The Mysteries of Dark Lagers
On superficial inspection, the story of dark lagers seems very simple: Just mash in some dark malt with your base malt, extract the wort, and ferment it with bottom-fermenting yeast. The reality, however, is much more complicated. Upon closer inspection, the dark lager story reveals itself to be surprisingly riveting, with a host of intriguing subplots. As the new book DARK LAGERS: History, Mystery, Brewing Techniques, Recipes by Thomas Kraus-Weyermann and Horst Dornbusch explains, to understand how dark lagers came to be, we must first investigate the peculiar emergence of darkness in beer. After all, brewing grains are inherently blonde, not dark. Then, we must bring to light the causes behind the rise of bottom fermentation at a particular place, Bavaria, at a particular point in time, the late Renaissance. The book tells that story in ways that have never been attempted, in any language. It shows how an extremely improbable intersection between politics, climate change, and a still-unexplained case of transcontinental, microbiological hybridization — well before the age of jet travel — forced all Bavarian barley-based beers to become dark lagers . . . without the brewers even knowing about it!
The book also provides 41 recipes grouped into three categories: Classic, Innovative, and Experimental. Two recipes of each category are reproduced at the end of this story. Some of the book’s recipes challenge the boundaries of conventional brewing. There is, for instance, an imperial oatmeal schwarzbier, which combines the characteristics of a regular schwarzbier with those of a Russian imperial stout and an oatmeal stout. Some recipes push the envelope of a single style, such as an imperial dark lager brewed with half a dozen Pacific Northwest hops. Other recipes call for unusual ingredients such as organic cacao powder in the mash and the kettle and organic all-natural vanilla extract in the whirlpool and the fermenter.
All of the recipes in the book — from the reconstruction of the classics to the most outlandish experimental brews — were designed by the authors and their collaborators. They were test-brewed in host breweries both large and small, both simple and fully automated, in three countries, on two continents.
The following are excerpts from the book reproduced verbatim, with transitions written for this article marked by [square brackets]. Gaps are indicated by . . . ellipses.
The Dawn of Darkness in Beer
Malt — and thus beer — became dark only after humans started to use direct-fired kilns, probably to speed up the slower, more labor-intensive, and invariably more expensive air-drying of malt, which would produce only pale malt. In air-drying, the moist, sprouted kernels are spread out in a layer, in the open or in a well-aired attic. They then have to be shoveled by hand for days, until they are dry. The constant manual turning of the malt is necessary to accelerate the drying process, to dissipate heat, and to keep the malt from spoiling or becoming moldy . . .
We do not know exactly who came up with the idea of a fire-heated malt kiln, nor do we know where and when it happened. We do know, however, that such kilns must have been commonplace in the most advanced monastic breweries, at least by the 9th century . . . [T]he basic construction of such a kiln included perforated slabs holding the grain over open flames underneath. These kilns were fast and effective, but all malts made by this method were relatively inhomogeneous with some kernels underdone and pale but others almost certainly scorched and black. The beer flavor, therefore, was often acrid and partially reflected the fuel used in the kiln — from soft and hard wood, to charcoal, to straw, to peat, or, in later years, to coal and coke . . .
The Return of Malt without Smokiness
[I]n 1713, a British iron master named Abraham Darby developed and patented a procedure for heating coal in the absence of air to gasify and drive off the coal’s volatile compounds, like sulfur. This left behind almost nothing but clean-burning carbon. Darby’s objective was to produce pure carbon that would let him improve the quality of carbon steel. In other words, Darby had figured out how to turn coal into coke. Though Darby was not thinking of the malting and brewing industries in his time, it turned out that coke produced by his method was also a highly suitable fuel for malt kilns, because it burned evenly in slow-glowing embers without shooting flames or phenolic smoke as do straw, peat, wood, or coal. Instead, it burned clean. This allowed British maltsters to produce relatively paler and more homogeneous malt — at a higher cost than malt kilned over other fuels, of course. Such coke-dried malt was ideal for the finest of British pale ales and other specialty beers of the time. Regular, cheaper malt dried over smoky fuels, however, remained popular as it was still being used in beers for the unwashed masses . . .
