Saison is a word I’ve thrown around in this column for years—often while lamenting its absence from the craft-beer landscape. Fifteen or so years ago, it seemed like every brewery had at least one in the rotation, and more as special releases. Since then, they’ve all but disappeared—or so it would seem, if you don’t know where to look.
Yes, they do indeed exist, and while they’re nowhere near as prominent as they once were here (or in Belgium, their country of origin), they can be found if one knows where to look.
But first, some history. It’s been said that saisons were traditionally made with whatever ingredients that were at hand during any given season (“saison” in French), for the benefit of farmworkers as refreshment and hydration, before safe drinking water was as easy as the turn of a spigot.
What a nice, idyllic origin story. Alas, there’s no evidence the story is accurate.
Enter historian Roel Mulder. In a 2018 blog post, he took a hard look at American brewer Phil Markowski’s influential book, Farmhouse Ales, specifically the chapter about the saison style, written by Belgian brewer Yvan De Baets. What Mulder found was a lack of sources for the claim that saison was a farmhouse ale—made in the Belgian province of Hainaut by farmers for farmworkers—or sources that were misrepresented. Mulder notes that “the oldest mention of saison that I found dates from 1823, where it is described as ‘Advent or March beer, excellent beer that is brewed in Liège and that can be kept.’” The city of Liège, even in the 19th century, was an industrial city with coal mines and metalworking factories, according to Mulder—with hardly a farmhouse operation in sight, and located more than a stone’s throw from Hainaut.
What’s more, the sources from Liège describe saison as a different beer than the one we have come to know. As the Beer Judge Certification Program guidelines state, saison is “most commonly a pale, refreshing, highly attenuated, moderately bitter, moderate-strength Belgian ale with a very dry finish.” According to Mulder’s sources, the saisons of Liège “contained mainly malted spelt and unmalted wheat, and because of its low attenuation, it was relatively sweet.”
One of the biggest contributors to this confusion: Belgium saw some hard times in the first half of the 20th century, to say the least, and a lot of brewing tradition was all but wiped out. Thankfully, Belgian beer made a big recovery in the latter half of the century, and some the styles that weren’t fully re-popularized there found a home here in the United States, thanks to brewers and drinkers who were dying for anything that wasn’t uniform in taste, mass-produced, light and yellow.
If you want a fresh saison, and you are a fan of the American style that has more prominent bubblegum esters and less phenolic, spice-like or peppery notes, Las Palmas Brewing’s Fifty Four is for you.
But enough nerdistry; it’s time to drink—and there’s no better place to begin than Saison Dupont. It is the standard-bearer of the style, and rightfully so. In 1920, Alfred Dupont purchased a brewery in Hainaut with the idea of reviving the saison style—and he did, to the point where the Dupont yeast strain is the go-to strain for fermenting saisons. The beer itself (available in 16-ounce cans at Total Wine, as well as the more traditional bottles) is dry and fruity (think citrus and apple), with a touch of clove and white pepper, and a little bit of baking spice from the hops. It’s as good as ever, and readily available, so there’s no reason not to at least try it, if you’ve never done so.
As for local examples, there’s luckily a brewery I’ve mentioned many times here, especially for their saison, named Fifty Four: Las Palmas Brewing in downtown Palm Springs. If you want a fresh saison, and you are a fan of the American style that has more prominent bubblegum esters and less phenolic, spice-like or peppery notes, Fifty Four is for you. While I tend to like the drier, more “traditional” versions, Las Palmas’ saison is a wonderful drinking experience and a great reason to visit the brewery. When craft beer people say, “Support local beer,” I think of Las Palmas as the most deserving beneficiary of this sentiment.
El Segundo Brewing in Los Angeles recently made a version, which I also found at Total Wine, called Break of Dawn. Similarly, this American version has much louder flavors than its Belgian counterparts. Like Fifty Four, it boasts bubblegum notes alongside some clove flavor. It’s not quite as dry as a Belgian saison, instead being a bit juicier, but it’s a fine beverage that also scratches that itch of, “I miss the saisons that every craft brewery seemed to be required to make in 2010.”
Some other notable examples that may be difficult, but not impossible, to find are Lost Abbey’s Carnevale and, though I haven’t seen it locally in ages, Boulevard Brewing’s Saison Brett. Both of these are fermented with Brettanomyces yeast, which makes a beer bone-dry, funky, maybe a little tart and sometimes fruity—with the resulting beers more reminiscent of the way the style was more likely to have been before the 20th century. These are my personal favorites.
Saison is not dead; it has just been lying mostly dormant for more than a decade—and if this column helps re-spark anyone’s interest in saisons, I have done my job.
Never tried this type of beer but I’m going to look for them now!thanks for the brew