Farmhouse Ale Quest: Down the Rabbit-hole: Blog posts 2010-2015

By Lars Marius Garshol

This is the story of how I discovered the existence of a tradition
for brewing beer at home that goes back to the Stone Age, and started
diving into it. The story is recounted through posts I published on
my blog 2010-2015, documenting how I found this type of brewing in
isolated areas in Norway and Lithuania. It also tells the story of
how I discovered an until now unknown type of beer yeast called "kveik."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781008920453

Book preview

Preface

I started blogging about beer in 2005, and it was only five years later, in 2010, that I really became aware of the existence of traditional farmhouse ale. By that point I had published over 200 blog posts, and even after it the blog had lots of posts on other subjects.

This makes it difficult for anyone who wants to go back and see how it all began. The blog interface is also not ideal for reading through dozens of blog posts in sequence. So I am releasing this book as a more convenient way to read the key blog posts from January 2010 to October 2015.

It starts with the very first blog post I wrote on farmhouse ale, roughly two weeks after I became aware that such a thing even existed. The blog post was inspired by, of all things, a book I got for Christmas from my wife. Reading the blog posts you can follow my initial footsteps down what I thought was a curious rabbit hole, but which turned out to be more like an entire subterranean world. I hope it shows how and why this quest turned into the life-altering obsession it eventually became.

I have omitted some blog posts that give overviews of subjects I have covered better in Historical Brewing Techniques and the Lithuania guide. But other than that I have resisted the temptation to edit myself and left these pieces as they were originally published.

I hope you enjoy the ride. I certainly did.

Lars Marius Garshol

Rælingen, Norway

May 2021

ISBN: 9781008920453

Traditional Nordic beer

In the Nordic countries there is a whole style of brewing that has so far almost completely escaped the attention of beer enthusiasts, although some tips of the iceberg are showing above the surface here and there, if you look carefully. I'm referring to the traditional homebrewers, who have just about nothing in common with the new wave of US-inspired home brewers. What makes these brewers so interesting is that the beers they brew belong to styles that are almost completely unknown outside of these communities.

Some background

I suppose in some sort of subconscious way most people are aware that historically, in the countries north of the grain/grape divide, every household brewed its own beer. Eventually, of course, people started to buy their foodstuffs instead of producing them themselves, and as this happened homebrewed beer was gradually displaced by industrial beer. Except that, out in the countryside, homebrewing never went completely extinct, at least here in the Nordic countries.

We all know about homebrewing, of course, but this is something different. These people are not making porters, altbiers, or trippels. In fact, I would think that most of them are not even aware of the existence of these beer styles, because this is people who are continuing an older tradition. What they brew is the beer styles that have always been brewed in their local region, using the methods that have always been used there. Of course, the exact details of the styles and methods change slowly over time, in much the same way that language, fashion, cuisine, and everything else changes over time.

It was only gradually that I became aware of the existence of this tradition. I remember my own grandfather making his own beer. I tasted some of it as a child, but can barely remember what it tasted like, except that it didn't have much alcohol. I can also remember my father describing the brew as unusually potent, from which I deduce that he must have brewed more than one style. Later I read Michael Jackson's stories about visiting traditional brewers in western Norway, and about Finnish sahti. Later more stories followed.

It was only this summer, however, that I realized how widespread the phenomenon really is. Michael Jackson visited Voss (in Sogn), and seemed to claim that this sort of brewing was only done there. Anders Christensen has written about the brewing in Stjørdalen (in Trøndelag). Then there is my grandfather (in Sunnmøre). But this summer one of my uncles was telling me about how there were several home brewing guilds around his home town (Sogndal in Sogn), and I realized that this must be a lot more widespread that what's so far been described in what you could, I suppose, call the beer literature.

Then, for Christmas, my wife gave me Alle tiders øl, by Per Kølster (of Fuglbjerggaard brewery), a Danish book about beer. The last half of it is dedicated to the traditional Nordic brewers, and describes visits to such brewers in Denmark (Funen / Fyn), Sweden (Gotland), Norway (Trøndelag), Finland, and (surprisingly) Lithuania, where he goes to see how they brew their beers. And suddenly I realized that this was not just a Norwegian phenomenon, and also that this was really a single brewing tradition which had developed in different ways in different places.

