A tipple with your newspaper

A few years ago my wife and I were making our way through Berlin with the kids. Now, there are both good and bad things about that, but one which we found quite civilized were some of the little kiosk news stands which are littered throughout the city. In most respects they seemed to be normal news kiosks. They differed in one important way, however, which is that you can buy a small glass of Prosecco with your morning (or, preferably, evening) news. Now, for those of you who don’t know, Prosecco is a type of Italian sparkling wine, like a champagne, a little on the sweet side but quite pleasant, really.
Now, the Moral Majority would find that nothing short of reprehensible, but I for one think of it as charmingly sophisticated. How relaxing to purchase a newspaper or magazine in the late afternoon, a small glass of Prosecco, and sit down on a sunny bench to find out what’s happening in the world. Unfortunately, as it was winter there were very few sunny corners to be found, and in fact a number of the kiosks we passed were closed. It seemed like such a pleasant idea, though.
Now, kiosks throughout Germany sell booze, so that’s no great surprise. In Munich you can buy a half liter of beer or a small airplane bottle of schnapps at many such kiosks, but to me that seems more like the last refuge of an alcoholic than a nice way to spend an afternoon (and anyone who reads this knows that I like beer, and even schnapps).
No, there’s something about the prosecco booth which appeals to me.
Now, if only we had one here in Philadelphia.

On the trail of the popes

Since we were on the topic of wine, wine and the church, particularly the Catholic Church, are inextricably entwined. Both have a strong – if somewhat dysfunctional – relationship to the south of France.
Avignon, of course, was the seat of a number of popes until Gregory decided enough was enough and absconded with the furniture and the papacy back to Rome, leaving an empty palace and a woefully undersized cathedral. He – or rather, his predecessors – also left behind a legacy of wine which rewards us to this day.
One of the most famous of these regions, of course, is centered around Chateauneuf-du-Papes, part of the Cotes du Rhone. Chateauneuf-du-Papes is an interesting little town with the ruins of the papal chateau looming above. At this point, there’s more vineyard than chateau, but the view from the top is magnificent. We were here for more than just the view, however, so we stopped in at both the highly regarded Dieux Telegraphe and Clos des Papes for a taste or two. Although these two wineries (and this region) are much more well known, the tastings were still surprisingly low-key and uncrowded. Suffice it to say we left with two bottles of each and a warm feeling for those wine-drinking clerics of yore.

Wining in the Provence

I think of a lot of things when I think of France, but hot weather is not one of them. Nonetheless, is was a hot and sunny day when I decided it was time to check out some wine while in the south of France, and I have to say it was worth every minute.
Our first stop was a place called Viason-la-Romaine. I’m guessing that the “Romaine” refers to Rome, as there are allegedly some lovely ruins there. Our minds were on the wine, however, so we wandered only briefly through the lovely medieval town before heading off on the road towards Gigondas. We were sure to pass a number of little wineries and cooperatives.
One of my favorites was Clos des Cazaux, just outside of Gigondas. It didn’t look promising to start – a long, dusty road wound its way down to a house (not a chateau, mind you, but a farmhouse, albeit a pretty one). Arriving, we had the distinct feeling we were had stumbled into someone’s home as we looked around for anything remotely like a tasting room. Just as we were considering a hasty, slightly embarassed retreat, a little old lady came out of the house, greeted us like long lost friends, and ushered us into the large barn-like building to the side. A tiny sign read “Caveaux,” to educate those who could find it.
Once in the barn we gathered in a small, stone-walled room filled with barrels, open to display bottles of the different varieties of wine. In the corner was a small bar with numerous bottles, labelled and unlabeled, and a tap. As we struggled to communicate, two Americans with a minimal knowledge of French and an older Frenchwoman with equal knowledge of English, the two of us enjoyed a tasting as far removed from the usual mass-production tastings as one could hope for. Now that’s what travel is about.

In the heart of Virginia

I’ve travelled to different wineries across the US and Europe (although not California – yet), and I have to say one of the ones I enjoyed the most was Barboursville, in the wine region of Virginia. For those of you who don’t know it yet, Virginia has developed a reputation for good wines, and it’s deserved, at least in part. To be honest, there are some pretty mediocre wines from Virginia (no, I’m not going to link to any), but there are some very good ones as well. Barboursville is one of the good ones.
Not far from the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, the winery is set on a rural road on the former estate of James Barbour, one of the early governors of Virginia. The ruins of the governor’s erstwhile mansion are still on the property, and it’s a great place to relax with a bottle of newly purchased wine and some good cheese. My preference is the red wines, not surprising given that a major investor is a winery out of Italy, but they also make a very nice dessert wine.
The town of Barboursville is little more than a couple of houses and a church, but a trip to Barboursville can be combined nicely with a trip to Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s self-designed home and plantation. If you haven’t had enough of politicos you can also see Montpelier, James Madison’s nearby plantation. If you prefer to stay in a town setting, both Staunton and Charlottesville are charming towns. Either way, there’s history, culture, wine, and the natural beauty of rural Virginia. Surely that’s enough for a long weekend.

