BEER WITH A SOCIALIST: A Schlenkerla interlude before filling growlers of Fastenbier.

A month ago COVID-19 intervened just as I was trying to establish a regular writing routine at the Pints&union beer blog. Much of what I had planned to write was intended to address pub culture and the on-premise beer drinking experience, and these came to an abrupt end.

Fast forward a week, and suddenly we were allowed to sell alcoholic beverages for carryout, previously a coin flip of a privilege scattered randomly through the state of Indiana's impenetrable thicket of regulations.

Flipping one's business model overnight may not sound particularly challenging, but it is, and now more than ever before, something's better than nothing. It was good to start moving product again, if far more slowly than before. Beer is better when consumed, not as a museum piece.

There are two points I'd like to make today.

The first has to do with the way Pints&union specifically, and the restaurant business in general, has adapted on the fly to the challenges of the past six weeks.

In our case, Joe Phillips quickly embraced the need to participate in the relief effort for restaurant workers, and consequently we're now operating as a small grocery and commissary kitchen in addition to the evening hours of 4:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday for curbside carryout of food and drink.

Emergency reinventions have a way of becoming harbingers of the future, and I believe the pandemic responses are presaging an upheaval. At this juncture, I highly recommend reading this essay by a food writer in London. What he's saying here is what everyone in the business has been talking about.

Restaurants will never be the same after coronavirus – but that may be a good, by Jonathan Nunn (The Guardian)

 ... We are in uncharted waters: the industry has never seen this before, and all signs point to the likelihood that restaurants as we know them aren’t coming back for a while. To move forward, we must start by examining what we would like to save about the industry, giving space to the things that nourish us and our communities, and discarding what we believe doesn’t deserve to survive. After all, the real danger the restaurant industry faces isn’t annihilation – the danger is that it comes back the same as it was before.

Second, returning to the beer, I spent the past couple of days dreaming about smoked lager, Bamberg, travel and the occasional succulent sausage during the course of campaigning for the cause of all things Schlenkerla. These became Pints&union beer blog posts as a preface to seeing if the pre-selling of growlers from a special keg is an idea with legs.

Bamberg beer forever: Schlenkerla revisited (Part One).

Bamberg beer forever: Schlenkerla revisited (Part Two).

The few, the proud, the smoked: We have Fastenbier growler opportunities for Schlenkerla fans.

Indeed it was. This morning the quarter-barrel of Schlenkerla Fastenbier took less than 40 minutes to sell out, which is gratifying. The growlers will be poured on Thursday morning, paid and collected over the weekend, and then the proceeds will be enough to pay for a few cases of bottled and canned beer to fill in gaps.

We're not making much money this way, but subsistence is the art of survival for the pub, allowing worker relief duties to take place concurrently.

One of four $10,000 LEE Initiative “Grants for Good” is awarded to Pints&union to support restaurant workers relief efforts in SoIN.

The many significant ways, the world with which we re-engage after the coronavirus containment measures cease isn't likely to be the same as the one we inhabited just prior to St. Patrick's Day.

It isn't clear yet exactly what this means. Pouring a keg of Fastenbier dry via growlers on subscription isn't exactly what I thought I'd be doing in mid-April, but it's good enough for me at the present time as we await our new dimensions.

Speaking personally, I hope Schlenkerla and other breweries survive, and their beers continue to be available. At the moment, nothing seems certain.

Five years ago today: "2014 Euro Reunion Tour, Day 6: Sightseeing and Schlenkerla."

The 2014 Euro Reunion Tour began on September 10 and lasted through the 23rd. Friends joined us on an itinerary from Berlin through Bavaria to Belgium, and the trip was a lifesaver as well as a life-changer.

Recalling that Bank Street Brewhouse launched in 2009, the trials and tribulations of NABC's ill-fated expansion kept us from traveling abroad in 2010, 2011 and 2012. To be succinct, it was demoralizing.

By 2013 the indie biz trench warfare had stabilized sufficiently that we made it to England, then in 2014 came the long-awaited return to the continent, one glorious day of which is described here.

