By Brett Yates
posted
Sep 26, 2012
We're in the middle of Oktoberfest, which is an annual festival
originating in Bavaria - and which, yeah, mostly takes place in
September (one of those nonsensical things like how Boxing Day
doesn't have anything to do with boxing). This 16-day German
holiday began as a celebration of King Ludwig I's marriage to
Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen and has lasted, so far, 112 years,
notwithstanding the occasional break for war or cholera.
At some point, beer got involved in the event, and Oktoberfest
became popular in North America, too. We don't celebrate for 16
days - let's be honest, that type of quality of life doesn't exist
on this continent - but we'll at least have a couple pints of Sam
Adams's fall seasonal while comical images of mug-toting men in
lederhosen and stout, brindl-wearing women with blond braids dance
through our heads. (The real Oktoberfest in Munich is one of those
bucket-list travel experiences that, like Mardi Gras in New
Orleans, probably are just infernos of noise, Porta Potties, bad
food, sexual harassment, and American tourists.)
Anyway, a special style of beer is brewed for Oktoberfest, and
this kind of beer is itself called an Oktoberfest or occasionally a
"Marzen." Traditionally brewed in March to last till fall, it's a
little darker in color and richer in flavor than the average pale
lager and is supposed to be a great autumn drink - echoes of
summer, hints of winter - if you like German beer, which America
apparently does. (America gets everything about Europe wrong,
believing that Germans make the best beer, Italy makes the best
food, and England writes the best books, when in fact, Belgium
makes the best beer, France makes the best food, Russia writes the
best books.)
Well, OK, so let's try a few of these.
The first Marzen I had this year was Harpoon's Octoberfest Beer
(with a "c" - how xenophobic), which I guess is Samuel Adams's
biggest hometown competition. It pours out an autumnal amber and
smells super malty, but it's peppery when it hits the tongue;
medium-bodied and well-carbonated, it finishes with surprising
bitterness. Overall, though, it's a little boring, I actually
recall the Sam Adams rendition having a greater variety of flavors
- maybe some pigskin and candy corn and other fall-ish things, I
don't remember - so, a little disappointed (rating: 4 out of 10), I
moved on to Victory's Festbier.
Victory Brewing Company, a Pennsylvania operation, is one of the
most trustworthy East Coast breweries, but its Oktoberfest - a
cloudy, tawny brew - doesn't taste all that different from
Harpoon's: maybe a little hoppier, a little woodier. The primary
impression remains not much. (Rating: 8 out of 20.)
For me, the first really good Marzen of 2012 came from a
slightly smaller North Carolina brewery called Foothills, a
Winston-Salem establishment that generally adorns its bottles,
nicely, with what looks sort of like Soviet poster art. Theirs is a
substantial mahogany concoction available only in bombers, not in
six-packs. A lot more is crammed in here than in the other two -
caramel, toffee, nuts, toasted malts, very few hops - yet it
finishes clean, without any syrupiness sticking to the tongue.
(Rating: 13 out of 15.)
On the other end of the Marzen spectrum, but maybe just as good,
is Hacker-Pschorr's pale orange Original Oktoberfest - one of the
relatively few examples of the style that, because they were brewed
within Munich's city limits and meet some other presumably very
strict German criteria, actually qualify to be served at the real
Oktoberfest. Bright, grassy, floral, and gently sweet, it bespeaks
summer - or even spring - more than it does fall, and it's
incredibly drinkable, though it finishes with a beguiling touch of
indecipherability (rating: 1547 out of 1785). Paulaner's very
popular Oktoberfest - another "legit" entry - is, by comparison,
just another boring lagery lager. It's probably fine, but whatever.
(Rating: 2.49 out of 5.)
"Dogtoberfest" by Flying Dog, meanwhile, is said to be very
sweet, but I was in the midst of eating an entire package of
Keebler Fudge Stripes when I began drinking it, so it didn't seem
sweet to me at the time. When I finished the cookies, though, some
of the beer's toasty caramel flavors came through, along with a
faintly acrid smokiness. It's a little thinner than I'd like, but
it's kind of cool. (Rating: 14 out of 20.)
I finished up this experiment with Yuengling's stab at the
style. I dunno why: nostalgia, maybe, or curiosity as to how a lame
macrobrewery would view the Oktoberfest. Well, Yuengling's Marzen
tastes a lot like plain, bland Yuengling, only a touch maltier.
Before this, I'd never had any of Yuengling's beers apart from
their flagship lager, and now I wonder whether they're one of those
corporations that secretly just sell the same product over and
over, with minor modifications designed to fool us, like Taco Bell.
(Rating: 10 out of 10000.)
In summary, Marzens really aren't that great, and except maybe
for the Foothills one, they definitely don't seem worthy of those
big powerful mugs you always see in cultural depictions of
Oktoberfest (it's like using a wheelbarrow to haul a twig), but
hey, it's beer, and it's basically not bad, so you may as well
drink up; at least it's a good excuse to wear lederhosen.
The thing to remember about most seasonal products, like roast
turkey and Buche de Noel and those little candy hearts with
romantic enticements written on them, is that, if they were
actually good, people would just consume them year-round, but if
they were truly bad, people wouldn't consume them at all.
Tagged:
Oktoberfest, Generation Y
