Well before autumn, I like to start brewing my fall “party” beers—and that brings us to one of my favorite styles: Irish-style extra stout. It shares a lot of DNA with its lighter cousin, the dry stout, but this one gets an extra bump of strength, with deeper coffee and dark-chocolate flavors that make it a great seasonal beer.

However, there’s more to it than just increasing your gravity—and there is a roasty pitfall to avoid.

Style

Some might say that dividing stouts into all these subcategories goes a bit too far, but despite their commonalities—yes, they’re all black and roasty—there are some prominent differences. In this case, we’re looking at mid-range ABV—more than dry stout, but much less than imperial. We should also be tasting more coffee and chocolate than we get in the dry stout—yet it shouldn’t be as sweet as milk stouts or as full-bodied as oatmeal stouts. We’ll also rely mainly on our malt flavors and not on our hops—let’s leave that to American stout—except for a balancing bitterness. Dark? Yes. Roasty? Sure. Yet those baseline similarities are far less important than the differences. A horse isn’t a zebra.

Ingredients

Let’s start with a big dose of Maris Otter for a nice bready background. (If you’re more of a “biscuit” fan, I wouldn’t see the harm in splitting this 50/50 with pilsner.) Atop the base, we’ll add modest layers of crystal, at 40° and 80°L, and (of course) roasted barley. If you have access to the British crystal malts, I wholeheartedly recommend them—don’t worry if the Lovibond numbers are a little different. Finally, instead of a pale or traditional chocolate malt, I use a bit of chocolate rye. It sits better on the palate—we want to avoid excessive roast, which this malt seems to avoid thanks to its lack of husk. It also adds some pleasant spicy notes with a nice cocoa flavor, adding interesting depth. Plus, we’re already getting plenty of coffee flavor from the roasted barley.

Hops are simple: any you like, at the top of the boil, starting around 30 IBUs. You can increase that in subsequent batches if the beer seems too sweet, but you want to avoid sharp bitterness—we want soft, refined roast with good balancing bitterness, not something that is teeth-rippingly bitter. Finally, I use the same German Ale yeast as I do in my lighter stout, and for the same reason: good attenuation, light esters in an otherwise clean fermentation, and a good background for the roast flavors.

Process

Despite the chocolate flavors, the process itself is pretty vanilla. You can go with a standard 152°F (67°C) mash—but it’s not a bad idea to watch your mash pH because roasted malts are acidic. (Know your water and aim for a mash pH of about 5.5–5.6 if possible; if you need to adjust upward, slaked lime can add alkalinity.) Boil, chill, aerate, and pitch as usual. Fermenting at 65°F (18°C) then an uptick to 68°F (20°C) or so will help clean up diacetyl precursors.

All told, fermentation should go quickly; I’ve had this beer in the keg in fewer than 10 days.

The first time I encountered oysters in beer was on a trip to visit my family in Ireland back in 2004. I was there to meet aunts, uncles, and cousins—many for the first time in my life. My cousin Jenny—or J-Lo—thought it a clever idea to squire me up into the coastal headlands around Bray, south of Dublin on the Irish Sea, for some fresh air before the afternoon’s party.

After about an hour walking the beautiful Bray Head, she suggested (like good Irish folk) that we have a beer. Getting no argument from me, J-Lo took me to a pub in Bray that was operated by Dublin’s Porterhouse Brewing. And there, on the menu, was an oyster stout.

A what now?

The description promised “a superbly balanced brew, smooth and rounded without being bland. More sweetness derived from fresh oysters shucked into the conditioning tank. What a way to go!” Intrigued, I thought, “Why not? The Irish know their stouts, and we’re here on the Irish seaside. How terrible could it be?”

It was brilliant.

Pearls of Wisdom

Here’s the thing to remember when brewing with an additive such as fruit, spice, veggie—or in this case, seafood: Always remember, this is a beer first and foremost.

There is no need to clobber the palate with too much of a good thing. For example, I love summer beers that have a touch of lemon—crisp and refreshing with just the right amount of citrus. What I do not want is a glass of carbonated lemon furniture cleaner. Keep balance in mind. Do the hops complement the malt? Does the citrus zest complement the overall flavor? And, in this case, do the oysters or shells complement the stout?

This is not a mainstream beer, but oysters are like any other ingredient in this way: There is value in choosing the right oysters and in knowing how much to use to get the desired effect.