Another revolution in malting technology occurred in 1817, when the British engineer Daniel Wheeler patented “A New or Improved Method of Drying and Preparation of Malt,” an invention that eliminated smokiness in dark malts regardless of the fuel source. This device was a roasting drum for malt that was inspired by Wheeler’s observation of coffee roasters. The “improved method” consisted of an enclosed drum that was heated externally by fire. As the rotating drum heated up, the moist kernels inside dried slowly and evenly, but because the flames could not reach the drum’s content, they could not impart any smokiness . . . Because Wheeler had patented his invention, the malt produced by his drum acquired the name “black patent malt.”
The Return of Malt without Darkness
Next came the 1842 patent by Patrick Stead, a Scottish maltster. He invented a so-called pneumatic malting process . . . [in which] the germinated grain is being dried with force-blown air. To push such air, of course, requires mechanical power, which had become available in Stead’s time thanks to the invention of a practical steam engine by James Watt, who patented his device in 1781. Pneumatic malting was a great step forward, because it allowed the maltster to control the malting process and turn it into a reproducible, standardized, seven-day rhythm. In other words, Steade’s methods replaced both floor malting by using mechanical ventilation in the germination chamber, as well as direct-fired kilns by using “steam-produced heat.” These principles are simple and variations of them are still being used today in just about every modern malting plant . . .
As the 19th century progressed, especially malt color and malt flavor were no longer dictated by the limited means at the maltster’s disposal, but they became primarily a matter of choice by the brewer. Beers, both ales and lagers, no longer had to be dark and smoky, unless a brewer wanted them to be so. This, in turn, spawned a vast array of new beer styles, which turned the 19th century into a veritable La Belle Époque of beer style innovations. Not only could brewers now reliably make pale to straw-blond ales and lagers, they could also deliberately compose dark ales and lagers with pale base malts plus an overlay of many different caramel, chocolate, and roasted malts, for a large variation of tastes. Essentially, it spelled the re-birth of the dunkel and its dark lager cousins as a product of brewing creativity instead of necessity . . .
The Origin of Dark Beers as a Style in Bavaria
[H]umans have been making beer, that is, they have initiated fermentations, probably for the past 10,000 years, or even earlier. For almost all this time, however, they have known just about nothing about yeast as the all-important agent of alcoholic fermentation . . . [nor of the microbial causes of beer spoilage. Even in Bavaria, in the Renaissance, bad] brewing outcomes often tempted brewers to solve their conundrum by simply covering up any off-flavors. They “improved” their spoiled libations with all sorts of additives, which included such strong-tasting botanicals as tree bark, rushes, or poisonous mushrooms, as well as alkaloid hallucinogens such as mandrake root. They even added pith, soot, chalk, chicken blood, and oxen bile to make their ferments almost palatable . . .
[All this stopped in 1516, when the Bavarian Duke Wilhelm IV proclaimed a beer regulation, which is now considered the genesis of the modern German Beer Purity Law, the Reinheitsgebot, which stipulates that brewers could use only water, barley, and hops in their beers. Wilhelm’s now-famous ingredients prescription, however, failed to prevent further beer infections, which led to a second ducal prescription, in 1553, by Wilhelm’s son and successor, Duke Albrecht V, the so-called summer brewing prohibition, in effect between April 23 and September 29.]
