For better or worse, color is a defining attribute of beer styles—and, as with pale mild, it can defy the usual expectations. While pale mild has firm historical grounding, however, dark saison tends to be a creative riff on the Belgian tradition. Like any saison, it should be complex, dry, and very drinkable. Beyond that—as long as it’s dark—there is room to play.
Style: This is not what I would consider an intuitive style to brew. While there’s space for creativity, there are some guardrails to keep in mind. This isn’t a Belgian-style stout, and the level of roast should be low to nonexistent. While the malt is going to be more pronounced than in a classic saison, there is a risk of masking the fermentation character that defines the style—or of having to dial up that spice and alcohol too much to compete with the malt. We want a recipe that preserves that character but doesn’t overdo it. We should think in terms of a pale saison with some richer malt character, rather than a dark, malty beer that happens to have been fermented by saison yeast.
Ingredients: Spicy, malty, and dry—if this grist isn’t screaming for Vienna and rye, then I don’t know what is. I take equal portions of those plus some bready Maris Otter for my base; I avoid Munich here because I don’t want it to end up too rich—especially with the character malts to come. To that base, we add a layer of chocolate rye and smaller additions of Carafa Special I, Special B, and Caramunich. Those will bring medium-dark malt depth but without the husky roast of typical chocolate malts. I like to aim for an ABV around 5 percent—minimal alcohol sweetness but ample malt flavor, something like a spicy English brown. Colorwise, we’re right around 24 SRM—dark copper, bordering on brown. For hops, I like Fuggles at mid-boil and Styrian Goldings later, for a bitterness that balances with the malt, plus some herbal character that fits the profile nicely. For yeast, the French Saison strain will be our spicy, high-attenuating workhorse.
Now, for a bit of fun: I love some dried cranberries tossed into the fermentor—just enough to add some obvious fruit character. Others that work are black currant and pomegranate (which is outstanding but adds some tannin), but I like how cranberry is bright enough to be fruity but just tart enough to add some structured dryness, which suits our purposes perfectly.
Process: I tend to stick with my 152°F (67°C) mash but rest for longer; you can also lower your temp (to, say 148–149°F/64–65°C) in the pursuit of high attenuation. Boil, chill, and pitch as usual. While this yeast strain can go warm, I prefer to hold the beer at a tame 72°F (22°C) from start to finish. That should help keep the spicy phenolics in their place, and there are already some fruity and spicy flavors from the grist (and the fruit). Carbonation should be nice and high.