The kitchen at BSB had closed in May of 2014, and an effort was underway to shift operations to a taproom model amid mounting disagreement between owners, but in retrospect it seems certain that more than any other single factor the Euro Reunion Tour finally convinced me to begin the transition away from NABC. The business divorce began in earnest at the beginning of 2015

Duke Ellington's famous assessment: “Music is my mistress, and she plays second fiddle to no one.” For me it's Europe, not music. Many readers would have guessed beer, but this wasn't ever the case. It's deeper than just one aspect.

The brewery expansion project required me to be an American, and I gave it my best, and yet ultimately my heart was lodged elsewhere. We must be who and what we're intended to be, and I'm a European mistakenly dropped by a drunken stork in flyover America near Louisville.

It's an existential dilemma, one I've been grappling to make sensible since the early 1980s, and the process is okay by me for so long as I'm not compelled to pretend otherwise.

And now, five years ago today ... in Bamberg, Germany -- probably my favorite city in all of Europe.

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The Gillenwaters and the Baylors began the day by hiking to the elevated square where the Dom (main cathedral) rests, facing both "new" and "old" residences of the archbishopric.

Shortly thereafter, Jeff and I discussed matters in the post-confessional rose garden.

Foreshadowing?

Various jaunts on a general theme of sightseeing subsequently occurred. Here's the monastery on Michaelsberg hill.

Little Venice along the Regnitz.

The much-reproduced old town hall building is astride the narrow river, which flows on both sides of the structure.

And, a bit of clever detail work, visible to the left in the above photo.

At 6 p.m., we met new arrivals Joe and Kris for dinner and smoky treats at the Schlenkerla tavern (to the right, below).

There we met delectable steak tartare with capers, onions, eggs and anchovies (and later, pork shoulder) washed down with the world's finest smoked lager beer.

More importantly, we met Julius Trum. For an explanation, skip over to my Potable Curmudgeon blog: Schlenkerla's next generation gets an early start.

Bavarian Christmas Interlude 2018, Monday: 39 up, 39 down. What's next?

Diana and I visited Bavaria (Munich and Bamberg) just before Christmas. Prior to departure, there was a series entitled Munich Tales 2018. This is the last of seven installments summarizing what we did, saw, ate and drank. They're being back-dated to the day we were there.

Previously: Cool Paulaner and some delicious döner kebap.

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A few random thoughts to close this series ...

On Monday morning we rose, gathered our belongings and made the short walk to the Hauptbahnhof, where the automated machine disgorged two tickets for the S-Bahn to the airport. Departure rituals are hard, and I always feel conflicting emotions when it comes time to leave Europe and return home.

Our short trip to Munich in December was the 39th visit to Europe for me, with the first one occurring in 1985. That's easily north of $150,000 invested on a return of absolutely nothing  -- apart from memories and experience, which are priceless. I have no regrets whatever.

Being in Munich for the first time in 1985 had lots more to do with drinking, as opposed to thinking. In those days most of what we assumed about planetary beer culture revolved around a dead certainty that America had been Bavaria at one time in terms of beer & bratwurst, then somehow lost its mojo after Prohibition amid a sea of lightweight swill and fast food chains.

Of course, the 33 years of my life elapsing since then have been devoted to finally grasping that we always had been guilty of oversimplification. Germans and other immigrants came to America and kept some of their traditions intact, but in a metaphysical sense they were no longer German (or Vietnamese, or Indian). They were American, and being American was something different.

Returning to Munich in 2018 was a chance to see how those beer traditions were holding up there -- not in America. The most honest answer is they are, except when they're not. There'll probably come a time when I'll step into a Munich beer hall and (a) see televised sports, (b) order an India Pale Ale, and (c) eat Buffalo wings. I hope not, but it's likely.

And when it happens, I'll probably cry. They won't be tears of joy.

Happily we're not there yet, and ultimately I don't know what any of it means. I'm grateful that we had the chance to go to Munich, especially during the Christmas season, because it seems less commercialized than the way we do it -- outdoor markets notwithstanding, and anyway, those markets are about drinking and socializing as much as anything else.

