Describing the Flavors of Hops
This is one of those exploratory, half-considered posts that used to be the meat and potatoes of the blogging world. I am crowd-sourcing the thinking to you.
First, the set-up. Hop flavors and aromas have gotten extremely complex. Even within a single variety, the expression of different qualities can be kaleidoscopic, depending on how the hop is used and combined with other varieties. In simpler times, it was enough to identify one of the workhorse varieties (Cascade, Chinook), with which many drinkers were familiar. Now that provides little explanatory value. So how does a brewery convey what a beer will taste like?
A second option is to just list the flavor and aroma notes. We may not know what to expect from that Sabro hop (whirlpool? Dry-hopped during fermentation? After?), but “coconut” is something we all understand.
In service of this, Georg Drexler of the Barth-Hass group, working with a perfumer, came up with a taxonomy of hop aroma. (I was alerted to this by the Master Brewers Podcast, which I highly recommend for the technically curious among you.) The academic paper in which the research is described isn’t publicly available, but Milk the Funk has posted Drexler’s taxonomy. Below are the categories he proposed, along with an example of a hop high in those aromas, and further aromas within the category.
Floral (example: Ella): Elderflower, Chamomile Blossom, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine, Apple Blossom, Rose, Geranium, Carnation, Lilac, Lavender
Citrus (Mandarina Bavaria): Grapefruit, Orange, Lime, Lemon, Bergamot, Lemon Grass, Ginger, Tangerine
Sweet Fruits (Mosaic): Banana, Watermelon, Honeydew Melon, Peach, Apricot, Passion Fruit, Lychee, Dried Fruit Plum, Pineapple, Cherry, Kiwi, Mango, Guava
Green Fruits (Hallertau Blanc): Pear, Quince, Apple, Gooseberry, White Wine Grapes
Red Berries (Monroe): Cassis (Black Currant), Red Currant, Blueberries, Raspberries, Blackberries, Strawberries, Wild Strawberries, Cranberries
Cream Caramel (Triskel): Butter, Chocolate, Yoghurt, Honey, Cream, Caramel, Toffee, Coffee, Vanilla, Tonka
Woody Aromatic (Relax): Tobacco, Cognac, Barrique, Leather, Woodruff, Incense, Myrrh, Resin, Earthy, Cedar, Pine
Menthol (Polaris): Mint, Lemon Balm, Camphor, Menthol, Wine Yeast
Herbal (Columbus): Lovage, Thuja, Basil, Parsley, Tarragon, Dill, Fennel, Thyme, Rosemary, Marjoram, Green Tea, Black Tea, Mate Tea, Sage
Spicy (Saazer): Pepper, Chili, Curry, Juniper, Aniseed, Nutmeg, Liqorice, Clove, Ginger Bread, Fennel Seeds
Grassy-Hay (Herkules): Green-Grassy, Fresh Cut Grass, Hay, Tomato Leaves, Green Peppers, Nettle
Vegetal (Summit): Celery Stock, Celery Root, Leek, Onion, Artichoke, Garlic, Wild Garlic
Do you see the problem? There are a dozen categories, which is a lot to begin with, and 107 descriptors. As a way to try to define aroma, particularly for use in a brewery, this may be useful. For the layperson, and particularly as a commercial description, it’s basically useless. The average consumer isn’t going to be able to find the more subtle flavors, nor be able to distinguish among extremely small differences (garlic vs. wild garlic is an especially amusing one).
When I read descriptions with flowery language, I find it not just useless—but sometimes misleading. The adjectives are disconnected from process or ingredient (is the caramel mentioned pointing to hops or malt?) and anyway, we now taste hops so differently I’m never confident I’ll get those highlighted Chardonnay notes—to me it may smell like a sweaty linebacker. (And if I knew Nelson Sauvin hops were in the beer I’d be wary.)
This is a question I’ve posed before, but I still don’t have a satisfying answer. How do we discuss hops using a language we all understand? Or maybe we just throw up our hands and muddle along.