Not-Rhine-Westphalia

The last part of my beery explorations of western Germany covers the beers that aren't from western Germany. With its powerful brewing and hospitality culture, Bavaria dominates, of course.

For example, whichever German city I'm in, there always seems to be a Paulaner restaurant, serving all the traditional pork-based favourites and, of course, exclusively Paulaner beer. Bonn is no exception, and Wirtshaus Salvator is a genuinely jolly centre of hearty food and friendly service. New to me, beerwise, was Paulaner Münchener Urtyp, a variation on the flagship Helles, brewed slightly stronger at 5.5% ABV. It started well, with a distinctly richer malt aroma than a typical industrial Helles, and a pungent grassiness to match. Unfortunately, none of that came through in the flavour, which was very dull in a way typical of a Heineken subsidiary. Well it was worth a shot.

They also had Paulaner Zwickl. It looks the part: a wholesome and hazy orange-yellow colour, with plenty of foam, of course. A grainy aroma leads on to a flavour that's quite rough and papery rather than the rustic bready quality I was hoping for. Still, there's a surprisingly decent hit from the hops, meaning this isn't as over-processed as I feared it might be. While far from a stellar example of the style, it does meet the basic requirements and is a worthy addition to the range. Almost everyone does it better, however, like the next two examples.

For hotel-room drinking, picking randomly in the local REWE supermarket, I got Aktien Zwick'l from Bayreuther Bierbrauerei. They've gone for very rustic retro branding, and the beer's appearance matches that: a cloudy amber, rendered extra unattractive by the hotel's blue-tinted glassware. The aroma is very malt-forward, suggesting a sweet beer to come but it turned out quite plain, the slightly caramelised cakey malt manifesting only in the aftertaste. It doesn't taste rustic, lacking the gritty unfiltered charm that the better examples of this style show. It's fine, however. At time of drinking I needed refreshment after a long walk on the banks of the Rhine, and this performed the task admirably. It wasn't the only Kellerbier in REWE, though.

I also bought Störtebeker Keller-Bier 1402, presumably intended for drinking immediately after lunch hour. It's mildly hazy and opens with a deliciously zingy lemon bite, fresh like it came from the serving tanks, rather than a supermarket bottle. It doesn't go anywhere especially off-kilter from there, the flavour still hop-driven, but backed by a crisp oatmeal cracker huskiness, all properly rustic. I'm sure this is brewed in a big factory by people wearing white coats, but it channels the charmingly gruff character of German nano-brewing extremely well. And like all the best examples of this, it's clean and devoid of off-flavours; full-bodied and chewy, while still balanced -- properly hopped -- and refreshing. Störtebeker may claim to be pirates, but they understand the benefit of following the rules.

The hotel's own bar was under the ever-watchful gaze of Dr Oetker, serving his flagship pilsner, Radeberger. Turns out I've never had this before. In the manner of Germany's national beer brands, it's not bad. It's 4.8% ABV and surprisingly, pleasantly, weighty with that. There's a slightly metallic tang, which suggests hop extract to me, but it least it has a hop character, which non-German mass-market lagers usually don't. I got a slight crêpe-paper roughness too, but since I never saw anyone else drinking it, I'm putting that down to a freshness issue for which I cannot blame the good Doktor and his brewing minions. When it's the only beer available, it's an OK beer to drink, is my ringing endorsement.

I chose Chiemseer Hell, randomly, as a train beer, expecting some Bavarian decency from a bottle and label reminiscent of a thousand decent Bavarian lagers. It was disappointing, however. The ABV is on the lower side at 4.8% but it was unforgiveably watery. Substance is the main thing I go to Helles for, and this really did not deliver there. There's a tiny wisp of noble hop grass, but also an unwelcome curl of butter, suggesting that they've not got either the recipe or the brewing process quite right here. It's a young brewery, they tell us. Get back to brewing school, say I.

Benediktiner Hell is, I think, available to me locally, but I figured that buying it in Germany was a more cost-effective way of ticking it off. The Benediktiner brewery, a Bitburger subsidiary, is wheat-beer only, and this is outsourced to sister brewery Licher in Hesse. 5% ABV, it has the requisite smoothness but doesn't go overboard with cakey malt. Instead, it's quite hop-forward, with a sharp kick of spinach bitterness. That perhaps gives away its non-Bavarian origin, and makes it lean a little more towards pilsner in style, but I didn't mind at all. This is a cut above the basic supermarket Helles I had been drinking, and the variation from the style norms only serve to make it a better beer.

We'll finish back in Düsseldorf. As well as the tour of Alt houses described on Wednesday, I stopped in at the city's outpost of Craftonia. Holy Craft is a small corner pub with a dozen or so taps, largely pouring non-German beer. The range would be familiar to anyone who frequents such places around Europe, with the usual suspects from Britain, Sweden, the Netherlands and everywhere else that hazy hops and fruited sourness dominates the speciality beer market.

I went Belgian, and picked Tilquin's Abricot-Rhubarbe lambic from the line-up: 30cl for an eye-watering price. It's a trustworthy brewery, however, and the gamble paid off. This is 4.9% ABV and appears clear and golden, resembling a cider. The aroma offers an even mix of gunpowder spice and stonefruit, though the flavour emphasises the spice more, which I enjoyed. It's smooth and mature, the fruit subtly integrated in, not roughly tacked on. Likewise, it's not puckeringly sour and quite easy drinking. It was an effort to take it slowly enough to enjoy the complexity. Top stuff, and a surprise find in Düsseldorf of all places.

Thus ends the German leg of the trip. We'll pick up on the far side of the Dutch frontier on Monday.