I do not like Weissbeir (literally: wheat beer, or hefeweizen), as a general rule. Good with fruit, but that’s about it. So imagine my surprise when Maisel’s Weisse was just ‘okay’!
I should probably point out that the beers I posted today were not all consumed today. So. Don’t judge.
Paulaner Salvator
I bet I’ll look back on these early beer posts, and giggle at my inability to distinguish one from another. But come on! This beer tasted German. It’s a German doppelbock. Which means nothing.
Some friends in New York told us that Germans tend to find a local beer they like, and then just order it all the time. No reason to get something else if you like the one you’re drinking. Which is probably what I’ll end up doing if all the beer tastes the same.
Also, I’ve given up trying to take good photos. I would steal images from online, but that’s lame. I’d go downstairs and take the photos in the sunlight, but that has two problems:
But the crappy photos are homey and comforting, right? Also, they’re proof that I’m not just making this up.
Rothaus Pils Tannen Zäpfle
Okay, this beer was pretty delicious. Somehow, it just hit the spot. Lots of hops.
The interesting thing about this beer is that it’s brewed in Baden-Württemberg, about 170 miles south of Stuttgart, in the Black Forest. Tannenzäpfle means “little fir cones,” which I suppose have something to do with the trees around the brewery. You might think “hey! I bet they use pine cones to brew this beer!” but you’d be wrong. The Germans don’t put pine cones in beer.
First beer! The Erdinger Dunkel
First beer! I grabbed this in the grocery store near our place. It cost somewhere around 70 cents, and was pretty delicious.
My impression of German beer is that of simplicity. There isn’t anything crazy in it, like coriander or maple sugar or flavor. German beer is bread, liquefied. It tastes like bread with hops. Which is great! But it’s not the beer Americans are accustomed to. There’s not a lot of perceived experimentation, like Dogfish Head is known for. It’s not particularly strong, like a barleywine, and not particularly rich, like a Belgian beer.
Still, I think I’ll eventually develop a palate for it. I like the malty richness of this dunkel (translates to “dark”), and the aftertaste is clean yet present. It’s like walking into a kitchen baking bread. I can get used to this.
And if not, Belgium is one country over.