Dylan Brogan
Gorst Valley’s hops are plucked, checked over, dried in tents and baled in Nekoosa before being shipped to Mazomanie for processing.
A monster-like machine pulls the hops vines, one by one, into a mouth of whirling metal teeth. After the plant is sucked down the gullet of the beastly implement, bulbous hops flowers pop out the left side onto a conveyor belt. These grape-size, greenish cones are used to flavor and stabilize beer.
Harvesting hops is noisy business. And they are needy crops.
“Hops demand a lot of attention. Timing has to be precise. It’s not a sport for amateurs,” says farmer Bill Arendt. “If you’re not out there and you’re not diligent, Mother Nature will take your crop. But the harvest — which lasts about three weeks — is still about 60 percent of the work.”
Arendt maintains two immense white tents on his family farm in Nekoosa for cleaning, drying and baling hops. He is now on his third hops harvest.
The second-generation Wisconsin farmer has grown cranberries on his land for 30 years. But in 2014, he partnered with hops producer Gorst Valley Hops to start cultivating the essential beer ingredient alongside his 150 acres of berry bogs.
For horticulturist James Altwies, president of Gorst Valley Hops, each bouncy bud harvested by Arendt brings Wisconsin one step closer to launching a new era in the state’s storied beer brewing history.
“We want to see hops become a specialty crop in Wisconsin. That’s been our goal since the beginning,” says Altwies. “We hope to do something sustainable — environmentally, socially and fiscally. We want to jumpstart a crop that is produced, purchased and consumed in the state of Wisconsin. We want all the money to stay here. If we can add value to our brewing heritage, that’s what we are after, too.”
The craft beer industry is thriving in Wisconsin and across the nation. But even the teeniest of local micro-brewers is more likely using hops from the Pacific Northwest (if not Germany or New Zealand) than Wisconsin. Washington’s Yakima Valley contains approximately 75 percent of the total hop acreage in the United States. Another 22 percent is in neighboring Oregon and Idaho.
“Wisconsin’s hops industry is barely a freckle. Of that freckle, 85 percent of the production in the state is coming from us [Gorst Valley],” says Altwies. “There’s nobody in the state that can touch our [Nekoosa] operation right now. That goes for the volume of hops, and the quality of hops.”
Altwies is on a mission to hook local beermakers on Wisconsin-grown hops. On this warm September day, he has lured brewmasters from Fox River Valley Brewing in Oshkosh and The Explorium Brewpub in Greendale to his fields in Nekoosa in hopes of converting them to homegrown hops.
Wisconsin hops were once, briefly, the envy of the world. Altwies is determined to bring the state’s hops back into prominence as a specialty crop. But first he has to convince local craft brewers — and farmers — to join him on this quest.
Dylan Brogan
Jason Altwies is reaching out to convince Wisconsin brewers to use his hops.
In the mid-19th century, New York was the biggest producer of hops. But when a blight devastated the hops crop on the East Coast, Wisconsin briefly dominated the beer world. In 1860, Wisconsin produced 135,000 pounds of hops. In 1867, the hops crop surged to over 11 million pounds, with 4 million pounds grown in Sauk County alone.
“The state was the largest hops producer in the world during that time. Wisconsin growers then were selling to little breweries like Pabst and Schlitz, and down the Mississippi River to St. Louis for Anheuser-Busch. Wisconsin was the place to be,” Altwies says. “Overnight, you could go from being a pauper farmer to sending your daughters to the royal courts in France and England for the summer because that’s how much money you had.”
By the 1870s, New York had recovered from its hops blight and its industry started to come rolling back. Wisconsin hops fields were abandoned and German immigrants moved in with cows, which launched the state’s dairy industry. What was left of the local hops industry was decimated by mildew, then a plague of aphids. By the turn of the century, the west coast hops industry took the lead and the Pacific Northwest region has been the center of the American hops industry ever since.
In recent years, Altwies says the state’s reputation among brewers as a producer of quality hops has been stymied by hobbyist farmers who have little experience cultivating the specialty crop. In forging relationships with Wisconsin breweries, Gorst Valley hopes to prove it is laying the groundwork for a new, viable hops industry that won’t leave brewmasters disappointed.
