Continuing with the report from Bamberg, and now on to Rauchbier, the local specialty made with smoked malt. Above is a post-first-sip shot of Spezial’s Rauchbier, shown in the taproom on Obere Königsstraße. In Bamberg itself, there are two main producers: the oh-so-famous Schlenkerla, aka home of Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier, and Brauerei Spezial. (While a few other producers in the larger region also make Rauchbier, I’ll focus on Bamberg for now.) Before I compare the two, I’d like to talk about something else for a second: wine.

Hang on — there’s no need to choke on your Double IPA, bro. This is still Beer Culture, and of course beer and wine have much in common, not the least of which is the fact that they both make life worth living. And just as extreme beers — with more alcohol, more hops, and of course higher prices — have taken off in the past few years, winemakers have gone through their own forms of extremism, producing wines with more alcohol, more oak, more fruit, more malolactic buttery flavors and mouthfeel, and of course ever-higher prices. And not everyone has been happy with the changes.

Much of this was catalogued in the lovely film Mondovino, which pointed out how the preeminence of just one critic, Robert Parker, has single-handedly changed the way French wines are made. A high rating from Parker’s Wine Advocate can take your vineyard from obscurity to sold-out status in a matter of days. If your winery is struggling to survive, why wouldn’t you consider making wines that are just a bit more in line with what the world’s most important wine critic seems to prefer?

Another factor, of course, is the fact that many big wine tastings are done with dozens if not scores of bottles at once. (There’s a reason why they spit it out, and it’s not because the stuff doesn’t taste good.) I’ve been a judge in several blind tastings of 20 wines or more, and honestly, after trying two dozen sauvignons blancs in thirty minutes, it’s very hard to keep track of subtleties. At that point, just about the only wines that have a chance of getting noticed are the ones with more: more oak, more butter, more alcohol or more fruit. This is not the same as saying they are the best, and individually, compared one to another, the more modest, more balanced, less extreme wine might very well be every judge’s favorite. It’s just that when you’re tasting a large amount of samples over the course of an afternoon, subtlety, modesty and balance are often hard to grasp.

Well, that’s what seems to be happening with beer — not in the sense of the preeminence of a single critic, not in the sense of people tasting 20 Doppelbocks in a session, and not in the sense of judges spraying the world’s greatest brews into a spittoon. Rather, it’s happening in the sense that the loud, noisy beers, if you will, are the ones that are getting noticed in the crowd, rather than the elegant and understated beers that you’d want to bring home to Mom and Dad.

Which brings us back to Rauchbier.

As I said, there are two producers of Rauchbier in Bamberg town, and of them, Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier is about as Rauch-y as it can get, so assertively smoky that people compare it to liquid bacon. The smoke first hits your mouth like a Montecristo #2 torpedo, lingering with bacony, porcine flavors before heading off to a bittersweet finish, like the point when your maple syrup gets on the last bite of your breakfast links. For smoked beers, it is extreme, and if you’ve never had one, it pretty much blows your mind (and your gustatory papillae) the first time you try it. It is literally awesome.

And yet I think I prefer Spezial. Compared to its cross-town competition, Spezial is moderately, even modestly smoky. Instead, it’s easier to taste the malt, and much easier to taste the meal you have with it. Another bonus: after you have a Rauchbier from Spezial, you can still enjoy something else. You could have another Spezial Rauchbier and still like it, or you could move on and enjoy the subtleties of the brewery’s very nice Ungespundetes.

Whereas after you have one from Schlenkerla, it’s hard to taste anything else.

Well, that’s a brief take on Bamberger Rauchbier as it looked last week. There is another interesting beer from Schlenkerla, the Rauchweizen (“smoke wheat”) beer. It has a slightly lighter body than the Rauchbier, with a wheat beer’s spicy clove finish, and isn’t quite as aggressive in its smokiness. The Czech Republic’s new Pivovar Kocour Varnsdorf is set to produce a Rauchweizen, and beer fans here can’t wait to check that out. Both Bamberg breweries also produce a strong version known as Fastenbier, available only during Lent, meaning right now.

Oh, and one more thing about wine: while extreme wines aren’t disappearing, there are rumors of winemakers in California scaling back the alcohol and fruit. I mentioned this as a possible sign for a coming sea-change in brewing trends in a discussion about extreme beers on A Good Beer Blog which Stephen Beaumont also cited in his post on the subject at On the House.