About the beer

The first surprise is that these brewers mostly malt their own grain, using traditional equipment and methods. The resulting malts are mostly darkish and mostly at least somewhat smoky. However, they will sometimes buy commercial malts to complement the traditional malts.

The second surprise is the yeast. Most of these brewers use ordinary baking yeast, of the sort that you use to bake bread. It produces CO2 and alcohol exactly as expected, and also lends some rather unusual flavours to the beer. This is a modern development, however, and one which hasn't occurred everywhere. In some places the brewers still maintain local yeast cultures shared between the brewers.

Thirdly, there is the juniper twigs. I knew them from sahti, but in fact nearly all of these brewers use them for both flavouring and some basic filtering. This is one of the pecularities that seem to indicate that there really is a shared origin for this tradition.

Below is a rough table summarizing the ingredients used by the different brewers. As you can see, there are quite a few similarities, and also some variation. The Lithuanian brew seems very different from the others, and the Danish traditions seems very modernized. Other than that, the commonalities are striking.

Where can I try it?

I'm not sure you can try it, actually. Sahti is probably the easiest to get hold of as it can be bought in some Finnish Alko stores and some pubs. It doesn't keep very well (very little hops), so I doubt it's found outside of Finland. There is a festival for Norwegian home brew in Stjørdalen, which is open to the public, but as it's arranged on the 26th of December you need to be fairly dedicated to go there. There is also a Norwegian micro beer called Ølve på Egge, which is not entirely dissimilar to these beers, but it's near-impossible to find. Other than that it seems you need to approach one of the brewers and ask nicely. How to find a brewer? I have no idea.

If you do get hold of one of these beers, you may be in for something of a shock. Sahti, for example, does not taste even remotely like any other beer I've tried. And as for the Norwegian Stjørdalsøl, one anecdote may illustrate. One such beer was entered for the Norwegian home brewing competition in 2009. It finished nearly last, and the judges (who had tried most beer styles in existence) put comments like intensely smoky, concentrated railroad tie (lots of tar and creosote), burnt rubber boot, etc on their judging sheets.

A discussion started after the competition on whether it was fair to give the beer such a harsh score when, the brewers claimed, it adhered so faithfully to the traditional style. The organizers' replies pretty much amounted to (a) nobody could verify that as nobody had tried this style of beer, and (b) it didn't do so well on the subjective part of the judging.

To me it seems a real shame that this extremely interesting beer tradition should be so obscure and unapproachable, but I'm not sure what can be done about it. It would be fantastic to see some of the Norwegian/Swedish/Danish microbrewers picking up on these styles in the way that the Finns have done with Sahti, but of course it's not entirely clear whether there would be much commercial demand for such a beer. What is clear is that I would dearly love to try it myself, if I could.

Update: It turns out that the Lithuanian variety is easily available in Vilnius.

Update 2: And the Norwegian variety is available outside of Trondheim.

The beer bars of Vilnius

Lithuania may be a small country today, but once the joint Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth included much of present-day Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Belorussia, and Ukraine. This is why Vilnius has one of the largest surviving medieval towns in Northern Europe, covering well over three square kilometers. So Vilnius is well worth visiting just for the sights, but it also happens that you can find a very rare beer style here: kaimiškas, or Lithuanian farmhouse ales.

There are also three brewpubs in Vilnius, but compared to the bars serving traditional ale they are of no interest, so I will say no more about them here.

Bambalynė

Before going to Vilnius I did some research and stumbled across a place called Bambalynė, which was supposed to have Lithuanian beers. That was about all I could find out about it, but on arrival in Vilnius I decided to check it out, since it was fairly centrally located in the Old Town.

In a narrow little street I found the sign, which led me through a gate and down a staircase into an old brick cellar. Literally the first thing I saw was a stack of artfully arranged crates of beer. Lithuanian craft beer, to be precise. Most of it was farmhouse ales (kaimiškas). Now I was definitely interested. Next to the crates was a small counter, and in the room beyond a row of refridgerators. A third room held a seating area with elegant old wooden furniture.

A woman working there comes up to me, and turns out to speak passable English. This makes me really happy, because it means I can ask for recommendations and ask questions about the beers and so on. I ask for a recommendation, and she picks a classy-looking bottle labelled Salaus Alus. It turned out to be an outstanding example of Lithuanian farmhouse ales.

