In the Enchanting Land of Zoigl Beer

Tucked away in northeastern Bavaria on the Czech border, the Oberpfalz is home to Zoigl, a beer style brewed the same way it was a century ago. But Zoigl is more than a beer style. It’s an ethos upholding a tradition that has long since died out across most of Bavaria. For starters, Zoigl is brewed in a communal brewhouse, a brewing arrangement held over from medieval times. From there, the brewers transport the brew to their own cellars for fermentation before serving them in their Zoiglstuben for only a few days every month. Just look for the six-pointed Zoiglstern, the telltale sign that reveals where the beer is flowing.

And those Zoiglstuben! The Zoiglstube is more of a living room than a restaurant, a convivial place where every seat is full by late afternoon. It’s virtually impossible not to engage with other people. A steady stream of locals crowd in to swap stories or catch up on the news of the day, gladly making room for all who pass through the door. After a few Zoiglbier, we’re all locals.

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*Wondering what a Stube is? Check out A Lexicon of German Beer Culture for details.

**I wanted to capture the excitement I felt visiting the Oberpfalz and experiencing Zoigl for the first time. This piece leaves many important questions surrounding the history and culture of Zoigl’s production and consumption unanswered. In subsequent pieces I’ll return to these fascinating aspects of Zoigl in a more systematic manner.

A Zoigl Journey into the Northern Reaches of the Bavarian Forest

It was as warm as a midsummer’s day, not a cloud in the sky as I set off from Munich’s main train station toward the Oberfpalz in late September. After a few hours of traveling over the gently undulating farmland of Lower Bavaria, the train left the open, rolling hills around Regensburg and plunged headlong into a shady forest, a palette of greens and dappled sunlight.

The orange and green train of the Oberpfalzbahn deposited me at the station in Windischeschenbach, a station which, like so many in contemporary Germany, is boarded up. Not a soul around. On the other side of the Waldnaabtal River, trees conceal the tower of a medieval castle. I made my way from the train station in the direction of the castle and climbed the path in the shadow of its tower up to Neuhaus. The proprietors of the guesthouse where I was staying wouldn’t be there till later, so I did what any thirsty traveler would do and crossed the street to Bahler, where I spent a few lazy hours introducing myself to the charms of Zoigl Land.

Bahler Zoiglstube, Neuhaus

Bahler Zoiglstube is a homey place decked with cheery new wood paneling, and furnished with round tables decorated with sunflowers. A tiled oven sits off to the side awaiting winter. The beautiful secluded courtyard garden outside, ringed with flowers and potted plants and edged by an old stable, furnished the ideal spot for my first-ever Zoiglbier. It wasn’t the best I’d have on this trip, but it was crisp and refreshing no less, its burnished gold with amber hues glinting in the afternoon sunlight. I also tucked into a Sulz, a hearty dish of four large pieces of “kalter Braten” (cold roast pork), carrots, egg, and pickles, all held together in a tangy aspic — a prelude to the numerous other dishes I’d have in the Oberpfalz that get you absolutely stuffed for a mere €4.00–€6.00.

Zum Posterer, Windischeschenbach

After a stroll through Windischeschenbach, I ended up at Zum Posterer just after it opened its doors and claimed the last seat in the house. A former postal station that opened in 1865, this Zoiglstube next to the St. Emmeram vicarage is now a cozy two-floored tavern. The Zoigl here is hazy deep amber with a firm bitterness balanced by a toasty maltiness — an excellent lubricant for my impromptu drinking session with a lively group of hikers from a few towns north.

Zoigl at Schloßhof, Windischeschenbach

Fun-filled as Zum Posterer was, I made a move to Schloßhof through streets bathed in the golden sunshine. I arrived to a packed beer terrace out front but, feeling the slight chill of the early evening air, opted to head inside. Schloßhof has the feel of a large living room, with tables of varying sizes packed close together beneath knick-knacks on the wall that reflect the local way of life. I joined a couple from nearby Weiden, and it wasn’t long before a group from Dresden rounded out our table.

Several Zoigls later and a Saurer Käs for good measure (an entire block of sliced Limburger served with vinegar, pickled onions, and tomatoes), we had collectively notched one of those rare and memorable beer evenings into the books. And fine Zoigls they were. The colour of maple syrup, Schloßhof’s crisp and pleasantly bitter Zoigl is like the scent of fresh alpine meadows. Floral-peppery hops are a delightful complement to the autumn honey, light toast, and hint of stone fruit, carrying all the way through to the end.

