Toward Better Hop Descriptions
People have been trying to describe hops for—well, a long time. Apparently in the old days, people thought hops tasted like hops, so their descriptions tended toward the broad. “Fine,” for example. This contrasted with “rough,” which is something I’ve encountered when 19th century brewers described American hops. For some reason, euphemism has always been popular. A half-century ago, people described those rough hops as having a ribes character, or sometimes “catty” (i.e. cat pee). That tendency survives today, as when we use “dank” to describe hops that taste like cannabis, or “tropical” to describe modern hops with aromas as varied as coconut, passion fruit, or mango.
For literally decades I’ve been waiting for a better approach, one that has aroma descriptors a bit more specific than fine or rough, but less sprawling than the current obsession with ultra-specific terms like “chamomile blossom” or “bamboo leaf.” We want to have a common language and one that hits a sweet spot of specificity. The folks at the global hops company BarthHaas have been working on one for years, and they’re getting pretty close.
Of course, being a global company, they had to give their creation a cringey name—in this case, and I will render it exactly as they do, HOPSESSED®. But silly name aside, it’s an excellent guide to the general categories of flavor and aroma, twelve of them, that get you in the ballpark by collecting like-flavors in broader groups. Berry-like aromas and flavors are a bit hard to parse individually (strawberry or raspberry?), but they aren’t hard to distinguish from herbal ones.
Keep in mind that when we’re trying to describe flavors, we have to use metaphor and comparison. A hop that has some of the chemical compounds in a familiar food will remind us of that food, but probably not all of them—and it also contains myriad other compounds that confuses the situation. What tastes like raspberry to one person may track as strawberry to another, and maybe cherry to another.
To create a common language, Barth has been working on this for a decade or more, trying to aggregate all those aromas into a few categories. Early versions needed refinement (“tea” was a confusing category they later dumped, for example). Have a look at the current list, though, and see if it doesn’t make a lot of sense. (For brevity, I’ve limited the number of adjectives in each category.)
Floral. Elderflower, jasmine, apple blossom, rose, geranium, lilac, lavender
Citrus. Grapefruit, orange, lime, lemon, bergamot, lemon grass, ginger
Sweet fruits. Banana, melon, peach, apricot, passion fruit, lychee, pineapple, cherry, mango, guava
Green fruits. Pear, apple, quince, gooseberry, white wine grapes
Berries & currant. Cassis, blueberry, raspberry, blackberry, strawberry, currant
Cream caramel. Chocolate, honey, cream, caramel, toffee, vanilla, coconut
Woody aromatic. Tobacco, barrique, leather, incense, resin, cedar, pine
Menthol. Mint, lemon balm, sage, camphor, menthol, wine yeast, eucalyptus
Herbal. Oregano, tarragon, dill, basil, cilantro, rosemary, thyme, tea
Spicy. Pepper, chili, juniper, aniseed, fennel seeds, clove, cinnamon, nutmeg
Grassy-hay. Fresh cut grass, hay, green pepper, nettle, cucumber
Vegetal. celery, leek, onion, artichoke, garlic, wild garlic, radish
It’s not quite perfect, but it’s getting there. Spicy and Herbal have too much overlap (one has fennel, one has fennel seed and licorice: 🤔). Likewise menthol and woody aromatic bleed into each other in ways I can’t always separate. Some of the category names don’t mean much to Americans, either. “Green fruit” is not a phrase we use—though the collection of fruits are immediately understandable. Perhaps “vegetal” should be “savory”—that’s how I describe those flavors. Still, it’s quite useful.
Barth also includes a version of a spider chart they have restyled a “rosechart” (again, the one-word name is awkward), and it’s helpful, too, for at-a-glance comparisons. This is especially true when comparing current-year aromas and typical aromas for a particular variety. For the brewer (home or pro), they’ve created a wonderful guide to the most recent harvest, hop by hop. (You have to fill out a form, but they’ll send you a pdf for free here.) It contains crop analyses and statistics. Especially helpful, however, are the current-year descriptor of raw-hop aroma versus three-year averages. That both tells you what they think characterizes the hop in question, and how it differs from typical harvests.
For example, last year’s Chinook was quite different from typical years. The dominant character over the past three years has been grapefruit, followed by juniper, basil, orange, and passion fruit. In 2021, pineapple was dominant, followed by passion fruit, lemon, resin, and orange. The dominant flavor this year isn’t typical, and the typically dominant flavor isn’t a major component this year. In terms of category, it’s especially high in woody-aromatic and berry this year relative to past years. Interesting!
The 2021 harvest for Mosaic was also unusual. It was lower in sweet fruit and citrus than typical years, and much higher on vegetal. (That’s garlic and onion, for those of you who already sensitive to Mosaic’s savory elements.) I’m sure that led to interesting hop selections. Other varieties that deviated noticeably from averages: Hallertaus Mittelfrueh and Tradition, Spalter Select (“surprisingly extraordinary”), and Vic Secret. Year-to-year deviation is common, of course. Nearly every variety has at least subtle variation, and you’ll have to poke around the catalog to see which bend in the direction you like.
This weekend I’ll be judging the Oregon Beer Awards, and I’ll take this chart with me. Having a framework makes identification easier. You may also hear me mention these categories in my descriptions going forward. The only way language becomes common is if we all use it.
As is typical with things hop-related, I learned about this from Stan Hieronymus’ indispensable monthly newsletter Hop Queries. It’s free and you can sign up to receive it here.