Beering in Bavaria: Part II

In the second decade of 17th century, Europe was caught up in a series of wars.Faith, territory...the reasons were manifold.Like a curse unleashed it spread over Europe, one war leading to another and that to another.Half way down the mad lane, young Gustavus Adolfus of Sweden, 'the Lion of the North',invaded Bavaria. In the face of imminent plunder and loot, the Bavarians sought for settlement. And the accord was reached, the city left in peace, for 600,000 barrels of Hofbräuhaus beer.

The Hofbräuhaus am Platzl, was where we stopped next.The Hofbräuhaus is state owned and was founded in 1589 by the Duke of Bavaria. Over the years its brew has passed through many a famous and infamous lips. There was Mozart and Lenin; but also there was Hitler (although they say he never drank the beer).The huge public beer hall can seat over a thousand guests.So we sat down, waiting for our beers and thumping on the table to the rhythm of the dance performance onstage.

Our wait was for the Hofbräu dark, an amber- coloured, bitter beauty, served in tall one litre mugs. If you don't hold it the right way, the mug might break under the weight.

The story goes that on the 8th of September, 1908, someone ordered a lemon soda in the beer hall. The waiters refused to take the order and at last the landlord himself had to step up and serve. In Hofbräuhaus only beer is served and it is served in litres. The idea of fractions is unfamiliar and I suppose it would be offensive to suggest it . By the time we reached the half way mark of our glass, our table had erupted in a loud singing of "Ein Prosit.." that we picked up on our way.

Beer drinking is no casual affair. There are rituals and there are rules.For instance,for each beer there is a particular kind of glassware.Reuben taught me that last year in Belgium. Take wheat beer.The Wheat beer glass is narrow at the bottom and slightly wider at the top, to release aroma and offer room for the fluffy foam.The first thing we learned at the beginning of trip was, you should always look in the eye of your companion when you say "Prost (cheers)!" or you are doomed to bad sex for seven long years!so even in our drunk best, we were unblinking and focused as we clang our glasses.

Opinions differ on the matter of rituals. Some say the top of the glasses should meet and the liquid should spill over to each other, so as to ensure no one is getting poisoned. Others say, the bottom of the glasses should meet, for reasons, whose graphic details I should refrain from to avoid censorship. They say at the clang of the glasses, the devil seated on your table jumps up and out of sight in alarm. I definitely liked the one where you raise you glass "to my friends who are in heaven", bang it on the table "for those in hell"and drain down the rest for the wonder that is "me".

I cannot remember much of the nature and quality of our beers in our next halt... or the next. What i do remember is a crowded pub near our hostel (Thank heavens for that!) where it all came to an end. After our last beers we were all served a shot of Jägermeister.Jägermeister is a sweet liqueur with many a herbs and 35% alcohol content. The legend goes that it comes with elk blood. But honestly!, by now i would not have noticed if the legends were true. A young and 'way-too-drunk' man who was in the group was taking carefully spaced rounds to come and whisper something in my right ear. Later I learned this is a classical "hitting on" procedure that I clearly failed to notice, for by then I was focusing on keeping the wall behind me from slipping away and learning a thing or two about the rotation of the earth.

Aftertaste:There are some things in life that you never get an answer for. Like what were the tea-coasters from all the places we went to doing in our bags? Why did we walk a good fifteen minutes to reach the hostel that was two blocks away? What was a beer mug doing on our window sill the next morning? Or, even simpler ones... like, where is my left glove?

Then, that is life!

Prost!!