Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe: Where Malty Beers Fit for Monks Meet Dry-Hopped Ales

Weissenohe at the Gateway to Franconian Switzerland

It’s a gloomy afternoon in late spring made slightly brighter by the cheerful yellow canola in full bloom and the several shades of green fields spread over the hills like a patchwork quilt. The bus from Forchheim has just deposited me at a nondescript crossroads on the highway. Tucked away in a hollow to my right, I spy the iconic steeple presiding over the monastery complex I’ve seen on so many bottles of beer from Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe. I’m in the right place.

It starts to rain, softly at first, and then like marbles. Not a great omen, especially since I’m in this neck of Franconian Switzerland to do the famous Fünf-Seidla-Steig beer hike tomorrow. But tomorrow’s another day, and this evening I have nothing on the agenda save for ensconcing myself in Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe’s Wirtshaus (tavern restaurant) to taste my way through their beers. I wind my way through this quiet old town lined with half-timbered houses crowned with tiled roofs and dig in for the climb up the steep slope to Pension Windisch with its view clear across the verdant valley. I check in and exchange pleasantries with the affable owner before heading back into the center of town, rain be damned: It’s time for dinner and a few beers.

And not a moment too soon, for the rain has turned truly biblical. I cross the threshold of the former Benedictine monastery and duck through the entrance of the tavern to the left of the church and across from a dripping wet beer garden. Not even the plush canopy of horse chestnut leaves can hold back the onslaught. I make a mental note about a beer garden visit on a more favourable day as I look for a seat in the tavern. It’s a cozy counterpoint to the torrent outside, low vaulted ceilings and mahogany wood against white stucco walls sealing in the warmth. It’s 5:30 p.m. as my first flight of beers arrive. By 6:00 p.m. all the tables were full.

I left it up to my burly gruff-friendly server to choose the four pours that make up Weißenohe’s flight (still a rarity in the region), and he returned with an interesting selection of old and new: the GreenMONKey dry-hopped with Hersbrucker hops, a seasonal Citric Ale, the Altfränkisch Klosterbier, and the majestic Bonator Doppelbock.

Where Beers Fit for Monks of Old Meet Dry-Hopped Novelties

I first encountered Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe’s bottled beers years ago in Upstate New York. The labels on the swing-top bottles  — this bottle depicting a contented monk, that one featuring the name of the brewery written in archaic script — bespoke tradition. So it was with interest that I read Martin Droschke and Norbert Krines’ depiction of Kloster Weissenohe in their Craft Beer Führer Franken as being among the vanguard craft beer brewers in conservative Franconia. “Close your eyes for a moment,” they begin. “Now imagine a typical craft beer brewer!” (Apparently Germans are also conversant in the stereotypes that have been pinned to North American craft beer brewers.) Droschke and Krines then counsel their readers to immediately forget this cliché as they introduce Urban Winkler, the slim, clean-shaven fifth-generation owner of Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe. That latter qualifier, nth generation owner of a venerable old brewery, makes Winkler an unlikely craft brewer indeed. But mentor to this “wild scene of young brewers” he is, by turns a sly old fox and a magnanimous father figure ready to share his knowledge and experience.

Winkler and his son Vincent, who will soon take the reins of the brewery, serve a line of well-received craft beer alongside tried-and-true classics in the confines of their traditional Wirtshaus. Winkler has something on latter day craft beer drinkers who sometimes seem like they just discovered beer yesterday: a deep acquaintance with the recipes and processes of a bygone era, an acquaintance embodied in beers like Kloster-Sud and Altfränkisch Klosterbier, both of which harken back to recipes brewed by the Benedictine monks who once called the monastery home. But even if tradition pervades every sinew of his brewery, Winkler is not afraid to think beyond the traditional palette of German noble hops. His playfully named GreenMONKey is an unfiltered Pilsner hopped with Smaragd, Perle, Select. But Winkler doesn’t stop there, producing three iterations of this beer through dry hopping with Hersbrucker, Polaris, and Mandarina Bavaria respectively.

Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe: From Monastery to Brewery

The village of Weißenohe with its cluster of half-timbered medieval houses is barely visible from the highway and the train station save for the church steeple that beckons visitors to the brewery on the grounds of this former Benedictine monastery. Though the monastery was said to have been founded in 1053, official records point to 1109. During its turbulent history the monastery was dissolved not once but twice, once during the Reformation, and again in 1803 as a result of the secularization of the monasteries during the Napoleonic Wars. The monastery entered into a period of prosperity not long after it became Catholic again during the Counter-Reformation. Building began in 1692 on the Baroque church with its sandstone façade and onion-domed steeple, and at the height its prosperity the monastery complex featured a library and its own printing press. After secularization the Bavarian state sold the monastery, brewery, and its grounds into private hands. The brewmaster Friedrich Kraus purchased the building ensemble in 1827, and it has remained in the same family ever since.