Albrecht had realized one important fact that had perhaps escaped his father’s attention. In the continental climate of Bavaria, in the foothills of the Alps, where summers were very hot and winters very cold, beers brewed during the hot season were more likely to taste bad than did those brewed during the cold season. Today, we understand, of course, that many beer-spoilage microbes thrive well in temperate temperatures, whereas they may die off in freezing temperatures, or, at the very least, enter a state of dormancy . . . [Albrecht’s] far-reaching regulation not only had the effect of actually improving beer quality in Bavaria, it also contributed to a gradual change in the type of beer that was made there. This is because winter temperatures not only slow down the activities of beer spoilers, which was Albrecht’s ostensible but misunderstood objective, they also make it harder [if not impossible] for the warmth-loving, ale-making Saccharomyces cerevisiae to do its work.
[Instead, another microbe, the cold-tolerant, lager-making Saccharomyces pastorianus, became the dominant agent of fermentation in 16th-century Bavarian vats. S. pastorianus prefers a working temperature of perhaps 50 to 60 °F (roughly 10 to 15 °C). In a pinch, it may even ferment — albeit very slowly — at temperatures as low as 38 °F (3.5 °C). At this temperature, S. cerevisiae is decidedly dormant. Another change favoring the dominance of a cold-fermenting yeast] was a sudden climate change which we now call the Little Ice Age . . . [which many climatologists agree] started no later than the year 1550 — which is coincidentally only three years before Albrecht’s summer brewing prohibition . . .
[T]he uncanny combination of the onset of the Little Ice Age and the summer brewing prohibition created an ideal, perhaps even unique, condition for most of Bavaria’s beers to become lagers. Most importantly, because these environmental conditions turned out to be lasting and because yeast cells replicate themselves primarily by budding, lager yeasts could develop their own chromosomal stability. In addition, because most beers in Bavaria in the late Renaissance were dark, it is a valid historical inference that — drum roll, please! — Bavaria was the most likely place — and the second half of the 16th century the most likely point in time — for dark lagers to have emerged, and thus for the overall Bavarian lager beer culture to become firmly established.
When Cerevisiae Met Eubayanus
[However, where did S. pastorianus come from? Was it] simply a mutant of S. cerevisiae that fit better into the new conditions? Or has S. pastorianus always been in Bavaria as an indigenous yeast, just waiting for its chance to replace S. cerevisiae in most beers — not only in Bavaria but eventually, indeed, in the entire world? . . . Enter the science of genetics, which suddenly opened up an entirely new Pandora’s Box of puzzles . . .
[C]hromosome mapping of [S. cerevisiae and S. pastorianus showed] that roughly half the genes of S. pastorianus is identical to a set of genes found in S. cerevisiae, while the other half comes from another organism. Scientists further determined that the unknown portion of the S. pastorianus genome was responsible for its lager making characteristics, that is, for its capacity to ferment at cold temperatures . . . In terms of evolutionary development and domestication, this hybridization must also have been a relatively recent occurrence, because the S. pastorianus genome contained multiple copies of its parental gene sets, whereas long-established organisms tend to lose superfluous genes over time . . . Once scientists understood that S. cerevisiae was one of the genetic donor microbes in the hybridization of S. pastorianus, the search for the other donor or donors [with special focus on cold climate zones, including in Patagonia, in the high Andes between Argentina and Chile] was obviously on.
[It was] in 2011, when microbiologists involved in the search for the illusive S. pastorianus antecedent finally hit pay dirt — and propelled zymurgy a giant leap forward . . . At the intersection of latitude 41 and longitude 71, [on a beech tree that is native to South America, they collected a yeast that had hitherto not been identified.] . . . They rushed it off for genome sequencing to the University of Colorado School of Medicine, [where it was determined] that 99.56 percent of that yeast’s genome was identical to the non-ale-yeast portion of the genome of S. pastorianus. In other words, the scientists had . . . found the missing progenitor of Bavarian lager yeast . . . and that progenitor hailed, unlikely as that may be, from the wilds of Patagonia. [They named that wild lager yeast Saccharomyces eubayanus.]
