I try not to be too controversial, but here goes: I like hefeweizen. 

I don’t love the style. I don’t plan special trips to breweries just because they have a new one on tap. But I also don’t scoff if someone suggests one. It’s refreshing, pleasing to the eye and delightfully fragrant with the prominent notes of banana and clove.

What was surprising in writing this article was the idea that hefeweizen is often a love-hate style. To me, it’s a middle-of-the-road summer beer, something for everyone. But Dave Berg, brewmaster at August Schell Brewing Co., has encountered some pretty extreme opinions.

But I’ll say it again: I like hefeweizen.

Hefeweizen is a type of weiss beer, with “weiss” meaning “white” in German. And I know they didn’t have Pantone back in the 1400s, but the liquid appears generally hazy yellow. The name hefeweizen denotes yeast (“hefe”) and wheat (“weizen”). Not every weiss beer contains wheat, but every weizen does. 

The style has existed for half a millennia, starting as a peasant beer that was fermented in open vats. The flavors of banana and clove, along with the billowy head and signature wheat glass, are the most iconic elements of a hefeweizen. 

However, no banana or clove is added during brewing. The traditional flavor profile comes from esters created by heirloom yeast strains, open-air fermentation and a special rest to boost the release of ferulic acid. Also, a range of other flavors can often be present, such as vanilla, anise, apple, lemon and more.

Beyond some solid Bavarian imports, local brews have major followings, too. 

Just last year, Utepils Brewing Co. caused a kerfuffle by an April Fool’s Day social media post suggesting its Ewald the Golden had passed away. Fans of the beer, and even some distributors, were calling the brewery to ask why it would make such a bad decision.

As it turns out, another Minnesota brewery deserves the credit for the style’s resurgence stateside. When Schell’s released its first batch of Hefeweizen in 1984, it was the first brewery in the U.S. to create not just that style, but any wheat beer, since Prohibition.

To understand why, I spoke with Berg about all things weizen. Our conversation, edited for length and clarity, focuses on the challenges of crafting a good hefeweizen and tradition that draws so many people to Team Love.

James Figy: How does Schell’s Hefeweizen stick to — or depart from — the traditional definition?

Dave Berg: At their core, these are beers brewed with wheat. We try to stay close to the traditional German methods, so our Hefeweizen uses at least 50% wheat and traditional yeast. For us, the remainder of the malt bill is two-row malt. If you’re looking for a little deeper color, a touch of Munich would be appropriate.

There are some nontraditional changes. We skip the decoction, and it’s not open fermented.

JF: Are there any unique challenges to brewing a great Hefeweizen?

DB: The toughest part is getting the correct balance between the clove and banana flavors. The clove is caused by the yeast converting ferulic acid to 4-Vinyl Guaiacol, which is an aromatic phenol. 

The banana is a yeast-driven ester, isoamyl acetate. Esters are affected by many things — temperature, yeast growth and hydrostatic pressure to name a few. Thus, it’s important to understand your yeast, pitch the correct amount, and ferment at the correct temperature.

I know some folks are terrified of open fermentation, but I spent the first six years of my professional career with only​ open fermentation. So it’s not particularly concerning or difficult to me — we just don’t have open fermenters.

JF: Schell’s Hefeweizen became the first wheat beer brewed in the U.S. after Prohibition, according to your website. That’s mind blowing. Why do you think it took so long for them to come back and catch on?

DB: First, lagers returned and then ales much later! Still, there wasn’t really a great demand for more niche styles. And hefeweizen is kind of a love-hate style. There really isn’t a middle ground, so it doesn’t automatically have a mass appeal. 

JF: Do you think there’s any hope to see related styles break through too — weizenbock, dunkelweizen, rauchweizen, etc.?

DB: Obviously, brewers make all of those styles today. Snowstorm 2010 was a weizenbock. But once again, as a love-hate style, they will probably only pop up as seasonals.

JF: As an ale with such a long tradition, do you see anyone pushing the boundaries and really innovating?

DB: Quite frankly, no. A number of people add more hops or dry hop. But that’s not really innovation. It’s just adding more ingredients.

For myself, I don’t really need the style to be any different than it is. There’s a reason it’s been made for as long as it has been.

JF: Final question, and it’s a big one. Do you drink your hef’ with a slice of citrus?

DB: I think you can guess my answer.

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James Figy is a writer and beer enthusiast based in St. Paul. In Mankato, he earned an MFA in creative writing from Minnesota State University and a World Beer Cruise captain’s jacket from Pub 500. Twitter and Instagram: @JamesBeered

This article originally appeared in the May 2023 issue of Mankato Magazine.

