Beer, Monasteries and Wine
Written by Giles macDonogh
Posted: 18th August 2022
Bavaria had its own version of the Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, it occurred in 1803. Church lands were sold and many ancient buildings were destroyed, just as they had been in England. Being Bavaria, however, a good deal of Church land was acquired by brewers and some of these ‘monastic’ beers have acquired a considerable reputation over the past two hundred years.
It can be safely assumed that outside wine lands, all monasteries brewed beer, not just for monks, but also for pilgrims and visitors; so in many cases the men who acquired the buildings were simply stepping into the monks’ shoes. An incomplete list of surviving Bavarian monastic breweries includes Tegernsee, Irsee, Ursberg, Ettal, Andechs, Reutberg, Weihenstephan, Scheyern, Welternberg, Aldersbach, Speinshart and Kemnath, Weissenohe, Kreuzberg and Vierzehnheiligen. Monasteries required wine too for sacerdotal reasons. As Bavaria was not good for growing grapes, the wine had to be made elsewhere. Up in the Alps near Garmisch, Tegernsee imported its wine from the excellent Tegernseerhof in the Austrian Wachau.
Locally brewed beer is therefore a counterpoint to any tour of Bavarian monasteries, and not just monasteries. The locus classicus here would be the Augustinerbräu Stammhaus in Munich, which is more or less opposite the site of the old Augustinian Friary which evicted its occupants in 1803. With its grottos, groin vaults and antlers, is just about the most atmospheric beer hall in the city. They are not all like that: in July we had a good, beery meal at the Schillerbräu micro-brewery in the Schiller Strasse that was arranged in a more modern idiom.
The next day we drove towards the mountains and stopped at Andechs on the Holy Mountain above Starnberg Lake, which has a well-deserved reputation for its monastic beers. The yardstick for judging a Bavarian brewery is the bottom-fermented ‘Helles’, although a dark, ‘Dunkel’ version is always available too. Bottom-fermented beers are called ‘lagers’ in Britain, which traditionally prefers top-fermented ‘ales’. Andechs with is honey-scented Helles was no disappointment: a Bavarian Helles is generally slightly sweet and not nearly as hoppy as a pilsner. Most if not all Bavarian breweries make wheat beers (Weizen or Weissbier) and extra-strong seasonal Bockbiers. Andechs makes Bock all the year round. It was hot in Bavaria in July and Helles or Weizen suited the temperature better.
I discovered the Brauereigaststätte Zum Stift in Kempten five years ago. The building dates from the first years of the twentieth century but beer has been poured on the site for much longer. Once again its position at the bottom of the steps leading to the Basilica made it hard to resist. At that temperature the cold Weizen scarcely touched the sides of my throat. If one beer really stood out on this last trip, however, it was the Maxbräu Weissbier in Oberammergau. Here again I drank it in really intense heat, but the beer distinguished itself by a certain hoppiness that I hadn’t found elsewhere and which made it a rather more serious drink. It is the best half-litre I have drunk in Germany this summer.
There were still wines to taste at home. I did not work my way through the full gamut of the 100 best wines of Languedoc-Roussillon, but I managed a few. There was a lovely 2020 Viognier from the Domaine Saint Ferreol with some real apricot-blossom typicity (Majestic c£13.50) and a 2021 Picpoul, Reserve de Mirou (Matthew Clark c£9) with a proper minerality. Better still was the 2020 white Château de Lastours (c£13.50 from Hallgarten) which had a lovely white peach aroma and a salty finish. There was also a splendid sweet wine – 2019 Dernières Grives from the Domaine Tariquet (Wine Society c£17) with all that luscious lychee and pineapple fruit from its Petit Manseng grapes.
