Asked what makes the native breed of Spalter hops so special, enthusiasts rhapsodize about their delicate, spicy aroma; their lightness; and the harmony and hint of bitterness the crop imparts.

The plant is so central to the town’s culture that signs advertising “Spalter Bier” can be found on nearly every street, many of them hanging from the half-timbered, red-roof houses that were built hundreds of years ago to store and dry hops.

After a punishing season of scorching temperatures, stretches of drought and bruising storms, the hops harvest in Germany last year declined more sharply than at any time since World War II.

Those realities have raised a host of existential questions in Spalt — about the longevity of its crop, whether farmers will switch to newer, more climate-friendly varieties of hops and, if they do, whether brewers will buy them.

But rising temperatures and drought have made Spalter harder and more expensive to cultivate, making farmers more reliant on irrigating their plants — no small task in a hill country where water is ever scarce.

The problem, according to Peter Hintermeier, the managing director of BarthHaas, the world’s largest hops trader based in Nuremberg, is that brewers and customers have been reluctant to accept the new varieties.

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