Raise your glass to the German city where beer is king
IF YOU’VE come in search of German stereotypes, the Hofbraukeller on a Saturday afternoon is the motherlode.
There are hundreds of people sitting on long wooden benches and chugging beer from onelitre steins. Some are tucking into the sort of food that should only be eaten with beer – dubious sausages, salty pretzels, and terrifying concoctions that might be cheese but it’s probably wise not to ask.
And, in the middle of all this, an oompah band is merrily parping away.
This scene isn’t a one-off. Munich may be famous for the Oktoberfest, the largest beer festival on Earth, but beer is almost a sacred part of the culture here.
Massive beer gardens such as the Hofbraukeller’s are sprinkled
around the city, and they do a roaring trade. Some are more oldfashioned than others, but the old rules still apply – you’re allowed to bring in whatever food you like. Rules are important here and the most important of all is the Reinheitsgebot, the German Beer Purity Law that was first adopted in Munich in 1487.
It decreed that the only ingredients in beer could be hops, barley and water. This is covered at the Bier Und Oktoberfest Museum, the first stop on a Radius Bavarian Beer tour. It is, ironically, a little dry inside – but there are a few fascinating snippets. The Oktoberfest started as a rerun of a royal wedding celebration; refrigeration was invented by a man who conjured up an icemaking machine to keep beer cool; beer used to be drunk as a safe alternative to the iffy water supply.
But the good stuff is downstairs, and guide Keith takes his eager charges down for a tasting session. Out come the light, dark and wheat beers, all produced by the local Augustiner-Brau brewery. They’re all potent, but easily drinkable. Keith says this is by design. Bavarian beers aren’t trying to push the boat out with wild and challenging flavours – they’re made for drinking over a decent session with friends. There’s also no obsession with serving them ice-cold. They’re not trying to hide anything by numbing the tongue.
The most visited place in Munich is another beer house, the Hofbrauhaus. Founded in 1589, up to 50,000 people drop in daily at this behemoth of a place, set over several floors.
‘This is the most democratic room in the world,’ says Keith, pointing out the main hall. ‘All differences are left outside.’
We join the end of a long table, and order those mammoth steins. We’ve no idea if the people next to us are kings, teachers, bank managers or binmen. But in Munich’s beer wonderland, there’s no reason why they can’t be all four.