The evening was warm for May and the beer gardens were open. We decided to forgo the touristy Hofbrauhaus during our stay in Munich, instead heading to a place more favoured by locals, the Augustiner Keller just around the corner from our hotel.
The tradition in Germany is to ferment their beer underground, using the shade of chestnut trees to keep the casks cool. It was natural gathering spot to enjoy the frothy results. Today’s outdoor beer gardens are often located in the same spots, under the same shady trees. The first official mention of this location was on a city map dated back to 1812.
The Augustiner Keller has a 5,000 seat outdoor garden with a mix of large round or trestle tables to support another German tradition of eating together. The tables were unadorned, except for a mug holding utensils and serviettes, and the chairs, despite looking rickety and frail were surprising comfortable as the night wore on.
This is not the place to come if you want a cozy intimate dinner for two. We took the seats offered by our host and instantly joined the ongoing conversation. Although we do not speak German many others at our table spoke English and were happy to indulge our ignorance. There may have been music playing in the large outdoor space but the rising hum of conversation, broken by the occasional cheer, drowned out whatever ambience the owners were trying to create.
The real reason to be here was the beer, and we gleefully ordered the local brew. I ordered a small, or half liter, only to be told with a smirk and a shrug that the beer was served in one size only. It was then I saw the staff moving among the crowded tables, five frothy and sloshing liter steins in each hand with a sixth resting on top, backs bowed to balance the weight over the sturdy skeletal structure of their hips, thighs and legs. These glasses were dropped onto our table with a thud that had the pretzels dancing and doled out to the thirsty patrons as proficiently as any Vegas blackjack dealer.
The menu offered a number of variations on the themes of pork, potatoes and cabbage. There may have been a salad on the menu, but I didn’t look for it and saw no one else eating one. Pretzels did equal duty as appetizer, side and if you were so inclined, dessert.
As our dinner drew to a close and our current table mates departed we were joined by a young couple. Both were dressed in the colours of the local football team, FC Bayern Munich. It was only after introducing ourselves to them did we notice an abundance of red and white in the crowd, broken here and there by the discordant black and gold of the opposing team. Tonight was the championship game and fans were congregating at the most logical place to watch. The young man did not speak English, or chose not to speak to us. Instead he sat, knees bouncing, chain smoking and chewing on his thumbnail as he waited for the game to start. She seemed pleased for the distraction and quite happy to pass the time speaking with middle aged Canadians.
At dusk the overhead lights dimmed and the large screens sputtered to life, reflecting the pitch across the crowded beer garden like a house of mirrors, accompanied by the collective rush of anticipation and escalating chatter. Two young boys the next table over playfully kicked each other’s ankles. Two grown men pulled the hoods of their skin suits over their faces, obliterating their features in favour of fandom. Hats were adjusted, scarves swept around waiting shoulders and jerseys tweaked, as if it was dependent on each individual fan that their support and loyalty would carry their team to victory.
The excitement as infectious, and we could not have left if we wanted to. Sports has the ability to unite a nation, or divide a city. Ask any Canadian about hockey and you will understand what I mean. We were in the right place at a time that allowed us a unique glimpse into the life of most Germans. We order another liter of beer and settled in for the match.