Cloudy Murk

I've never really seen the attraction of "cloudy murk", a phrased used by others, but most dismissively, by northern-based, vintage Beer Blogger, Tandleman, to describe a style of beer that seemed to come from nowhere, before coming something of a sensation in the land of its birth. The style is New England IPA - NEIPA, for short, and the land of its birth, as well as its conception, is the US of A. No surprises there, but as far as I am concerned this is nothing more than a "made-up" style, and one that has little to offer the serious beer enthusiast. Unfortunately, NEIPA's seem to be all the range these days, and whilst some of the enthusiasm behind this "cloudy murk", appears to have abated, there are still plenty of industry "experts" and "influencers", (hate that word), who have fallen for the hype surrounding this artificial style of beer.

We'll start with cask, because in the UK at least, that is the style of beer where drinkers are most likely to encounter a hazy, or cloudy pint of beer. Historically, a pint of cloudy cask ale was a sign that a beer had not conditioned properly, that suspended yeasts had not settled properly, or that your pint was full of end-barrel finings (ugh!). Whilst there is no real evidence to back up the statement that a pint of murk will give you an upset stomach, regular beer drinkers, have learned over the years to avoid hazy beer. Indeed for decades now, there has been a  consensus among beer drinkers that a perfect pint should either look crystal-clear, or as close to this state as possible. 

Apart from poorly treated, or mis-handled cask ales, cloudiness in beer, is normally due to a haze caused by suspended yeast, proteins, or hop compounds, and is often associated with styles such as hefeweizens, or other unfiltered beers. Whilst traditionally viewed as a defect (indicating inadequate fermentation or poor handling), modern "murky" beers aim for an opaque and smoothie-like appearance to achieve low bitterness, combined with an intense fruitiness and a creamy mouthfeel. Somewhat surprisingly many of these murky beers contain little yeast, despite their appearance. Practices such as over-hopping, particularly where dry hopping (adding whole, fresh-leaf hops to a cask, or container, to increase hop aroma), is concerned, can often result in hazy beer, as does  over-hopping a beer, although what we are looking at here, are beers that are deliberately brewed to be cloudy.

Many UK based, craft brewers now produce some hazy, unfiltered beers but over the past few years "murky" has become a phenomenon that seems to have acquired cult status. This development is not confined to the New World, where the style originated, but is also present here in the UK, as more and more brewers look to New England-style IPAs, for inspiration. Dubbed the "haze craze”,  East Coast IPA's are pointedly less bitter than their West Coast rivals, and are sometimes described as "juice bombs". Brewed from a grist that often includes a significant amount of protein-rich wheat and oats, prior to fermentation with hazy yeasts, the resultant beers are then massively dry-hopped to create a deliberately opaque and milky-looking finished product. Devotees describe such beers as "juicy", but these aren't the attributes that the majority of drinkers are looking for in a beer.

The murkiness of these brews is mainly thanks to two things: using high protein grains in the mash and heavy dry hopping at the end of—or post-fermentation. Simply put, when protein molecules from the grains merge with the polyphenols in hops, something rather strange happens, in the form of a visible haze, known to brewers and scientists as a "colloidal haze". This cloudiness remains stable and intact because the molecules formed don’t easily dissipate in water, and scatter light throughout the liquid. The resultant haze is known as the "Tyndall effect", but it's effects are not just visual, because the suspended matter not only gives the beer a creamy mouthfeel, but also imparts a number of juicy, and "mouth-watering" flavours. If beer is only lightly-hopped the juiciness will dominate and overpower the flavours normally associated with beer. This is all well and good if you're a NEIPA fanatic, but most drinkers, myself included, prefer something a little less extreme, and tasting of malted barley and freshly harvested hops, rather than orange or tropical fruit juice.

There are people who actively seek out hazy beer, resulting in "craft murk", becoming a blossoming, cult phenomenon, with devotees describing New England IPA, as a "luscious experience, thanks to a style that is the most modern and approachable iteration of IPA". Their words, rather than mine, but a statement purposely designed to enrage drinkers of proper beer, borne out by a backlash against NEIPA's, with "murk-shaming" gaining ground amongst ardent critics of the style. Horses for courses of but like all trends, I'd like to see this one last as short as possible, and for the pendulum to switch back the other was and for clarity to prevail once again. If you've read this far, you'll probably be mulling over your own thoughts about "cloudy murk" and wondering what effect, if any, this upstart of a beer style will have on your drinking habits. The answer to that question, ultimately depends on what you think about NEIPA and other intentionally hazy beers, but for the record I am NOT a fan of the style! 

A couple of months ago I celebrated the birthday that comes after the proverbial "three score years and ten". Along with a few other beers, son Matthew bought me pack of Faith, an unashamed, hazy, 5.0% pale ale from Leeds-based, Northern Monk. I'd been aware of this brewery for some time - they were founded in 2013, and looking at their website, they are a substantial operation, especially after opening a second brewery, a few years later - also in Leeds. I was particularly pleased that Matthew had moved away from his usual choices of "dad beer" especially the Hobgoblin and Old Speckled Hen pish of the mainstream beer world, so a day or so later I cracked open a can. Unfortunately, the beer was as described above - hazy and juicy, but lacking the characteristics normally associated with a traditional pale ale. Full marks though, to Matthew  not just for trying, but for thinking outside of the box, and I'm really pleased he took the initiative.

In the meantime I've been doing a spot of research into Northern Monk, and I think I'm right in saying that the vast majority of their beers are filled into cans, as opposed to bottles or kegs. This probably explains why, apart from on supermarket shelves,  I haven't seen their beers on sale in pubs or bars. "From West Coast pine and bitterness to New England haze and juice, our great IPA beers are brewed in our Leeds brewery and shipped fresh", says the rather sinister looking monk, who acts as the brewery symbol, as he peers out from under his cowl. I'd certainly be interested in learning what other people think about the company and its beers, as what they are doing, is obviously working well for them, even though it's something that doesn't fit in my ideal of a traditional, cask-focussed, independent brewery, selling into the free trade.