In a hop-heavy market, some are rediscovering the pleasures of porter

Hugh Sisson did something almost unthinkable.

The founder and general partner of Heavy Seas Beer in Baltimore yanked a hoppy beer, the IPA Black Cannon, from his seasonal lineup and replaced it with Deep Six, a dark, roasty, malt-forward style of beer called a porter.

Sacrilege, perhaps, considering that India pale ales are the most popular craft beer style, according to the Brewers Association, with dollar sales up 49 percent last year over 2013.

And yet, “I’ve been hit over the head with a sack of hops so many times that I’m willing to look at other options,” grumbles Sisson.

He notes that he used to offer a porter back in the 1990s, before what began as Clipper City Brewing morphed into the pirate-themed, big-beer-dominated Heavy Seas. “It’s kind of nice to revisit an old friend,” Sisson says.

As this column was being written, New Belgium Brewing in Fort Collins, Colo., decided to rush the season with a new spring beer, Portage Porter. A news release describes the brew as having aromas of “roasted coffee, chocolate and almonds” and an astringent malt finish.

Is a hop-saturated market rediscovering the joys of malt?

Porter is something you take for granted, like a comfy easy chair or a well-worn sweater. Yet porters can be as complex as any beer style. Using a palette of malts that includes slightly toasted and just short of charred, the brewer brings out colors from deep amber to ebony and a melange of flavors, such as toffee, cocoa, mocha and licorice.

This dark ale (well, typically it’s an ale) might take its name from the burly deliverymen who balanced wooden kegs on their shoulders and rapped on pub doors, announcing themselves with a shout of “Porter!” It was the first mass-market beer style of the Industrial Revolution. Breweries aged the beer in immense vats that might tower over 20 feet high and contain thousands of barrels’ worth. In 1814, the collapse of such a vessel at Henry Meux’s Horse Shoe Brewery in London unleashed a tsunami of porter that leveled the surrounding neighborhood and killed eight people.

Modern porter has evolved in several directions. Brown porter is a lower-alcohol, lighter-bodied take on the style: Think of Yuengling Dark Brewed Porter (4.7 percent alcohol by volume), with its gentle chocolate caramel flavor and just a hint of roast.

At 6.8 percent alcohol, Deep Six is a robust porter — a strong, more assertive version. The crystal malts add sweetness, the chocolate and black malts contribute a rich, bittersweet chocolate flavor. A hint of orange in the finish comes from the British Target and Fuggle hops. “I’ve been making this beer for almost 20 years,” says brewer Chris Leonard, who perfected the recipe while working for the now-defunct General Lafayette Inn in the Philadelphia suburbs. (The beer’s original name: Chocolate Thunder.)

Ask brewers about the dividing line between porter and stout, and most will tell you it’s the presence of roasted, unmalted barley, an ingredient that lends stouts their drier, more acerbic coffee-grounds flavor. But the border isn’t always well marked. Washington’s DC Brau, one of a few breweries to can this style, advertises its Penn Quarter Porter as “on the line between a porter and a stout.” Port City Porter, from Port City Brewing in Alexandria, Va., is a big, almost chewy example, combining notes of cocoa, espresso and burnt toast. “Every time we send it to the Great American Beer Festival, it’s judged out of style,” complains head brewer Jonathan Reeves. Indeed, at a hefty 7.5 percent alcohol, it almost edges into the category of Baltic or imperial porters, which are patterned after the roastier, higher-octane beers that Brit brewers once exported to Northern and Eastern Europe.

America’s contribution to the category is flavored porter. In this treatment, porter has a big advantage over IPAs. “Hops are harder to add other ingredients to. You can get clashing flavors if you’re not careful,” observes Mitch Steele, brew master for Stone Brewing in Escondido, Calif. Stone recently released a special edition of its Stone Smoked Porter, aged on Madagascar vanilla beans. The vanilla smoothes over the rough edges so successfully that the brewery recommends pouring the beer over a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

A still more radical departure from your father’s porter is the Yambag Imperial Porter from Mad Fox Brewing in Falls Church, Va., which was brewed with 200 pounds of North Carolina sweet potatoes, plus vanilla beans and molasses. It’s off tap right now, says owner Bill Madden, but he squirreled away two kegs for barrel conditioning.

In the realm of bizarre beer is Dogfish Head’s Choc Lobster. The brewery uses a robust porter as a base, cooking crustaceans in the boiling wort (“20 pounds of Maine lobster per barrel,” says the brewery’s president, Sam Calagione). The lobsters contribute “umami, sea salt and an oceanesque character in the middle,” he adds. Dark cocoa powder and basil-steeped tea are added for seasoning. Previously, Choc Lobster was brewed once a summer and served only at the brewery’s Rehoboth Beach, Del., brewpub. However, Calagione promises “a big production batch” in late spring that will probably be available on tap from New York City to Virginia.

Perhaps the hardest kind of porter to obtain nowadays is one that mirrors the original. The wooden vessels employed 200 years ago harbored a variety of microorganisms in their crevices, including the wild yeast called Brettanomyces (literally, “British yeast”). Brett, over time, would have given the porter a sour twang and some of the funky notes we associate with certain Belgian styles.

American craft brewers have experimented extensively with Brett, but typically with pale ales. When I ask Neighborhood Restaurant Group beer director Greg Engert about the lack of Brett porter, he answers, “You won’t believe this, but …” — always exciting words — and pulls out a bottle of Wild Horse Porter. His Bluejacket brewery provided the Brettanomyces used to ferment this collaboration with Brooklyn Brewery and New Belgium, brewed for last year’s Savor craft beer festival. It’s complex and quite good: The rich, chocolaty flavor mellows out the acidity and earthy flavors that can spiral out of control in some American wild ales.

The Wild Horse container is labeled “Ghost Bottle,” which, according to Brooklyn Brewery’s Joe Thompson, is a name applied to limited, one-time-only brews that are offered only at special events.

Too bad. But you can bet that a brewer somewhere with similar ideas is stroking his chin in thought. There is hardly a niche that American craft brewers haven’t explored, and porter gives them ample opportunity to stretch their creative muscles.