Germany Redux

(This post was originally intended to be published the week of February 14)

If you had asked my last year if I had ever been to Germany, I would have responded dismissively, "yeah [as in "duh"], of course I have - I mean, I've like done Germany." But upon further reflection, I realized I really hadn't. My only experience in Germany heretofore were two nights we spent at a family friend's house outside of Munich (the day in between we spent in Austria), and a long drive down the autobahn back to the Netherlands. My only memories are of my amusement over the spelling of "Munchen" on the road signs, and how a coffee machine at a gas station had an option for "extra hell". Seeing as I was twelve at the time, beer didn't really hold much interest for me.

As a result, our 36-hour trip last weekend to Koln (Cologne) and Bonn was spectacular because it all felt much more new than I had anticipated. To wit:

• German beer halls are awesome. Which raises the question why we have we not yet achieved their full importation into the U.S. (cf. taquerias and pinkberry)
• Relatedly, bars are much more fun when everyone is drinking the same thing.
• Cheesy movie stereotypes aside, German people are remarkably nice.
• German does not sound like Dutch (though it often looks like it).
• Whatever. You had me at sausage.

From the above list, it will be obvious that we spent about 40% of our time in eating establishments. I can now report that, up to this point in my life, I have seriously underestimated German beer halls.

First, you have communal tables in a cozy environment, which is - when mixed with lots and lots of beer - a recipe for conviviality. American efforts to reconstruct German beer halls typically fail at this fundamental level: they are cavernous rooms that always feel cold and impersonal, not human-scale spaces with low ceilings and colored glass windows and sawdust on the floor. The latter is much more conducive to dancing between the tables, or swaying with your arm over your neighbor's shoulder while singing a song you might or might not know.

Second, you get to assume everyone only wants to drink one thing (in Koln, this would be Kolsch). This allows the waiters to walk around with trays full of beers, handing them out to whoever wants one and marking the tally on your coaster - which in turn makes paying a heck of a lot easier. The efficiency is stellar: dirty glasses (kolsch glasses are skinny and small, holding about a third of a pint) are dunked into sudsy water, rinsed in running water, and fitted back into circular trays, which are then spun under taps of kolsch that are pretty much always running before being handed back to the waiters rushing by.

The rest seems less important: the sausage and egg and potato laden menus (easy to make fun of, but actually quite delicious); the jovial German manly men waiters always dressed in blue shirts and long blue aprons; the quick tallying of your bill at your table with the waiter ready to settle it on the spot (none of this waiting for the change nonsense). No, you marketers out there, take it from me: the recipe for an awesome German beer hall is (1) communal tables, (2) a small and cozy space, (3) only one beer on tap, (4) but very good beer, and (5) a snazzy yet efficient way to serve it.

In fact, I liked Germany so much that I would now not say I had "done" Germany - not (at the very least) until I have seen the beer halls of Munich and Berlin, too.

Anyone up for Oktoberfest?

(If you happen to find yourself in Koln and looking for a good beer hall, we very much enjoyed Paffgen (Friesenstrasse 64-66) and Schreckenskammer (Ursulagartenstrasse 11-15).)