Altbier All Day in Düsseldorf

Introducing Düsseldorf

Düsseldorf is only about forty-five minutes from Cologne by train — so close, yet in beer miles so far away. Düsseldorf and Cologne are unique: ale strongholds amid a sea of German lager. Yet these two “keepers of the ale faith” are rivals in all things beer. Order a beer in Cologne and you’ll get a golden-hued Kölsch. Do the same in Düsseldorf and you’ll get a copper-coloured Altbier. And woe to those who order the wrong beer in the wrong town.

Düsseldorf is the informal capital of German fashion and home to some of Germany’s most cutting-edge contemporary architecture. But forward-looking as the Düsseldorfers are, the very name of their beloved beer points in the direction of times past: Altbier, a beer made the way the Rhinelanders made beer before the tidal wave of lager swept the country.

And the city does love to drink. Locals call Düsseldorf’s Altstadt “the longest bar in the world.” You’ll find a bar in just about every building and on every street corner, mainly non-descript boozers catering to hordes of imbibers careening from one bar to the next. Fortunately, though, you’ll still find oases of Altbier amid this ocean of cheap suds and shots.

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Altbier Described

Altbier has, in the main, remained a niche beer you won’t often find outside of Düsseldorf. Unlike Kölsch, where the gradations between the breweries’ offerings are subtle due to the narrow guidelines imposed by the Kölsch Convention, Altbier admits of broader variations.

Brewers in Düsseldorf have more leeway in terms of malt selection and hopping rates. They can choose from different base malt configurations (more Pils here, more Munich malt there). Some may add judicious amounts of caramel malt, while others rely on longer boil times to develop melanoidin richness. A few might even add a pinch of roasted malt for a hint of chocolate or cocoa. Hops are more straightforward: Spalt is the preferred variety, but brewers also turn to Perle, Tettnanger, and Hallertauer hops.

Altbier is a “lagered ale” (obergäriges Lagerbier in German). Some remind me of a cross between a Munich Dunkel and a British Strong Ale, while others evoke steam beer. Whatever the case, Altbier is a richly textured amber-copper beer with a sprinkle of herbs or spice from the hops and a pronounced but supple malt accent with notes of toast, nuts, and, occasionally, bread crust. Most Altbiers hint at sweetness but finish remarkably clean and crisp. This crispness has to do with a practice that echoes the brewing practices upriver in Cologne: cool fermentation and a period of cold lagering, a process that suppresses the ester formation typical of ales.

Without further ado, let’s taste some beers!

Brauerei Schumacher, Where Altbier Began

Altbier traces its roots to 1838 when Johann Matthias Schumacher bought the Brauerei Im Sonnenaufgang in Düsseldorf’s Altstadt. Schumacher didn’t quite cut a new beer style from whole cloth, but rather added more hops to the traditional Rhenish dark ale, brewed it stronger, and matured it cold in wooden casks. The result: a malty yet crisply bitter beer that blended elements of the Bavarian lager tradition with Düsseldorf’s indigenous ale tradition.

By 1871 the old-town brewery tavern was bursting at the seams. Schumacher’s nephew moved the brewery to the eastern reaches of the city. The address is easy enough to remember: 123 Oststrasse (East Street). There, you’ll find a classic Rhenish tavern brimming with natural light but also soothingly shaded in its nooks and recesses.

It’s Sunday, the clock has barely struck noon, and groups of friends have already assembled for drinks around high tables in front of Schumacher. I wend my way inside and take up residence near the bar area just in time to spy a Köbes* clad in a blue shirt and navy apron hauling a cask up from the cellar with a rope and pulley. He calls down to the cellarman for another. With two resounding thuds he props each of them up on the zinc bar.

*The sharp-witted Köbes derives his name (and it’s usually a he) from St. James of Santiago de Compostela (St. Jakobus in German, shortened to Köbes). It is said that the name is a nod to the servers who staffed the taverns that provided food and drink to the pilgrims making the trek to the town of Santiago de Compostela in northwest Spain.

Though similar to many German taverns, “rustic” is not the first word that comes to mind when you enter this tidy and elegant establishment. There’s dark wood as far as the eye can see, ornate chandeliers, and large windows with stained glass inlays. Paintings and ornamental blue-ink plates depict historical scenes, while etchings of Napoleon and Frederick the Great watch over the tavern with somber expressions. (Looks like they need a drink to cheer them up!)

