Delirium Café Amsterdam

I told you I'd left my eye off the ball a bit here in Amsterdam. Just this week I found out about two new beery openings.

"Fancy trying out some new places this weekend, Dolores?"

"Where are they?"

"Both are pretty close to Centraal Station."

"OK then, we can go to Marks first."

Which we did. Didn't go ot the first pub, however, because that doesn't open until 5 pm. We hit town around midday, in time to get the marked down items in Marks.

You've probably heard of the Delirium Café in Brussels. It gets rather mixed reviews. The beer list is impressively ginormous, but the covernous cellar lacks atmosphere and gets packed with pissed-up students. The Amsterdam branch opened mid-September 2014. In a rather odd spot.

Look at the address in Streetview and all you'll see is a road and a tram stop. The pub is in reality directly below you. It's not that far from Centraal Station, but it's not a particularly nice walk nor that easy to find your way. Much simpler just to get tram 26 to Muziekgebouw Bimhuis. Go down the stairs and there you are.

Outside there's a huge terrace with a wonderful view of het Ij. Not the brewery, but the piece of water. You can also see the rather less wonderful - I'll be honest hideously ugly - new music theatre.

Inside is cavernous by Amsterdam standards. As we're the only customers, it seems even bigger. I suss out  the draught selection. There's no central blackboard so I have to look at each individual tap. Not all 20 are in action. Being hung upside down is a novelty. But it won't make the beer taste any better.

"Schneider Porter? I've never heard of that." Sounds a weird concept. But I give it a try. Dolores goes for standard Schneider.

My Porter is a weird mixture of banana and roast. Not sure about this one. Dolores takes a sip. "It tastes like Malzbier. That's what we used to drink as kids."

It may be the only Schneider beer I'm not keen on.

I suppose you want to know about the beer list. Like travelling back 10 years, is the simplest way to describe it. Lots of beers in the established Belgian styles, some Dutch stuff, plus a handfull of American and British beers. It looks really dated, to be honest. I wonder who their target market is. Especially stuck out in this odd corner of Amsterdam.

Dolores doubts that there are 500 bottled beers as claimed. She counts them: 310. The prices aren't too bad for 21st-century Amsterdam. Westmalle Dubbel is €3, Westmalle Tripel €4.20, Duvel €3.50, St. Bernardus Abr €5.10.

Schneider Hopfenweise is very reasonably priced, so I order one.

"I thought this sounded a bad idea - a combination of banana wheat beer and american hops. But I really like it."

"It sounds horrible."

"Try it."

"Just as horrible as I imagined, Ronald."

Some middle-aged Americans arrive, seeking lunch. It's their beer ordering that interests me. One asks for a regular light beer. Another for an IPA. That speaks volumes about what has happened in the USA.

Delirium Café
Piet Heinkade 4-6-8
1019 BR Amsterdam
Tel: 020 811 03 81
delirium@lovers.nl
http://www.deliriumcafeamsterdam.nl/

20 draught
500 bottled

Opening times:
Sun - Thur 12:00 - 01:00
Fri - Sat 12:00 - 03:00

Franconia day five

It's all my fault. Let me make that clear. All my fault.

Our four days in Ebermannstadt done, it's time to make our way to the bright lights of Munich.

"Don't you think we should check out now, dad?" It's 09:15 and check out time is 10:00.

"Nah, we've ages yet." I continue to go ticky tack on my fliptop.

"Daad, can't we check out?" This is getting irritating. It's not even 09:30 yet.

"Oh, OK then." I'm thinking that there will be time for a quick beer in the station pub. Our train isn't until 11:02.

"I can't remember if I've already paid for the hotel or not."

Turns out neither can the owner. After looking through some bills we decide that I haven't.

"Is a credit card OK?"

"No, only a bank card."

We try my card and it's rejected.

"I'll go and get cash. You stay here, Andrew."

By now it's 09:40. On my way to the bank, inbetween fretting about whether it will let me take out 300 euros, I start to think of the train journey. Shit. Our train in Forchheim is at 11:06. We need to take the 10:02 from Ebermannstadt, not the 11:02 like I thought. No wonder Andrew was nagging me. Double shit. I increase my pace, despite the heat.

The machine plays nicely and spits out 300 euros. It's now 09:48, but at least I've enough cash to free Andrew. I've sort of left him their as hostage. It's 09:52 when I get back to Gasthof zur Post. And can't find the owner. This is getting tight. We finally find, her, pay and set off for the station. Andrew doesn't say anything.