The Mystery of a Microbial Peregrination
[But how did the Andean microbe get to Bavaria in the 16th century, when there was virtually no contact — human or otherwise — between that part of South America and Bavaria? To date, nobody has solved that riddle. The book speculates that, perhaps, “the answer is blowing in the wind.” There are convection air movements called Hadley Cells] in both the northern and the southern hemispheres . . . that rise up some six to nine miles near the equator [and then] move some distance towards their respective poles. They typically descend about 30° north or south. On the earth’s surface, these air masses then move gradually back to the equator to start the cycle all over again . . .
A second global air current pattern is the system of jet streams. These are upper-level strong winds blowing from west to east, high off the ground . . . In both hemispheres, there are two jet streams, the polar ones that hover around latitudes 60° north and south, and the subtropical ones that hover around latitudes 30° north and south. These jets tend to flow latitudinally along the Hadley Cell boundaries . . . Thus, is it not conceivable that S. eubayanus could have traveled thousands of miles on global winds to just about anywhere, including to the beer vats of Bavaria . . . [where it hybridized with S. cerevisiae and started the world’s first lager culture]?
Reproduced, by permission, from Kraus-Weyermann, T., and Dornbusch, H. 2018. Dark Lagers: History, Mystery, Brewing Techniques, Recipes. Master Brewers Association of the Americas, St. Paul, MN. © Thomas Kraus-Weyermann and Horst Dornbusch.
Dark Lager Recipes
The six recipes selected here from the book have been edited for length and been adjusted for homebrew batch sizes of 5 gallons (19 L). Because these recipes were test-brewed in commercial breweries in Germany, Canada, and the United States, they are for all-grain mashing only.
For homebrewers wishing to rely for all or part of their wort on extracts, the unhopped, sweet, and malt-aromatic Weyermann Bavarian Dunkel Malt Extract is an authentic choice. Produced from a two-step decoction of Weyermann Munich Malt I, Weyermann Caramunich®, and Weyermann Pilsner Malt, it contains 72 to 79 percent extract and has a gravity of OG 1.350 to 1.400. If liquored down to an OG 1.052 (13°P), it produces a liquid with a color of 25 to 28.7 SRM (65 to 75 EBC). The extract is shipped in 8.8 lbs. (4 kg) canisters. If stored unopened at 32 °F to 86 °F (0 °C to 30 °C), it has a shelf life of up to 18 months.
Select your all-grain brew house process depending on your equipment capabilities and your inclination. All of these lagers can be brewed by either a single-step or multi-step infusion or by a multi-step decoction, and the outcomes may taste slightly differently, but the beers will all be dark lagers.
Traditionally, all dark lagers were multi-step decocted — originally from a thin mash-in with well water at whatever its temperature happened to be. The liquor-to-grist ratio was perhaps 3.5/1, which means a mixture of 1.68 quarts of liquor per 1 lb. of malt (3.5 L per kg). To replicate the old decoction method, mash-in at about 104 °F (45 °C) for proper grist hydration, followed by a decoction of about one-third of the main mash to raise the overall temperature to about 122 °F (50 °C). The next decoction raises the main mash temperature to about 149 °F (65 °C). The third decoction raises it to the mash-out temperature of about 172 °F (78 °C). According to Stephen R. Holle in his A Handbook of Basic Brewing Calculations, the precise decoction volume is best calculated in the metric system in liters and °C as: Decoction Volume = Mash Volume x (Target Temp – Initial Temp) / (Decoction Temp – Initial Temp), whereby the boiled decoction is, of course, at 100 °C (212 °F). While heating the decoction to the boil, allow it to rest as applicable for 15 minutes each at 122 °F (50 °C); 149 °F (65°C); and 162 °F (72 °C).
A multi-step infusion brewer can take the mash through the same temperature paces as the decoction brewer, with 15-minute rests at each temperature step. For more on decoction mashing, see the BYO article “Decoction Mashing Techniques”: https://byo.com/article/decoction-mashing-techniques/
For brewers who prefer a single-step infusion, mash in at roughly 152 °F (67 °C) for a one-hour rest and raise the mash temperature through sparging with 180 °F (82 °C) to the mash-out temperature.
