To prove his point, in recent years Dogfish Head, at times working an archaeologist from the University of Pennsylvania, has been recreating ancient beer recipes, many derived from residues found at excavation sites. None would meet the German definition of beer; they mix in seeds, rice flakes, berries, honey--the sort of good stuff our ancient ancestors would have on hand, but which we, for whatever reason, keep far away from our beer vats.

Photo by kowitz/Flickr CC

Dogfish Head has made four ancient brews, so far: Theobroma, based on Mayan and Aztec chocolate drinks; Chateau Jiahu, from a 9,000 year-old Chinese recipe; Midas Touch, drawn from residue found at what is believed to be the tomb of King Midas, in Asia Minor; and Sah'tea, the latest, derived from a thousand-year-old Finnish quaff (the original drink is called Sahti).

The brewing process for Sah'tea, as Burkhard Bilger explained in a profile of Calagione in the New Yorker , is an elaborate one. The rye-based wort is caramelized by adding hot rocks to the vat (tenth-century Finns used wood barrels to brew, which meant open flames were out as a heat source). But that's only the first step; as Bilger writes,

The last stage of the brewing process was the most unorthodox. Traditionally, sahti is flavored with juniper alone, but Calagione wanted something more unusual. After the hops and the juniper berries had been added to the wort, he took the bag of spices from his truck and steeped it in a bucket of hot water. The mixture contained cardamom, coriander, ginger, allspice, rampe leaves, lemongrass, curry powder, and black tea, custom blended for Calagione in India. It would be added at the last moment, he said, so that its volatile flavors wouldn't boil off. The idea was to amplify the already spicy flavors of the juniper berries and the Hefeweizen yeast--to turn the sahti into Sahtea.

We tried a few of these beers, among others, at the SAVOR panel, but I later picked them all up to try again at home. For all their differences in ingredients and brewing details, they have similar characteristics: thick, foamy mouthfeels; strong alcohol overtones; and rich, spicy flavors.

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Midas Touch , at 9 percent ABV, was my favorite, though my wife preferred the Theobroma. The Midas Touch pours a thick head and a dark golden, red-tinged color. The nose is sweet, almost like bubble gum, though it's probably the Muscat grapes and raisins Calagione throws in. It tastes hoppier than the others, though it clocks in at just 12 international bitterness units (IBU), and the hops are balanced against a brawny sweetness. Maybe it was the royal back story, but I couldn't help imagining a strong, dry ale wrapped in a golden honey robe.

The Theobroma , on the other hand, was the most beer-like of the four, and to me the least interesting. It pours a thin head with a light brown color. It's made with cocoa powder and cocoa nibs, and you taste them right up front, when the beer smooth and rich. But it's also made with ancho chilies, and soon the spice takes over, sticking around on the back of an echoing bitterness. For all that, I found it boring. But Joanna disagreed--she loved it, finding all sorts of flavors in the brew, including honey, wood, and peach. Like the Midas Touch, it's 9 percent ABV, and its flavors are likewise built along a solid alcohol backbone.