So Many Beer Gardens …
Let’s assume for a moment that you love beer gardens as much as I do. You’ve explored all that there is to offer in the English Garden, you’ve visited some of the iconic beer gardens in the center of town, and you’ve headed south for a drink amid the myths and legends of Munich’s beer gardens along the Isar.
What’s left? Plenty, as it turns out.
Like the Kugler Alm, an ideal “destination” beer garden, perfect for those times you want to get out of the city center.
Where All German Beer Paths Converge
The Reinheitsgebot (Beer Purity Law) is the alpha and the omega of German beer. Debates about its relevance go to the heart of contemporary German beer culture, and have only heated up in light of craft beer’s arrival in Germany. Even if the Reinheitsgebot of 1516 is no longer the law of the land, its spirit lives on in legislation that limits beer ingredients to barley, hops, water, and yeast. It’s a prism from the distant past that refracts all discussions about the future of German beer.
German Critiques of the Reinheitsgebot
Proponents view the Reinheitsgebot not only as a seal of quality and a productive limitation that results in exacting beers, but as the very foundation of German beer culture. German critics of the Reinheitsgebot are often champions of craft beer, problematic as some advocates of craft see the term. Their critique revolves around the perception that the Reinheitsgebot is a constraint on creativity.
If some critics, such as Nina Anika Klotz, ultimately reject the notion that “craft” and the Reinheitsgebot are incompatible, others veer into hyperbole.[1] Martin Droschke and Norbert Krine present a reductionist debunking of ten myths about the Reinheitsgebot in their craft beer guide to Franconia. Günther Thömmes is strong on why the Reinheitsgebot might merit revision in the twenty-first century, but thin on the ground in terms of history, implying that nothing changed between 1516 and 1871 (which isn’t the case—I’ll have a follow-up article about that at some point).[2]
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It was the early 1990s. I had only recently discovered what German beer was all about, and was doing my level best to try as many of them as possible. Occasionally, my friends and I would find our way past the cheap student pubs and happen upon a traditional establishment. Those moments always had something of a magical quality about them. I couldn’t help but notice heavy-beamed ceilings here, a few antlers there, and happy imbibers everywhere. Aside from the happy imbibers, I’d never seen anything quite like this in my hometown of Vancouver.
Back then it was more of a sense of enchantment with my surroundings, and perhaps the vaguest desire to know more about them. But my true fascination with the Wirtshaus is of more recent vintage, dating back to the time when I arrived in Vienna a decade ago to begin a stint at the Wien Museum. Once my Wien Museum colleagues found out that I was into beer, they started inviting me out for drinks at places called Wirtshäuser. These modest establishments were culinary institutions in Vienna, they told me.
A casual review of one of Utica area’s newer breweries..
Ken Carman is a BJCP judge; homebrewer since 1979, club member at Salt City Homebrewers in Syracuse, NY. Former member of Escambia Bay Brewers, Clarksville Carboys and Music City Homebrewers. Ken has been writing on beer-related topics, and interviewing professional brewers all over the east coast, for well over 30 years.
By Ken Carman I know I haven’t written for quite a while, and I apologize. Living now in the Adirondacks, and no longer on the road like I was for 30 years and almost 10 months a year, well, I just don’t have all the breweries to write about.
Except a small local brewery in Old Forge, to get to breweries we are about 70 miles away. And, of course, driving that kind of distance after sampling has its issues. With Grow I was lucky: they come up here for festivals like Snofest.
This will be just an introduction. Perhaps I’ll write more; sometimes I like to provide a detailed perspective from a BJCP beer judge as if I were doing a scoresheet: one on each might I judge.
Before this, IMO, the best top notch breweries within 100 miles were Woodland in Marcy, NY (just north of Utica) and Buried Acorn in Syracuse. It’s not that the others are “bad.” Some are quite good. Just not as remarkable, in comparison. Or that inventive, in comparison.
Whether barreled, or some new take on older styles, the brews here edge out most of the others.
Like ale yeast Grow is rising to the top. If nothing else is mentioned, I dare not skip their barrel aged barleywines. Like their other brews balance is superb. As Certified BJCP judges Millie and I can vouch for the fact that barrel aged beer can suffer from, “Damn, I think I’m just chewing on wood” syndrome. (Not an official term, I made it up.) Another syndrome, when the barrel previously had brandy, whiskey, whatever, in it I would call that the “Damn, if I just wanted to drink whiskey I would have BOUGHT whiskey” syndrome. (Yup, made it up again.) Continue reading “Brew Biz Werts and All: Grow Brewing”
My Kind of Beer
Around this time last year I penned a series that began with an account of my tastes in beer, followed by an exploration of the kinds of beers I like. The series ended with a list of twenty-five beers that had caught my attention over the previous year.
