A New Wave of Craft Beer Is Built on Foraged Flavors

On a bright, clear May morning, I’m wandering the hilly wilderness of southern Illinois, two hours east of St. Louis. I follow my guide, Aaron Kleidon, as he weaves among towering birch, oak and hickory trees while trying to avoid the mud. He stops and crouches over a low-lying plant, a dark purplish-green clump of leaves that I would’ve disregarded as a weed. Kleidon, whose family has owned this remote acreage since he was a child, instantly recognizes it as perilla, an herb native to Asia. It’s invasive, yes, but to Kleidon it has its uses.

He pinches off a few sprigs and hands one to me, then another to his fellow forager, Marika Josephson. Following their lead, I grind mine between my dirt-stained fingers and bring it to my nose, breathing in aromas of licorice and lemon. Kleidon balls up a leaf and slips it into his mouth; I do the same, getting the taste of sharp mint and hints of basil. Silently the three of us ponder the same question: What would this taste like in a beer?