Boil the wort for at least 60 minutes. In the old days, Bavarian brewers with their direct-fired kettles used boil lengths of up to 2 hours or longer to activate the melanoidin-producing Maillard reaction.
Ferment all brews at the lower end of the selected yeast’s temperature interval as stated by the manufacturer. Rack the brew after about 14 days and lager it for about 4 weeks at a temperature as close to the freezing point as your equipment allows. Finally, prime/condition and package the brew. For brewers with the equipment to measure the CO2 content, carbonate the beer to about 2.2 to 2.7 volumes (4.4 to 5.4 g/L).
A “Classic” Bavarian/Munich Dunkel
Recipe design: Thomas Kraus-Weyermann and Horst Dornbusch
Test brew location: Weyermann Pilot Brewery, Bamberg, Bavaria
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 85% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.052 FG = 1.013
IBU = 22 SRM = 18 ABV = 5.2%
The dominant malt backbone of this beer emphasizes classic, Munich-type notes of caramel. The hop character is complex, but subdued. The finish is long with a hint of residual sweetness that blends well with the lingering maltiness.
Ingredients
3.7 lbs. (1.7 kg) Weyermann Munich I malt (6 °L)
3.2 lbs. (1.45 kg) Weyermann Munich II malt (9 °L)
1.3 lbs. (0.6 kg) Weyermann Caramunich® III malt (57 °L)
0.44 lb. (0.2 kg) Weyermann Carafoam® malt (2 °L)
0.18 lb. (0.08 kg) Weyermann Carafa® Special I malt (337 °L)
4 AAU Magnum hops (60 min.) (0.3 oz./11 g at 13.5% alpha acids
0.4 AAU Hallertauer Mittelfrüh hops (15 min.) (0.1 oz./4 g at 4.25% alpha acids)
0.1 oz. (4 g) Hallertauer Mittelfrüh hops (5 min.)
Fermentis W-34/70 or similar yeast
A “Classic” Bamberger Hofbräu® Exquisator Dunkeldoppelbock
Recipe design: Thomas Kraus-Weyermann and Horst Dornbusch
Test brew location: Weyermann Pilot Brewery, Bamberg, Bavaria
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 80% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.078 FG = 1.021
IBU = 37 SRM = 19 ABV = 7.6%
This lager has a rich, deep chestnut color; a creamy head of foam; and an aromatic bouquet with hints of bread, earthy cacao, hazelnut, caramel, spice, and some roastiness. On the palate, the flavors lean towards nuts, a mild sweetness, and soft floral hop notes. The body is light to medium; and the finish is gently warming.
Ingredients
6.75 lbs. (3.08 kg) Weyermann Barke® Munich I malt (8 °L)
4.85 lbs. (2.22 kg) Weyermann Pilsner malt (2 °L)
1.35 lbs. (0.62 kg) Weyermann Caramunich® I malt (34 °L)
0.4 lb. (0.19 kg) Weyermann Special W® malt (113.5 °L)
0.15 lb. (0.06 kg) Weyermann Carafa® pecial I malt (337 °L)
2.3 AAU Herkules hops (60 min.) (0.13 oz./3.6 g at 17.9% alpha acids)
2.7 AAU Tradition hops (30 min.) (0.7 oz./20 g at 3.9% alpha acids
2.3 AAU Perle hops (30 min.) (0.3 oz./8.7 g at 7.7% alpha acids
0.32 oz. (9 g) Spalter Select hops (5 min.)
0.42 oz. (12.2 g) Spalter Select hops (0 min.)
Fermentis W-34/70 or the alcohol-tolerant Fermentis S-189 yeast
An “Innovative” Dark Farmhouse Lager
Recipe design: Thomas Kraus- Weyermann, Horst Dornbusch, and Tod Mott (Brewer/Owner of Tributary Brewing Company)
Test brew location: Tributary Brewing Company, Kittery, Maine
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 80% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.066 FG = 1.014
IBU = 25 SRM = 18.2 ABV = 7.4%*
* ABV is calculated after the addition of candi sugar, OG is calculated prior to sugar addition.