Oysters should be fresh and, ideally, local to your area. I’m lucky in that regard: I live in the Pacific Northwest, and I can get oysters fresh any time of the year. However, I’m more partial to stouts, porters, and darker ales in the fall and winter, and fortunately that’s when the oyster selection is best. You know the old saying, that you should only eat shellfish in months with the letter “r” in them? While it’s not a scientific fact, I’ve found it to be true. Oysters in the summer months are fertile, and they have a softer and creamier texture—often flabby and lacking, and not so pleasant to eat or even look at.

Canned and shucked oysters are options, but look for those packed in spring water and not oil. (Oysters are low in fat, so let’s keep it that way—fat is a foam-killer.) If you want to go the smoked route, read the label to see whether the oysters are cold-smoked or have artificial smoke flavoring—or, to be on the safe side, just add a bit of alderwood-smoked malt to your grist.

The other important question about this creature is which part of it are you going to use—the whole oyster, just the meat, or just the shells? Having brewed with all three, I’m partial to just the shells. For one, you get to enjoy some beautiful, fresh oysters before you brew—just save the shells. Also, the shells are enough to give you that nice, briny counterpoint to the roasted malts that makes oyster stout what it is. Shells are lower-risk and easier to keep balanced in the flavor. You can use oyster meat, but it may be more challenging to keep the savory aspects in check or avoid other off-flavors.

A word about oyster shells: They’re made of calcium carbonate, in the mineral form of calcite or aragonite. In the brewing world, it’s known as chalk, and brewers use it to raise the wort’s pH (i.e., reduce its acidity) when, for example, you’re brewing with a lot of dark roasted malts. See the logic there? Nice and neat. Another benefit is that they work as a fining downstream, helping to clarify the beer.

You get to choose whether to add the oysters to the mash, boil, during fermentation, or when conditioning. I add them to the boil, and I suggest trying that first. Adding post-boil, if you do a whirlpool step, is another option. If you’re adding to the fermentor or finishing vessel (possibly a keg), start with a small addition and taste frequently until the balance is where you want it—and it may be best to drink it fresh.

For my part, I kept some shells from an oyster feast at home. I rinsed the exteriors of the shells to remove any excess grit, put the shells in a bag, and stored them in the freezer for brew day. I had two dozen half-shells for a five-gallon (19-liter) batch, some with a few bits of oyster meat still clinging to the shell.

Recipe and Process

Stouts are well suited for partial-mash brewing with extract. The inspiration for my base beer is Rogue’s Shakespeare Oatmeal Stout, one of the best American oatmeal stouts out there. This is the perfect medium for the oyster addition—robust, just about 6 percent ABV, with a range of roast coffee and chocolate notes. The oatmeal adds a slight viscosity that can evoke slurping down mollusks from the shell. There is a touch of crystal for sweetness, while chocolate malt and roasted barley bring just the right amount of roast character and bitterness. This should be dark and full-bodied, with a creamy texture.

We’re not brewing an American-style stout here, and the hops should not dominate the profile. I go with Centennial—somewhat in keeping with the spirit of the base beer, which relies on Cascade—but the idea is to keep it in balance. Classic varieties such as East Kent Goldings, Fuggles, Styrian Goldings, or other Old World varieties work great here. I go with two additions, for bittering and flavor.

The brewing is straightforward. Once my grains are steeped and the extract fully dissolved, I get to a rolling boil and carefully ladle in the oyster shells around the time of the first hop addition.

For fermentation, I go with Rogue’s Pacman—again, that Shakespearian inspiration—but any English or Irish ale strain will work fine. A relatively cool fermentation (mid-60s °F/17–19°C) over 10 days to two weeks should lead to a well attenuated stout with good clarity.

Naturally, a favorite way to enjoy this beer is with a platter full of freshly shucked oysters. I like to add a bit of Worcestershire sauce and a squeeze of fresh lemon and slurp them down before a hearty gulp of stout. The beer’s foam is smooth like creamed coffee, and its flavor has that classic roast character and dry finish. Sometimes, I’m not sure I can taste the oysters in the beer, but on other sips it’s less subtle—but either way, it takes me right back to that grand day I had walking the headlands, pre-funking with J-Lo.

I’ve considered brewing with other mollusks, but I have a tough time wrapping my head around a clam beer. Perhaps mussels would work with a Belgian style, such as saison—we know how creative the Belgians can be. But there’s just something about the oyster and how it works with a stout. Maybe it’s just one of those things where you have to taste it to believe it.

