Filmriss

Servus! The first week of Beer School in Germany has flown by and only now am I getting time--with some help--to continue the blog. As I write this, the first two brews our class put together are sitting in the fermentation tanks, and I've had a good bit of time to explore the (beer of) Munich. Or, München, as I will refer to it from here on out.

To make up for the lack of postings, I've decided to create a series of "shorter" blogs to catch folks up on the last few days. I've also enlisted the aid of three München experts to fill in the gaps in my knowledge and memory. Vielen dank to Chris MacLeod, Lizie Loehr, and Sam Barber.

Chris suggests that I start by filling you all in on some of München's brewing history:

München is the capital of Bavaria, and together the city and state lay claim to originating more different beer styles than pretty much anywhere else in the world. The city itself is home to six breweries, five brewpubs, and god-knows-how-many biergartens, tied beer halls, and bierstuberln. Extend the limit to a few kilometers outside of the city limits, and there are plenty more to include. München's "Big Six" breweries are famous in the US as some of the major exporters of German beer to the States--Paulaner, Spaten, Hacker Pschorr, Lowenbrau, Hofbrau, and Augustiner. They have a longer tradition of brewing than anywhere in the world (the world's oldest brewery sits just oustide the city limits), and beer culture here has some peculiarities that are immediately apparent. In a show of stubborn pride and adherence to tradition, German brewers continue to brew exclusively styles that originate in Bavaria: helles and dunkel (literally, light and dark beer), dunkel and helles wheat beers, festbier (aka Oktoberfest), and kellerbier, which is actually more of a technique than a style. What this means is that almost every bar and every brewery has at least one example of each style on tap. And choosing beer in the city is really about getting to know which brewery produces your favorite of each style. Do you prefer Schneider Weiss, Ayinger Weiss, Augustiner Weiss, or Hacker-Pschorr? The Paulaner or the Haufbräuhaus Helles?

We arrived in Germany on Sunday morning, and classes were set to start the next day at 9 sharp. Given that we only have three weeks here, we knew that time was of great value, and so that first free afternoon was not going to go unused. After a quick turn around in our new apartment (quite comfortable and affordable!), we headed out onto the streets of München, ready to face the challenge of beer tourism in a country as yet unknown and in a language that I still can barely speak.

Fortunately, despite the challenges ahead, I had made plans to meet up with Chris, Andrew and Sam (more about them to follow in a later post; if you don't know who they are, suffice it to say, they're pretty great) at Hofbrauhaus, the most famous bier hall in München that afternoon.

(Blogger's note: to those who have read my blog faithfully, you'll know that the filmriss that Chris and Sam describe in the coming paragraphs is rare. Perhaps it was the excitement of being in a new city; perhaps it was the lack of sleep and dehydration; perhaps it was the joy of seeing good friends again. In any case, we had a good pisser that night, and in the interest of intellectual honesty, I figured that it ought to be included in the blog. How often do you get to see some of your best friends in Germany after all? Oh wait, a lot.)

Part II, In which Chris recounts the details of our meeting:
Arriving at Hofbrauhaus, Ben greeted Sam, Andrew, and me with a big 'ol hug and a few gifts from the States, including M&M's, Emergen-C, Snus, and Pabst Blue Ribbon. Unfortunately, but fortunately enough, two of the cans had broken during the flight, so four still remained for each to drink his own. We were enjoying our drinks and felt as though we were surrounded by super tourists--Ben and his friends gave themselves away immediately, including one who accidentally ordered two liters of beer and then attempted to pay with his credit card (a no-no in German beer hall culture). Later, a second--and still louder--round of Ben's friends joined us. It was time to take Ben away from the tourist mobs of Hofbrauhaus.

After we finished our beers, Ben asked us if we would like to go and savor the PBRs he had brought in a nearby park. Andrew, aka Rattlesnake, insisted that we shotgun the beers. While Ben, Sam and Andrew were exicted to shotgun, I felt apart, wondering what I was about to do, and felt the bruises and cuts on my face that had resulted from my near-death shotgunning experience earlier in the week (For more information on this injury, Google, swallow synchope). Nevertheless, I felt compelled to participate in the festivities and trusted that they would catch me if I were to feint again.

The thin aluminum layer against my mouth, I counted ounces as I slurped them down, one after another. Ah, the sweet sweet taste of PBR on a palate that has had too much helles and one too many Gambernis. Throwing the can to the ground, I felt rejuvenated--able once again to shotgun beer and affirmed in my belief that PBR is the greatest cheap bier in the world.

We proceded on. Our next destination was the Ayinger Pub across from the platz. Were it not for Ben, and his need to drink at every beercentric establishment that he comes across, I would never have stopped here. Compared to Hofbrauhaus, Ayinger is a little more ritzy--more Bayern and less fratboy, more restaurant and less bierstube. Ayinger served traditional Bayrisch food and drink, but it felt a little too classy for this crowd. As we saddled up at the bar, we noticed a large wooden barrel behind it, an unfiltered and uncarbonated version of their helles inside. We enjoyed a few rounds there, tasting many of their beers and were especially impressed with their kellerbier.

Part III, In which Sam recounts, in sloppy Oregon drawl, the evening's final chapter
So next, we went to Augustiner Bierkeller in order to enjoy our favorite pilsner in all of Munich, in fact in all of Deutschland, in fact in all of the world. Ben enjoyed the pilsner--so much so that he ordered a second round before he was even a quarter of the way through his first. As we paid the bill, we waited for Ben to finish his beer, after which, Ben attempted to pay the bill a second time. He was not successful.

By this point--after a few rounds of amazing beers, we were in desperate need of some H20. Unlike your typical American brewpub, water doesn't get served with beers in Germany, and a glass of water will cost you twice as much as a glass of beer--plus it's always carbonated. We stopped at a small kebap shop and bought some water.

Our next, and final stop for the evening, was Schnei Schnei--the local name for the Schneider Bierkeller. Chris, Ben, and I sat down and ordered three of the best hefeweizens in the world--even Ben was blown away! We all ate pretzels with suss senf (German sweet mustard). While we enjoyed our weissbiers, we noticed a dark brew in an odd-shaped goblet on a nearby table. Its owner was nowhere to be seen. Chris asked "I wonder what that is." Ben stood up, walked over to the other table and took a sniff; he immediately shouted, "this is really great." After a moment or two in which Ben seemed to consider and then decide against stealing the rest of the beer, he returned to the table, consulted the menu, and determined that it must have been an Aventinus. We ordered the weizenbock--a strong wheat beer was clearly what all of us needed at that point in the evening--and savored the rich banana, malt, and clove flavors. We finished the beers and paid the bill (Ben tried to pay a second time here as well).

We headed outside, gave each other hugs, crossed our fingers that Ben would make it home, and anticipated all of the good times we had ahead in München.