A land without a drink

Last week I was up in the north of Germany, a part of the country which is wildly underappreciated amongst the tourist crowd. That’s better for me, I suppose, but there are some great areas up there.
One of the strange things about the north of Germany is that there is no single drink for which the area is known. The weather isn’t good enough for wine, so that’s a non-starter. They drink a lot (and I mean a lot) of spirits of various sorts, but there’s no single spirit which is really associated with the area. I did have Elbaquavit, an aquavit from a small local provider north of Hamburg which was, well, a bit rough around the edges, but ultimately aquavit is more of a Danish drink than a German one. The best known German spirits tend to come from the south, including the wonderful products of Schladerer mentioned before.
The north also has a lot of great beers, but it’s not really known for them. I’m a big fan of Jever, from a town near the border with the Netherlands, and I also enjoy Flensburger Pils, on the border with Denmark. I’m also a big fan of Dithmarscher, although I prefer the Ditmarscher Urtyp and Dunkel to the Pilsener. Although Jever is part of the Becks brewing empire, and is increasingly available in the US, the others are from two of the few small, privately held breweries left in Germany these days. One of these days I’ll see if they’ll let me in for a tour …
Of course, with all of the ports up in the north, there are also a host of different imports, but then those aren’t really local, now are they? Calvados, Portuguese wine, Baltika Beer, I’ve had a multitude of interesting drinks from all over the world, but none really representative of the north. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with not having a signature drink.

Another look at Pilsen

So, from one set of tunnels to another, today I’ve decided to meander back to beer, and back to the Czech Republic, for another look at Pilsen.
In Pilsen, the Pilsner Urquell brewery’s not the only game in town, and for those interested in the brewing process the Pilsen brewery museum is a must. Housed in a small complex of houses in town, and now part of the Pilsner Urquell domain, the brewery museum was once a very small local brewery.
Visitors can walk through the small malting room, with its tile floors and low, arched ceilings. The well in the quarter provided the water needed for the brewing process. The malt dryer is covered with pungent malt, which I pushed around smoothed out and generally played with using the various old tools which are part of the museum’s display. Fun, yes, but instructive as well.
Similar to the Pilsner Urquell brewery, this small museum has steps leading down to a small fermenting room and, below it, the lagering tunnel. At all of 100 ft., the cellars are perhaps less impressive than those at the brewery, but it’s easy to get a good understanding of the mechanics of brewing. These tunnels were cooled by large chunks of ice which were left at the top of the stairs leading to the tunnel. As the ice melted the cold water ran down into the tunnels thereby keeping them cool. I guess they only brewed in winter. This brewery brewed around 5600 Hectoliters a year, about what Pilsner Urquell brews in one day.

A bit of bubbly

On a not-so-recent trip to Paris, at the crack of dawn, my travel partner and I woke up early and headed for the train station. Our goal – the early train to Epernay, the capital of France’s Champagne region.
Having arrived in Epernay, our first stop was Moet Chandon (where else?). The home of Dom Perignon and the world’s largest champagne producer, Moet Chandon is housed in a variety of buildings along the Avenue du Champagne in downtown Epernay. Some of those buildings are old and charming and others, well, let’s just say the newest building in the Moet Chandon empire looks rather like a suburban high school.
That didn’t keep us from checking out the tour. Luckily, there were only six people there, so we got up private tour of sorts. Of the 28 km of dark, damp cellars spreading out underneath the Moet Chandon facility, we must have walked about 1 km past countless thousands of champagne bottles reposing in the dark.
The first steps in making champagne are much like making wine. First, the grapes are pressed and the juice from the first two to three pressings are put in large tanks to age before bottling. Unlike wine, champagne is bottle-fermented, so the thick-walled (and thereby burst-resistant) bottles are outfitted with a temporary cap and left to lay in the cellars for three to six years. After fermenting the bottles are moved into upright wood racks, where they can be stored at a gradually increasing angle to move the sediment to the neck of the bottle. The apprenticeship alone for the individual who turns and sets the angle of the bottles takes two to three years, and no machines are used (or so they say). Once the bottle fermentation is complete, the sediment is flash frozen in a bath of liquid nitrogen and removed. At that point, a mixture of wine and sugar is added to the champagne and it is corked for the final time. At least that’s what they tell us.
For those interested in more of a show, Mercier is another cellar owned by the same group as Moet Chandon, but with a screen surround audiovisual and laser show, an elevator with moving figures preparing champagne, and an electric train leading through the cellars. A bit over the top for me, but others on the tour loved it.
The city of Epernay is attractive if not particularly memorable, and on our visit looked a little desolate other than for bus-riding tourists. One memory from Epernay has little to do with champagne but will remain with me forever: there was a public restroom in Epernay which was wholly self-contained. It was made of stainless steel or some other easy to clean surface, and the door opened automatically to let “customers” in and out. After reluctantly going in, I was somewhat concerned that it might choose to let me out before I was finished doing my business, thereby giving all of Epernay a chance to take a gander at the American on the toilet. The sink was right above the toilet, which was a bit weird as well. Upon leaving this strange steel bathroom-pod the door closed again, and the entire interior of the restrooms was automatically disinfected and cleaned before it would allow anyone else to enter. Very strange. I have to wonder if anyone has ever been trapped in there during the cleaning process, and how they fared.

