The Daily Procrastinator

Munich is awesome. Or, perhaps, Munich is killing me by slowly destroying my liver. I haven’t decided which yet.

For the sake of brevity, my stay in Munich will be broken into two parts, each encompassing three days of my trip.

I should probably explain that beer is so prevalent here that even in convenience stores a simple bottle of lukewarm water can cost upwards of €1, Coke costs about the same, and a cold beer can be had for €0,69. Is it any wonder why I’m drinking beer by the half-liter? Also, please understand that all of these beers put even my favorite American microbrews to shame, and even if I tell you that they’re not the best of the best, they’re all pretty darned good.

My long-held ideal of beer perfection.

I arrived in Munich on Wednesday night, and immediately returned to a cafe where I’d had dinner about five years earlier, not far from Marienplatz. The beer of choice: half a liter of Franziskaner Hefe-Weisse. Now, I consider a fresh Franziskaner to be pretty much the top of the line in the Munich hefeweizen department. For the uninitiated, hefeweizens tend to be light in color, sweet with no bitterness, and with distinct undertones of banana, clove, vanilla and sometimes even a vaguely bubblegum flavor. This one was just as good as I remembered.

On Thursday, I opted to branch out. At lunch at Viktualienmarkt, the Munich farmer’s market, I had bratwurst and Hochzeits Weisse. These people have been brewing beer since Columbus was wandering around the Caribbean looking for India. Good beer, crisp and clean, but without the fruitiness and depth that I get from the Franziskaner. I also had the most interesting sauerkraut at this little cafe, made with caraway seeds, juniper berries and bay leaves, but that’s another story for another time, when and if I ever find a recipe for it.

Thursday night’s dinner was Krombacher Weisen. This was a good beer, excellent flavor and that hint of clove that I’ve come to expect. But it also had a bit of a bite to it, and not the characteristic smoothness that I tend to expect from a hefeweizen.

Friday brought with it a side trip to Salzburg, Austria. I had lunch while sitting at an outdoor cafe that’s built into Hohensalzburg Castle, high above the city and overlooking the stark Austrian mountains. It was there that I had the Stiegl Weizen Gold Dunkel. Stiegl has been brewing beer since 1492, and they know their stuff. Similar to a hefeweizen, the dunkelweizen gets its color from roasted or caramelized malts, giving it a deeper, roasted flavor.

Friday dinner was a two-part event: I began with the Hacker-Pschorr Hefe-Weisse, which may actually rival my beloved Franziskaner for top spot on my Bavarian beer list. These folks have been brewing beer since the early 1400s, and the effort is nothing short of spectacular. If I could get away with it, I’d dump the contents of my suitcase and fill it with nothing but this. Smooth, drinkable, refreshing and flavorful, it’s everything you could want in a beer.

Part two was a mistake. At a colleague’s recommendation, I tried a Monschof Kellerbier. It’s really well-reviewed, which just goes to show why there are a billion different kinds of beer out there. Personally, I hated it and didn’t even finish it. Too malty and bitter for my liking, or perhaps it was just the fact that it was coming on the heels of one of my favorite beers, and couldn’t live up to it.

Stay tuned for part 4, the continuation and conclusion of my Munich adventure.

If you’re joining us late, please read my reviews for the first part of my trip here.

On to Berlin and the seemingly blinding array of choices that confronted me at my local biergarten. It appears that as the main city in Germany, Berlin has adopted every regional beer and put them on the largest beer menus I’ve ever been faced with. Every meal was a daunting challenge.

The beer was a lot like the label: classic, but uninspired.

At dinner in Potsdamer Platz, I opted for a Schofferhofer hefeweizen. I’m a big fan of hefeweisen, but this one didn’t really inspire like some others that I’ve tried. The aroma of clove and banana was there, but there was an underlying almost bread-like heaviness to the wheat.

As a side note, I feel that it’s my public duty to share instructions on the proper hefeweisen pour. What makes a hefe a hefe is the yeast in the bottle, which of course must be transferred to the glass. To achieve a proper pour, tip the glass and gently pour about 2/3 of the bottle in, minimizing the head. Stop. Swizzle the bottle around to capture all of the yeast. Pour about half of the remaining beer into the glass. Repeat the swizzle and pour. There you will have the perfect hefeweisen. You’re welcome.