Our sole evening in Bamberg served to reinforce a truth of which I've been aware for quite some time: If either of us ever won the lottery, or inherited vast wealth, there'd be a cloud of dust from which we'd emerge in Bamberg to stay.

Although Diana might want to go to the United Kingdom, and that's fine; naturally Belgium and Netherlands would be marvelous, and there's always Copenhagen. But it's surely too late for me to be an expatriate, and I'm not sure what I think of this.

The lead-in selfie was taken at the Murphy's theme pub inside Schiphol (Amsterdam), where we changed for the flight home to Detroit. Come to think of it, Ireland would be good for this expatriate-minded Nawbanian, too.

Bavarian Christmas Interlude 2018, Friday: Returning to Munich for the EuroLeague basketball game between Bayern München and Real Madrid.

Diana and I visited Bavaria (Munich and Bamberg) just before Christmas. Prior to departure, there was a series entitled Munich Tales 2018. This is the fourth of seven installments summarizing what we did, saw, ate and drank. They're being back-dated to the day we were there.

Previously: A one-night stand with my sweetie in much beloved Bamberg.
Next: The Christmas market at Chinesischen Turm in Munich's Englischer Garten.

Who knew the world-renowned Weyermann malting house had a gift shop? Not this beer lover -- and regrettably, we saw the bus advertisement in route to the train station to leave Bamberg for the return trip to Munich.

Breakfast at the Hotel Nepomuk was a kick.

Sandwiches and beers boarded the train with us. There's nothing better than eating and drinking on a train.

I still enjoy watching a baseball or basketball game every now and then, and while there may or may not be a baseball league in Germany, one thing for certain is it wouldn't be taking place in December. Fortunately ...

New Albany has a pro basketball player right now: Braydon Hobbs, playing in Germany for FC Bayern München.

Once the legendary Steve LaDuke caught wind of our plan to attend the game on the 21st, he contacted Braydon, who arranged the VIP experience for us. I can't thank both of them enough. Unfortunately, Braydon wasn't on the active roster for the game, which was in the EuroLeague, not the Bundesliga (German national league).

Bayern plays in the Audi Dome, a few U-Bahn stops (and a short walk) southwest of the Hauptbahnhof. The arena seats 6,700 for basketball, and if the game against Real Madrid wasn't a sellout, it was close.

Since we seldom indulge in "VIP" anything, it was fun to take advantage of unlimited beer and food before, during and after the game. Appropriately, the evening's chef-driven menu was heavy on Spanish dishes. I hit the Paulaner tap early and often.

The game itself was excellent. The visitors, who perhaps are one of Europe's best clubs, came out smoking in the first half, but Bayern tightened the defense after halftime and fought to within four points at one juncture late in the contest. Real Madrid pulled away in the last two minutes.

Braydon was interviewed in street clothes at halftime.

The halftime band was like Chicago with a female lead singer.

Four days down, only two to go; already I was panting for breath.

Bavarian Christmas Interlude 2018, Thursday: A one-night stand with my sweetie in much beloved Bamberg.

Diana and I visited Bavaria (Munich and Bamberg) just before Christmas. Prior to departure, there was a series entitled Munich Tales 2018. This is the third of seven installments summarizing what we did, saw, ate and drank. They're being back-dated to the day we were there.

Previously: A sensory overload of Munich history -- and beer.
Next: Back to Munich for basketball. 

Um, no.

On Thursday morning we boarded took an InterCity Express (ICE) train from Munich to Bamberg, via Nürnberg, where there was a eight-minute change to the garden variety regional express. This trip used to be around three hour and twenty minutes; now it's been cut to a little over two.

Do we even have trains in America?

Oddly, there's an unexpected price to be paid for rail speed, over and above more expensive train tickets to ride them. These purpose-built ICE tracks obviously pass through rural areas, as intended to avoid all but a few of the towns and cities along the way.