Having been underimpressed by Mas de Daumas Gassac when it was being sold as something incredibly special and at incredibly high prices, I found myself drinking my words when it came to the 2021 Grande Reserve de Gassac (Laithwaites c£9) with its leathery nose and rich plummy fruit. Then there was a clutch of St Chinians: the 2020 Maison Fortant Sélection Parcellaires with its bouquet of violets and palate of black fruits has no distributer for now; the 2021 Cave de Roquebrun is similarly hard to get hold of – it is a lovely supple wine; and the lack of distribution applies also to the 2020 Vignobles Lorgeril Château de Ciffre. Let’s hope all three find importers soon. Vignobles Lorgeril’s 2018 Château de Pennautier, L’Espirit de Pennautier Cabardès is a lightish wine, but none the worse for it. It is brought in by the Wine Society at c£22.50. Lastly a fortified Vin doux naturel, a 2015 Banyuls from the Domaine de la Rectorie, a wonderful jumble of leather, black olives and dried figs, but it has no importer either.
There was a last edition in the current series of online tastings from the Australians. This time the subject was Orange in New South Wales, which grows grapes at high altitudes west of Sydney. Vineyards are planted between 600 and 1100 metres, with the reds naturally occupying the lower ground. There was a tingly 2021 Chardonnay called ‘The Architect’ from Philip Shaw which must be as refreshing as any Australian white and a 2019 No8 Pinot Noir from the same source with some delightful orangey, citrus notes. The wine I liked most, however, was a 2018 Angullong Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon that was fresh, minty and tangy. The Shiraz wines, on the other hand, proved disappointing.
A friend took me to see a couple of places at the Royal Exchange in the City. The first was Oeno House, which stocks the wines of rich investors who make a portion available to buy or simply drink on their terrace behind the Exchange. The wines in their vitrines would make most heads spin. There were plenty there that I hadn’t sampled in years, not since wine became a sure investment and prices went through the roof! I noticed some bottles of La Tâche, and recalled buying the 1971 in 1980. It cost me the equivalent of £40. That was a lot for a student, but for a treat, still possible. First growth clarets were the same then. They were not so expensive that you could afford to drink them.
Besides the millionaire wines, however, Oeno has a range of very interesting bottles that would not break most banks. Four of these we tried: really gorgeous 2022 Asyrtiko from Clos Segasta on the little wine island of Toinos in the Aegean; a 2019 Joaquin from the island of Isola near Capri which was scrumptiously ripe and golden; a 2017 ‘No Name’ Barolo from Borgogno, that was suppler than most Barolos and possibly halfway to being a Barbaresco; and finally a smoky, cherry-scented, light-bodied 2018 Fedegraziani Rosso di Mezzo from Mount Etna in Sicily.
Our next rendezvous was just round the corner at Tomoka a business specialising in casks of new-make malt whisky and a wonderful little shop selling rare spirits. Jass Patel had also set up a tasting for us, this time malt whiskies from different places: Fettercairn Warehouse 2 from Scotland, Fyra from Sweden, Mosgaard from Denmark, The Cardrona from New Zealand and back to Scotland for the 1992 Bowmore Black Art 29-year old. The Fettercairn, Mosgaard and Cardrona I would characterise as sweetish, after-dinner whiskies, all delicious in their ways, with The Cordrona perhaps the most luscious of the lot. I liked the Fyra, which was not so sweet and I thought I could drink more than a glass of it without it cloying. The best of all was the Bowmore on Islay. It was quite distinctly winey with an intriguing aroma of apples.
Jass added a couple more bottles at this point. The first was a 2010 Bruichladdich, from the other side of the island to Bowmore. This was from a red wine cask and once again it was intensely winey and sweet: another after-dinner malt. His last shot was the Bowmore Octomore. This was just three years old and the distillery’s attempt to make a perfect AOP whisky, where all the materials, malt and peat, came from Islay and where the peat smoke equalled 88 parts per million – making it the peatiest whisky on the market. Apart from peat, I could smell the germinating grain on the malting floor – an aroma never forgotten. On the palate it seemed young, yes, but there was also a lingering taste of liquorice.
July was possibly even hotter in London than it had been in Bavaria. Here in Kentish Town we are lucky to have the Camden Town Brewery which makes a great array of beers and there is always something I have not tried before. There under the vats, with the trains hobbling by up above, the beer is always as fresh as possible and that includes the best selling ‘Hells’ lager, which in Kentish Town is sold in its unpasteurised idiom. No prizes for guessing the origin of the name.