If you can’t eat you might as well drink

Apropos of church, some of the most enduring beers were originally brewed by monks, including the famous Starkbier of Munich and its surroundings. It’s loud and chaotic, but the Starkbierfest is a beer festival with a pedigree. Beer has long been regarded a staple in the Bavarian diet, but it is the notion of beer as “liquid bread” which led the monks of St. Francis of Paula to brew a hearty beer to sustain them through the final weeks of lent and the fasting which leads up to Easter. That beer and the brewery which grew out of it, both named Paulaner Salvator, started a tradition of double-bock beers which survives to this day.
Every spring Munich’s breweries gear up the production of their strongest, richest beers – beers with names like Salvator, Optimator, and Maximator. These dark beers, “strong beers” according to the literal translation, are served in heavy half liter of liter ceramic mugs rather than the usual glasses. As many an unsuspecting visitor to Munich has discovered the double bocks they are almost twice as strong as a normal beer with over 7% alcohol by volume.
The festival is more than just beer, however. The Starkbierfest is called the “fifth season” in Bavaria, and the beer halls of the city are crawling with stout men in their lederhosen, heavy woolen socks and green Loden jackets. The Starkbierfest, like the Oktoberfest, is considered a family event, and the Bavarian women in their long skirts and dirndls are also present, often with the children and the extended family. Where there are Bavarians there is music, and the beer halls reverberate with the local folk music. The atmosphere at the Starkbierfest is friendly and celebratory, with far fewer tourists than the more famous Oktoberfest.
The traditional home of the Starkbierfest is Paulaner’s Salvatorkellar, known in Munich by its location, Nockherberg. The Salvatorkellar is at Hochstraße 77 on the Nockherberg and can be reached by streetcars 15, 25, and 27. If you are in town, don’t miss the opportunity to try one of the other fine double-bock beers in one of Munich’s many other beer halls, in particular that of Löwenbräu on Stiglmaierplatz.
The Starkbierfest is held the 4th and 3rd weeks before Easter. This year’s Starkbierfest started with the traditional Starkbieranstich on March 11, 2007.

Not the Pitts

We’ve just returned from a city which, much like my home city of Philadelphia, suffers from an old, worn reputation it no longer deserves. I’m talking about Pittsburgh. Now, Pittsburgh still has its issues, but it’s no longer the smog-filled steeltown of old. One thing which is left from those days (combined with a significant German population) is a legacy of beers. Now, not all of those beers are great, but the beer tourist still has a few worthy things to see.
First of all is the Pittsburgh Brewing company, an old-school American brewery which has been in the same location on Liberty Ave in Pittsburgh for over 140 years. According to Factory Tours in PA, the brewery can be toured from April through November, although the brewery website doesn’t say so. Either way, I’ve never been, but one of these days I will. If you are in the neighborhood and can’t tour Pittsburgh Brewing, you can still make your way to beer experience of a different sort. Just a short way down the street from Pittsburgh brewing is the Church Brew Works, where you can worship at the altar of beer (quite literally) and enjoy a fine example of adaptive reuse. The brewery is housed in an old Catholic church, and where the altar once stood there is a large brewing house. It’s a worthy visit, if just for the unique environment, but the beer’s not bad either.
Finally, another old building has been renovated and, in this instance, brought back to its original purpose in the Penn Brewery. Fans of German music and food will enjoy a visit, particularly during the various German-style events, but we’ve been to the restaurant a few times and always had a good time. The old brewery buildings provide a great backdrop for good German-style beers. In summer, a nice patio area provides outdoor seating as well.

On the River Horse

So, closer to home (at least for us) we visited the River Horse Brewing Company in Lambertville, New Jersey. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that New Jersey remains for me a foreign country, and I always expect to have to change money when I go there. More importantly, I still fail to appreciate the charms of the Jersey jughandle, a strange way of turning left which involves turning right first. Thankfully, Lambertville is right over the bridge from New Hope, PA, so we were able to simply park the car and walk.
In any case, the first place we walked was to River Horse, which is in what clearly used to be the industrial section of this practically too cute Victorian village. The brewery itself is in what looks to be an old mill of some sort (anyone know the answer?). Entering the brewery the first sight is a cozy tasting area, with a bar on one side and a very old table (surrounded by handsome River Horse merchandise) on the other. Behind the bar is a door, and the tour pretty much consists of the guy behind the bar opening the door and saying “Here for the tour?”
The main operating portion of the brewery is on the first floor, with only a few lagering tanks on the second. The brewery isn’t large, but you’re free to wander and check out the facility.
As for the beer, I really enjoyed the Lager, and may have to go back and get a case (did I mention that we parked the car and walked to the brewery?). The brewery is open for tours seven days a week, 12-5. Lambertville offers a lot of kitschy shops, particularly antiques, but it’s not wholly given over to the tourist trade.