It makes riding a high-speed express more like being on an airplane, and less about the things that always intrigued me when riding a train. In short, I miss the train station architecture and platform life viewed from the voyeur's compartment window. To cite another example, to take the fast train from Frankfurt to Köln these days means missing the beautiful scenery in the Rhine Valley, although of course one can opt for the slower journey; it helps to know the route when booking tickets.

Having noted all this, it was pleasant seeing hop trellises in the area near Wolnzach, and in the end, reduced travel time from Munich meant more hours to enjoy Bamberg.

I can't ever have enough of this place.

The purpose of a solitary Thursday evening in December with my gal in the town I love so well was to immunize myself for months to come against the disappointment of returning to the mind-numbing inanity of daily life in Nawbany.

The idea arose more than a year ago, when Diana jokingly said that we couldn't return to Bamberg until the garage was emptied of junk. Eventually I enlisted Big Wally to make the debris go away -- "just like David Copperfield." The result was angioplasty for our garage, and then when she expressed an interest in seeing Munich ... the deal was sealed. I love it when a travel plan comes together, even if Bamberg's part of it only for a single day.

There was a bakery in the old town, and we stopped for coffee and a snack. While there, the orange vest protests flared up outside: They selected an old-school broom and began tidying up.

I’d been under the impression that the venerable Klosterbräu Brauerei was a goner, but apparently there was an infusion of capital at some recent juncture. As a result, these excellent and unique beers live on. It’s also nice to have a brewery roughly 30 feet from our lodging, the Hotel Nepomuk. It was very quiet at Klosterbräu; no TV and no music, and in fact no one at all except the two of us and the woman working, until a tour group arrived.

The throwback floor drain pissoir was plenty groovy, too.

As noted, our choice for the overnight stay was Hotel Nepomuk, perched right on the river, which means that after 27 years of visiting Bamberg on the cheap, a splurge finally was merited. It was very nice, indeed.

Perched right outside the window of our room was an intriguing art installation.

In 2012 the exhibition 8 Poets for Bamberg of Catalan artist Jaume Plensa (born in 1955) was presented. The eight poets were sitting or crouching male figures from fibreglass who towered on six meters high steel steles. Removed from reality they shimmered in white during the day, after sunset they were glowing from within in changing colours by means of integrated LED-lamps. The figure titled Air-Earth that was placed at the Obere Muehlbruecke was purchased by the Association of the Friends of the Internationales Kuenstlerhaus Villa Concordia with the support of donors and sponsors. Jaume Plensa who lives in Barcelona ranks among the most renowned international sculptors and has realized large sculptures in public space throughout the world, such as Chicago, Dubai, London, Liverpool, Marseille, Tokyo, Toronto and Vancouver. By combining classical sculptural materials like steel, bronze and aluminium with different media like water, light, sound and video, with text also being included frequently, he creates sculptures of a strong psychological intensity.

Fun times.

It was dark early, and we set course for Brauerei Spezial. This involved weaving around the river paths to the Altes Rathaus (Old Town Hall) astride the river, then up into the pedestrian shopping area and across the canal. I'll get to these nighttime views in a moment.

First, it was time for an appetizer. Near the Christmas market there was a fishmonger's festive kiosk, and an amazing Bismarck herring sandwich.

Diana even captured a closeup.

The main room at Brauerei Spezial ranks among my favorite beer drinking venues in all of Germany. Bock on the left, and gently smoky lager on the right.

Now for those photos after dark.

While we were out and about, Diana found some seasonal mulled wine.

At seven we arrived at the Schlenkerla Tavern to catch up with Matthias, the heir to smoked beer fame. I'm fortunate to have made his acquaintance those many years ago, and we talked for two hours about beer and business and life itself.

Schweinehaxe is a roasted ham hock (pork knuckle). It is one of the glories of Bavarian cuisine, and Schlenkerla's is especially noteworthy. I'd already drained three half-liters of beechwood-smoked Märzen when the Haxe arrived, and moved to the Eiche (oak-smoked strong lager).

Do you see that crispy skin -- rind, crackling, whatever -- on top?

That's what I'm saying. The kraut and the dumpling were damn good, too.