Hopfen und Malz, Gott erhalt’s

When the monastery was founded, the choice of location wasn’t incidental. At that time monasteries were built where they could produce their own food and drink. Grain found its way onto the table and into the mash tun. Today, a large portion of Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe’s barley still comes from the hilly Jura Heights region near the brewery. The poor soils of the region are actually a boon for brewers, producing barley low in protein. Brewing water is also drawn from the natural springs of the Jura Heights, which once supplied the monastery with drinking and brewing water. Last but not least, hops, too, come from local farmers in Lilling and Herpersdorf, where the Hersbrucker variety predominates.

Beer’s Fifth Ingredient: The People

Back to those beers in Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe’s Wirtshaus. It’s not just the world-class beer and scrumptious dishes like Sülze mit Bratkartoffeln (jellied meat with roasted potatoes) or more adventurous ones like Sauere Lunge (beef lung in a red wine vinegar sauce) that make the drinking experience at rustic taverns like Weißenohe’s so special. It’s the people. On the night before tackling the Fünf-Seidla-Steig I was joined at my table by Lothar and Hedwig, a couple from a few towns over who dine and drink at Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe once a week. Lothar drives a tour bus and can never make it back from Munich fast enough to enjoy the relaxed pace of Franconia. They know all the breweries in the area, and their recommendation of Brauerei Hofmann’s Dunkles Export proved golden when I stopped there the next day on my beer hike. Their fondness for breweries and regional Wirtshäuser is no surprise, considering that Hedwig’s grandparents owned a hop farm and grew Hersbrucker hops till 1971.

When I return to Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe at the end of my hike, it’s more of the same conviviality. By now the tavern was packed. I spied a group of hikers whose photos I had taken about four hours earlier at Gasthof Seitz in Thuisbrunn, who were also closing out their day in Weißenohe. They made room and we embarked on another of those evenings that involved more than a few beers and a shot of schnapps “to aid digestion.” By now the burly server from my first evening is more friendly than gruff, happily bringing one sample of beer after the next for me to try. It was one of those evenings that only came to an end when I needed to catch the last train.

Pro tip: set an alarm so you don’t miss trains or buses during impromptu Wirtshaus sessions. Prost!

Postscript: The Beers of Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe

Altfränkisch Klosterbier ( 5% ABV/12.3ºP). No less respected a personage than Ludwig Narziss, professor of brewing technology at Weihenstephan/Technical University of Munich, once commented that Weißenohe’s Altfränkisch “tastes like Franconian beer did fifty years ago.” More quaffable than a Märzen, this  crystalline amber beer echoes the malty richness of its heftier March cousin with toast, dark cherry, chocolate chip cookie dough, and hints of caramelized brown sugar. But it’s leaner, its higher attenuation and its subtle and elegant hop spice calling out for the next mug. I think I’ll do just that. One Tankard.

Kloster-Sud (5.4% ABV/13ºP). A sightly amber-ruby “Spezial,” this triple-decocted tribute to monastery beers of yore is the kind of rarity you won’t find in the annals of the BJCP Style Guidelines. Aromas favour malts: dark bread, malted milk, black cherry, melanoidin richness, and even a touch of maple sugar, all rounded out by a clear but subtle hop spice. Maple notes reprise themselves on the palate, joined by a pecan nuttiness, a pronounced breadcrust bitterness, Schwarzbrot (dark bread), a dusting of hop spice, and a suggestion of milk caramel. Dry and crisp at the finish, this is the kind of beer you could drink all afternoon in the beer garden. It’s similar to the Altfränkisch, but more beguiling. Two Tankards.

Eucharius Märzen (13ºP, 5.4%). If you had a chance to drink only one Märzen in your life and one Märzen only, this world-class standard bearer from Weißenohe is as good as it gets. The epic froth atop this dark amber beauty takes some time to settle, gradually releasing Eucharius’s charming aromas of toasted toffee, Smyrna figs, dark stewed cherry, and chocolate cake. The cascade of malt aromas builds into dark German-style country bread, chocolate milk, and a hint of caramel, then eases into gingerbread spices and a slate-like minerality from the yeast. Spicy from the first sip, the distinctive hops dance on the palate in a pas de deux with the lush malt. And malty this beer is — heaven for maltheads! — huge flavour and ample body packed into a beer that you could easily mistake for a Doppelbock. A finely calibrated charge of bittering hops together with a lightly effervescent carbonation keep the beer immensely palatable. Finishes off-dry and spicy. Expansive, unctuous, and intense, it’s more of a sipper suited to cool evenings than a quaffer. My favourite beer that Weißenohe brews. Three Tankards.

