Touring the Rhine-Main Region's Oldest Private Brewery

"Next week, it smells like beer." These were the words brewmaster Stefan Simon uttered as he led me up a wooden staircase to the malt house at Privatbrauerei Glaab. It wasn't a particularly surprising statement. I've heard similar expressions from brewers before, just not in Seligenstadt, Germany. To be honest, I'd scarcely heard of the town itself until I arrived on a sunny afternoon in late August. But after several days of touring the state of Hesse on a trip sponsored by the Frankfurt Rhine-Main Region, I was excited to be anyplace where I could taste beer and talk shop. Fortunately, Mr. Simon had graciously agreed to show me around the historic brewery. 

Founded in 1744, Glaabsbräu grew steadily over time, reaching the point of producing more than one million barrels a year by 1970. And they remained independent into the 80s and 90s, as other nationally-known brands fell victim to mergers and buy-outs. More recently, the company has scaled back, currently kegging and bottling closer to 33,000 barrels annually. Even so, their footprint in this little town of half-timbered houses is considerable, seeming to occupy nearly as much real estate as the former Benedictine monastery on the banks of the Main River.

"The focus now is on quality," Simon explained in thickly-accented English. "And time for maturation is longer these days."

As he led the way back downstairs to the open fermentation cellar and then into the lagering cellar below, he told me that their Pilsener (4.9% ABV) is the top seller overall while Glaabsbräu Radler (2.6% ABV) is "popular with ladies." He also filled me in on Vitamalz, an alcohol-free malt beverage developed in 1930 that Simon described as healthier than Coke. I knew something about the beverage, having washed down boiled sheep's head with a can of Egils Malt in Iceland, so I didn't press him for more information. Besides, I was mostly there for the beer.

Beer Tasting in Moose Country

There's a moose for almost every 53 people in Finland. And yet during a recent six day stay I didn't spot a single one. Plenty of snow and ice, but not so much as a glimpse of the enormous antlered herbivore. Well, except this guy. I photographed him in Hollola, a little town just outside of Lahti, near Lake Päijänne.

I had found my way to this medieval church village with the help of Pekka Kääriäinen, a well-known sahti advocate, entrepreneur, and head of the Finnish Association for Small Breweries. After spending the morning showing me all around his hometown, he'd insisted on introducing me to his friend Ilkka Sipilä, the owner of a place called Maaseuturavintola Hollolan Hirvi, or Hollolan Moose Countryside Restaurant. A place with a very small on-site brewery. And while it technically wasn't open for the season, the parking lot had been plowed, and Pekka assured me that it was no problem to drop by on a Friday afternoon in late winter. Plus, he explained over the pop music spilling from his car radio, sahti is still brewed the traditional way at Hollolan Hirvi—by adding heated stones to the mash tun instead of hot water—and I simply couldn't leave the country without meeting Ilkka.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a drop of the aromatic, juniper-infused farmhouse beer to be had when we arrived, so I settled for a taste of Tumma Hirvi, or Dark Moose (4.5% ABV), instead. Ordinarily a glass with set you back €6 (about $7.80), but turn up with a respected Finnish brewer and you'll likely get a complimentary pour. A thick, creamy beige head emerged as soon as my goblet was full, and leaning in to appreciate the smell, I found the nose reminded me of date cake or sticky toffee pudding. Five types of malt including caramel, Munich, and smoked malt, give this dark ale a full body and an ebony color with rosy highlights. Magnum hops are used for bittering, and Saaz to impart aroma. The finish is quite dry.

Ilkka demurred when I asked him about Tumma Hirvi's style, maintaining that he brewed for himself, not judges or beer freaks. "When we are brewing, we don't think about what category it should be," he told me. Depending on the season, farm guests can choose from a number of other unfiltered, unpasteurized beers as well as a meat-heavy menu of Finnish food. Beer-wise, I would've liked to sample Kivipukki (steinbock), American Moose (a pale ale), or French Moose (ale aged in cognac casks) and from the kitchen I might have ordered moose soup or a beer-marinated venison steak. I guess I'll have to try those on my next visit though.

Sure, lots of people think March is the month to look for cheap holidays to Goa or a quick escape to Ireland, but I say Finland deserves to be in the running, too. Bring a warm coat, a good pair of boots, and just in case you want to venture (naked) into a sauna, plenty of self confidence. If you're lucky, you might even see a moose. Travel to Hollolan Hirvi, and you'll definitely be able to taste one.

Beer Discoveries in the Pacific Northwest

By the time Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery reached present day Idaho in September of 1805, their cache of food was running on empty. Worse yet, the expedition finished the last of their whiskey on July 4th. Desperate and near starvation, they resorted to eating dog. And while I'm sure they were grateful for the salmon and camas root provided by friendly Nez Percé several days later, I bet a brewery at the confluence of the Snake and Clearwater Rivers would have been a welcome sight for a band of exhausted explorers.

The Riverport Brewing Company in Clarkston, Washington is just across the Snake from Lewiston, Idaho. It's only been open for three years, but head brewer Pete Broyles already plans to expand; after a somewhat slow start, draft sales are growing. At last, craft beer has been discovered along the Lewis and Clark Trail. "We get people in here from a lot of different places," Pete told me during a recent visit to his spacious taproom on Ninth Street. Scanning the room, the patrons looked to be mostly local, but even an hour before closing on a Monday, business was steady. Halfway through the six glass sample board ($5) I knew it was more than free popcorn keeping people coming back for more beer.

Starting with the seasonal specialty, a wet-hopped IPA called 9th Street Whip, I next tried the biscuity, gently bitter Cedar Rock Pale Ale, an American style red ale called B-Run, the dry, piney Seven Devils IPA, Old Man River Oatmeal Stout, and my favorite, Bedrock Bock. Malty, slightly creamy and reminiscent of fruitcake, this garnet-colored brew stood out from the pack, tempting me to spend a buck for another four ounce sample. Then again, it could have been the sign behind the bar egging me on: Last call is for sissies. Considering the trout fishing I would be doing later that week, I probably should have picked up a growler ($18.75 or $8 for refills). Because you never know when you'll run out of provisions.