A Zoigl Hike through the Forests of the Waldnaabtal

I woke up to one of those perfect fall days, the air crisp and a light frost leaving gossamer patterns on the greenery in shaded areas. After a leisurely breakfast, I picked up the long-distance Goldsteig trail where it rises slightly out of Neuhaus before dropping into the woods along the Waldnaabtal River.

Aside from the occasional incline, the trail is an easygoing and well-posted 14 km from Neuhaus to Falkenberg through landscapes of ancient moss-covered boulders and ferns just donning their fall colours. By the time I had reached the Blockhütte about 9 km removed from Neuhaus, the trail had filled with hikers and walkers.

From the Blockhütte to Falkenberg

The Blockhütte is a quintessential beer garden idyll situated on the edge of a small clearing dotted with sun worshippers and families picnicking on the grass. A stand of majestic oaks and chestnuts provide refreshing midday shade for a Zoigl and a snack.

It’s a small world, the Oberpfalz. Some of my drinking compadres from the previous evening — the Hähnel family from Dresden and their friend Sven — hiked up to the Blockhütte just in time to join me for my first Zoigl of the day. Friedenfelser’s “Schwarzer Ritter” is a dark amber and malt-forward affair offering dried dark cherry and a dusting of cocoa balanced by spicy-floral noble hop notes. Though not an “authentic” Zoigl (more on that in another post), it’s a fine beer garden sipper with some residual malt sweetness.

It’s not too long a hike from the Blockhütte through woods and across meadows to Falkenberg, home to one of the five communal Zoigl brewhouses in the Oberpfalz. You can’t miss the brewhouse — or, rather, you can’t miss the hilltop castle that marks the spot. The brewhouse sits right in the shadow of this castle sited rather precariously on a rock outcropping. Residents who own a property with the historical brewing rights attached to it can brew beer to serve in their Zoiglstuben after paying a fee known as “Kesselgeld” (brew kettle money).

Kramer-Wolf Zoiglstube, Falkenberg

One of those Zoiglstuben is Kramer-Wolf, where I rejoin the crew from Dresden for a hearty lunch and top-notch Zoigl amid the bustle of locals, cyclists, and hikers tucking into lunch under the watchful eye of the sharp-witted innkeeper. Kramer-Wolf’s Zoiglstube radiates rustic charm, with wrap-around wooden bench seating and yellow walls bedecked with farm implements and musical instruments that entertained peasants well into the night after a hard day’s work. Keep an eye out for the wooden plaque depicting an official clutching a public notice (Bekanntmachung) that reads: “The mayor hereby announces that beer will be brewed on Wednesday. It is therefore proclaimed that no one is allowed to shit in the Waldnaab River on Tuesday.” It’s that kind of civic spirit that has kept the beer on point over the ages.

Kramer-Wolf’s rendition of Zoigl is a hazy amber-orange brew combining spicy noble hops with toasty malt accented by almonds, honey, and caramel. Though hearty, its light effervescence and peppery finish virtually ensures that you’ll order more than one. Which I did. And I also went for the Schlachtschüssel, an ample dish of liverwurst, blood sausage, and juicy pork belly fresh from the innkeeper’s butcher shop. The meat comes served in its braising broth and is accompanied by a veritable mountain of sauerkraut, a portion large enough to fell a horse — all for a mere €6.00.

After we finished up our meals and had ordered our last Zoigl, Herr Fischer, the owner of Kramer-Wolf, took us down a flight of stairs to the fermentation cellar, where a batch of beer was happily bubbling away in rectangular open fermenters. Noticing that he had piqued our interest, he asked if we wanted to see the communal brewhouse. (Of course!) Down the alley we went to the communal brewhouse. There, Herr Fisher produced a key and wriggled open the old wooden doors. I had heard plenty about these communal brewhouses, but it was no less striking to see a brewery that had more in common with the coolships of Cantillon than it did with its lager-producing cousins in places like Aying and Weihenstephan.

Wolfadl Zoiglstube, Falkenberg

Upon taking our leave of Herr Fischer, we headed over to Wolfadl, a dark tavern shaded by heavy-beamed low ceilings, the sunlight reflecting dimly off the white plastered walls with masonry breaking through in places. A mash paddle and some musical instruments on the wall keep time with well-worn wooden furniture, lending a serenity to the atmosphere. We’re tempted to linger, but since the sun is shining like summer, we opt for a table on the sun terrace overlooking the street and order our next round. Wolfadl’s Zoigl, a luminescent caramel-amber beer with a round maltiness and herbal-spicy notes, isn’t quite in the same league as Kramer-Wolf’s, but it’s good enough for seconds.