The latter post resonated particularly well (people seem to love lists), so I’m back this year with a selection of beers worth seeking out in 2025. Since 2024 was a busy year for travel for me, I’m spotlighting fifty beers this year. You might also want to pair this list with the one I wrote last year. That’ll give you an additional twenty-five beers for your beer hunting adventures.
A Few Notes
Selection: As with last year, I confine my selection to beers I drank during the previous year. I returned to some places I hadn’t visited in decades, and visited some cities and regions for the first time. You’ll see beers from the Allgäu (a region that straddles Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg), Heidelberg, Karlsruhe, northern Germany (Lübeck, Stralsund, Berlin), and also Central Germany (Goslar, Göttingen). You’ll also see plenty of beers from Belgium, which I visited for the first time since the pandemic. What you won’t see are many beers from North America. That’s not a commentary on all the fine beers that surround me here.
Back in January I sat down with All About Beer Podcast hosts Don Tse and Em Sauter to talk about beer travel with co-guest Chris O’Leary of Brew York. The timing was fitting: I had just arrived back in Oklahoma after a 24-hour journey from Vienna and an autumn’s worth of beer travel in Europe. Over the course of the hour, we talked about what makes beer travel special, and what kinds of experiences make beer travel worth the cost and effort. You can listen to that podcast here.
Whenever I get asked to appear on podcasts, but there’s always plenty that gets left out due to time constraints. More often than not, my prep notes just collect dust in folders strewn about. But in this case, those remainders give me the opportunity to do two things:
Share some tips on planning your beer travels.
Introduce you to my new side gig I started up last year, Beerscapes Beer Travel, which works with folks to create custom beer travel itineraries in Europe.
Before we get into those travel tips, it’s worth taking a moment to talk about why I love beer travel, and why you probably would as well. I’ll also outline three different modes of beer travel as a means of introducing Beerscapes Beer Travel.
The Wirtshaus is a Central European institution deeply rooted in medieval times. During the early and high Middle Ages, inns with taverns sprung up along trade and pilgrimage routes, offering food and accommodation to weary travelers, along with stables to quarter their horses. The vast majority of these establishments were run by the nobility or the clergy, catering either to the aristocracy and officials of the nascent bureaucracy, or to merchants and pilgrims.[1]
By the sixteenth century a dense network of Wirtshäuser linked cities, towns, and villages with rural and Alpine regions, all recognizable by the signs that hung above the door. Wreaths, tree boughs, or shrubs marked the spot. These rudimentary symbols eventually gave way to more ornate signs that recalled the coats-of-arms of various noble houses, or, if the Wirtshaus was near a church, to religious imagery such as the crowns of the three kings. To this day, many breweries and Wirtshäuser bear names tied to these symbols—Löwenbräu, Drei Kronen, Bärenwirt, to name but a few.
Written by Franz Hofer for A Tempest in a Tankardmarshlands of Murnau as the train trundled along the Loisach valley. As we dipped into the basin that cradles Oberammergau, the sun emerged in full splendour, illuminating the tusk-shaped Kofel that towers over the valley.
Oberammergau is everything you’d imagine a Bavarian alpine village to be. Chalets with carved balconies and flower boxes. A church steeple in the center of town. And mountains all around. Ettal is Oberammergau’s opposite number to the south, and home to a majestic monastery.
For the imbibingly inclined among us, there are breweries and Wirtshäuser in both villages. And for those who like wandering, both places are close enough to each other that you can traverse the distance on foot in a matter of hours.
If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: You can never have too much Munich in your life.
But what about those times you really do need a break from the big city? Maybe some meadows dotted with cows, Alpine scenery, pristine lakes, or all three?
Last week I posted on my Facebook page about breweries, beer halls, and beer gardens in Munich on the assumption that folks arriving soon for Oktoberfest might want to see a bit more of the city. This week I’m extending the geographical reach to encompass places along the S-Bahn lines and local trains that branch out from Munich, this time on the assumption that you might want to escape the hustle and bustle of Munich for an afternoon in the countryside.
What follows is an introduction to just shy of ten beer spots to visit once you’ve imbibed the charms of Munich, all within thirty minutes to an hour and change from Munich via public transport or regional train.
Cantillon with its cobwebbed rafters sheltering rows of barrels. The cheerfully riotous Delirium Café. Moeder Lambic with its rare beers. The Morte Subite, elegantly attired in art nouveau. You could spend days or even weeks in Brussels without coming close to exhausting your possibilities for memorable beer experiences. One of my faves is the quirky — and, for English speakers, devilishly difficult-to-pronounce — Poechenellekelder.
Master of Puppets
A one-time puppet theater, Poechenellekelder hides out in plain view across from one of the most famous statues in the world. The café does get its share of tourists, many of whom sun themselves on the large terrace that spills out in the direction of Manneken Pis, but it’s not nearly as touristy as Delirium Café on the other side of the Grand Place.
And, of course, driving that kind of distance after sampling has its issues. With Grow I was lucky: they come up here for festivals like Snofest.
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