On my second night in Berlin, I was encouraged to have dinner at a tiny burrito shop near Alexanderplatz, one that was surprisingly good, given the distance from Mexico. Yet the beer selections were abysmal. I was in Germany. Did they seriously expect me to drink Dos Equis or Corona? The answer, sadly, was yes. And then I discovered a lone Tannenzaepfle in the case. German beer for the win!

Stay tuned as I move on to Munich where my favorite beer awaits: Franziskaner Weissbier.

Greetings, procrastinators! I write to you from a cozy little apartment in central Munich, my first contact with the Internet since leaving the US. I can assure you that, as promised, I’ve been working hard on my quest to consume and review a variety of authentic German brews.

My trip began in Baden-Baden, a charming and well-preserved resort town in a cozy little corner of Germany, near the French border. I’m told that the town managed to avoid destruction in WWII because the French had plans for annexation and wanted to keep it intact. I was visiting some friends in the area and was exposed to two local brews: Rothaus Tannenzaepfle and Rothaus Radler Zaepfle. Rothaus is the brewery of the Baden region, cranking out beers since the late 1700s.

Tannenzaepfle translates to "pine cone."

The Tannenzaepfle – the name reflecting the pine cone on the label – is a classic pilsener brewed according to the Reinheitsgebot, or German Purity Law. While I tend to not be a big fan of pilseners because of their hoppy bitterness, the Tannenzaepfle was clear and refreshing, with a clean finish.

The Radler Zaepfle is one of the more bizarre finds. In a country that obsesses over beer purity, this one is a mix of beer and lemonade. I’m told that it’s fairly new to the Rothaus lineup, creating a pre-bottled product for something that people were already doing themselves at their table. I can’t say that I’m a big fan. Oh, I can appreciate the reasoning behind it, but as a girl who doesn’t even like to add lime to her Corona, lemonade and beer is just too much of a leap for me.

I also experienced the Lowenbrau Premium Pils. Now, let’s be straight up here: this isn’t the crap that was brewed by Miller and marketed under the same name. This is real German beer. It’s served with a two-inch head and has a distinct aroma of both citrus and hops. It’s a pilsener, so it’s not going to be my favorite of all time, but it had a crisp, refreshing taste that offset the pilsener bitterness, and made it a good complement to a meal of sausage and kraut.

Stay tuned for Part 2, my adventures in Berlin!

Don't call her TallGirl . . . Call her BEER GIRL!

Dear Internet, I am hereby preparing you for a future event.  In six weeks I’ll be departing for Germany for two weeks of sightseeing and, of course, beer.

It is my heartfelt desire that you can share in this experience with me.  How?  I, TallGirl, will take it upon myself to sample as many German beers as I possibly can and report these results back to you, our loyal readers.

I’ve found a list to get me started, but let’s be honest: these beers were probably reviewed by beer aficionados.  These are the kind of people, like wine people, who can detect notes of clove or banana or the mint plant on a neighboring farm.  I am not one of these people.  My reviews will be much simpler, highlighting drinkability and enjoyment.

So keep your eyes open starting August 1 for this valuable public service, only from The Daily Procrastinator.

It’s Cinco de Mayo, the day when ordinary, everyday Americans celebrate a regional holiday from the Mexican state of Puebla commemorating the defeat of French forces more than 140 years ago (there’s your random bit of history for the day). But chances are that you don’t care about the origins of the holiday. You’re interested in the party tonight.

If you’re headed to a bar, you’re on your own. If you’re hosting or attending a party, please, please, PLEASE don’t show up with another six pack of Corona or a jar of shelf-stable salsa. You have options that will set you apart from the crowd.

Beer

In spite of the fact that every party attendee shows up with six bottles and a lime, Corona is not the only Mexican beer. If you’re looking for something Mexican that doesn’t involve a wedge of lime, consider Negro Modelo, Pacifico or Tecate.

Margaritas

You don’t need margarita mix. All you need is ice, 1.5 ounces of tequila, 1 ounce lime juice and 0.5 ounces Cointreau. Shake and serve.

Munchies

Are you more interested in munchies than drinks? Follow this recipe:

• Can of black beans
• Can of corn
• Can of jalapeno petite-diced tomatoes
• One lemon
• One lime
• Cumin

Open cans, rinse and drain contents. Dump into a bowl. Squeeze juice of lemon and lime over it. Add cumin to taste. Mix. Serve with tortilla chips. Done. Also works as a great topping for burritos, tacos or any other Mexican entree.

Have fun tonight, and tomorrow morning, don’t forget our hangover cures post from St. Patrick’s Day.