With the sun low in its arc, we headed back to Bahler in Neuhaus for a few last rounds before an evening nap turned into an early lights out.

Neuhaus: Communal Zoigl Brewhouse Tour

Well rested, I headed off for my appointment with Hans Franz, an engineer with deep roots in the local Zoigl community, to tour the communal brewhouse of Neuhaus, a town that received its brewing privileges in 1415. Today, the communal brewers of Neuhaus fire up the kettles every few weeks to make Zoigl in virtually the same way they have for over a century.

Brewing Zoigl is a true hands-on pursuit, and preparation begins well before brew day. Along with arranging for the malt to be crushed by a local miller, the brewers need to haul their two cubic meters of wood to the brewhouse. When all is said and done, the wort is pumped into the coolship, which, according to Hans Franz, is a crucial piece of the brewing puzzle: “Das stinkt das Bier aus,” he tells me. That is, the coolship “stinks out” the beer by off-gassing some of the byproducts of brewing. Open fermentation continues this “ausstinken.”

The brewer returns early the next day to transport the wort back to his cellar beneath his Zoiglstube, adds yeast, then lets it mature for four to six weeks. Back in the not-too-distant past, the wort was transported with buckets from the communal brewhouse to the brewer’s cellar. The practice, which is commemorated by a statue on Neuhaus’s main square depicting two people hauling Zoigl in a large bucket balanced on a pole, persisted into the 1980s.

Gasthof Weißer Schwann, Windischeschenbach

Hungry and with a train to catch in a few hours, I wandered past the church with its single ornate column supporting the nave and cut through the rustic Schafferhof before winding my way to Windischeschenbach for lunch in the center of town. My destination: the Weißer Schwann, an elegant Wirtshaus with a long yellow facade bedecked with flower boxes and fronted by a stone terrace. The interior glistens with lightly hued floor-to-ceiling paneling and a cheerful mint-green Kachelofen. Brushed pine tabletops covered with checkered linen round out the ensemble.

Even if the Weißer Schwann isn’t as cozy as the region’s other Zoiglstuben, it’s a perfectly comfortable place to eat some of the most refined food in town and wash it down with some top-shelf Zoigl. And since the proprietors are also butchers, the meat dishes are second to none. I opted for the Rinderroulade, which was out of this world — thinly sliced roast beef rolled with smoked meat, sauerkraut, rice, and pickles, and smothered in a well-spiced light brown sauce with a beguiling sourness.

Weißer Schwann’s Zoigl flickers between light amber and burnished gold, and is like cutting into a freshly baked loaf of dark country bread. The lush, toasty maltiness with fine caramel notes recalls a Märzen amped up with spicy hops. The subtle bitterness sneaks up on you.

Hotel zum Waldnaabtal, Neuhaus

I check my watch as I take my last draught of Zoigl at Weißer Schwann. If I hurry, I’ll have time for one last Zoigl at Hotel zum Waldnaabtal, where I need to go to pick up my luggage. I march myself double time down the main street of Windischeschenbach, under the train tracks and over the bridge spanning the Waldnaab River, then up the steep slope to Neuhaus one last time.

Faster than I can say Zoigl, there it is: a deep golden beer that smells of fresh hay, cream, and blanched almonds — a bit like a low-alcohol Bock. I pause and watch the play of the afternoon light against the white walls and wood paneling before taking a sip that evoked acacia honey with grappa and a touch of butter. Though it was good, I wish I could say that I rushed off to catch my train with the taste of the Oberpfalz’s best Zoigl lingering on my tastebuds, but alas, the diacetyl was right on the border between “character note” and “flaw.”

But that’s fine. I’ll be back soon enough to keep making my way through the Zoiglbiers of this enchanted corner of northeastern Bavaria.

Related articles

Of Zoigl and Primeval Forests: Beer Hiking in the Oberpfalz

A Lexicon of German Beer Culture

Munich’s Beer Gardens East and West of the Isar

Will Walk for Beer: Franconian Brews Beyond Bamberg

Sources

Special thanks to Sandra Henkens of the tourist office in Windischeschenbach for putting me in touch with Hans Franz. For more in English about Zoigl and its charms, check out Kevin Holsapple’s “Exploring Zoigl Land” and the various Zoigl posts on Rich Carbonara’s Beerwanderers blog.

All photos by Franz D. Hofer.

©2020 Franz D. Hofer and A Tempest in a Tankard. All rights reserved.