Of course the extreme will continue to get the attention from the hoi polloi, but consider Lew Bryson’s Session Beer Project in the US and CAMRA’s attempt to rekindle interest in mild in the UK. Consider the fact that non-alcoholic beers are one of the growth segments of the Czech beer market, and that cult producer Bernard is emphasizing its lehké pivo (“light beer”), an uncommon style of table beer brewed at 7.99° or less and, in this case, containing just 2.2% ABV. With that in mind, you could make the case that the next big thing — at least at the leading edge of beer culture — just might be smaller beers.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to plan my trip to Munich for Starkbierzeit.

Let’s say you’re about to get married and, hypothetically, you like beer. (Use your imagination for the former, if not the latter.) Let’s also suppose, hypothetically, that your beloved enjoys a good pint as well. The day arrives; you finally say “I do.” Where on earth do you go for your honeymoon?

That is precisely the question that faced us last week. After several years of traveling around Central Europe, taking photographs and writing about travel and food and drink, Nina and I were finally married last week in Libeňský zámek, the chateau in our corner of Prague. After the ceremony, we had lunch with family and witnesses at the neighborhood brewpub, Richter Brewery, then headed home, grabbed our bags and hit the train station for a honeymoon in the region’s most beautiful city for lovers of great beer.

That is to say: Bamberg.

I’m surprised that more hasn’t been written about the connections between Bamberg and Prague. Not only are there historical ties (a house near Bamberg’s Obere Brücke has a sign noting that Albrecht von Wallenstein stayed there; Prague’s Wallenstein Palace is the home of the Czech senate), but the beer culture is similar in both cities, as is the cuisine — we had a very good goulash, for example, at Schlenkerla. Furthermore, the travel connections can be as difficult as falling off a log: a fast train from Prague to Nuremberg (with enough time there to pick up a delicious snack of Nürnberger Rostbratwurst), then a 45-minute regional express to Beerville. Total minimum travel time: 6 hours, 8 minutes.

Of course, there are plenty of hotels in Bamberg, and most zymurgical tourists will want a guest room at a brewery like Spezial or Fässla, both of which have decent lodgings at moderate prices, with both breweries almost directly facing each other on Obere Königsstraße. However, we wanted something a little more memorable, so we took a recommendation for Hotel Sankt Nepomuk, a reconverted mill on its own island in the Regnitz with a panoramic view of the Rathaus, the river, the bridges and the cathedral, and named after the Czech saint who was drowned in Prague in 1393. (Seriously, the connections are practially Swedenborgian.)

We were a few days too early to try Schlenkerla’s Fastenbier, which was only tapped this week, and which I loved last year. Instead, our second bryd-ealu was the pub’s standard Rauchbier, that not-so-far-from-Bohemian goulash and a couple of perfect Schnitzels, followed by a pint of Schlenkerla’s Rauchweizen. (I’ll write more about the beers in a separate post.)

In any case, Bamberg was an excellent choice. Lest you think it’s all about Rauchbier, the city is also a UNESCO World Heritage site, due to its pristine Gothic and Baroque architecture and rich history. It’s also home to great pastries like the Bamberger Hörnchen, reminiscent of the best croissants you’ve ever had, only flakier and more buttery. There’s a lively pedestrian zone with lots of cafés and bakeries along and around the Grüner Markt, with the Bamberger Dom, founded in 1004, overlooking everything from the top of the hill.

If you do go, give yourself enough time to wander the city’s narrow lanes and cross the many small bridges over the Regnitz. Check out Ron Pattinson’s Bamberg Beer Guide online; Fred Waltman’s downloadable Bamberg Beer Guide booklet is very highly recommended. And I would especially suggest contacting the Bamberg tourist office, which is open seven days a week and which offers maps, books and self-guided beer tours to the city’s 10 functioning breweries.

Even if you aren’t crazy about beer, Bamberg is a lovely place to visit. And if you do enjoy a good pint, you’ll probably feel the same way we do.

Best. Honeymoon. Ever.

I have a story about new restaurants in Vienna in this weekend’s NYT. This is another Choice Tables feature, not a beer story, but I had to include the very good Rotes Zwickl from Ottakringer, which I liked a lot as the house beer at the excellent restaurant Österreicher im MAK (whose taps are pictured above). In the story, I wrote that this is one of the few beers in Vienna to come close to the nearly extinct Vienna lager style. Before any BJCP-style-guidelines-citing readers comment that a red Zwickl isn’t anything like Vienna lager, I’ll quickly link to Conrad Seidl’s piece on a real Vienna lager from Brauerei Villach, in which he writes (my translation):

“…but in Vienna, the local beer style was no more. Of Austrian beers, Hadmar (Bierwerkstatt Weitra) and the Rotes Zwickl from Ottakringer came the closest.”