Countless chemical reactions take place before that first delicious drop of beer touches your tongue. Carefully planned and monitored by the brewer, this science remains beyond the consumer’s control.

But one piece of brewing alchemy you can do, even after bottling, is beer poking. This involves taking a red-hot iron and plunging it into a glass of malty beer. 

Why poke perfectly good beer?

There are two main reasons, and the first is straightforward: “Because it’s fun,” said Dan Justesen, president of Utepils Brewing in Minneapolis.

The second is about science and taste. The hot iron caramelizes residual malt sugar left over from the brewing process, Justesen explained. At the same time, it activates the CO2 to create a billowing foamy head, not unlike a marshmallow atop the cold beer.

“It’s kind of like a hot fudge sundae,” Justesen said. “When the hot fudge is still warm and you’ve got that cold ice cream, you get those two sensations at the same time. So we’ve not only changed the beer itself, but we’ve also given you a sensory overload.”

When did beer poking start?

While it may be trendy – and very Instagrammable – it’s not new by any means. 

The practice originated in Germany in the Middle Ages. Per Weihenstephan, the world’s oldest brewery, the Bavarian blacksmiths of yore didn’t appreciate how their beer became slushy during winter, so they tried to warm it using a hot poker, fresh from the forge. Thus was born “Bierstacheln,” which translates to “beer spiking.”

It gained steam in Colonial America as well, according to 1571°F, a Wisconsin company that sells beer-poking kits. Colonists would poke their Flip – a mix of rum, ale and sugar or molasses – to beat New England’s bitter chill.

Even in Minnesota, it’s not novel. August Schell Brewing Co. deserves the most credit. Beer poking has been a mainstay at Schell’s Bock Fest since the annual event started in 1978.

“New Ulm as an old German town, we had a lot of old-timers that didn’t want cold beer,” said Ted Marti, president and CEO of Schell’s. “They literally had little warming irons to warm up the beer, so we took it a little farther with the fire poker and the fire.”

A perfect cold weather activity, beer poking has grown across the state. Maybe it’s because breweries adapted their patios for social distancing during Minnesota winters and needed something exciting. Whatever the case, it’s not just for a brewery’s anniversary or major event anymore.

Breweries that focus on German styles – Schell’s, Utepils, Waldmann Brewery in St. Paul, Lupulin Brewery in Big Lake, etc. – regularly offer beer poking. But it can also be a fun addition for your next bonfire or camping trip.

How to poke beer

Remember to use common sense. Wielding red-hot irons and drinking alcohol could be dangerous. Because the process is fun, you might end up poking and drinking several beers in short order. Consider designating one person to be the poker.

Step 1: Get your gear. Kits on the market, like those from 1571°F, have compact irons and other attachments. You might be tempted to use your fireplace poker, but it will prove unwieldy and difficult to heat.

Step 2: Choose the right beer. Bocks are ideal, but any malty style will work. Justesen has poked nearly every beer Utepils serves and really enjoyed how it changed the Hefeweizen. Just stay away from hoppy beers, which lack the necessary sugars.

Step 3: Crank up the heat. A campfire will work, but you could consider a propane burner. Justesen swears by it because the blue flame gets the iron hotter and prevents carbon buildup.

Step 4: Fill your glass and drink it down to about two-thirds full. This will provide room for the foam and allow you to taste the difference caramelization makes. 

Step 5: Submerge the iron into the beer. Be careful not to touch the glass. Leave the iron in for a few seconds, then slowly remove it. Justesen lets it linger at the top for a better foam taste. In and out, it should take about 10-15 seconds.

Step 6: Enjoy quickly. You’ll have time to take a picture, but to taste that marshmallowy foam, you shouldn’t wait long.

This was my experience, at least, in the snowy beer garden outside Utepils’ Fernweh Taproom. Justesen plunged the iron into a pint of Minnator, a rich 7.8% ABV Dopplebock. The liquid bubbled out from the hot poker. Then a lovely tan foam welled up and over the side.

It was New Year’s Eve 2021, and people warming up around the large fire ring glanced up from their beers and conversations about the year passing, the one ahead. They asked Justesen questions, then wanted a turn.

Each time was magical. None of us had a hand in crafting those beers, but we could all play a part in their transformation.

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James Figy is a writer and beer enthusiast based in St. Paul. In Mankato, he earned an MFA in creative writing from Minnesota State University and a World Beer Cruise captain’s jacket from Pub 500. Twitter and Instagram: @JamesBeered

This article originally appeared in the March 2022 issue of Mankato Magazine.

All photos by James Figy.