For the first full afternoon of pottering around some pubs I got out of a book about pubs and beer I realised I’d been out of this beer blogging game for a while. Time to take some inspiration from the new kids on the block. The exciting & dynamic contemporary voices of beer communication. So, taking note of Simey, who for reasons best known only to himself is pottering around drinking in pubs CAMRA wallas have put in a book I figured was thus leading the way for all off us. I realised I needed the following articles. Pictures of pints, pictures of pubs & a daft garish pair of trousers to wear whilst I did it. I’d forgotten to get a daft pair of trousers but like to think I redeemed myself with a garish and unnecessarily red pair of trainers to potter about in.
The first thing I did, which is basically the first thing to do is to find the tourist office. This is for 1 reason only. You can often pick up a free map in these places. A proper one, with street names, not the scribble you find in the back of a book about beer. What’s more they are often than not free. Whoopee do, they were a whole load of them. I’m assuming they were free. They had no price on & no one stopped me when I took one & left. I’m assuming they would have stopped me if I had in fact nicked one.
A book map
A proper map
The first potter was going to be the low hanging fruit. A handful of gaffs all near each other and thus allowing a quality chunk of ticks to be made efficiently. Realising that once you’d started on the Rauch, that was it for tasting beer, I started off at Alt Ringlein & followed it up with Kachelhofen. In the first one I had my first ever Ungespundete lager. Go on, have a bash at pronouncing that one. What’s even worse is “a u” is meant to be an easier way of asking for one, but isn’t when you try it. A flatter type of lout with a little more sweetness if you are into tasting and sniffing beer. Cold enough to slip down without touching the sides if you are not that sort. Top marks for the staff at Alt Ringlein too. The Keller bier at Kachelhofen ticks all the boxes for appearance if you like your craft beer, just the right amount of murk but unfortunately it tastes far too nice so on that score isn’t proper craft.
Picture of a pub
Two down, it was across the road for Rauchbier and the acceptance that I would likely stay on that. The Schlenkerla I had done the previous day but I allowed myself a second go. This time to go to the self-service hatch. A Geschenk in local parlance, where you queue up to get a beer and then plonk yourself down or stand outside and end up in peoples’ tourist photos. This is a street the tour guides go down so there are groups stopping to photo the pubs. I would hope those photo’s end up on blogs about pubs, as it should be, but cannot be confident in this. A downside of the Geshenk is there is a deposit on the glass & you have to join the same queue again to get your money back.
The Ambrausianum is also down as a brewery pub and I thought it a slightly nicer gaff but it seemed less popular for whatever reason. They did their own Hell but I was Rauchbiering it. On a nice day it’s nice to sit outside but if you do like looking at shiny copper brewing vessels as I’m sure some of you do there is one to take a picture of in the middle of the place.
Picture of a beer
I finished off at Stilbruch. I was a bit pissed at this point. I had a couple of mugs of U & a Hawaiian pizza. I’m sure it was nice, I don’t really remember much of it. It’s hazy but without that sense of dread that you might have embarrassed yourself and best not go back there until they’ve forgotten you. None of that. I just remember the beer & gaff was nice. For some reason, I don’t quite understand, the waitress wrapped up the quarter of the pizza I didn’t manage to finish and handed it to me as a take out when I left. Go figure. A trendier gaff for the kids with contemporary music than the traditional Keller but no the worse for it.
I looked at my book. It had ticks. I’d done some pub ticking. As a wise old china man once said, or it might have been the Tand. The journey of a thousand pubs begins with just one pint in a gaff from a book about beer.