October 16 is World Food Day. Rather than adding a token celebratory toast, it seems like a good opportunity to take a closer look at two products that are part of our everyday culture: bread and beer. They are often placed side by side, and not without reason, because both begin with grains, encounter water and microorganisms, and rely on fermentation. And yet, the final results could hardly be more different. Understanding why is one small way to better understand what is in our glass as well.
1. Before yeast comes grain
The first thing they have in common is obvious: grains. Bread and beer, however, do not use them in the same way. In bread, we mainly work with flour, which becomes dough when mixed with water and other ingredients. In beer, the process is different: malted grains are processed so that some of their starches can be converted into sugars that yeast can use. This step is essential because yeast needs fermentable sugars in order to do its work. So even before fermentation begins, an important transformation has already taken place.
2. Yeast does more than make bubbles
This is where yeast enters the picture. The basic principle is simple: it uses the available sugars and, during fermentation, mainly produces carbon dioxide and alcohol. In bread, the carbon dioxide becomes trapped in the dough and helps it rise, while baking changes the product further and much of the alcohol produced during fermentation does not remain in the final result.
In beer, by contrast, alcohol remains part of the drink and fermentation also contributes to its aromatic identity. That is why talking about yeast means talking not only about transformation, but also about flavour, aroma and character.
3. An aroma is not always an ingredient
One of the most useful things to remember when tasting beer is that noticing an aroma does not automatically mean that ingredient was added to the recipe. A beer can remind us of fruit, spices, bread, caramel and many other aromas without those foods necessarily being present among the ingredients.
Aromas can come from the grains, hops, yeast, fermentation and the different transformations that take place during production. This is one of the most interesting aspects of tasting: our brain looks for familiar references to describe something far more complex.
4. Fermentation does not simply mean waiting
Sometimes the word “fermentation” is used almost as if it described a kind of magic: ingredients are mixed together, time passes, and something happens. In reality, it is a process that requires knowledge, control and attention. The type of yeast, time, temperature and the conditions in which fermentation takes place can all have a profound effect on the final result.
This is where technique and sensitivity meet. The brewer creates the conditions, the yeast does its work, and in the end we experience the result without seeing almost anything that happened beforehand. That may be precisely what makes the process so fascinating.
5. What changes when we return to the glass?
Knowing all of this does not mean turning every beer into a chemistry lesson. It is more about learning to ask better questions. When you notice an aroma, you can ask yourself where it might come from. When a beer feels softer or drier, you can remember that a series of choices and transformations lies behind that sensation. And when two styles seem completely different from one another, it is worth remembering that they often begin with just a few basic elements, combined and handled in very different ways.
This is one of the most fascinating aspects of beer culture: relatively simple ingredients can create very different experiences, and learning to recognise those differences makes every tasting more interesting.
An example from the world of Birra Becagli
Take La Sala. It is a 6% American Amber Ale made from a particular blend of selected malts. It has a bright mahogany colour, a cream-coloured head and a profile in which caramel stands out. On the palate, it gives a sense of softness and fullness.
You do not need to know every detail of the recipe to use it as a small tasting exercise. Simply pour it into a glass, observe it and try to focus on its malt character. At that point, we can return to the original question: how can grains, water and fermentation create something so different from another product that begins, at least in part, with such familiar elements?
This is where beer stops being simply something to drink and becomes something to observe, know and understand.