skip to main |
skip to sidebar
To most people, Frankfurt is known as a center of business and banking. Rarely is this city on the Main River thought of as a place with a distinctive beer culture. Yet Germany’s “Mainhattan” as it is referred to on occasion, doesn’t lack for a culinary history of its own. Nor does it try to rival the nation’s great capitals of brewing: Bamberg, Munich, and Köln. Instead, the Frankfurt region simply devotes itself to cider, a beverage its residents call apfelwein, äbbelwoi, or stöffche in the local dialect.
Mentioned in the eighth century Capitulare de Villis and known to be a popular drink since the time of Charlemagne, it wasn’t until the eighteenth century that the first apple wine taverns began to appear, advertising their blends of this low-alcohol beverage by displaying a green wreath outside. Entrepreneurs like Wilheim Höhl and Philipp Possmann eventually capitalized on the popularity of apfelwein, expanded to meet a growing demand, and are now two of the biggest producers in the country. In the last decade though, a number of smaller artisanal cidermakers have emerged, aspiring to reconnect with the region’s agricultural heritage by working with native apple varieties such as Bohnapfel, Anhalter, and Winterrambour.
“Cider is culture,” Andreas Schneider told me during a visit last summer. “We are now growing more than 70 varieties of apples and more than 25 varieties of pears.” About
eight miles north of Frankfurt—close enough to still see the
skyline—Schneider concentrates on nurturing the orchard his
parents planted in Nieder-Erlenbach in 1965. Today he’s the only cider
maker in the immediate area that still grows, presses, and bottles his
own fruits. Granted, his dry, single variety ciders lack the malted barley and Noble hops used in the beers brewed throughout Germany, but in other ways his cold fermented, small batch creations aren’t so different from the hand crafted ales and lagers found in German brewpubs and beer gardens.
It's been almost two years since I traveled to Wales to write about handcrafted ciders and beers. By now, the saplings in Andy Hallet's cider orchard probably look a lot more like trees. I imagine the hop bines that Len and Sarah Davies planted on their Kilkiffeth Farm in the Gwaun Valley have matured, too. The one change that surprised me though, is the fact that in the capital city of Cardiff I can now get a Welsh IPA made by Brains, the country's largest brewer, in their new dedicated craft brewhouse.
Dubbed Barry Island IPA, I want to believe it was somehow inspired by Gavin & Stacey, a short-lived BBC comedy partially set in the seaside town of Barry. My fondness for this quirky show actually led me to drive out to the island, walk on the promenade, and snap a few pictures just before dusk at the end of my trip. In fact, the beer earned its name because one of the brewers, Simon Martin, is a Barry resident. Well apparently, much like the TV series, Barry Island IPA was a hit, selling out in record time at the Great Welsh Beer and Cider Festival.
Hopefully this means that Mr. Martin and Bill Dobson, the head brewer at Brains, will collaborate on another experimental beer soon. Meanwhile, the new IPA will go on tap at Brains pubs for a limited time, where discerning drinkers can decide if they like the attributes of citrus and grapefruit supplied by Summit, Zeus, and Cascade hops. I know I would have enjoyed a pint of this American-style ale while I was staying at Maltsters, an upscale pub and inn just outside of central Cardiff. But even if Barry Island turns out to be a one-off, I'd still say it's about time I went back to Wales.
Last September I spent a week in Wales. It wasn't my first trip to this mountainous country, but in a very real sense I was seeing Wales anew. Because while I did spend a night in Cardiff and even managed a short hike in Brecon Beacons National Park, I missed many of the things that people travel here for: castles, museums, rugby, or in a few rare cases, bog snorkeling. Instead, the purpose of my visit was to drink cider.
Beginning in Swansea, I drove through the rain to the westernmost end of Pembrokeshire, across the Cambrian Mountains into Powys, and then back south again into the Valleys. Over the course of seven days I met craft cider makers and drinkers, along with a number of friendly Welsh bartenders and innkeepers. Somewhat unexpectedly, I also became a bit of a cider connoisseur myself. If you're curious about the drink and its origins, read about my trip in the current issue of DRAFT magazine or consider attending the world's first International Craft Cider Festival at Llancaiach Fawr Manor in August.
Posts