This recipe was conceived with a Belgian/French Bière de saison/Bière de garde accent in mind. The malt selection plus the dark Belgian brewing sugar give this lager a very deep reddish hue, while the British Target for bitterness plus the Slovenian Celeia produce rich flavors and aromas, which last well into the lingering finish, where they serve as counterpoints to the slight residual sweetness from the sugar. The Swiss-origin Fermentis S-23 is very alcohol-tolerant and dries out the finish.
Ingredients
7.9 lbs. (3.6 kg) Weyermann Pilsner malt (2 °L)
1.35 lbs. (0.62 kg) Weyermann Special W® malt (114 °L)
0.9 lb. (0.41 kg) Weyermann Munich II malt (9 °L)
0.56 lb. (0.26 kg) Weyermann Vienna malt (3.6 °L)
0.56 lb. (0.26 kg) Weyermann Caramunich® II malt (46 °L)
0.4 lb. (190 g) Belgian dark candi sugar (5 min.)
5.1 AAU Target hops (60 min.) (0.6 oz./17 g at 8.5% alpha acids)
0.3 AAU Celeia hops (15 min.) (0.1 oz./3g at 3% alpha acids)
0.1 oz. (3 g) Celeia hops (0 min.)
Fermentis S-189 yeast
Fermentis S-23 yeast
An “Innovative” Dark “Negra” Vienna Lager
Recipe design: Evan Semiao (Brewer at Schilling Beer Company)
Test brew location: Schilling Beer Company, Littleton, New Hampshire
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 85% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.052 FG = 1.011
IBU = 24 SRM = 15 ABV = 5.5%
This recipe is for a Mexican-style Dark Vienna Lager. The flaked corn adjunct is pre-gelatinized and de-germed so it can be added directly to the mash. Flakes tend to give a higher yield than other corn adjuncts and are less likely to cause a stuck mash. The finish of this beer is quite dry.
Ingredients
5.9 lbs. (2.68 kg) Weyermann Munich II malt (9 °L)
2.35 lbs. (1.07 kg) Crisp flaked maize (1°L)
0.3 lb. (140 g) Weyermann Carafoam® malt (2 °L)
0.25 lb. (0.12 kg) unmilled Weyermann chocolate wheat malt (395 °L)
5.6 AAU Magnum hops (60 min.) (0.4 oz./10 g at 14.1% alpha acids
0.2 oz. (6 g) Northern Brewer hops (5 min.)
Fermentis W-34/70 yeast
Note: Mill the entire grain bill except for the chocolate wheat malt and mash in at a liquor-to-grist ratio of 2:1. Then fold the unmilled chocolate wheat malt into the mash. Thin out the mash before lautering.
An “Experimental” Dark Lager with Roasted Barley, Cacao Powder, and Vanilla Extract
Recipe design: Thomas Kraus- Weyermann, Horst Dornbusch, and Jean Gadoua (Brewer/Owner of Microbrasserie Farnham Ale & Lager)
Test brew location: Microbrasserie Farnham Ale & Lager, Québec, Canada
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 85% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.057 FG = 1.017
IBU = 22 SRM = 42 ABV = 5.5%*
The malts give this beer a rich background against which the roastiness of the unmalted barley and the chocolate and vanilla flavors come to the fore. Use cacao powder, not cocoa powder, because the former is pressed from a paste of cacao nibs, which removes the cacao fat. Cacao powder is much more beer foam-friendly and deepens both the cacao taste and beer color.
