Does complex beer deserve complex food?

As phrases go, “we needed to get it off the cucumber as soon as possible, they were running riot” is one I’ve not heard before – it brings to mind green, knobbly gremlins scampering around, up to no good, like slightly watery minions. The phrase was uttered by Darron Anley, owner and founder of Siren Craft Brew, and referred to an issue that arose after a single day of ageing one of their beers; the (deep breath) cucumber, basil, mint and grapefruit-infused bourbon barrel-aged Calypso Berliner Weisse. Apparently the first of those additions was becoming too prevalent almost immediately, and had to be removed (presumably one at a time through the cucumber-diameter hole in the top of the cask). Anyway, Darron was speaking about the trials and tribulations – whilst demonstrating the amazing successes – of barrel-ageing at a pairing dinner at Edinburgh’s Spit/Fire, and it got me to thinking. Does complex beer need complex food?

The course that was paired with the barrel-aged Calypso was sea trout tartare, served with a wolfschmidt jelly, radishes, pea shoots and a black pepper & bacon tuille. With the new kitchen team in place at Spit/Fire (Ruairidh Skinner has come over from VDeep) it was predictably fantastic; the sweet, herbal fish working against – in a good way – the beer, which is unlike pretty much any other I’ve tasted. There’s a reason why some of these modern beers make you descend into 80’s wine-speak wankery – it’s because they have such a multitude of things going on. The barrel-aged Calypso gave out aromas and flavours of grapefruit and kaffir lime leaves, alongside a mossy earthyness, as well as a savoury dryness that reminded me of those enormous American-style dill pickles. When combined with the sea trout dish, each and every mouthful brought all kinds of those different flavours from both into contact.

Now, if you read the descriptions in that last paragraph and snorted into your pint, then fair enough. It’s hard to express what barrel-aged beers taste like without sounding like you’re perching on a bar stool in pseud’s corner – let alone for those beers where extra ingredients have been added into the wooden cask. And Siren are masters at this – since their inception in 2013, their keystones have been a) collaborating with a range of other scene-leading breweries, and b) acquiring and using as many barrels as they possibly can. Maiden, one of their two anniversary beers, is a liquid mixtape of rum, bourbon, tequila, brandy, red wine and other barrels, blended together in an afternoon of tasting that few beer drinkers will ever get to experience.

So how on earth do you go about pairing it with food? That particular beer was matched with a selection of cheeses (and Pedro Ximinez-soaked raisins). Their Gran Marnier-aged barley wine Long Forgotten Journey was put up against mixed berries, elderflower gratin and lavender shortbread; another riot of flavour from glass and plate. The beer in that instance had an aroma of candied orange segments, but was pretty fudge-y on the flavour, with a Picon-like dry orange finish. When tasted with the sharp raspberry and blackberry fruit, it sweetened and broadened the beer. But when the elderflower and lavender elements arrived, the beer became more like a bitter honeysuckle instead. It was all fairly exhausting stuff. But I got the impression throughout that these beers and this degree of execution from a kitchen really had to co-exist, otherwise one of the sides would dominate.

I’m not sure what would happen if you paired a complex Siren beer with something more fundamental of flavour, any more than I would be about matching one of those Spit/Fire dishes with a best bitter – but I guess with beer and food pairing, as long as one makes the other better, it doesn’t really matter how complicated they are – when both are at the top of their respective games. Maybe that is the more important take-home message.

What do you think? When it comes to the flavours of beer and food matching, should complex = complex?