Sünner’s brewery tap in the Altstadt since 1996, this was the historic Zum Kirchenbrauhaus until 1889. The 11th-century Romanesque Groß St. Martin stands in the background.

Köln's Kölsch Kultur
By Rick Green

G

ermany. Beer.

I wouldn't be surprised if you just had visions of beer-laden, buxom, blonde Bavarians - such is the success of Oktoberfest marketing. Bavaria, though, is not Germany, which they maintain 136 years after unification. If you don't understand the language, something as simple as glass size can indicate the beer frontier.

To take an example, Cologne's beer culture stands in sharp contrast to that of Munich. Cologne's counterpart to Munich's sturdy Fräulein proffering handfuls of cirrus-crested Helles in rugged one-litre Maß beers is the burly Köbes brandishing a tray of pale gold Kölsch in delicate 200ml Stangen secured in a dozen holes that wreath the centre handle. In other words, in Bavaria women powerlift Pils; in the Rhineland men delicately deliver ale.

Before you get the idea that Cologne is populated by girly-men, let me relate to you how serious they take their beer. Twenty years ago, they had the highest number of breweries of any German city. Facing outside competition, the 24 breweries of greater Cologne resorted to one of the oldest tricks in the book - protectionism. In conjunction with the German government, they proclaimed the Kölsch Convention on June 25, 1985, which established Germany's sole geographical beer appellation. As a result, only a beer that is brewed within metropolitan Cologne, top-fermented, pale gold, hop-accented, filtered, 11-14% Plato, and served in a narrow, straight-sided 200-300ml glass can be called a Kölsch.

The Kölsch of today is a far cry from its Rheinländische Bitterbier pedigree of pre-lager days. You might say it's "gone native," trying harder to be a pilsner than a Pils in order to satisfy contemporary demand for lighter beer. Some brewers even add a bit of wheat to further mask the ale characteristics. The clean, crisp, fruity taste and cool serving temperature (about 8°C) make it ideal for warmer weather. Differences in taste between the brewers come mainly from variation in hop dryness - almost absent to quite noticeable.

As its name indicates, Kölsch is definitely the beer "of Cologne." It is the only beer most residents drink. At least half of it is sold on draft. But the best place to enjoy it is in one of the few remaining independent breweries where the wooden casks are brought straight from the cellar and the Kölsch dispensed directly there from by gravity. Fortunately, you won’t have to walk far from the main tourist attractions in order to find one. Früh, one of the most popular, is just around the corner from the cathedral (Dom).

The service ritual is rather straightforward. Find yourself a seat or a place around the bar and wait for a Köbes - in blue shirt, dark pants, and apron - to offer you a Kölsch, which he will usually already be carrying in his Kranz. A mark will be made on your beermat for every beer you drink - your tab. You do not need to ask for another since it is assumed you do unless you place the beermat on top of your glass to indicate you’ve had enough.

Be forewarned that this is not Kansas, Toto. Germans expect people to have competence in their work and this seems to extend to the work of drinking. If you understand the aforementioned system, you will get efficient service; that still might not entirely meet your definition of "good." If you don’t understand and try to flag down a Köbes, order an Alt, fail to use the beermat indicator properly (i.e. early enough), or make a communication error (Köbessen don’t), expect to be rebuked in some form or other.

Now that any expectations have been adjusted to the proper level, we can order some Schwein... I mean food. If you are comfortable with English pub grub, you'll be just fine. Most pubs serve good value, rib-sticking comfort food indicated by the designation gutbürgerliche Küche. The portions are large, the soggy vegetables secondary, and the price is nice. Naturally, you'll have no problem finding the good 'ol standbys of sausages, schnitzel, and pork hocks. They soon become everyday, so I would first consider the local specialties.

If you think you know German, you'll likely run into trouble ordering a dish native to Cologne. A Halve Hahn is not half a chicken but Edam cheese on a rye bun. Kölsche Kaviar has nothing to do with sturgeon eggs; it's uncooked blood sausage with onion and a roll. Blood sausage also figures in the classic Himmel un Äd (Heaven and Earth), only this time the sausage is cooked and served on a bed of mashed potato and apple sauce. If pork is giving you the trots, you could try a Soorbroode - beef slices marinated for several days in a sweet and sour marinade. Vegetarians, though, will not find solace in Decke Bunne un Speck. Broad beans taste so much better with bacon, don't they? Potato pancakes (Rievkooche) may be your safest bet, but best to check before you order.

Five Stangen later and you'll be mopping up the final bits of your meal as your waistband begins to tighten. Your beermat should already be on top of the glass (it's okay to remove it while drinking the rest of your Kölsch). Time to pay and move on. If your Köbes didn't neglect you, give him a 5-10% tip when you pay. Otherwise, he'll think you were downright displeased.

Where to now? CAMRA's Good Beer Guide: Germany will not leave you wanting for choice.