For many brewers, stouts are a family of beers intrinsically tied to craft’s beyond-the-mainstream appeal. From dry and sweet sessionable stouts to big barrel-aged ones and, of course, the much-maligned, adjunct-laden “dessert” stouts, there’s a little something for every kind of drinker. But which do brewers themselves love? We asked five for their faves.

Guinness Draught Stout

Kyle Kohlmorgen, founder and head brewer, Wellspent Beer in St. Louis, Missouri
“Is it too easy to pick the world’s most popular stout? I don’t really care—this beer is damn-near perfect. A beautiful juxtaposition of complex but crushable, satisfying but moreish. Creamy, toasty, a dash of milk chocolate (especially when fresh), and that Guinness twang that is both weird and wonderful. ‘My Goodness....’”

Side Project Beer : Barrel : Time

Brad Clark, Founder, Private Press Brewing in Santa Cruz, California
“Straight-up bourbon-barrel-aged stouts always get me excited. A brewer’s recipe, barrel selection, aging techniques, and palate can create a plethora of distinct variation from brewery to brewery. The absence of adjuncts lets the consumer taste the character of the beer, barrel, and time. The talented team at Side Project in St. Louis put out an outstanding example of straight-up bourbon-barrel-aged stout every year with Beer : Barrel : Time, or BBT, a cuvée of sorts that is as much an exercise in blending as it is brewing... Consistently delicious, authentic, and powerful.”

Wander Brewing Correspondent Export Stout

Sam Milne, head brewer, Brick West Brewing in Spokane, Washington
“Correspondent export stout is an expert take on a style you don’t see too often, and it has the hardware to back it up. The dark malt flavors of roast, chocolate, and faint coffee are bold, yet approachable, and are balanced wonderfully by a velvety smooth body and a touch of hops to finish. And it’s refreshingly dry to boot. It’s a winner.”

Torn Label Brewing House Brew

Eric Pageler, head brewer, Crane Brewing in Raytown, Missouri
“My go-to stout is House Brew (6.5% abv) from Torn Label Brewing Co in Kansas City, Missouri. A wheat stout brewed with Sumatran toddy from Thou Mayest Coffee Roasters, the beer drinks like an incredibly smooth iced coffee with the perfect amount of roast character. It all comes together to make a beer that’s as good in the middle of summer as it is in the middle of winter. Plus, the coffee makes it feel appropriate for any time of day.”

Birds Fly South Empress Rising

Todd DiMatteo, Head Brewer/Owner, Good Word Brewing & Public House in Duluth, Georgia
“One of the most interesting and tasty stouts I’ve had this year happens to come from one of my favorite breweries, Birds Fly South. Their Empress Rising [is] a 15.2-percent bourbon-barrel-aged imperial stout, aged on a blend of peppers (including guajillo, ancho, and Chipotle) with cocoa nibs and heaps of vanilla. It ‘hits different’ as the kids say.”

Irish stout is the perfect dark beer for warm weather. It’s full-flavored, low in alcohol, and has about the same number of calories as that watery “lite beer” your brother-in-law brings to your backyard barbecue. And speaking of grilled meat, Irish stout is a great pairing.

If you’ve spent any time on the Emerald Isle, you know that the black stuff is the year-round staff of life, equally at home in summer as in winter. Served at a cool—not cold—45°F (7°C) with low carbonation (nitro is de rigueur for most commercial examples), the style is both flavorful and immensely drinkable. It was a session beer before the term became trendy.

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Irish stout is also incredibly easy to brew. With just three grains, one hops, and a nicely attenuative dry yeast, you can turn this around in a couple of weeks if you keg your beer. My interpretation is just a touch stronger, and I dare say more flavorful, than the world’s most famous stout, and it doesn’t spend several weeks on a boat.

A very wise man named Albert Einstein is often quoted as having said, “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.” Brew this Irish stout, and I promise you’ll feel a lot smarter.

O’Davey Stout

ALL-GRAIN

Batch size: 5 gallons (5.25 gallons before packaging)
Original Gravity: 1.045
Final Gravity: 1.011
IBUs: 43
ABV: 4.4%

MALT/GRAIN BILL

6 lb (2.7 kg) pale malt
2 lb (0.9 kg) flaked barley
1 lb (0.5 kg) roasted barley

HOPS SCHEDULE

2 oz (57 g) Willamette [6% AA] at 60 minutes

DIRECTIONS

Mash for 60 minutes at 152°F (66°C). Boil for 60 minutes following the hops schedule. Ferment 10 days at 64°F (18°C), keg or bottle, and enjoy!

YEAST

Danstar Nottingham dry yeast