What is interesting about the Vienna lager style is that, after it died out at home, related beers continued to exist in a couple of places: Mexico, for one, and in the Czech lands. (As Ron Pattinson wrote, “Vienna lagers aren’t dead: they’ve just moved over the border.”) In fact, this is one of the four current Czech beer trends I mentioned in The Truth about Budvar and in a post on Prague’s newest brewpub, Bašta.

Nope, those beers aren’t dead. They’re absolutely thriving here.

However, just as Hans and Franz go by Honza and František hereabouts, Vienna lager seems to change its name once it crosses the border: instead of Wiener Lager or even vídeňský ležák, our versions are called jantar (amber), polotmavý (half-dark) or granát (garnet). Often brewed from 11°–14° or higher, they are clear, light amber to deep amber in color, characterized by a fairly rich body with toasty malt, caramel, toffee and even syrupy notes followed by a lasting sweet finish without much hoppiness, unlike the bitter bite of a real Czech Pilsner-style beer.

Ottakringer’s Rotes Zwickl seemed a bit lighter in color than its Czech cousins, and the unfiltered Zwickl cloudiness made it stand out. But other than a slight yeastiness, the overall flavor was fairly similar, perhaps finishing with a bit less malt, though still pretty good.

Beyond Rotes Zwickl, I enjoyed Vienna immensely: the people were surprisingly friendly for a big city, the vast art collections can practically cause hallucinations (the good kind), and Viennese cuisine is like the best meal cooked by the Czech grandmother you never had. (Much like Franz and František, the Beuscherl from the story can be found as Pajšl in the Czech lands.) I was highly impressed by the restaurants in the article, all of which seemed to be run by people who care deeply about food and where it comes from.

Of course, Vienna is historically more into wine and coffee than beer, and the fine-dining angle on this story meant I wouldn’t get to spend too much time in the pub. Nonetheless, I did find some very good half-liters at Universitätsbräu, also known as Unibräu, a brewpub on the university campus with a refreshing (and pale, in the typical Austrian style) Märzen. And one rainy night when we were off restaurant duty, Nina and I visited Sieben-Stern-Bräu, which makes a properly smoky Bamberger Rauchbier (as well as a pretty decent plate of chili con carne, at least by Central European standards — you’re supposed to cook the beans, people). Seven Stars also serve an amber Märzen that they say is akin to a Vienna lager, though what I found most interesting was the dark beer they called Prager Dunkles, in homage to what was once Prague’s favorite pivo.

Nowadays, of course, many pubs and restaurants in Prague serve only Pilsner-style brews, with rich dark lagers often quite hard to find outside of brewpubs. In fact, Prague-style dark beer makes a weird parallel to Vienna lager: a beer that was once closely associated with the Czech capital has now largely disappeared.

But that’s a different story. As for Vienna lager and Czech amber and half-dark beers, I’ll have more to write soon. In the meantime, don’t miss Österreicher im MAK on your next trip to Vienna — and don’t skip the Beuscherl.

If you missed the Prague Christmas Beer Markets, you missed out on more than just outstanding brews — you also didn’t hear the news. For starters, there was the announcement of the forthcoming brewery at the eastern edge of Ústecký kraj, north of Prague and very near the German and Polish borders. Set to take off in early 2008, Pivovar Kocour Varnsdorf will brew classic Czech lagers as well as several top-fermenting beers, including an English pale ale, an IPA and a Rauchweizen.

This marks the arrival of more than just another outstanding Czech microbrewery (and no, it’s not a brewpub — these beers should actually be distributed well beyond where they’re made, at least in kegs). Continuing the ever-greater variety in Czech brewing, Kocour is in the possession of several oak casks from Hungary and is planning to age some of its beers in wood, reminiscent of U Medvídků’s excellent oak-aged lagers and the popular oaked ales from Innis & Gunn.

The market also featured a début from the new Pivovar Hradec Králové: the outstanding Patriot kvasnicový ležák (4.6%), a picture-perfect yeast beer — light gold with extremely mild carbonation and a creamy, smooth mouthfeel and notes of vanilla and grassy hops in the finish. For the time being, Patriot appears to be brewed at Pivovar Žamberk, though in the near future it should (hopefully?) move back to its hometown in a new location. The town’s former brewery, long closed, has been recently reconstructed, reappearing as a set of modern flats and offices.

Ironically, that old brewery building is also the new site for Hradec Králové’s Pivovar Rambousek, the maker of a heart-stopping, half-dark, chestnut-honey lager that defies description in anything but the language of angels. In case you missed the earlier news, consider yourself ahead of the curve on this one: Rambousek’s web page says they look forward to welcoming guests in 2008.