Bonifatius Dunkel (5.1% ABV, 12.6ºP). Weißenohe’s export-strength Dunkel honours St. Boniface, the Anglo-Saxon missionary who laid the foundations of the Catholic Church in the Germanic parts of the Frankish Empire during the eighth century. Mahogany-bronze and capped with a dollop of beige foam, this laser-focused beer is everything a Franconian Dunkel should be. Cocoa-dusted dark bread, Ovaltine, melanoidin, and dark cherry mingle with a beguiling whiff of sulfur akin to peach and slate-like minerality. Flavours reminiscent of chocolate cake, Kirsch-soaked cherries, and Leibnitz biscuit share the stage with roasted almonds before making room for a subtle but exquisite cinnamon-like hop note. Bitterness is clear and present the whole way through, but it’s a smooth bitterness. Bonifatius delivers malt in spades, but the high attenuation assures that this medium-bodied beer finishes dry, with cocoa powder, baking spice, and dried fruit lingering in the long aftertaste. A true standard bearer. Three Tankards.

Bonator Doppelbock (8.2%). Like Bonifatius, Bonator also recalls St. Boniface, first archbishop of Mainz, founder of the Franconian diocese of Würzburg, and the “Apostle of Germany.” I’ve always appreciated Bonator’s smooth and prodigious maltiness accented by baking spices, a background licorice note, and the slightest twist of citrus hops, but drinking this majestic mahogany-bronze beer at the source was a revelation. And the malt! It’s like someone cranked it all up to eleven. Dates, figs, cookie dough, and milk chocolate. Autumn honey and brown sugar sweetness balanced by just enough hop bitterness and cinnamon-allspice hop flavour to keep the beer pleasantly off-dry. Unlike the more “earthy-brooding” Doppelbocks like Ayinger’s Celebrator and Augustiner’s Maximator, this one’s of the plush and expansive variety, with an aftertaste that lingers well into the night. Three Tankards.

GreenMONKey (unfiltered and dry-hopped Pils—Hersbrucker edition). After all the buzz I had heard about this take on a German classic, I had high expectations. Not that this pepper-spicy beer was in any way bad, but its pungently “green” and grassy aromas proved to be somewhat of a distraction. The otherwise clean, crisp, honeyed malt palate with pepper accents was also quickly overtaken by the green notes. Not a deal breaker, but also not a beer that I found to be on par with their dialed-in classics. Someday I’ll try their other dry-hopped iterations “for science.”

Citric Ale/Thirsty Ale. First brewed by Urban Winkler’s son Vincent during his brewing studies, this late spring seasonal harmoniously melds aromas of tangerine, passion fruit, mango, and floral notes. Though hop forward, the lean honeyed malt holds everything in fine balance. Hops include Hercules, Saphir, and Spalter Select on the hot side, while Citra, Mandarina Bavaria, Hüll Melon, and Cascade deliver their aroma charge during dry hopping. One Tankard.

Experimental Beers

*I haven’t yet had the pleasure of trying these beers, but they sound intriguing enough to list here for those interested in seeking them out.

Virtac Bior is a spiced beer that represents Winkler’s attempt to trace the lineage of a holiday beer prized by the well-to-do. Harking back to the days when brewers preserved their beers with a mixture of herbs and spices called gruit, it contains cinnamon, cardamom, orange peel, ginger, cloves, and allspice — all rare markers of luxury back in the thirteenth century when the beer was brewed. Like conspicuous consumption today, the wealthy signaled their power and prosperity by using massive amounts of the rarest, most intense, and most expensive spices in their beer.

Also in the spirit of gruit beer is Weißenohe’s Cannabis Club hemp beer brewed with a mix of Vienna and Pils malt, a lower amount of Hersbrucker hops than normally go into Weißenohe’s lagers, and a low-THC hemp essential oil.

Weißenohe experiments with barrel-aged beer, too. Their Barrique Klosterbier is aged in pitched oak barrels, another technique that, while it has much in common with craft beer’s embrace of barrel-aging, also reaches back to bygone days. The old oak barrels were purchased by Urban Winkler’s grandfather. The pine pitch used for sealing gives the beer its unique character — comparable to brandy aged in toasted casks. Like barrel toasting, the intensity of the pitch influences the taste of the beer. Weighing in at 7% ABV, the Barrique Bock is the heftier cousin of the 5.2% Barrique Klosterbier.

Sources

Klosterbrauerei Weißenohe (official website).

Martin Droschke and Norbert Krines, Craft Beer Führer Franken (Cadolzburg: Ars Vivendi, 2016).

Klöster in Bayern (Weißenohe)

Related Articles about Beer in Franconia

The Fünf-Seidla-Steig: Beer Hiking in Bavaria’s Franconian Switzerland

Featured Beer: Klosterbrauerei Weissenohe “Bonator”

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Beer: Bamberg and Its Breweries

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

Will Walk for Beer: Franconian Brews Beyond Bamberg

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