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MEMORIES OF MUNICH
Most breweries can be blisteringly hot in the summertime and our brewery in Royersford is no exception. It always seems strange brewing Oktoberfest on a 90-plus day in July, but in order to have Oktoberfest on the table in September our wholesalers must be selling it by August. That's just the way the business works and it's why so many of you are taken aback when you discover you can't find any Oktoberfest beers in October. The early bird gets the Oktoberfest, or something like that.
Some would say that, heat and all, we have it better than pre-refrigeration brewers. They had to brew their Oktoberfests in March for a release in September because the heat of the summer would turn the beer into vinegar if it was not finished fermenting and stored away in an ice-filled cave. Do you think that meant they had the summer off? Maybe they really did the better deal.
The first Oktoberfest was a Royal wedding celebration in 1810. It was so much fun that the Munich residents and breweries began to throw a party every year and soon moved the date back from the original October 12 to begin in late September to take advantage of better weather. The celebration today is a lot like a Pennsylvanian country fair, but with lots of beer. And only breweries that make their beers in the city of Munich may have a beer tent at the festival.
I remember the one and only time I went to the real Oktoberfest...
I was studying in Austria for a semester and one of my travel buddies had talked me into heading there for the weekend even though I was worried about finding a room on a student budget. Steve was a cowboy from New Orleans. He enjoyed getting himself and his friends into trouble, so he could play his bayou brand of chivalrous heroism. And he had promised his grandfather that he would hoist a beer for him at the Oktoberfest one day.
So off we went to Munich. After waiting in line for hours at the tourism office, four of us pooled most of our budgeted money together and managed to get a single room. Steve snuck our bags in while we waited in the square to head for the festival grounds. When we finally made the 20-minute walk to the festival gate we had the biggest thirst for a beer I had ever experienced.
I could not believe the size of the crowd. I laughed at an Asian group that had brought small flags, holding them above their heads to stay together, until we ended up following Steve though the crowd with our hands on each others shoulders just to keep from drifting off with the flow of people like a man overboard from a cruise ship, never to see each other again.
Steve chose the Lowenbrau tent for our first beer. We followed him through the crowd as he desperately tried to find out where and how we could get a beer. There was no bar, just table after table of well lubricated, singing Bavarians. I watched as Steve wandered through the tent. Each time a waitress walked by with 10 - 2 liter beers balanced on her hands, he stopped to try and get her attention, but they all rushed past him as if he was not there. His polite New Orleans twang was not laud enough for them to notice him, so I finally stepped in. Since I'm from New England, my manners were not as polished.
"Entschuldigung," I screamed, "which is the German word for "apology" or "excuse me." "How do we get a beer?" The answer was simple. "You must be seated." It seemed easy enough. We looked to find a seat. There were none. We were all used to squeezing into a long table because our time in Austria taught us how to move right in, but there was not even an inch to spare on any bench in the tent.
We began moving frantically from tent to tent, and after each tent we went to Steve looked more and more desperate.
Paulaner. Spaten. Augustiner. Hacker-Pschorr. Hofbrauhaus. Nothing.
There was not a seat anywhere at the Oktoberfest.
Steve's expression had turn from desperation to despair. He looked thoroughly defeated. We all were in various stages of disappointment, for that matter, since not a single drop of beer had yet crossed any of our lips. So I was actually relieved when Steve suggested we head back to the city for a beer. I had thought of that option about a half hour before at the third tent, but I didn't dare suggest that he give up his quest.
We ended up at the Lowenbrau beer hall and all disappointment was gone with the first gulp of delicious beer. After a full day of travel and witnessing thousands of Bavarians drinking beer, we finally had our own. I don't think we even ate that night. The band played, we spoke our broken German, we stumbled back to the hotel with little memory of our painful journey.
The next day was lost to the Hofbrauhaus, then we took the train back home that night because we had been kicked out of the hotel. I guess four people in a room for one was not allowed, or at least not on Oktoberfest weekend.
It's memories such as those that I try to capture in some small way when I brew our Oktoberfest each summer. I hope that everyone who enjoys its rich malty flavor and easy drinkability as summer draws to a close and the autumn approaches will be inspired to recall some happy moments in the past, with a good beer in hand and friends or family close by.
Beer is all about conviviality, and Oktoberfest may be the style that best captures that wonderful feeling.
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