“Brewers want consistency in supply and quality. We have to demonstrate that, both with volume and infrastructure, to show we are doing this right,” Altwies says. That’s why Gorst Valley is bringing brewers to his fields — “to prove we aren’t a bunch of people growing hops in the backyard, this shit is serious.”
Altwies launched Gorst Valley Hops in 2008 after a decade working as an agricultural researcher. A native of Ohio, Altwies has a Bachelor of Science in molecular biology from the University of Toledo and a master’s degree in horticulture and environmental biophysics from UW-Madison. He worked with farmers in Central and South America growing strawberries, cherries, roses, melons and other specialty crops. He was inspired by the collaborative spirit of the farmers who banded together to sell their harvest to buyers.
“I thought, that could work here in Wisconsin. But what do we do here in Wisconsin? We definitely eat cheese, but I’m not a dairy guy. We also like to drink beer. Ding, ding, ding,” says Altwies, pantomiming a light bulb going off above his head. “I needed a crop that’s sexy enough to get people’s attention. Hops was it.”
Nearly a decade later, Gorst Valley Hops is selling 14 varieties of hops and has become a hub of innovation. Arendt’s farm in Nekoosa is one of seven charter farms that has teamed up with Gorst Valley Hops and the largest, with 22 acres devoted to the crop. After the hops are dried and baled in Nekoosa, they are processed into pellets (the form usually used by brewers in beer making), at Gorst Valley Hops’ headquarters in Mazomanie.
Altwies says Wisconsin won’t be able to rival Washington or Oregon’s quantity of hops grown each year. The arid climate of the high Sierras has proven ideal for mainstay hops varieties. But Altwies says Gorst Valley has spent years experimenting how to grow and process top-quality hops that will thrive in Wisconsin.
“We’ve invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in inventing processes and machines totally new to the industry. Along the way, we even wrote the best practices guide for the USDA on how to process hops,” Altwies says. “Every person at Gorst Valley Hops is a scientist or an engineer.” He is committed to having, on hand, experts for every aspect of hops production and beer chemistry. And lately, he says, Gorst Valley has started to make “real inroads into sensory science and ingredient quality for brewing.”
The farmers who partner with Gorst Valley Hops are looking to diversify their operations but usually lack the know-how to grow the fickle hop plant. Altwies and his team are there to guide farmers from planting through the harvest.
“This is why we have the field lab in Mazomanie. We do the research on our farm so we can come up here and provide Bill [Arendt] the information he needs and techniques to boost his yields,” Altwies says. He cites the example of Centennial hops. “Last year the yield was 700 pounds per acre. This year it’s 1,500. Twice as much volume by tweaking the system. Observing and applying science to what we are doing. Because of that, we are now reaching production volumes that even Pacific Northwest never met with this variety.” Therein lies opportunity.
When he first launched Gorst Valley Hops, Altwies visited veteran hops producers in the Yakima Valley and studied their operations. He found the industry to be very open to collaboration, but not big on answers.
“When we started, I would ask [established] growers, ‘Why are you doing it this way?’ Much of the time, the answer was, ‘That’s just what you do.’ So a lot of what I’ve done at Gorst Valley has been separating what’s cultural — in terms of hops production — from what’s physiological. We are still figuring it out...Being scientist and engineer geeks, we can help solve some of that mystery.”
Dylan Brogan
Whether it’s an IPA, pilsner or ale, hops are a key part of how brewers craft unique flavors for their beers. During the field tour in Nekoosa, Kevin Bowen, brewmaster for Fox River Valley, picks hops flowers right off the vine. He crushes the small bud in his hand and takes a deep sniff. This is called “huffing’ and it helps brewers get a sense of what flavors a particular hops variety will bring to a beer.
“Hops breeding has gone crazy in the last decade. There are new varieties coming out that provide brewers a whole new palette to express interesting and unique flavors,” Bowen says. “If you can be the first brewer to put out something new and it catches on, that’s huge.”