I was so happy with this I kept coming back most of the days I stayed in Vilnius to try more beers. During the early afternoon it was very quiet, and seemed to function more as a shop than as a pub, but small groups of people would drop by, split a big bottle of farmhouse ale, and move on.

Šnekutis

The best-known of the traditional ale bars in Vilnius is Šnekutis, also in the old town. It's impossible to miss, since the facade is plastered with a huge photo of the instantly recognizable owner, with his beard, long hair, and huge mustache. As you can see above, the bar has a decent selection of draft beer, all of it farmhouse ales, and there are a few more in bottles. They also serve quite good traditional Lithuanian cuisine in a straightforward, no-nonsense kind of way.

It's not a fancy place, but feels very welcoming from the moment you walk in, and it seems to be very much a place for locals. People sit around chatting across the tables and with the owner. The owner is always deadpan, but every time he speaks people laugh, so presumably he has a great sense of humour. As he speaks no English there's no way to know for sure.

My visit to Vilnius coincided with a soccer match between Lithuania and Scotland, and apparently the Tartan Army enjoyed Šnekutis as much as I did. It seemed somehow appropriate to have this nice local corner pub full of tartan-wearing soccer fans chatting up the locals and putting away pint after pint of farmhouse ale.

The music fits in with the rather alternative vibe of the place: it was mostly traditional Lithuanian music, although some of it seemed to be parodies of traditional Lithuanian music. But maybe I just didn't get it.

Šnekutis Užupio

If you thought the original Šnekutis was odd, that's nothing compared to the one located in the part of town called Užupis, which has set itself up as a self-styled republic. It seems to be a bit like the Freetown Christiania in Copenhagen: a hangout for bohemians, artists, and others who favour a more alternative lifestyle. And as you can see from the photo, the pub is fairly alternative. It looks like a traditional cottage that's been moved into town, and then decorated with every farming implement known to man.

It looks equally bizarre inside, but is actually really nice once you get used to it. Like the other Šnekutis it seems to mostly be a hangout for the locals, but it has a good (and different) selection of farmhouse ales, and a bigger food menu. Some of the bar staff even speak a little English.

Alaus Namai

This place is very different from the other three. It's essentially a student bar, and one that gets pretty crowded in the late evening. It's located along a nice stretch of the Vilna river with a lovely view of the business district on the north side, but the pub itself is in a basement in the corner of a fairly nondescript building. Inside it looks like many other student pubs: vaguely institutional, but buzzing with life.

The menu is a mix of (fairly interesting) imported beers, and again farmhouse ales as well as other Lithuanian beers. And, best of all, the menu is in English! With complete beer names, names of breweries, alcohol content, and short descriptions. This made me very happy, because it meant I could be fairly sure what it was I was drinking. At the other places you had to just note what was on tap, or in the refridgerators, and hope that you didn't miss anything or get anything wrong.

Summing up

Overall, I highly recommend a trip to Vilnius. The city itself is well worth seeing, the prices are low, and the beer is not only good, but also of a kind you can't find anywhere else. What more could anyone want, really?

Update: Since I wrote this, two new kaimiskas bars have opened in Vilnius: Alynas and Vilniaus Alus.

Update: If you want more information I've published a guidebook to Lithuanian beer, which goes into a lot more detail.

Traditional Norwegian homebrew, finally

I was recently invited to give a presentation on Topic Maps at Vestlandsforsking in Sogndal, as part of their 25-year jubilee seminar series. I first tried to fly there in December, but because of fog the plane was never able to land. Ironically, the flight itself was absolutely beautiful. The little propeller plane flew over an endless expanse of snow-capped mountains in blazing sunshine. Just before arriving in Sogndal we could clearly see the Jotunheimen mountain range in the distance, sticking up over the smaller mountains.

But at Sogndal airport there was fog, so after touching down a couple of other places in the same province, the plane returned to Oslo with me still on board. We tried again in January, with worse weather and better luck, and so I finally got there. Since this is about beer, and not Topic Maps, I'll pass over the talk itself. If you're interested, there is a video and a link to the slides.

After the presentation there was a small beer tasting in the Gjest Baardsen house. Baardsen was a legendary thief and escape artist who wrote a best-selling memoir (published 1835), and he grew up in a little wooden house in the centre of Sogndal. It burned a few years