Germans take their beervery, very seriously. I don’t quite fit the mold.
Not only do they consumethe stuff like it’s water, the average Joe (Josef?) seems to know quite a bitabout it. At first, I was surprised by the beer knowledge that surrounded me.However, I then learned that many cities, towns and even teeny remote villagesproduce beers of their own. According to current stats, there are approximately1,200 breweries in Germany.Hence, kids grow up knowing a thing or two about the industry.
Of course, there areplenty of Milwaukeeans, and Wisconsinites in general, who are well versed whenit comes to the history, making and types of beer. However, I have never hadbeer-centered conversations like those I had with Germans. They not onlyinformed me about every beer/soda concoction known to man (a Radler is beer and white soda; a Diesel or Colabier is beer and coke, etc.), they always had a litany ofreasons why their ales, stouts, Weissbiers and doppelbocks were better than thepathetic lagers that came from elsewhere. For kicks, I would ask if they hadever tasted Miller or Budweiser. The hysterical laughter that ensued was enoughof an answer.
BeerPurity
Germans are also quiteproud of their country’s Beer Purity Law, the Reinheitsgebot, handed down from the royal Bavarian court back in1516. The great majority of German brewers still adhere to this law, whichallows only for barley, hops, water and yeast.
Perhaps due to thisrespect for the pureness that is their beer, along with the rather stoic Germanculture in general, there doesn’t appear to be a strong desire to drink gallonsof the stuff to get blitzed out of one’s mind. Instead, more Germans seem totake advantage of the feierabendbierchenphenomenon, which basically means winding down after work with a couple of beers,preferably with one’s co-workers. After this rather subdued happy hour(s), theygo on their way, stone sober and ready to focus on family life at home.
Indeed, my generalimpression of Berliners was that they tend to handle their liquor better thanthe average American. They need to, considering that the law allows them tocarry alcohol almost everywhere they go. This is also a country where alongsidemy falafel sandwich from the street stand, I can enjoy a Pilsner and a shot ofJagermeister and then proceed with my day. There’s also the fact that a bottleof beer from the street typically costs no more than $1.50. I felt like I wasperpetually on spring break, hopping on the U-Bahn any Saturday night andfinding 90% of the passengers holding a bottle of something. Not surprisingly,though, the Germans tended to be reserved and matter of fact about it, as ifthey were carrying around bottles of Evian, not half-liters of BerlinerPilsner. If there was any drunkenhooting and hollering on the U-Bahn or on the streets, it typically came fromtourists who were taking advantage of what seems to be government-encouragedhedonism.
As I got into my weekendroutine of buying a Berliner Kindl at the corner bakery/liquor store (the twogo hand in hand, really) and then hopping on the underground to meet myfriends, I repeatedly found myself immensely grateful for Berlin’s mass transit system. I’m not surehow such lax drinking laws would function back in such amotorist-heavy/beer-happy state like Wisconsin,but something tells me that it would be problematic.
As I try to readjust toAmerican drinking laws, I can’t help but feel influenced by my time in Berlin. I now want tosee a good amount of foam on the top of my beer, because as the Germans say,“Ein gezapftes Bier braucht sieben Minuten” (“It takes seven minutes to draw agood beer”). And heaven help you if you don’t look me in the eyes when we clinkglasses and shout, “Prost!”you will be doomed to seven years of bad sex. Andgod knows that’s no way to ring in the beginning of spring.
