Monday, July 24, 2006

Smokin' & Drinkin'

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“A day without beer is a health risk”
Anonymous Professor from Weihenstephan University, Freising, Germany


In college it was a saying we had- probably rooted in a comment one of us made in all sincerity at some point. “ we'll got out and do some smokin', drinkin', you know.” Someone said it and the rest of us picked up on how stupid it sounded and from that point until now, thirteen years later, we still say it tongue in cheek in remembrance of that statement.
And yesterday in an odd corner of Germany's Franconia region I was reminded of my college friends as I tried smoked beer for the first time. The idea of a smoked beer is such an oddity- I didn't give it much thought before we arrived at the former monastery in the story-book cute town of Bamberg. It is what one imagines a small German town would look like...with flowers spilling out of windowboxes attached to meticulously painted and maintained homes. Small shops along the street welcome tidy waves of locals and tourists and the air is crisp and clear with sunshine spilling into every alley. The German propensity for orderliness and cleanliness pays off in postcard ready towns that were reconstructed after the whole country was leveled by the bombs of world war two. It has to be said that is is strangely tense to walk around Germany with this history in mind. There are very few medieval town centers or other reminders of the years before the war. The only thing that appears to remain from that time is the occasional cobblestone, and traditional expressions of the earlier culture- delicately carved wood clocks in store windows. And of course there is the gastronomy. Before the industrial revolution harsh winters required pickling vegetables, and to this day vinegar is a prominent flavor. Cured meats are present along with sausages, brats, and schnitzels. Sadly, though while prevalent on menus- these German mainstays are difficult to find of great quality. After world war two an “Americanization” took hold leading to more processed, cheaper, and more convenient foods. As has been the case in every other corner of the globe when this happens authentic flavors and recipes are the first casualty. Next tastes change and the standard for normal is set at a different level. This is also the case with beer.
Smoked beer is not the result of an overly- creative beermeister trying for the next great thing. It's actually the original way that beer was made. For centuries, beer has been made with the same recipe with slight variations in preparation methods. One of these variations is the drying of the malt. Malt is the germinated (soaked) cereal grain (wheat or barley) which is soaked so that it is activated to produce sugar and enzymes which facilitate fermentation. Once soaked, they need to be dried. The ancients would do this in the sun- but as beer making migrated northward, it became necessary to dry these grains over a fire. This is where the smoke flavor comes from. But with the industrial revolution, the more efficient gas powered hot air-driers replaced wood burning driers, effectively removing the smoked flavor of the old days.
But at Schlenkerla Tavern and brewery, the Rauchbier (smokebeer) tradition continues. It is tough to find when you're casually walking by since it is difficult to stand out in a perfectly groomed town, but the institution does not suffer as a result. The building stands shoulder to shoulder to its neighbors on a street called Dominikanerstrasse. It is a narrow one, cursed by motorists but loved by pedestrian tourists and so Schlenkerla gets plenty of traffic: so much so that our group had to arrive early in order not to interfere with the lunch rush. But a ten-thirty beer tasting is not too far afield for our class. We were ushered into the circa 1310 arched room once used by monks for meeting, eating and drinking and were greeted with a tall dark glass of frothy smokebeer. The beginning of the owner's presentation was almost universally ignored as my fascinated classmates and I sniffed, photographed and sipped the strange brew. It was adictive to investigate- the first sniff was like a sausage! No- roasted game! Look at that color- it is clearer than a guinness I think. It doesn't have the same foam, though. The first sip elicited curled noses from some and groans of appreciation from others. It was then that we were capable of turning our attention to the presenter of this product, Mr. Matias Trum. He laughed when he saw some didn't appreciate Smoke beer on its first sip- saying that while the beer is a little rough making its the first impression, everyone likes it after they've had three. Matias is the sixth generation of his family making Smokebeer here at Schlemkerla. In fact the tavern is named after his great great grandfather who walked with a limp. Shlenkerla is a German reference to a person walking crooked- from an injury or from drink and Matias suspects his ancestor had an accident in the brewery. In the old days, beer was fermented in big wooden barrels that were very difficult to work with. According to Matias, being a brewer was a dangerous and sometimes deadly occupation. His family makes smoke beer by burning Beech wood from the surrounding forest contributing extra flavor to the smoke that penetrates the malt. The official description of the aroma includes smoked sausage and bacon- not something you'd naturally be inclined to drink. But out of reverence for the taste of the past and indignation towards the today's taste molded by the industrial drive towards ease and convenience- I vow to drink it and to like it. And I do. It is heavy- and you don't taste hops- only the smoked barley. But it isn't overwhelming because of a slight sweetness that balances it out. It does have a smoked sausage flavor, but I'm not sure if this is because smoke overwhelms the memory of sausage and that's what this beer brings to mind by simply having a smoke flavor- but that is for a neurologist specializing in senses and memory to figure out.
The brewery offers other beers- heavier and lighter. The wheat smokebeer (which we also got to taste) has more sweetness and a milder flavor. Lentbeer is available only during the Lenten season (this part of Germany is very Catholic) and is brewed under the Bavarian purity law 1516. It has more yeast and actually advertises during the season of fasting, Lentbeer has the “Brotzeit already included.” Brotzeit is german for afternoon snack. Another seasonal offering is Urbock which is a stronger beer for the winter months (with Original gravity of 17.5% and alcohol of 6.5%). Of course for the everyday drinker there is the easy to approach Schlenkerla Lager- clear golden beer with a hint of smoke because it is made in the same kettles and with the same yeast as the smoke beer.
Most of the product is sold direct to restaurants and shops around Bamberg still in the barrel. Bottles are exported as far away as Japan and North America, and of course Schlenkerla is available around Germany.
The upper limit on consuming this beer is one for me because it is very filling. The wheat beer is lighter and I could be convinced to have a second or third if I hadn't eaten much before. Regardless, I feel like a bit of an insider in the world of history being able to actually taste what beer was like for centuries before it changed in relatively recent years. It is a taste that could easily be forgotten and that is a shame. It makes me wonder at the hundreds of preparation methods that have changed and how this has changed our perception of what tastes good and what tastes bad. How many recipes are forever gone, and for that matter, how many foods and drinks have fallen out of cultivation and eventually existence? It seems that the globalized homogenization of taste is stripping away fringe products revered by localized cultures for centuries. It makes me applaud Matias, Schlenkerla, Smokebeer, and the locals who love it. A small amount is exported, so if you find it and have an opportunity to try it, do. It is a sip of history that has defied the machine of mass consumption and thinking of it now gives me the same goose-bumps I had upon the first sniff.

