A Lexicon of German Beer Culture

Writing about the history and culture of beer in Central Europe invariably involves acts of translation — not only translation of the German-language sources that I read, but also translation in a broad sense. The Russian linguist Roman Jakobson identified three modes of translation, including intersemiotic translation.

Unlike “translation proper,” intersemiotic translation allows us to translate cultural phenomena such as customs or even the organization of space from one cultural sign system or linguistic code into another. In plain terms, intersemiotic translation helps us translate affective terms like Gemütlichkeit, or terms that refer to spaces imbued with cultural significance, such as a Stube or a Wirtshaus.

 

Lost in Translation?

Such words, though, cannot be exchanged as one-to-one tokens. We cannot simply render Gemütlichkeit as coziness, or Stube as parlour. Indeed, as the Weimar-era cultural theorist Walter Benjamin observes in his essay, “The Task of the Translator,” there remains something of all languages that cannot be conveyed or communicated. But Benjamin sounds a reassuring note regarding the transmission of experience from one language to the next. The task of the translator involves incorporating “the original’s mode of signification, thus making both the original and the translation recognizable as fragments of a greater language, just as fragments are part of the vessel” (Benjamin, 78). Like words themselves, cultural phenomena are akin to fragments of a vessel that the translator pieces together in the “spirit” of the original.

 

Yet sometimes the circumlocution involved in rendering a simple word like Stube or Stammtisch or Schwemme in English adds up to too many fragments. Hence this “lexicon of beer culture” for terms that come up frequently in the posts I write about Germany and Austria. What follows is a list of terms ordered alphabetically with cross-references. It may eventually include Central European food and its regional variations. I’ll add new terms as I come across them.

Let me know if your favourite beer culture term isn’t on the list, and I’ll include it. Also, if you have a pithy formulation that can stand in for any of the terms below, fire away in the comments!

 

St. Emeramsmühle, Munich

***

 

German Beer Terms

Ausschank. Bar counter with beer taps, other beverages, and, occasionally, casks. It can also refer to a tavern in a broad sense, as in the Ausschank for XYZ brewery. Also refers to the bar area of a Heuriger (Austrian wine garden).

The Ausschank at Mahrsbräu, Bamberg

 

Bierkeller. A beer garden. Historically, beers were lagered in cellars (Keller) cut into riverbanks or hillsides, with trees such as horse chestnuts planted atop these cellars to provide additional coolness in the summer. In a curious linguistic twist, Bavarians (and Franconians in particular) do not go “in den Keller,” but rather “auf den Keller” (atop the cellar) for their summer refreshments.

 

Going “auf den Keller” often means nice views. St. GeorgenBräu Bierkeller, Buttenheim

 

Frühschoppen. A morning pint with friends, usually on Sundays. Often accompanied by a light meal of sausages and pretzels. In much of Bavaria, Frühschoppen typically consists of Weissbier and Weisswurst, a very pale (almost white) sausage made from minced veal, pork loin, and various spices.

 

 

 

The Weisswurst’s in the bowl (served in a light broth).

 

Gasthaus, Gasthof, Gaststätte. See “Wirtshaus.”

 

Bräustüberl with beer garden, Kloster Reutberg (Upper Bavaria)

 

Gemütlichkeit. (Adjective form: gemütlich). Gemüt means “heart, temper, feeling,” and is related to the English “mood.” Gemütlichkeit conveys the state or feeling of warmth, coziness, friendliness, and good cheer. Other qualities encompassed by Gemütlichkeit include peace of mind and a sense of wellbeing. When a Stube or Wirtshaus (see below for both) is gemütlich, its atmosphere brings all senses of the word into play.

 

Hausbrauerei. Independent brewpub-style breweries that sprung up in the 1980s and 1990s to challenge the dominance of big beer in Germany and Austria. A common fixture in these brewpubs is the small copper brewhouse in plain view of drinkers and diners. When these establishments first appeared on the scene, the highly visible copper kettles served to “pull back the curtain” on the brewing process—a kind of design trope meant to say something along the following lines: “We’re artisanal, and you can see how we brew the beer that ends up in your glass a few meters away.” In a word, this visual language signifies how these brewpubs were and are different from the industrial-scale breweries that had come to dominate the German brewing landscape in the postwar period. Common outside of Bavaria, especially in Baden-Württemberg.

 

Kachelofen. A tiled masonry furnace that originated in the Alpine regions of Central Europe. Provides warmth in winter through radiant heat, and personality throughout the year. Tiles are glazed or hand-painted, and come in many shapes and colours, though green is widespread. Historically, the tiles bore intricate designs testifying to the wealth and status of the owner.

