Why German beer is better than ours (and the best places to drink it)
Here in Düsseldorf’s historic Altstadt, a district known as “the longest bar in the world” (on account of its several hundred bars, crammed so close together that there’s scarcely any space between them), the streets are full of British football fans, sinking vast quantities of Altbier, the local ale.
England fans are toasting Sunday’s narrow victory over Serbia; Scotland fans are drowning their sorrows after Friday’s drubbing by Germany, the hosts of this summer’s UEFA European Football Championship, aka Euro 2024. England fans are optimistic, Scotland fans are pessimistic, but there’s one thing these old rivals agree on: the unrivalled excellence of German beer.
Germany probably won’t triumph at the Euros (France are the firm favourites), but if there was an equivalent contest for brewing, they’d surely win hands down. OK, so the Czechs and the Belgians would run them pretty close, but no one can match the Germans for strength in depth. Never mind the mass-produced brands you see in British supermarkets. You have to travel here to sample the finest German beers. Virtually every town in the Bundesrepublik has its own brewery, and Germans are fiercely loyal to their local brew.
This boozy parochialism is one reason why so many smaller breweries have survived here, but the main reason is quality. What makes German beer taste so good? It all dates back to 1516, and a tongue-twisting regulation called the Reinheitsgebot (Purity Law) which stipulated that only four ingredients were permitted for brewing beer: water, barley, hops and yeast. Over 500 years later, that medieval edict still stands.
The other thing that makes German beer so special is the places where the Germans drink it. From cavernous bierkellers and leafy biergartens to cosy kneipen and stuben (pubs and bars), in any part of Germany you’re sure to find a convivial spot to do your drinking.
People of all ages mingle in these jolly places. The service is gruff but affable, and the house style is refreshingly informal. Sharing a trestle table with strangers is a great way to make new friends. Germans certainly like getting tipsy but you hardly ever see them steaming drunk, partly because most bars serve proper food. The dishes are hearty – sausages, sauerkraut, herrings, dumplings, all the usual Teutonic staples – and the portions are huge.
But surely German beer is all the same: lager, lager and yet more lager? Not at all. Most of that stuff is made for export. If you fancy a change from pilsner, order a weizen (a fruity wheat beer) or a dunkel (a dark, aromatic ale). If you like Guinness, order a Schwarzbier – it looks and tastes a lot like stout.
Every region has its own specialities, and if you’re here for the Euros, like me, you’ll find loads you’ve never tried before. To wet your whistle, here are a few of my old favourites, and some of the best places to sample them. Cheers! Or, as the Germans say, prost!
Altbier, Düsseldorf
Düsseldorf’s signature beer is top fermented, rather than bottom fermented like most modern industrial beers. This gives it a fresher, more complex taste. It has a rich, malty flavour, a bit like Newcastle Brown Ale – look out for Sticke, a stronger variation brewed only once or twice per year. There used to be dozens of Altbier breweries in Düsseldorf’s lively Altstadt (Old Town). Only a handful have survived, but they’re still all very popular. My favourites are Zum Schlüssel and Uerige, which featured in the classic Anglo-German sitcom, Auf Wiedersehen Pet. Both places are just a stone’s throw from Düsseldorf’s scenic Rhine promenade.
Kölsch, Cologne
Both on the River Rhine, only 25 miles apart, Cologne and Düsseldorf are fierce yet friendly foes, a local rivalry encapsulated in their distinctive local beers. Unlike Altbier, Düsseldorf’s favourite brew, Kölsch is light and clear, but although locals like to stress the differences, the way they’re served is very similar. Altbier is served in little 0.25 litre glasses, while Kölsch is served in even smaller 0.2 litre glasses. This means the beer remains cool and crisp, rather than becoming warm and flat. Waiters carry on bringing more and more until you put a beer mat on top of your glass, and they keep count by marking your beer mat – a clever system, no queueing at the bar. Gaffel and Früh are my favourite breweries, both right by Cologne’s magnificent Gothic cathedral.
Weissbier, Munich
Weissbier means “white beer” but that’s a bit of a misnomer. Most weissbier has a pale orange hue, and dunkelweizen, a darker variation, is almost black, like stout. In fact, the name derives from “wheat beer”, since it contains more wheat than barley. This gives it a glutinous texture and a syrupy flavour – not to everyone’s taste (I can’t get enough of it, but I know a lot of people who can’t stand it). It’s available all over Germany, but its natural home is Bavaria. If you’re in Munich you’ll see it everywhere, served in tall half-litre glasses. The big brands – Erdinger, Paulaner and Franziskaner – are all perfectly good, but it’s fun to seek out something more unusual. From Munich, take the S-Bahn to Herrsching, on the banks of the Ammersee, one of Bavaria’s loveliest lakes, and hike uphill to Andechs Kloster, a picturesque medieval monastery where the monks brew their own Andechser beer.
Gose, Leipzig
This full-bodied, salty beer originated in Goslar, in the Harz Mountains (it’s named after the River Gose, which runs through this ancient mining town). Its popularity soon spread, and the place where it took root was Leipzig. Before the war there were many Gose breweries around town, but then Leipzig ended up behind the Iron Curtain and most of them shut down. Happily, after German reunification, the oldest brand, Ritterguts, was revived – and this year this unpasteurised, open-fermented beer celebrates its 200th birthday. There are several Leipzig bars where you can enjoy Ritterguts Gose on tap, like Zill’s Tunnel.
Störtebeker, Hamburg and Stralsund
Northern Germany is renowned for its refreshing pale pilsners and lagers, and one of the best breweries is Störtebeker, in the handsome Hanseatic port of Stralsund. Founded back in 1827, it survived the vicissitudes of the last century (including 45 years behind the Iron Curtain) and it’s now one of northern Germany’s leading brands. You can visit the brewery in Stralsund, or, if you’re in Hamburg for the football, you can eat out at the Störtebeker restaurant in the Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg’s spectacular concert hall. Designed by Swiss architects Herzog & de Meuron (the brains behind Tate Modern), it has quickly become an icon and a rendezvous, with stunning views across the Elbe, one of Germany’s great waterways.