Ingredients
6.2 lbs. (2.82 kg) Weyermann Vienna malt (3.6 °L)
2.1 lbs. (1 kg) Weyermann Caramunich® II malt (46 °L)
0.5 lb. (0.25 kg) Weyermann roasted barley (433 °L)
0.3 lb. (0.14 kg) Weyermann Special W® malt (114 °L)
0.3 lb. (0.14 kg) Weyermann Carafa® Special I malt (338 °L)
0.3 lb. (0.14 kg) Weyermann Caraaroma® malt (150 °L)
4.2 AAU Mandarina Bavaria hops (60 min.) (0.5 oz./14 g at 8.3% alpha acids)
0.3 oz. (8.5 g) Mandarina Bavaria hops (0 min.)
2 oz. (55 g) organic cacao power
0.125 cup (38 mL) natural vanilla extract
Fermentis W-34/70 yeast
Note: Half the total amount of cacao powder and one-fifth of the total amount of vanilla extract go into the mash. The second half of the cacao powder goes into the wort near the end of the kettle boil. Roughly 40% of the vanilla extract goes into the whirlpool. The final 40% of the vanilla extract goes into the cold beer at the end of primary fermentation.
An “Experimental” Ale/Lager Hybrid: “Hildegard Von Bingen” Heirloom Beer
Recipe design: Thomas Kraus-Weyermann and Horst Dornbusch in collaboration with the Samuel Adams Boston Brewery
Test brew location: Samuel Adams Boston Brewery, Boston, Massachusetts
(5 gallons/19 L, all-grain, 80% extract efficiency)
OG = 1.064 FG = 1.016
IBU = 13* SRM = 18 ABV = 6.4%
*IBU calculation is from hops only; gruit addition not considered for bitterness calculations
This beer is named for the 12th-century abbess, physician, brewster, naturalist, and composer Hildegard von Bingen, who also served as an advisor to the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick I Barbarossa. She was the one who christened the hop bine “hoppo,” from which our modern terms “hop” in English, and “Hopfen” in German, derive. On the palate, this brew tastes very much like an artisanal gin or an herb liqueur, but without any syrupy sweetness. The beer is pleasant and refreshing with a tea-like, piney, and woody tang in the foreground and with hop and lavender aromas in the background. There is also an earthy hint of mint and citrus rind. The two yeasts together make for a very attenuative combination, which causes the finish to be very clean and surprisingly dry, with a slight touch of liquorice.
Ingredients
4.6 lbs. (2.2 kg) Weyermann Floor-Malted Bohemian Pilsner malt (2 °L)
2.95 lbs. (1.42 kg) Weyermann Floor-Malted Bohemian Wheat malt (2 °L)
1.65 lbs. (0.8 kg) Weyermann Floor-Malted Bohemian Dark malt (6.5 °L)
0.87 lb. (0.42) Weyermann Beech-Smoked barley malt (2.9 °L)
0.33 lb. (0.16 kg) Weyermann chocolate spelt malt (275 °L)
0.33 lb. (0.16 kg) Weyermann Cararye® malt (66 °L)
0.22 lb. (0.1 kg) Weyermann Carafa® I (338 °L)
2.1 AAU Hallertauer Mittelfrüh hops (60 min.) (0.5 oz./13 g at 4.25% alpha acids)
0.16 oz. (5 g) lavender (5 min.)
0.16 oz. (5 g) wormwood (vermouth flavor; 5 min.)
0.1 oz. (3 g) marjoram (5 min.)
0.03 oz. (1 g) rosemary (5 min.)
Yeast (This recipe was conceived as a free-style transition beer from the time when both top- and bottom-fermenting yeasts were likely to have been present in many German vats and when brewers still used both hops and gruit in their kettles. The lager yeast was the Samuel Adams house lager yeast; the ale yeast was Fermentis BE-256).
Note: Add the rosemary with caution, because its flavor can become dominant very quickly. Make sure the needle-like rosemary leaves are whole; if they are in powder form, use only half the amount specified. For a more gentle rosemary flavor, use even less.
Reducing the rosemary component in this brew brings out more of the floral-perfume-like aspects of the lavender and wormwood.