 

Kachelofen in Drei Kronen, Memmelsdorf

 

Keller. See “Biergarten, Bierkeller.”

 

Kneipe. A pub that does not serve hot food. As far as I can tell, usage of the word is more widespread outside of Bavaria. (Please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.)

 

Schwemme. Literally: a watering place for horses or other animals. Whether in Munich, Bamberg, Cologne, Düsseldorf, or any town in between, many of Germany’s brewery-taverns and beer halls have an antechamber or corridor leading to the sit-down area (Stube). Still others feature a covered archway running through them. In times past, carts carrying barrels to and from the brewery would pass through this archway. Brewers, patrons, and wagoners gathered for drinks in these archways, which came to be known as Schwemmen.

Nowadays, the Schwemme serves as a passageway between the front entry of the building and the various Stuben in a tavern. More often than not, the Schwemme features a small Ausschank (bar counter) for draught beer, and almost all have a window for patrons to purchase beer to go. The Schwemmen are lively affairs populated by regulars and visitors alike throughout the day. Some patrons show up just after the tavern opens for a morning drink and a round of cards with their friends.

Schwemme at Brauerei Pfäffgen, Cologne

 

Stammtisch. The table at a beer garden or in a Wirtshaus or Stube reserved for regulars. Can also refer to a regular meeting of a club or of a group of like-minded people. Stamm means stem, stock, root, or tribe.

 

Stube (pl. Stuben). A sit-down tavern area where both food and drink are served. English translations include parlour or lounge, but these standard renderings fail to capture the essence of a Stube. Commonly described as “rustic, cozy, time-worn,” the Stube is the epitome of Gemütlichkeit.

Common features include: wood paneling ranging in colour from dark chocolate, through mahogany, to light pine; built-in wooden bench seating along the outer walls; well-worn wooden furniture; wooden-beamed ceilings; a Kachelofen to provide heat during winter months; an Ausschank for beer and other beverages; historical etchings of maps and city views, or black-and-white photos lining the walls; and antlers or various other hunting trophies throughout the room. Though never dark like a candle-lit cavern, lighting is typically subdued, rarely bright. Windows provide pleasantly dispersed natural light during the day. Regional variations: Stüberl, Bräustüberl, Stübli. Of note: a Braustube/Bräustüberl refers to a brewery-tavern, and a Weinstube to a wine tavern.

Stube, Spezial-Bräu Bamberg

 

Wirtshaus, Gasthaus, Gasthof, Gaststätte. Much debate exists even among German speakers regarding the subtle distinctions and fine gradations between these various drinking and eating establishments. Add in the Viennese Beisl, and the intensity of the debate only increases. English translations of these words include inn, tavern, taproom, or public house. (Sometimes I’ll use the hyphenated “brewery-tavern” in my posts to refer to breweries that operate their own taverns.) The latter, Gaststätte, is more commonly associated with a restaurant, although these still bear a strong resemblance to Wirtshäuser and Gasthäuser (the plural forms of these words). Historically, many of these establishments offered accommodations to weary travelers. Some, such as the Brauereigasthof Rothenbach in Aufseß or the Brauerei Spezial in Bamberg, still do.

Gasthof-Metzgerei Weisser Schwann, Windischeschenbach (Oberplalz)

 

Sources:

Walter Benjamin, “The Task of the Translator,” in Illuminations, edited with an introduction by Hanna Arendt, trans. Harry Zohn, New York: Schocken Books, 1968.

Roman Jakobson, “On Linguistic Aspects of Translation,” in Selected Writings, vol. 2, Paris: Mouton, 1971 (cited in Naoki Sakai, Translation and Subjectivity, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997).

 

Related posts:

Bamberg’s Storied Rauchbier: A Brief History of Smoke and Beer

Will Walk for Beer: Franconian Brews Beyond Bamberg

Munich’s Beer Gardens East and West of the Isar

 

Images by F.D. Hofer

© 2019 F.D. Hofer and A Tempest in a Tankard. All rights reserved.



16 thoughts on “A Lexicon of German Beer Culture”

    • Peter,

      Great to hear from you again! Interesting that you bring up Martyn Cornell’s article. (And yes, it’s just coincidence that my post appeared around the same time as his. I’ve actually been working on this list off and on as part of a book I’m writing about German beer.)

