A while back I tried BrewDog’s prototype Zeitgeist beer, a dark lager “taking inspiration from the Czech classics.” That line gave me the idea of trying it against three classic Czech dark lagers, coffee-like black beers which generally finish on the sweet side.

But the Zeitgeist (or Zeit Geist, as it was back then) seemed to be made of different material, so to speak: I liked it, but as I wrote then, “I don’t think it tasted very Czech… Zeit Geist was far more dry in the finish.” And I added that if I had known it was a dry dark beer, like a Schwarzbier, I would have tasted it with Herold Bohemian Black Lager, one of the only dry dark lagers the Czechs produce.

Later, I found out that Herold was in fact the very inspiration for Zeitgeist. And then came the word that Zeitgeist was going into full production and wide release in Britain. So once I got a copy of the production brew, I decided to compare that to the originals, both prototype and paragon.

The Scottish and Czech beers are more different than you might imagine: Herold has 5.3% alcohol, while Zeitgeist went from 5.1% in prototype to 4.9% in production. The Herold is half a shade darker with a sandy head; the production version of Zeitgeist has cream-colored foam.

As I wrote back then, the prototype Zeitgeist had a touch of smokiness in the nose and mouth. That’s still there, though BrewDog has assured me there’s not a grain of smoked malt anywhere near the thing. The astringence — the drying, slightly acidic notes in the finish — that I noted in the prototype are still very much present in the production version. There’s a touch of cooked fruit, and some nice bitter notes.

By contrast, my bottle of Herold Bohemian Black Lager has almost no smokiness and much more chocolate and dry cocoa flavors. It’s dry in the finish, but not quite as dry as Zeitgeist. (It’s also surpremely drinkable: dark beers are not generally thought of as summertime drinks, but Herold’s Bohemian Black Lager is light enough in the body to be quite refreshing on a very warm evening. As is Zeitgeist.)

So which do I prefer? Considering I live in Prague and I really believe in drinking locally, that’s a no-brainer: I’ll take the Czech bottle, thank you. But in terms of taste?

If you can’t get Herold, you surely won’t regret having a Zeitgeist: it’s an excellent dark lager with loads of flavor and surprising complexity. If you can get them both, you have a choice: a bit more cocoa and chocolate with the Herold, or a bit more dryness and bitter fruit flavors with the Zeitgeist.

Marx would probably say that Zeitgeist (the beer) is influenced by the material — in this case, the malt, hops, yeast and water — with which it is produced, and that is why it tastes the way it does. But in this case I think I’m going to go with Hegel. Zeitgeist, at least the beer, is greater than the sum of its parts.

Recently, new owners have taken over at storied Pivovar Herold, the small regional brewery located in Březnice, Central Bohemia. So far, not much seems to have changed: Herold’s Bohemian Black Lager is just as rich and full of coffee and chocolate notes as ever. But you might be wondering if new management harkens good news for the brand, especially in terms of its meagre distribution and lack of widespread availability.

Your chance to find out is this Tuesday, 17 March, 2009, when Pivovarský klub will host a Herold beer tasting.

At least some changes have already shown up: the Herold brewery website has finally been updated, noting a current lineup of just four brews: the 10° pale lager (světlé výčepní pivo), a 12° pale lager (světlý březnický ležák), the magnificent Bohemian Black Lager (called “tmavé speciální pivo” in Czech and brewed at 13°) and the brewery’s 14° amber special (polotmavé speciální pivo). Not mentioned is the brewery’s gimmicky Bastard beer, nor is there any reference to Herold’s long-absent and once-revolutionary wheat brews. Expect to get the final word on these at the tasting.

Especially nice on the new website: the brewery proudly lists its long lagering times, often a good sign for the quality of the brew. Both the dark and the amber get 70 days; the 12° pale lager gets 60. (By contrast, Pilsner Urquell gets about 35 days of lagering. Most of the industrial beers in this country are produced much faster than that, though Budweiser Budvar says it still matures its beer for up to 90 days.)

Considering the tightness of Herold’s line — just four models brewed at 10°, 12°, 13° and 14° — the brewery manages to put out some highly diverse flavors, many of which have turned heads recently: the amber special took first place earlier this year at the Česká pivní pečeť in Tábor, and BrewDog’s James Watt told me that Herold’s Bohemian Black Lager was the inspiration for their excellent new Zeitgeist beer.

The brewery is especially interesting when you consider its noble history, much of which is covered in Ludvík Fürst’s fascinating monograph, “Jak se u nás vařilo pivo” (or “How we used to brew beer”). In 1586, “how” for the brewery in Březnice meant both “white beer,” made with wheat, and “old beer,” meaning barley; historical archives have clear records of the brewery’s founding in 1506 and its production in the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries. On Tuesday, it would be nice to hear some good news about Herold’s future.

