New Collab: “Prague-Style” Tmavý
Look at that head!
The most famous dark lager in Czechia is neither, if you defer to the brewery, a tmavý (dark) or a cerne (black). Its heritage is so old the brewery long predates lager’s arrival in Bohemia. It’s a bit hard to define “oldest,” but the brewery making this beer in downtown Prague has been doing so on the same site for 523 years, arguably the longest in Europe. So when they call their beer “Flekovský ležák,” the lager of Fleků, they’ve earned it. The brewery, U Fleků, makes just the one beer, a creamy dark lager, and it is easily the most iconic example of its style. [Update: recent visitors tell me U Fleků now makes a pale lager, too, which I’m still trying to process.]
Because U Fleků only serves their sole beer on draft in their pub, however, it isn’t well-known outside Bohemia. As Czech dark lagers make more and more an impact on American craft brewing, that experiential lacuna is notable: few breweries have attempted a beer like it. Well, now they have. Zoiglhaus’s Alan Taylor and I long ago hatched a plan to collaborate on a beer inspired by U Fleků’s and I’m happy to say we finally pulled it off (perhaps instead of calling it a Flekovský, “Prague-style” will suffice). We were joined in this endeavor—and on brew day—by Aria Gin’s Ryan Csanky, though there’s nothing gin-y about this beer. It went on tap Wednesday.
The Original
Czech breweries designate their beers by gravity, so you see a lot of degree signs floating around. Generally speaking, a figure of 12 or 13° will produce a more robust beer than a pub-strength 10°. But not always. In U Fleků’s case, the heartier 13° base only produces a 4.6% beer, and that’s because a lot of the sugars are left behind to create such a rich, creamy beer. The magic trick is how it manages to finish with enough crispness (a combo of lagering and roasted malts, I suspect) to make it incredibly moreish. You could drink it all night—and scads of people do every day in Prague.
The Homage
The description of U Fleků became our brief: a 13° beer of modest strength with a velvety texture and a smooth finish. U Fleků has a sneaky amount of roast flavor swaddled in a sweetish beer with little hints of red fruit and caramel, but finding the balance points in these elements would be the trick.
As with my pFriem collaboration, I was mainly there to describe the original. Alan had to translate that into a beer. Almost everything that makes U Fleků so great comes from malt selection and process, so we started there. He chose a two-to-one ratio of a Czech floor-malted “dark” malt (really a Munich) and floor malted pilsner malt. He added a dash of CaraBohemia, a caramel malt, and dehusked Carafa. Honestly, when we were brewing it—and yes, for once I was there for most of the brew day—we thought it might be a bit too dark and roasty. As we’ll see, that fear was unwarranted.
The process called for a single decoction, but a kind of interesting mash schedule:
We started with a 1 minute rest at 100° F,
Did a 5 minute rest at 122° F,
Raised up to 156° F at 1° C per minute,
Let it rest just 1 minute at 156° Before pulling a decoction by sending 75% of mash to lauter tun, boiling the remaining mash for 15 minutes, then pumping that into the lauter tun and mixing with the rakes to homogenize as best as possible.
From there, it was a pretty standard Czech boil—15 BU of Saaz hops in a first-wort addition, with another 18 BU of Saaz at the end. Alan unearthed a Czech yeast of unknown provenance, but it was unusual. Even pitching at a cool 46° F, it rocketed along, dropping a bit more than a degree Plato per day at the start and then dropping like a stone a few days in. An old adage in Czech brewing holds that you allocate a day of fermentation for every point of gravity, but ours finished out in less than a week. Hey, what are you gonna do? Yeast cells have their own agenda.
Final stats
OG: 12.9 Plato
FG: 4.35 Plato
ABV: 4.6%
IBU: 28 (not that you can detect them)
Impressions
As with the Wiener Lager, you have to allow for collaborator bias. I am perhaps not the most gimlet-eyed of observers. And yet: holy moly, what a tremendous beer! At their best, Czech lagers are unlike anything else in the world. By chance (or perhaps design), Zoiglhaus has its German-style Schwarzbier on right now. If you want to tell the difference in the traditions, get a half-pour of that and compare. It is lean and crisp, elegantly simple, with clean, distinct roast bitterness.
The Prague-style lager? It’s got all kinds of character, starting with that rich, creamy body—which also produces a head not unlike pot de crème. I mean, you could float a quarter on it. The roast is assertive in the nose, along with a hint of toffee, but like U Fleků’s, the sweet body balanced it out. It is at once roasty but sweet. At mid-palate you get that lovely toffee, and berry notes emerge as well. Alan described the malts as “earthy” and that’s also a big component—and a clear contrast to the “clean” malts in the Schwarzbier.
Diacetyl often plays a role in Czech beers, and I’ve had a brewer tell me he thinks a big part of U Fleků’s character is a dab of diacetyl—that sweet, butterscotch-y flavor that can overwhelm a beer. Just enough to enhance that silkiness, but below standard taste threshold. I think Zoiglhaus’ version has that quality, too. We sniffed and tasted and examined and thought about it and it seems like there’s a bit there—maybe? If so, it’s a positive.
The real test was always going to be the finish—would that density ball up sweetly on the tongue and catch going down, or would it finish with a smooth, satisfying snap? It’s the key to making a proper session beer versus a decadent, one-pint treat. And ah!—the finish was there, not dry exactly, but smooth and quenching. I was visiting at midday and promised to hold myself to one pint. I failed.
I do have one data point that suggests this wasn’t all just me identifying with a creation I had a hand in making. I asked Alan what he’d do differently if it sells well enough to warrant recurring batches. Even when the brewer nails a beer’s first draft, they usually have ideas about how to tweak it here and there. I asked Alan what he would change, assuming he saw subtle issues he could tweak. Nope. “I wouldn’t change anything, actually,” he said. It’s the beer we both hoped we’d make.
You can find this beer pouring now at Zoiglhaus, and I highly recommend it. (I have my own agenda: if it sells well, it will return. Help it sell well!) It’s a perfect winter beer, and it will warm your bones to settle in for a pint or three. Go give it a try.