      For what it’s worth, I don’t subscribe to Cornell’s view of the evolution of language, nor do I find his understanding of paronymous calques to be entirely on point. There’s nothing incorrect about calquing, paronymous or otherwise. As a matter of fact, the English language is full of calques from German (and other languages, of course), beer garden being but one of them. Superman — from Nietzsche’s Übermensch — is another word that didn’t exist in English till translators started grappling with Nietzsche. (My personal favourite recent calque: earworm, from Ohrwurm.)

      Even though I sometimes cringe when I hear certain neologisms or malapropisms (seems to happen more often the older I get), I think that our language is ultimately enriched by these borrowings and imperfect attempts at translation. Who knows? Like so many brewing terms — for example, lauter (from the German “läutern” = to purify, refine), or sparge (from the Latin “spargere” = to sprinkle) — some of the cultural terms I’ve listed here might, perhaps, make their way into English someday like so many foeders.

      Anyway, thanks for reminding me to have a closer look at Cornell’s article! It got the wheels turning this evening, which is never a bad thing. Cheers!

  • Always an interesting read and full of tidbits of information. I’ll always remember my first Schwemme experience, I think at Mahrs and thinking how great it was to be able to get a beer, even though I couldn’t get a seat.

      • Agree with the first part but not a fan of the overflow in front of Schlenkerla. Guess it’s better than everyone being inside though!

  • Hi! Nice article! I remember the word Gaststube in some places, like Mahrsbräu in Bamberg. It is the room where it is located the Ausschank in the picture above, and some tables including the Stammtisch table. I don’t know if it has a more complex meaning or just restaurant.

    • Thanks for the kind words, Johann! You’re right, I took the photo of the Ausschank at Mahrs from a seat in their Gaststube. Sounds like you’ve spent some time in Bamberg yourself. Mahrs is one of my favourite places in Bamberg.

      As far as I can tell, Gaststube can mean a restaurant in a general sense, or (in the case of Mahrs) one of several distinct spaces within a Wirtshaus/Gaststätte.

  • If you widen your German-speaking world to Switzerland and Austria, you’ll find more terms as well. The term “Pinte” in Swiss German can be a nice pub-restaurant where you’ll get your drink and some classic Swiss dishes like raclette, and “Pinte” is used interchangeably with “Kneipe” elsewhere. Austrians, particularly in Vienna, use the term “Schanigarten” for outdoor beer gardens in public spaces served by waiters- the waiter is “Schani,” a dialect name more or less meaning “Johnny,” so you’re in a “Johnny garden.”

    • Don, good thing I checked my spam folder, which I don’t often do. For some reason, your comment seems to have found its way there.

      It has been decades since I’ve been in Switzerland. I don’t think Pinte is widely used in the part of Switzerland my dad’s from (Graubünden, right near the Austrian border), but I just googled the term and it seems to be popular the further west you go in German-speaking Switzerland. My guess is that this word, like so many words and terms in Switzerland, comes from the French language (la pinte = pint). Now you’ve got me hungry for raclette!

      Schanigarten is another cool word. Nowadays it goes well beyond beer gardens and drinking establishments. Just about any restaurant, Wirtshaus, cafe, or the like sets up a Schanigarten in Vienna as soon as the weather gets warm — setting off the annual battle with local motorists pouting about losing parking spaces.

      Now that you mention Schanigarten, I need to make sure that the Köbesses of Cologne and Düsseldorf get their due when I get around to expanding the list.

      Prost!

  • I have not been able to find an explanation for the use of feldwebel for the head on a glass of beer in Germany. Any ideas?

    • Apologies for the belated reply, Conrad! I headed to Germany the day you left the comment, traveled around for 6 weeks, came home, and then got on a plane for Vancouver.

      Feldwebel: I had actually never heard the term till you mentioned it. A Google search turned up this article, which offers three explanations:

      1) The shape of the head of a well-pulled beer is reminiscent of the pointed sergeant’s helmet from imperial times.

      2) The name refers to paintings from the 18th century. These show Prussian soldiers standing at attention with a white headdress, the shape and color of which is reminiscent of a frothy foam cap atop a well-pulled beer. The combination of “standing at attention” and headgear might have something to do with the notion of a “sleek” beer.

      3) During the time of Wallentstein, sergeants were beginning to gain responsibility for discipline and order in military camps. This also included keeping tabs on the merchants who supplied the camps. The sergeant made sure that purveyors of beer served the beer well, that they neither made a profit from too much foam nor sold stale beer without foam. A perfectly served beer thus received the name of its “inspector,” the Feldwebel.

      Here’s the article: https://rp-online.de/panorama/wissen/wie-kommt-der-feldwebel-ins-bierglas_aid-8587659

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