Herold Beer Tasting
Where: Pivovarský klub, Křižíkova 17°, Praha 8 – Karlín
When: Tuesday, 17 March, at 6 p.m.
How much: 140 Kč (students, journalists and cardholders 70 Kč)
Tel: 222 315 777

Herold beer has had a long and winding path over the past few years. Less than a decade ago it was found fairly often in expat hangouts like the Globe, though not always in the best condition, and sometimes in downright terrible condition. Although things had markedly improved by the time Michael Jackson came to Prague to promote Herold in late 2004, the brand’s image had been damaged by the occasional bad pints from before.

And yet Herold was making great beers, including one of the country’s first widely distributed wheat beers, the first Czech dark wheat most of us had ever seen, and a full line of quality lagers, including what must have been the country’s best bottled dark. They were always a bit hard to find in Prague, but then they became much harder to find, until only a couple of places carried the beer by the time I was finishing Good Beer Guide Prague and the Czech Republic.

One of them was the Dívčí skok restaurant in Prague’s Divoká Šárka park, a favorite setting for hiking and sunbathing. When the temperatures moved up earlier this summer, I went out there to have a pint.

Getting there is easy: the park has its own tram station just a couple of minutes past the Dejvická metro station. (It’s currently served by the 8 and 36 trams or the 108, 119 and 218 buses.) Once you get off at Divoká Šarka, follow the trails — largely unmarked — to the Džbán koupaliště, or swimming pool, about 15 minutes northerly by foot. Continuing on the trail two minutes past Džbán, you’ll see Dívčí skok. They have blue and white umbrellas on the terrace that say Pivovar Herold on them.

But when I got there, a small blackboard announced that they were serving Svijany. I asked what happened to Herold.

“We had too many problems with it,” the barman said. “It kept going bad.”

He said they made the switch at the end of 2007. When I mentioned that some people thought that Herold was the best dark lager in the country, he replied that Svijany was also pretty good. I ordered a half-liter and took a seat on the terrace under one of the Herold umbrellas.

Nearby, a group of bronzed, middle-aged men in swimming suits were drinking beers and talking about the difference between malé pivovary and big breweries, and how with the beers from the big breweries there was žádná chuť.

The Kněžna from Svijany was good, but it didn’t have the depth I remembered from Herold’s dark lager. I had a slice of sekaná and thought I was missing something.

On my way back through the park, I saw a flash of silver on the trail ahead. A park crew had driven through on the way to clear some brush, and their tire tracks went straight over what looked like a tighty woven steel belt. When I got closer I saw it was a slow worm, or slepýš, a limbless reptile which is considered endangered in the Czech lands. It had been crushed by the weight, leaving behind the pattern of its scales and a slight gleam in the shadows from the trees.

In Central Europe, Slovakia is known for its wine rather than its beers, so one of the cool surprises at Prague’s Christmas Beer Markets was the appearance by Pivovar Kaltenecker, a brewery way out in Rožňava. When I visited Kaltenecker’s kiosk at the markets, I ordered a glass of their Kras ginger-honey lager. Even more surprising than the sudden appearance of a Slovak beer in the Czech capital: I didn’t like it much at all.

Okay, so maybe this wasn’t so surprising. In the Czech Republic, I had trouble getting into the ginger lager from Hodonín’s Pivovar Kunc, and Kaltenecker’s version had about the same appeal for me. Beer has obviously been brewed with ginger for a long time, so I understand the historical interest. But perhaps there is a reason why so few real ginger beers are made today.

In any case, the thought of that ginger-honey lager left me slightly skeptical when I later saw Kaltenecker’s Brokát dark lager (above) on draft at Pivovarský klub. Skeptical, but still curious, so I ordered a small glass.

Kaltenecker Brokát Dark (5% ABV). Pours a clear deep amber, nearly black, with a thick, long-lasting sandy head, a strong coffee nose and a light toastiness. In the mouth, a rich malt body with very moderate carbonation and a bitter chocolate finish. Moccalike. A surprisingly nice balance of bitter and sweet.

Perhaps the ginger-honey taste was just not for me — I’m certainly impressed enough by the Brokát to try more beers from Kaltenecker in the future, to say nothing of heading out that way once things warm up a bit. In addition to the dark Brokát brewed at 13°, Kaltenecker’s web site also lists a half-dark Brokát premium, brewed at 16° and finishing with a thundering 8.1% ABV, as well as a wheat beer and an unfiltered golden lager.

Incidentally, if you’re at Pivovarský klub in the next couple of days, keep an eye out for the dark 13° Troobacz from Městský pivovar Štramberk, without a doubt one of the best dark lagers in the country. (It was listed as “Trubač” on my recent visit to Pivovarský klub, but I believe the brewery uses that name for its golden lager, and “Troobacz” for the dark.) Located in the hilltop fortress town of Štramberk, the brewery has its own hotel and is highly recommended for a travel destination, but more on that another time.

I’ll leave you with a shot of Sporťák, our old Škoda 120L, in front of Pivovar Štramberk, one of my favorite memories from the guidebook.