"Don't worry, we've got plenty of time." Andrew replies by picking up the pace to a near run.

We hear the train rattle in as we get close to the station. No time to piss around. They turn around pretty much immediately. The last passengers are already getting on as we reach the platform. We break into a sprint, diving through the doors just before they close.

"I told you we had plenty of time." Andrew's not in the talking mood.

You know the term "bathed in sweat"? It's literally true. I'm as wet as if I'd had a bucket of water poured over me.

"At least you'll always remember this part of the journey." Andrew's still not in the mood for chatting.

"Think of it as an important lesson," I'm quickly running out of clichés and Andrew is no more talkative, "a character-building experience."

He's just about forgiven me by the time we get to Forchheim. His anger cooling at about the same rate as my sweat dries.

Luckily I've brought along some impulse schnapps. That cools me down even more. That and the fully-functioning airco on the ICE we catch in Nuremberg. I've booked seats this time as we're in pleb class. It's not too crowded, thankfully. And I've something to read. A Spiegel history special Andrew spotted in Rewe. It's about the German Empire, 1871-1914. One of my favourite topics.

Munich feels even hotter than Forchheim. Luckily our hotel is just a couple of hundred metres from Munich Hauptbahnhof. We're there in a jiffy. Not that we stay there long. Just long enough to stash our bags. Then we take the S-Bahn to Marienplatz.

"Look, there's the new Town Hall." I say to Andrew.

"Looks a bit too fiddly, to me."

"It's Neo-gothic. It's supposed to look fiddly."

We're heading for Hofbräuhaus. I know what you're thinking: "Didn't he swear never to go there again after waiting more than an hour to get served?" That's perfectly true. But we're not heading to that Hofbräuhaus. We're going to Hofbräuhaus-Kunstmühle. Dolores wanted me to bring her some flour back. Can't get this particular type in Holland, it turns out.

Shopping done, we turn our backs on Hofbräuhaus and return to Tal. Because you can't visit Munich and not go to Weisses Brauhaus, can you? It's packed outside, but we can find space just inside, where there's still a cool breeze. Andrew seems happy enough.

I usually have the sausage-orama, a dish with several different types of sausage. I can't remember what it's called. Pretty sure it's not really sausage-orama. I go for something totally different: A Schweinshaxe.

"It's like the non-healthfood version of Schäufle, Andrew."

"You have a very limited range of jokes you know, dad."

"It's the way I tell them that counts."

"Badly, that's how you tell them."

I think he's still annoyed about our death sprint.

The Haxe arrives, looking like it's been stabbed between the shoulder blades. There's something about the way Andrew looks at it. Like he's imagining the knife sticking out of my back.

I wash the Haxe down with Hopfenweise. Quite a bit of Hopfenweise. I'm surprised how much I like the stuff. From the description - German wheat beer meets hops - it sounds like something I should hate. Truns out to be a lovely supping beer. Especially in this heat. It looks sad by itself, so I get it a lttle mate to keep it company: an Aventinus Eisbock Schnapps. They seem to get on well together.Too well, perhaps.

But we can't sit here all day. I noticed something over the road. Another Tegernsee pub. In the modern retro Kitsch style I love.

"Let's go in there for a beer. They do a lovely Spezial . . .

"You've already done that one, too, dad."

"Have I?"

"Yes. Can we just sit down and get served."

The waitress is wearing a dirndl. Always a good sign. I order a Dunkles.

"Why didn't you get the Spezial you keep going on about?"

That's a good question. "I forgot." Shit. And they do have it on draught.

"The Dunkles is quite nice." I'm not sure I'm convincing even myself.

There's one more destination before heading back to our hotel. Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl. For one simple reason: I want to drink some Augustiner Helles. Helles the way god . . . .

I don't even bother starting to say it this time.

"We can come back tomorrow for some sausages. They're deliciolovely, Andrew."

"If you say so, dad. Just as long as there's no running."

He's not going to forget that, is he? "I told you that you'd remember that journey for ever."

The Augustiner Helles is lovely. But they only seem to have put in two mouthfuls per glass. Or at least that's all I'm getting out of them. I remember why it's one of my favourite drinking beers.

The street outside our hotel is still busy when we return. It's still busy at 3 and 4 AM. We're not in the country no more. Oh no.