Fox River Valley Brewing operates two brewpubs in Oshkosh and has also begun to sell to retail stores in the area. As the brewery prepares to expand, Bowen is strongly considering turning to Gorst Valley Hops to become at least one of his hop suppliers.
“We are very interested in the local connection,” says Bowen. “It makes a lot of sense to avoid having hundreds of pounds of hops shipped from across the country or across the world. You get the freshest flavors, too.”
Altwies says what’s different about Gorst Valley is the company’s relentless tinkering to produce specialty hops that brewers want to use in their craft beers.
“Brewers are looking for smashmouth hops, hops that are easy to use and make a massive [flavor] impression,” Altwies says. “Beer is not like wine where there are subtle hints of oak, chocolate or whatever. Beer is kick-you-in-the-face. If you want a tropical fruit flavor or grapes or catty, skunky dank, there’s a hops for that,” Altwies says. “It’s all about maximizing the aroma compounds. We can afford to do that because we are small-scale; the big processors can’t.”
Being small means Gorst Valley can take its time drying the hops the way they should be. The second white tent on the Arendt farm is where the hops are dried. Gorst Valley has pioneered a new method of drying, dubbed the “Aroma Smart” system. Using a process developed in Mazomanie, two huge machines use outside air and dehumidifiers to suck the water out of the hops before the crop is shipped to be processed into pellets.
“In the rest of the world, they use high heat to dry hops, 150, 160 degrees. We said that’s stupid. Heat is what dries off all the aroma components which is what you want in the beer,” Altwies says. “Our system doesn’t use any heat. Downside is it takes us three times longer. But it’s like good barbecue, you can’t rush it. So that’s what we do, low and slow.”
Veterans of the industry were skeptical the technique would even work. But Altwies says science proves their method is better at preserving the flavor essences of the hops.
“We have data that shows that our hops have more aroma components, which means better aroma for brewers.”
Altwies is not shy about his desire to shake up the beer industry.
After years of experimenting in its field labs, Gorst Valley Hops has brought two original hops variety to the market: Skyrocket and Top Secret.
“Skyrocket is getting a hugely positive response,” he says. But he knows his company can’t stop pushing the envelope. “Brewers always want something new to give them an edge.”
IPAs have been all the rage among craft breweries the last few years (see article on page 20.). Mike Dolan, owner of Explorium Brewpub, says his brewery is going to experiment using Skyrocket wet hops — fresh off the vine — when brewing one of its signature IPAs.
Dolan praises Skyrocket: “It’s a uniquely Wisconsin hop and I feel like it’s something new we can use to separate ourselves from the pack.”
This is the first year Gorst Valley has sold its Top Secret hops variety. Altwies says they developed the variety from hops that are native to Wisconsin. “Top Secret is not an IPA hop. It’s to be used to make pilsners, blondes and farmhouse ales,” Altwies says. “IPAs may be super hot now, but we are anticipating, hopefully even guiding, a general shift in the local brewing trends.”
Altwies doesn’t see Wisconsin returning to the center of the world’s hops production. But Gorst Valley Hops is trying to jump start a niche hops industry in the state. In addition to wooing brewers to use Gorst Valley Hops, Altwies is also looking for more farmers like Bill Arendt.
“Wisconsin is the perfect place to grow traditional, European hops variety. I just need more growers. I need more hops,” Altwies says.
Twice a year, Gorst Valley Hops holds Hops Production 101 and 102 as well as other workshops to train farmers on what it takes to successfully grow the specialty crop. Its next round of classes is at the end of October. Cornell, University of Michigan, University of Iowa and other universities have also hired Gorst Valley Hops to hold workshops on hops production for their local farmers. Altwies has even been hired by the Siebel Institute — grad school for beer brewers — to teach master brewer hop chemistry and aroma science.
But Altwies’ true passion lies in recruiting new farmers to join Gorst Valley Hops’ quest to dominate the Wisconsin craft beer scene.
“Growing isn’t necessarily difficult but it’s tedious. It requires a lot of attention,” Altwies says. “But that’s why Gorst Valley is here to help. Even if it’s just an acre, we can work with that.”