France vs. Italy- not world cup related

In my vast knowledge of two whole countries in Europe, it is difficult not to compare the two. In many cases it is tough to make a call- in some it is painfully obvious... so thus follows a brief list of commonalities that are not so similar.

Toilets. I love Italy but this one I have to give to the French. The public restrooms were better over-all from smell to visual cleanliness to the presence of an actual toilet upon which one could sit if desired (and sanitized). France also gets high marks for presence of paper products in the rest-room.

Coffee. Italy wins hands-down. While my first cafe au lait nearly made me cry with joy at its huge-ness (it was about the size of a dog-bowl) I have to say that overall flavor is better in Italy. Even if the French coffee shop had an Italian branded coffee roaster it just wasn't the same.
Meat. I am still entirely un-impressed with European fresh meat products- and let's just forget a steak. But here I have to say that the French preparation of meat in very interesting and impressive. In Italy I've only seen grilled or roasted and while this is fine, it's not so great when dealing with meat that isn't all that fabulous to begin with. For example, I had a beef cheek in Burgundy that was incredible because they had stewed it in red wine for twelve hours. OK, maybe I had been stewed in wine, but it was quite a dish that on description sounded foul but was actually done very well. In contrast I had a beef cheek in Italy and every ribbon of fat that you'd imagine would be there was quite present and I ate very little of it. Of course I am aware of the difference in restaurants and preparation...but I don't have energy to list the differences in presparation of rabbit, duck, chicken, and other meats that I have experienced.

Wine. This really isn't fair because I was only taken to Burgundy which is home to Pinot Noir and Chardonnay- both of which are not my absolute favorite grapes. To be fair- the Chardonnays from Chablis were more pure and characteristic of the grape alone than those that I have tried from elsewhere. It is a quality I respect and like the flavor of. Also, I did find a Burgundian red I liked- however it was from 2003 which was apparently a season that produced Pinot Noir that was not in keeping with its typical characteristics and therefore not a fan-favorite. OK, I just don't love Pinot Noir.....I'll just accept it. So,really what I can base this on is my preference for the style of Italian winemakers. Italy's wines feel like they have more tons of passion per hectare than France's. They are less predictable, less organized by “terroir,” and seem to have less to loose by tinkering with innovation. While there is tradition in both places, it seems to be less of a straight jacket for Italian wine producers and that can lead to some yummy accidents, super-tasty rule-bending blends, and over-all relaxation and that's what wine is for isn't it?

Bread. Here geography has me biased again. Parma, Italy is home to some of the crappiest bread ever extracted from an oven. It is difficult to describe. Flavorless does not even touch the dearth of life in this bread. Usually presented as little baseballs in a basket, the exterior is deceivingly golden-ish. When you pierce this non-porous rind with a thumb, dust-like crumbs are airborne for the next few seconds. This is when you apologize to the people at the next table and try to fish an especially offensive crumb from their wine glass. The white pouf inside is reminiscent of 18th century men's wigs- smooth as can be from the over-processed flour and a shade of white what would make a Crest white strip jealous. I've tried to justify its existence with the idea that this is also home to two strong flavors- Prosciutto di Parma and Parmigiano-Reggiano, so having a really sturdy bread might compete. But it's still just not acceptable. So France didn't have to do a lot to win this category- Wonder bread could have won- but the French baguettes cannot be beat.

Cheese. This cannot be decided. I have tried. French cheeses are a different animal from Italian cheeses. Both are to die for and neither can lose anything. I love all cheese....except for this one incredibly smelly one from the mountains somewhere. Apparently it is the ends cut off another kind of cheese, smooshed together and cured in beer. It is cone shaped and bright orange. If it is offered, go ahead and try it, but I'll admit, after a bite and then a sip of my water, I couldn't drink from the same glass again for the smell....do NOT try while on a date- unless it's not going well.