigerator. Though you can add edibles to nearly any beer style (Ballast Point’s Habañero Sculpin IPA, Elysian’s Super Fuzz blood orange pale ale, Sam Adams’ beef heart–fueled, Oktoberfest-inspired Burke in a Bottle), the most popular platforms are the stout and porter. Typically, brewers played up their roasty, cocoa-like characteristics by incorporating coffee or chocolate. Now they’re turning to bacon, peanut butter, pretzels and even oysters to devise dark beers as curious as they are curiously delicious.

“Stouts and porters have such a wide range of strong flavors to work with,” says Troy Hansen, the head brewer at Michigan’s unconventional Short’s Brewing. “Whether it’s the sweetness of a milk stout or the dark-fruit flavor in a Baltic porter, it’s pretty easy to isolate a component to enhance or complement with experimental ingredients.”

Many of Short’s beers read like an episode of Iron Chef. The Cornholio porter contains red popcorn, beach plums and herbal horehound leaf, while Über Goober finds an oatmeal stout uniting with peanut purée and S’more Stout contains graham crackers and marshmallows. Then there’s the PB&J Stout, a childhood-style adult pleasure inspired by eating peanut butter–and-jelly sandwiches and, well, drinking stout. “The challenge of replicating the flavor of a dessert or food combination into liquid form is very inspiring,” Hansen says. Beyond the challenge, blending food into beers can make them more accessible. “My sister doesn’t like stouts, but when I make a Turtle Stout by adding chocolate, caramel and pecans, she loves it,” Hansen says.

When it comes to stout, the snack and dessert path are well trod. If you’re feeling peckish, start with Martin’s Pretzel Stout before finishing with Rapp Brewing’s Chocolate Peanut Butter Stout or Southern Tier’s Crème Brûlée Stout. For an entrée, may we suggest a carnivorous stout? Michigan’s Right Brain Brewery uses cold-smoked Mangalitsa pig heads—brains removed, thankfully—and bones to make its smoky Mangalitsa Pig Porter (sublime with a side of Blind Bat’s Long Island Potato Stout or Bell’s Sweet Potato Stout), while Funky Buddha’s Maple Bacon Coffee Porter is a hangover-banishing breakfast in a bottle. For the ballsy carnivore, Wynkoop Brewery’s Rocky Mountain Oyster Stout is, fittingly, sold by the pair.

Instead of a turf-based oyster stout, many brewers are instead seeking out the surf. Classically, oysters have been an ideal pairing with dry stouts like Guinness, with their briny profile complementing the full-bodied, creamy brew. To underscore the pairing, brewers have begun tossing oysters into brew kettles, creating beguiling ales with one foot in the ocean and the other behind the bar.

“We found that oysters impart a slight minerality and brininess in the beer,” says Ben Clark, the head brewer at Flying Dog (which has also made Green Tea Imperial Stout). When the Maryland brewery was devising the recipe, which incorporates locally harvested Rappahannock River Oysters, the brewers were unsure about the proper approach. Do you fling in shells? The liquor? The entire oyster? “We threw the entire oyster in and added sea salt to increase the briny character,” Clark says. On your next trip to the raw bar, seek out Asheville, North Carolina’s Oyster House Brewing Company, which concocts the oyster-infused Moonstone Stout, while Ireland’s Porterhouse Brewing and California’s HenHouse both make a dry, smooth oyster stout. If clams are your favored bivalve, try New Zealand–brewed Emerson’s Southern Clam Stout.

Though a culinary approach to beer is increasingly popular, it isn’t simple. Offbeat fermentables, such as bananas and nuts, are notoriously finicky. For Short’s, one notable misfire was the Nutcracker, which was brewed with the nuts typically found on a holiday platter. “That one did not even finish fermenting before we made the call to dump it,” says head brewer Hansen. Furthermore, there’s a fine line between shtick and creating a complex and engaging brew that you’ll want to drink twice. “Anyone exploring culinary brewing needs to understand that the key to making your beer delicious is balance,” says Jared Rouben, a Culinary Institute of America graduate and former brewmaster at Goose Island’s brewpubs. During his nearly three-year stint, Rouben honed his food-focused technique, crafting farmers’ market beers such as a baby carrot witbier, rhubarb saison and green-strawberry IPA, as well as partnering with boldface Chicago chefs like Rick Bayless and Stephanie Izard.

Earlier this year, Rouben decided to go solo with Chicago’s Moody Tongue (it’s slated to open this winter), which might be America’s most culinary-focused brewery. “We’re going to make culinary beers that work with food in general and can stand on their own,” says Rouben, who will rely on seasonal fruits and vegetables, as well as spices, teas and chocolate during the fallow winter months. Like how a chef constructs a dish through carefully selected ingredients and cooking techniques, Rouben builds a beer through layers of flavor. No single ingredient should overwhelm. “I’m not putting something in there because it’s trendy,” he says. “It should make the overall beer better. Nothing frustrates me more than when people sprinkle garnish around a plate. If we incorporate it into the recipe, it’s there for a reason.”

Though Rouben is still finalizing his launch lineup, expect food-driven beers such as a brandied blackberry Belgian dubbel and gingerbread chocolate milk stout. “We’re pushing down the walls of culinary arts and brewing,” he says. “People love beer. People love food. Now you don’t have to decide between the two.”