One of the first craft beers I ever really engaged with was Sam Adams Black Lager. I’d drunk them, of course, but I can’t honestly say that I’d been paying any attention—this was different. I had agreed to help my brother-in-law, Stan, prepare for the BJCP exam (something that I found incredibly interesting and that propelled me into the far-flung world of beer styles), and he asked if I had any beer around that he might be able to practice on. This was one of them: a remnant from a mixed case served during our Christmas party. I had no idea then what a Schwarzbier was, but I immediately noticed that, unlike a lot of the stouts and porters I’d had, this was a dark beer that wasn’t aggressively roasty, or syrupy, or alcoholic, or “creamy.” It was more like lightly roasted carbonated coffee plus a low level of alcohol, and it worked for me.
Style
Schwarzbier is a dark lager, traditionally thought of as being the dark cousin to German Pilsner. It differs substantially from Munich Dunkel, however, in that Munich Dunkel is noted for its complex and rich malt flavors (especially Munich malt) while Schwarzbier is much more restrained. Instead of the rich bread-and-Nutella-like flavor of Munich, here we get a much simpler but roastier dark lager that stops far short of the dominant roastiness of even the lightest stouts. It also features a bit of hops flavor and aroma, which lends a floral tone and adds an element of Old World spice to the overall flavor profile. The name of the game here, though, is restraint. In some beers, you’re trying to clear a flavor bar to ensure that you have the “right” flavors in evidence (think phenols in lots of Belgian styles). Here, you can almost totally whiff on the roast character, but so long as you have a clean black lager (and color is easy to add, even without roast), you’re very much in the ballpark. Too much roast, on the other hand, and people are just going to wonder why your dry Irish stout is so roasty and lacking any esters.
Ingredients
You’ll still want a bit of what Munich offers, so start with a 50/50 split of Munich malt and Maris Otter, about 4 lb (1.8 kg) each. On top of that, I add half a pound (227 g) each of Fawcett 45L British Crystal and pale chocolate, and a quarter pound (113 g) of Carafa II for color (and as a de-husked malt, this will add just a bit of bittersweet chocolate flavor but not the intense husky roast that a roasted barley would impart). If you find this grist produces a beer that’s too rich, cut down on the Munich (replacing with Maris or Pilsner) until it levels off. I implore you to resist the urge to balance this beer by upping the roast—it’s far too easy to go overboard with it. Worst case, leave the specialty grains as they are and replace the entire base-malt addition with Vienna, and if it’s still too bready and rich for you, then you just have an insanely low threshold for melanoidins! You should end up at about 1.045 OG, post boil.