Hofbräuhaus-Kunstmühle
Neuturmstraße 3
80331 Munich, Germany
+49 89 294222
www.hb-kunstmuehle.de



Weisses Bräuhaus
Tal 7,
80331 München.
Tel. 089 - 299 875
Fax: 089 - 290 13815
http://www.weisses-brauhaus.de/



Tegernseer Tal
Tal 8,
80331 München,
Tel: +49 89 222626
Opening hours: Mon - Sun 09:30 - 24:00
http://www.tegernseer-tal8.com/



Nürnberger Bratwurstglöckl
Frauenplatz 9,
80331 München (Munich).
Tel. 089 - 220385
Fax: 089 - 2904736
Email: info@bratwurst-gloeckl.de
http://www.bratwurst-gloeckl.de/

Kelheim

Kelheim
I'm wondering how long it's going to take to tell you about my holiday. It's an indication of the pace of Andy's tours that I've still on the first day. Maybe I should tell you a little about the way he operates.

Bier-Mania! is the name of Andy's tour company. He arranges tours in the heartlkand of European brewing: Belgium, the Rhineland, Fanconia, Northern France and the Czech Republic. Bus tours conjure up a horrible image of a coachload of pensioners being moved from one photo opportunity to the next, pausing only for tea and a fish supper. Andy's tours are nothing like that.

For a start, he uses a minibus. That limits the number of participants to a maximum of seven. There's little time ewasted hanging around for the last person to return from the toilets. Even more importantly, the group is small enough to have minimal impact on the places being visited. What would be the point of destroying the very thing you want to experience?

I have nothing but praise for his Franconia tour. He took us to the places - remote villages - that are near impossible to reach by public transport. Literally out where the buses don't run. All the best breweries seem to be in the smallest villages. Thankfully Andy knows where they all are.

Weissbierbrauerei G. Schneider & Sohn
Emil-Ott-Straße 1-5,
93309 Kelheim.
Telefon 09441 - 7050
Telefax 09441 - 705 190

The famous wheat beer producer in Kelheim is our first brewery tour. Kelheim itself is a pretty little town, though somewhat noisy on our visit. A trike rally was in full swing on the main square. Their colourful horns provided an oddly discordant soundtrack.

The older brewery buildings are very scenic, but most of the brewing process now takes place in a factory-like environment. Disappointingly, we weren't able (for reasons of hygiene) to enter the fermentation room. I've heard the open ferementers are quite a sight, with the wort violently bubbling away. After a quick initial ferementation, the beer is bottled and placed in a warm room to condition.

Most interesting is the bottling room, where many obselete pieces of equipment have been retained. It was our luck to be there on a Saturday, a rest day. During the week it's possible to bottle yourself using one of the ancient fillers. Sounds a lot of fun. Our first contact with the bottles was the row of samples we were given in the beer garden at the end of the tour.

I was quite taken aback by how many beers they brew:

Das Original
Weizen Hell
Kristall
Leicht
Alkoholfrei
Aventinus
Aventinus Eisbock

Even the lower (or alcohol-free) versions aren't that bad, retaining the typical spiciness of the standard beer. But I wasn't here to mess about with anything wimpy. "Do you have the Eisbock?" I asked one of the dirndled waitresses. It's wonderful stuff, even better than plain old Aventinus, which is itself one of my favourite beers. Two Eisbocks were almost enough to slake my thirst. Almost. Just as well. We still had two breweries to go.


Klosterbrauerei Weltenburg
Asamstrasse 3293309 Kelheim.

Northern Bavaria is a beautiful place. In one its most scenic spots, is Kloster Weltenburg. Nestling on a narrow strip of land at the foot of cliffs where the Main-Danube canal makes a 180º turn, you can't fault the monks on their choice of location.

Sadly, silence and peace are no longer to be found. I wonder what the founding monks would make of the bustling market/beer garden that the courtyard has become? I doubt they would be very impressed.
I would have gone in to have a look at the church. I really would have. But a trip to Malta has left me all churched out. Maybe next time. Anyway, it was a beer tour and it a shame to ignore the beer garden.

This was first chance to impress my travelling companions with my fluent German. Perhaps it was the disconcerting sight of a black lass in traditional Bavarian gear that threw me. The charming waitress polititely corrected me. How did I manage to get four mistakes into a sentence of just six words?

Not to worry, a mug of Weltenburger Barock Dunkel was soon sitting in front of me. I'd heard a lot about the beer. Which is perhaps why it was such a disappointment. Sweetish, with a touch of roast but otherwise pretty dull. Nothing unpleasant, just bland. We were to have much, much better dark lagers later on the trip.

Overly commercial, average beer. Yet I still had a great time, thanks to the delightfully whacky and witty waitress. You can see her waving at me in the photo. What a sweetie.