(T.Y. Harbor x Ise Kadoya collab NE IPA)

This issue we take up a beer that has exploded in popularity all over the craft beer world, from the East Coast of the US to the West, up in Scandinavia, and now in Japan. Variously called Northeast IPA, Hazy IPA, or NE-IPA, this is not really a separate beer style. At least to most people, it is simply a type of India pale ale, but it is distinctive and popular enough that it deserves its own column, and none too soon.

The New England hazy category actually applies to all strengths of pale ale, from session to imperial. The characteristics of these beers are: cloudy to murky with simple, mostly pale, malt character; aromatic, fruity hops with a focus on citrus and tropical fruit aromas and a “juice-like” flavor; low bitterness; and a full, smooth, silky palate. Sound good? They certainly can be when done right, but they are generating a great deal of criticism and cynicism within the craft beer community as well. The original idea was really just a natural progression of the American IPA—to make a beer in which New World hop aromas and flavors predominated, with no obstruction from the malt or yeast, and no strong hop bitterness. Some claim that the cloudy character of these beers adds to both their flavor and mouthfeel, and is not just for show (though many purists retort that clear IPAs can taste just as good). Not all look like a fruit smoothie or egg drop soup, either.

Cloudy beers are nothing new. Beer was cloudy for millennia before filtration, and there are still many styles which make a point of being cloudy: German kellerbier and hefeweizen for instance. While the latter is served in tall glasses that show off its hazy beauty, the former is served in a ceramic krug, which attempts to hide it. Across the beer world there is little consensus on whether clear or cloudy is the way to go.

The first IPA that became known for its haziness was Heady Topper from The Alchemist in Vermont. At 8% ABV and with 120 IBU, this is a cloudy hop bomb that comes in 16 oz. cans on which it is clearly printed: “Drink From the Can,” because it looks horrible in a glass. It was first brewed way back in 2004, but didn’t really catch fire within the beer geek universe until about 2011, when all of the sudden every beer trader in America was typing: “ISO: Fresh HT” (In Search Of Fresh Heady Topper.)

The big boom in haze had to wait until after 2013, when Tree House Brewing and Trillium Brewing fired up their kettles a bit farther south in Massachusetts. Both breweries sport a long lineup of pale ales, IPAs and W-IPAs, with every combination of new hops you can think of. All of them are, of course, hazy. In the past year, they escalated this to a nationwide, then worldwide, craze.

Why haze? It has become something of a badge to wear, symbolizing the cutting edge of IPA-dom. The haze is a result of three things. 1. The addition of large amounts of flaked wheat, flaked oats, or dextrin, a kind of starch. The proteins in these give beer the full, smooth body that is deemed essential to the style, and also add cloudiness. 2. Lots of suspended yeast, never filtered out, also contributes to both body and appearance. 3. Hop haze can also result from lupulin oils in suspension, especially with massive amounts of dry hopping. There are also stories of brewers adding baking flour or fruit puree to their beers in order to make them more hazy, although this is seen by many as cheating.

What makes these IPAs special is not the haze itself but the hops. They are unique in the amount, the time of hopping, and the varietals used. Most of these hazy monsters are hopped at a luxurious rate of something like 15g per liter of beer. For comparison, a classic homebrewing IPA recipe suggests 4g/l! Importantly, almost all the hopping is done very late in the boil, in the whirlpool after the boil, or as dry hopping. This insures big hop aromas without strong bitterness. The hop varietals are also important. You won’t find Cascade in these beers, let alone any noble European hops. The most popular hops are the juicy, dank, fruity varietals that have emerged over the past 3-5 years from the US, Australia, and New Zealand: Mosaic, Galaxy, Nelson Sauvin, and El Dorado, with early-21st-century staples like Citra, Amarillo, Simcoe, and Columbus thrown in as well.
But is so much haze really necessary? We have all experienced huge, juicy hop aromas and flavor in clear IPAs before. It is hard to conclude. Certainly the suspended proteins and yeast add to the desired mouthfeel. Some people also claim that dry hopping during fermentation with the right yeast brings out hop aromas in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The verdict is inconclusive on these two points.

There is certainly some aspect to the haze craze that is just about hype. Hazy is the thing, and now to be a cutting edge brewer, you should be making these beers. I’ve counted at least seven from Japanese breweries at time of writing. Only Yorocco NE Miso Soup was as hazy as its American counterparts, though Ise Kadoya x T.Y. Harbor Crossing was very fruity and juicy. In the US, already close to half of all breweries are making one—even Sam Adams! Several American brewers I have spoken to, however, are already quite fed up with this boom. “It’s time to move on,” is their refrain. I get a feeling that this craze might soon become a cliché, with only those brewers who are truly dedicated to the style carrying on. In many ways, it reminds me of the fruit IPA boom, which, although still going strong in Japan, is already cooling off in the USA. Hazy IPAs are, in many ways, fruit beers without the added fruit.

Two negative points should be made. While I have had absolutely wonderful hazy IPAs from American and Swedish breweries so far, I have also had several which, to me, taste more like a fruit smoothie than a beer. This is a pet peeve of mine. Across all styles, I appreciate innovation and experimentation, but I want beers that taste like beer. Low bitterness and malt character are fine, but when they are completely gone, I feel something is missing. Secondly, these beers do not keep well at all. They start losing their flavors and aromas as soon as they leave the fermenter, and generally do not taste very good after even a month. This is why everyone wants them fresh, and why they are almost impossible to import on a large scale. So if you really want to appreciate this new style of IPA, you’ll either have to make a trip to New England to sample the big ones, or wait until more Japanese brewers really nail the style. The wait probably won’t be long.

All Beer Styles articles are written by Mark Meli, author of Craft Beer in Japan.

This article was published in Japan Beer Times # () and is among the limited content available online. Order your copy through our online shop or download the digital version from the iTunes store to access the full contents of this issue.