The Austro-Czech-Bavarian Beer Log

For the record, St. Paulie Girl and Becks are now dead to me – and it only took seven days in their native land to murder my preference for them.
Every small town where to sacked out brewed its own twist on the favorite lager styles (Helles (light lager), Dunkel (dark lager) and Hefe Weizen (brewed with wheat malt). In the Czech Republic, pilsner was the only game --- we drove through the town from which the name derives (Pilsen) but didn't stop for its famous brew.
With few exceptions, the beers were fresh, clean, tasty and unavailable outside their home regions.
If I thought it before, I can officially now say “Gehen Sie weg” to mass-produced beer, minus the occasional Pabst or Miller High Life at a weak hipster moment.
For all the beers I downed – and without a single hangover to show for it due to the freshness involved – one stands on a brewing pedestal:

Salzburger Weissbier Gmachl and Schweitl --- I am putting this one at the summit, since its taste was almost unbelievable.
Two sips in, I declared it my favorite wheat beer ever, which I attribute to the small brewery, the old style pop top and it clearly being the freshest wheat to fall on my taste buds.
Darker in complexion than a standard weisse
The first 22-oz. Bottle demanded three follow-ups, and then it was time to try my German on the carousers at the bar. At 5.2 percent alcohol per volume, what German I knew still emerged minus the slurring.
Where the beer was grand, the German skills lacked, and the carousers just laughed. But the beer will stick with me long after their laughter expired.

Now, here comes the rest of the seven-day story. Spellings change depending on what the brewery calls the beer and I tried my best to keep them accurate:

Wunsiedel
Honicka-Brau two-for-one: Wunsiedler Dunkel and Wunsiedler Weissbier – Given to me by Dietmar, our gracious host, these were the pace beers, setting the standard for the coming days. Wunsiedler Dunkel was dark in color only; served warm brings out the beer's lush malty character. The wheat beer bears all the traits of taste typical to its style – the banana-orange-clove taste – but here freshness makes the heart grow fonder.

Windischeschen Brauerei two-for-one: Wurth Zoigl Helles and Wurth Zoigl Dunkles – Poured at our first tavern stop in Wunsiedel, both outperformed my expectations – the beer can't all taste this great, can it?It didn't, but the two Zoigl products held their own. The helles bested the dunkel (a little too bitter and serve too colder compared to the Wunsiedler) due to its unusually fruity bouquet – I caught hints of light fruit (peaches and apricots) before it finished bitter and hoppy, but without a lingering aftertaste.

Gottmannsgruner Hefe Weisse – You have to love all the small regional brewers in Germany carving out existences in the shadow of the major Munich brewhouses known in the States. This weisse charges out of the glass with more bite than the Wunsiedler, still goes forward with that wheat tastiness and everpresent oranginess.
The Gottmannsgruner (minus a pair of umlauts I can't get on an American keyboard) doesn't have the intricacies of the top-shelf wheat brews, but it works just fine for American tastebuds accustomed to less. At this point drinking wheat beer at room temperature doesn't even faze me; it encourages me to drink more.
Gottsmanngruner resides miles beyond Blue Moon and most microbrews not named 'Celis.'

Prague
Kusovice – After rumbling down the road to Prague, passing countless acres with their metal frameworks primed for 2007's hop vines, we hit our first brewery, Kuskovice an hour from the renown city. Banners stretched tautly in the wind lauded its praise from worldwide beer competitions.
I finally tasted it in the shadow of Prague Castle while eating the worst sandwich ever assembled. With it's light taste and bitter, hoppy finish, Kuskovice is definitely one of the pilsners that inspired its limp American descendants.

A Czech gas station cafe 10 clicks from the German border
Gambrinus Lager – With beer in the cooler, I thought I'd have to wait until I hit our guest house to enjoy it.
Luckily, their laws are nowhere near as strict as ours, so I hunkered down at the cafe tables and drank from the bottle.
Gambrinus tasted sweeter than my expectations for a lager, a possible benefit of drinking it closer to room temperature than any American beer could go. Though I left with my taste buds intact, the finish was powerfully hoppy and bitter.
The beer named for the king who according to legend first added hops to beer performs well better than the Kuskovice and on the same tier as Budweiser/Budvar (Czechvar to American drinkers). A royal lager indeed.

Zwiesel
Hutthurmer Bayerwald Braurei Helles – Served a little colder than anything else in days, this golden lager assaults with a crisp, clean taste that finishes with a gentle intrusion of hops. On par with the earlier helles, the Hutthuemer is brewed deep in the Bavarian Forest (Bayerwald). It's a microbrew, but with centuries of experience in crafting beer. It's as good as either of the ones I tried in Wunsiedel.

Falter – I didn't have time for notes, but the owner and chef of the guesthouse where we stayed poured glass after glass. I can't separate it from the superb sausages the chef whipped up, but for an after-hours brew in a foreign country, it was quite tasty, and will always be a cog in an unforgettable night.

Thalgau (see Salzburger Weisse above.)
Stiegl – Much like the golden lagers of Germany, Stiegl lacks the bitter finish of a pilsner, but possesses all the signs of a German session beer. Nothing fancy here, but a night pounding down Stiegls would be fine without such other great German-Austrian choices on the menu.

Salzburg – We left the land of Mozart before noon, so I imbibed nothing. In case you wondered.

Munich
A little preface – The tour books touted a special beer served in Bavaria during Lent with a thick taste and high alcohol content. That beer was revealed as none other than doublebock, the heavy lager full with molasses, raisin, chocolate and other flavors. We arrived during the week of Ash Wednesday, so the doublebock kegs were fresh.

Salvator – Another beer I can never drink again. Though labeled by brew experts such as F. Paul Pacult as one of the beer dark lagers from the continent, tasting it on tap forbids any further pours from a half-liter bottle.
Even without the Lenten association, it's almost divine from the tap. Served just warm enough that the molasses and heavy malt finish spread out their flavor,

Augustiner Hell – This one bears the mark of mass production – just as when Rogue moved into the six-pack market, something is lost in this one compared to the crispness of the regional brewers. It's decent, being Munich-brewed beer drank in Munich, but there's something lost in this golden lager.

Schweiger Helles – Blecch; this was the worst beer from the trip, and served during the second-worst lunch (another Tourist Trap Cafe, like the one in Prague). It was sour and skunky the whole way through. Maybe the keg sat too long and the lack of preservatives let the elements in, but there's no reason beer brewed and served in Munich should ever taste so foul.

Maximator (at the Augustiner beer hall in old Munich) – This is a killer doublebock, one that I've never seen in North America. But it deserves billing with Salvator and Celebrator (which Winking Lizard somehow considers the best beer in the world). At 7.5 percent, it weighs in a little darker and stronger than Salvator, with more molasses on the finish.

That alone gives it a character making it recommendable, and as a Lent-only beer, made it the best beer on which to end the trip.