Today's Schnitzls

Schnitzel doesn't grow on trees, or so I believed until Privatbrauerei Schnitzlbaumer entered my life, its name conjuring an image of juicy breaded cutlets, hanging ready to be picked. Four beers from this Bavarian operation have landed into Ireland and into my fridge, priced at a very reasonable (for here and now) €3.50.

The first is not in a style I readily associate with Bavaria, the stolidly Rhinelandish Export. Schnitzlbaumer Export Hell is 5.2% ABV, a strength I readily associate with Bavarian Helles. Could I tell any difference between that and this? Maybe. It certainly has a similar sort of sweetness, presumably just a function of the gravity. And of course it's a medium limpid gold: I wouldn't expect the brewery to have survived (seit 1575, allegedly) if it weren't. But I think there's a smidge more hopping than you'd get in a Helles. They tend to taste like spongecake; this has more of a grass and spinach bite, but is just as rich and smooth. My palate is really not trained for such distinctions. Or at all, really. It is a nice beer, however. You don't need to know anything else about it.

What makes me think that perhaps they're not pitching at anything Dortmunderish is the existence of Export Dunkel. Presumably this is is meant to be a Bavarian Dunkel, only slightly stronger. Again, it's 5.2% ABV. The colour is striking: that pure ruby garnet that Bavarian and Bohemian breweries have perfected and which always signals great beer to even an appearance-agnostic like me. I got hops first on the aroma, suggesting a pale lager with no more than a glamour on it. A little burst of darker caramel does arrive on inhaling deeply enough, however. Those positions are reversed on tasting, to positive effect. First up, it's all about the burnt caramel sugar and sterner grain roast. It doesn't lay it on thick, proceeding quickly to the squeakily vegetal green noble hops, before the swift flourish of a clean lager finish. This is easy drinking, almost Helles-like, but with enough dark character to give it a different purpose. That's a spec every brewery should have in its core line-up. Here's an example of how to do it well.

On to the obergärig segment, beginning with Schnitzei Weisse. This looks like a typical weissbier, though on the darker, oranger side of the spectrum. While there was lots of head to begin with, it faded a bit quickly for my liking, robbing me of the full foamy effect by the time I got to take the first sip. That revealed that, yes, there's nothing much especially noteworthy here. The banana/clove dial, which all of these should have on the label, is turned mostly towards the fruit, though there's a little spiciness as well, confined to the finish. 5.5% ABV is on the strong side, relative to others of its type, and I think that can be tasted in both the heat and a weighty toffee malt base as well. The worst sin a weissbier can commit is being watery, and this is definitely not that, staying easy-drinking while filling and satisfying too. It works, which for €3.50 is sufficient.

I followed that immediately with Schnitzei Weisse Dunkel. I don't really get the point of dark weissbier: they don't do anything better than the pale ones. Could this be the one to change my mind? The appearance is immediately off-putting: orange and hazy is fine; brown and hazy looks like mud. It's the same strength and has the same poor head retention so I didn't expect much difference once I poured it. The aroma is identical but I'll admit there is something different in the flavour. That malt weight and heat is reduced a little by a roasted dryness, plus a hint of chocolate and a mineral metallic tang. The banana is still there, especially in the aroma, but it's muted in the flavour. I was shocked to find myself enjoying this more than the previous one. Not by much, but it's something. Getting the very estery weissbier yeast to play nicely with the dark malts is an achievement.

And on that note I return to my musings about the schnitzel tree. Can we have a Kartoffelsalatstrauch too?