In describing Franconia, Michael Jackson wrote in his Pocket Guide to Beer that "this more quietly quirky beer region is a pleasure almost hidden among the beechwood forest ridges that form its boundaries." As it happened, my first taste of what may be the quintessentially quirky German brew from this part of the country also occurred at a somewhat hidden location, namely a small wurst and bierhaus called Lederhosen in Manhattan's West Village.
As I'd already sampled most of the draft selection on prior visits, I decided to order from their more extensive list of bottled beers this time. Feeling adventurous, I chose the Original Schlenkerla Smokebeer. For six generations the Trum family of Bamberg has smoked barley malt over beechwood fires and recommend drinking their specialty "slowly with relish, but steadily and purposefully." In my opinion, you simply won't come across better advice for how to enjoy this full-bodied, dry märzen. It pours with a thick, tan head and immediately hits you with aromas of roasted malt and peppery woodsmoke. To be honest, it reminded me of a smoked Gouda... in a good way of course. As for the taste, the smokiness again dominated, but dark chocolate and a very slight sweetness can be detected as well. The finish is long and satisfying.
In short, there isn't another rauchbier I've had with as much character and complexity of flavor—it's unlike anything I've tried before. I savored every mouthful and seriously considered ordering a second bottle before settling on a Köstritzer black lager instead. Plus, now that I've sampled a Schlenkerla, I can say without hesitation that it practically demands a grilled, sauerkraut-topped kielbasa, or better yet, a visit to Upper Franconia.
Good Enough For Grandad
It isn't easy to admit, but after some careful research I've come to the conclusion that I'm getting old. This only bothers me in so much as it may require changes to my lifestyle. Not many, I hope. I don't plan to stop going to see live music anytime soon, but the ability to drink craft beer twenty feet from the stage in a small venue seems better and better when the alternative is often overpriced domestic lager at a huge club where good views involve a degree of jockeying and jostling that I don't care to be bothered with anymore. In other words, I'm glad their current tour brought the Squirrel Nut Zippers to the Ram's Head in Annapolis on Monday evening.Announcing early on that they would be doing some "Southern Gothic Ventriloquism," the octet kicked into high gear almost immediately and rarely paused for more than a few moments during their ninety minute set. With the exception of a cover of Stephen Foster's "Hard Times Come Again No More," they stuck to originals, the bulk of which appear on Hot and Perennial Favorites, their second and third full-length albums. Billing this cross-country trek as "The Antidote for the Latest, Greatest Depression," the band cheered the audience with a riotous blend of blues, jazz, boogaloo, calypso, and ragtime. Singers Jimbo Mathus and Katharine Whalen harmonized well and Chris Phillips played his trap kit with flare, but for my money, the horn section stole the show, especially on whimsical numbers like "Prince Nez" or "Suits Are Picking Up the Bill." Some people in attendance, in spite of the average age at the Ram's Head that night, found it difficult to sit still; by the end of the concert they were literally dancing in the aisles. After a show like that, I've changed my mind. Growing old could be fun after all.
Charmed, I'm Sure
Of course it's only coincidence, but as a Maryland native preparing to visit my family at the end of the week, I took particular interest in the most recent "36 Hours" feature from The New York Times. Assuring skeptical readers that the majority of misfits in Baltimore are wacky artists, not drug dealers, the Gray Lady then recommended forays to neighborhoods like Hamden and Fell's Point.I'm of a like mind when it comes to the charms of my home state's largest city—there's a lot to see beyond the Inner Harbor. But while I agreed with some of their suggestions (the house beers at The Brewer's Art for instance), I would steer first-time visitors to a few spots the newspaper of record didn't mention.
First off, if you're going to spend any time in Hamden, do yourself a favor and fuel up at Cafe Hon before setting off to explore the rest of 36th Street. The prices are reasonable, the dishes are filling and the decor is only tacky if you've got something against pink flamingos and leopard print. After that, if art appreciation was part of your plan for the day, consider The Walters Art Museum in addition to, or even instead of the BMA. The exhibitions are quirkier and span a greater period of time, and like the more popular collection uptown, admission is free. Finally, Fell's Point. Much has changed since I started coming here in college, but fortunately The Sound Garden has stuck around. Look no further for the best new and used music, video games, and movies, along with the chance to catch an in-store performance by a touring band.
I've never stayed in a local hotel, but if necessary, I'd turn to the listings in the new Moon Baltimore. Their advice is usually trustworthy and often brutally frank plus, in the case of this handbook, it's dispensed by a local writer.