OnTap Magazine

I n 2017, umqombothi was added to the Ark of Taste. is global initiative, run by the Slow Food movement, catalogues endangered foodstu s – speci cally ones which are of signi cant cultural or historical value. “Hundreds of years before handcrafted artisan beers became fashionable, the Xhosa people had been brewing their own home made beer,” reads the Ark of Taste entry on umqombothi, although of course other ethnic groups have also long been producing sorghum beer in southern Africa. e ancient beer was chosen, like other foods and drinks in the Ark, because of “the risk that they might disappear within a few generations.” In the past couple of years, I have become increasingly interested in traditional sorghum beer: the processes, the avour pro les and the history – although the latter is largely undocumented and di cult to trace. Here we are, worshipping American IPA and German gose and Belgian lambic but largely ignoring this generations-old beer style created right here in Africa. On SA National Beer Day earlier this year, the SouthYeasters Homebrewers Club ran an umqombothi brewday and tasting at Banana Jam Café in Cape Town and I was shocked to nd just how many patrons that day had never tasted or even seen umqombothi before. It made me realise that the Slow Food crew were right to add it to their ark of endangered avours. ACQUIRING THE TASTE One of the reasons the beer is in danger of dying out is urbanisation. “As people leave their rural roots and move to the cities, fewer and fewer are learning to brew sorghum beer,” says Apiwe Nxusani-Mawela, champion of traditional beer and owner of Brewsters Craft in Johannesburg. “As it is a ve-day process, they tend to arrive home in time for the event, but will have missed the brewing of the beer and so the knowledge is not being passed down.” But what if we could work together to save our own heritage beer from extinction? What if we all started learning about it, tasting it, brewing it and perhaps working out a way to incorporate it into our local craft beer culture somehow? It’s a tough sell, admittedly. Umqombothi – to use one of sorghum beer’s many monikers – has very little in common with beer as we know it, at least on rst sight. It is thick and porridge-like, almost gritty in texture. Its pink-brown hue can’t be found on SRM charts, and it is more opaque than the juiciest NEIPA you’ve ever clapped eyes on. But for a lover of farmhouse ales and sour styles, there are similarities to be spotted. Umqombothi is a wild-fermented beer, much like a Belgian lambic. Although recipes vary and some brewers do add yeast, traditionally it is up to passing microbes and whatever yeast is found naturally on the grain to do the work. And while the appearance di ers wildly, there are certain similarities to be found between lambics and umqombothi. A lactic sourness dominates the aroma, often backed up by some barnyard-like notes. You might also pick up some fruitiness – green apples or stewed strawberries are often found on the nose. THE BREW-WEEK While the tasting notes and appearance descriptors will be unusual to the average lager drinker, the umqombothi brew-week (yes, you read that right) does share plenty in common with the brewday you might be familiar with. ere is mashing and boiling, cooling and fermentation – it just doesn’t quite happen in the same order. e process begins with just three ingredients: malted sorghum, maize meal and warmwater. Historically, maize wouldn’t have made it onto the grain bill since it was only introduced into South Africa in the 16th or 17th century and traditional sorghum beer presumably long predates that. Indeed, some recipes call for sorghum alone, while most use maize in varying proportions. Once you’ve decided on your base ingredients, the grains are steeped in what is best described as a sour mash. As well as producing lactic acid, this overnight mash also kicks o the gelatinisation process – needed for the starch-to- sugar conversion later. On the second day, further water is added and the sour mixture is boiled. During the boil volatile compounds are eradicated, lling the family home with aromas that might have your loved ones bolting for the garden. Boiling kills o the lactic acid and completes the gelatinisation process. Once the boil is over, traditionally a few bowls of umhiqo – sour porridge – are dished out, often to be enjoyed by children. If you attempt a traditional brewday, I’d highly recommend you try a helping of umhiqo, perhaps with a sprinkling of sugar. It’s now time to cool, but you can leave your immersion chiller in the garage and there’s no need to ll your bathtub with ice. e soon-to- be-beer is just left in a shady corner of the home to gradually cool down overnight. e following day, a helping of sorghum is added to kick-start fermentation. Some brewers also add more maize here, or even sugar if you’re looking for a bit of extra booziness. THE PERFECT PACKAGING Almost nothing has been written regarding the scienti c processes behind traditional sorghum brewing, but after consultations with a few South African brewers who have dabbled in the art of umqombothi, we agreed that day three is a fascinating one, with mashing – the conversion of More opaque than the juiciest NEIPA you’ve ever clapped eyes on In Botswana, Chibuku is better known as "Shake-Shake" Readying the sour mash on day one of the brew-week STYLE GUIDE 44 | Spring 2020 | ontapmag.co.za