I have a day off of work for the first time in a long while so I figured I should catch up on our long overdue correspondence. I am in Munich still, at least until the end of the month when I will move to Berlin. My German is coming along slowly but surely although the winter weather seems resolutely eternal. As long as the radiator is on though, let me share one part of my experience here in southern Germany with you back in the southern States.
Enclosed you will find coasters from three different breweries of varying fame and reputation. Now, as you may or may not know, the city of Munich is named after the Benedictine monks who, back in the 12th century, decided to settle here near a bridge that had been built over the Isar. Evidently, a lot of these Benedictines (as well as some Jesuits) had a knack for brewing.
This brings us to our first coaster, from the Andechs Abbey which is located about 45 minutes outside of Munich by a combination of the public train and bus system. They have been brewing beer here since 1455 and as you can tell by the decor of their baroque / rococo church, they have been quite successful.
Though the clergy has been quite a secular success, I should note that their church is significantly smaller than their beer hall. Also, I didn't take too much of a liking to their beer though that might be in part because I accidentally ordered a 14 euro piece of pork fit for a viking.
On the way home I spoke with an elderly gentleman wearing traditional Bavarian garb (dark green coat and hat, no leiderhosen this time); upon my showing him the Andechs coaster, he enthusiastically proclaimed his love of and regular attendance at Anders. He went on to say that although he often drank a fair deal at the beerhall, he had never been hassled by the polizei on the way home. I wondered why though, if he was a Catholic as he claimed to be, why he would not let his drink wear off at the service just next door.
This brings us to the second coaster, that of the glowing woman a-top a barrel and hoisting her Maß (i.e. liter size beer stein) above her head. In the cloudy distance, beyond Our Lady of Haidhausen, you may glimpse the city's famous twin steeples above which no building may rise. This little rule is but a minor component of the Bavarian's oft-argued case that his state, and perhaps Germany altogether, is in fact religious, traditional et cetera et cetera despite Europe's reputation for atheistic decadence. This rule is but a minor gesture however when compared with the draconian ordinance that no businesses may operate on the Sabbath. No banks, no grocery stores, no barbershops, no Mediamarkt. You would in fact be well advised to spend a fair part of your Saturday preparing for the following day's drought of goods and services.
Perhaps I have overstated my case. Bakeries are open for a bit of the morning, the cinema still runs, and most cafes and bars open up at night. But Bavarians generally have little choice but to rest or worship come Sunday.
And worship they do. But they are not all found in the pew but rather at the table, enjoying a healthy breakfast at the beerhall, such as the one at Unions-bräu. Here, they gather to consume not the traditional body and blood of Christ, but rather the brew and bread of everyday meat and wheat, namely Weisswurst, Weissbier and big delicious pretzels. The main prayers, 'Prost!' and 'Oans, Zwoa, G'suffa!' (i.e. a slurred version of 'One, Two, Chug!'), are shouted rather than sung.
This, plus a liter or two of beer
Side note: Weisswurst, a sausage of pork, minced veal, and spices, traditionally served with a German-spicy mustard, is considered to be a particularly Bavarian specialty, so much so that the Germans have considered dividing the country according to the Weisswurstaquator. It's exact location is a subject of some debate.
Though the truly Bavarian way to eat Weisswurst is supposedly to cut a hole in one end of the casing and suck the contents out (i.e. to 'zuzeln') whenever I have mentioned this, people act like they have never heard of it and then proceed to lay waste to my sexual dignity. But I digress.
Unions-Bräu has become a personal favorite not only for their logo, breakfast, and proximity to our apartment but also because they have Dixie Jazz on weekend nights and their beer tastes like butterscotch. It's magic.
Finally, I draw your weary attention to the relatively minimal coaster of Hofrbräuhaus. They can get away with this sort of understatement because half of the time when you tell someone that you have been to Munich, he will ask if you have been to the Hofrbäuhaus. If you answer yes, his next question will clarify beyond a doubt whether he is in fact a German. The non-German will ask if you knew that Hitler had his first rally there which of course you did because that's why you went there in the first place. The German, on the other hand, will ask if you liked the traditional food and you will say yes because you are polite and actually can't remember because you were not accustomed to ordering beer by the liter.
(One particularly daft foreigner, who a few months ago regrettably had me in his employ as an assistant at a trade show, was laying out the 20th century history of the Hofbräuhaus to his booth-neighbor, a first time visitor to this fair city, and then went on to claim that the Third Reich tour was also an absolutely essential stop for the first time visitor. This exchange wouldn't be all that exceptional except that a German client had been silently sharing in this conversation and was becoming noticeably on edge. My perceptive employer thus reached out to the German, inquiring whether he knew anything about 'that,' this 'that' alluding to some equally nefarious and vague antecedent, to which the German quipped, 'Oh, I am not old enough to know about all of 'that'.' Indeed.)
OK, that concludes my short survey of Bavarian breweries. I should add that the Hofbräu brew, in particular, proves that the Germans really do draft a superior beer; it's both light and flavorful, a combination that remains forever elusive to our American counterparts. I consider this perhaps one of the most significant sacrifices our people have suffered in our attempts to separate church and state.
Your Errant Grandson,
PS. Thanks for the X-mas present. I know I am a little late. I seem to have adopted a German bureaucrat's disregard for prompt reply.