Schumacher’s Alt arrives in the characteristic quarter-liter cylinder of Düsseldorf. Aromas of pumpernickel, milk caramel, honey-roasted almonds, dark cherry, and baking spice drift out from beneath the thick cap of foam. In some ways, the beer strikes me as a mid-point between a Munich Dunkel and a British ale like Bishop’s Finger. I take a long draught of this pleasantly malty beer held aloft by a firm bitterness, and then another.

Within seconds the Köbes has plunked down a fresh glass in front of me. Like the dark beers of Bavaria, quaffability is a hallmark of Altbier. Schumacher’s is no different: cask carbonation contributes smoothness, while a lightly tannic bitterness reminiscent of walnuts lends the beer an aperitif-like quality.

Schumacher’s food menu is extensive. I order a Pillekuchen, a local potato pancake dish topped with a dollop of delicious apple and red cabbage jelly, to accompany my last glass — just the right amount of food to fuel my walk to Füchschen. The day’s just beginning.

Brauerei im Füchschen, the “Little Fox” of Altbier

The pleasant stroll from Schumacher takes you along a canal before depositing you near the Hofgarten. A few steps further and you’re in Füchschen’s understated neighbourhood on the northern edge of the Altstadt. It’s lively inside the pub, with a mix of thirty-somethings and old-timers doing their level best to keep the Köbesses on their toes. The Köbesses swirl around this classic tavern as if in a choreographed dance piece called Altbier.

Though the building itself is a product of postwar rebuilding (Düsseldorf received its share of ordinance courtesy of Allied bombers), the tavern’s interior has the feel of 1848, the year of Füchschen’s founding. Paintings depicting Old Düsseldorf line the walls supported by thick wooden beams, and the field of ceramic tiles above the benches adds a certain flair. The lamps atop the wooden chandeliers cast a soft light that, when combined with the dark brown wood, makes the place feel older than it is.

And that soft light flatters the Alt here, a tawny beer the colour of a fox’s coat. From the first sip, Füchschen Alt is a beer with staying power. It’s like maple syrup mixed with mugi-cha (Japanese barley tea). Toasty malt fragrances and cocoa-dusted dried cherries predominate, followed by hazelnuts and a Lebkuchen spiciness. A dash of roasted malt contributes a suggestion of cherry wood smoke balanced by spicy hop flavours, a mineral note, and a Campari-like herbal bitterness. Deeply flavourful and eminently drinkable. Go ahead. You know you want another one.

Zum Schlüssel

Düsseldorf’s atmosphere changes drastically as you make your way from Füchschen into the heart of the Altstadt a mere half-kilometer away. It’s not for nothing that the streets around the Rathaus have earned the nickname “the longest bar in Europe.” Unless mass-market Pils is your thing, you can safely ignore most of these establishments and set your compass for Zum Schlüssel, one of three Altbier brewpubs clustered together in the Altstadt.

The large green key out front marks the spot. And indeed, the pub’s name, Schlüssel (the key), recalls the medieval custom of keeping the keys for the city gates at a nearby tavern. It had started to drizzle as I reached the neon-limned key, fogging up the windows inside. I set my sights on the coppers gleaming at the back of the tavern and pull up a seat just as the Köbes sets down my first glass of Altbier. No need to ask, of course.

Chestnut brown with dark copper hues, Schlüssel’s Alt evokes autumn woods with its panoply of aromas and flavours mingling forest floor and maple sugar with sassafras, walnuts, cocoa nibs, and a passing sugar note somewhere between caramel, butterscotch, and toffee. This silky beer’s also a bit richer and chewier than other Altbiers, almost like a Bock.

Schlüssel excels at Rhenish pub food, those simple but mighty accompaniments to Altbier. The daring among you might try the Mettröggelchen, a rye roll topped with smoked and minced Mett with diced onions. What’s so daring about that? Well, Mett is the raw version of Mettwurst, a tasty sausage flavoured with garlic and pepper. But don’t worry about this snack wrecking your vacation: German food safety regulations permit Mett to be sold only on the day of production.

Brauerei Kürzer

The moment you cross the threshold you know something’s different here. First, there’s not a Köbes around, and a woman’s running the bar — a rare sight in Rhenish pubs that serve up traditional beer. Second, the design aesthetic. Kürzer eschews the traditional interiors of Düsseldorf’s Altbier drinking spots in favor of industrial chic: exposed ductwork, plastered walls with patches of exposed the brickwork, and varnished benches out front. In place of a cask, a funky glass contraption filled with beer sits atop the bar like an outsized inline sight glass.

Rewind to 2010. It probably wasn’t easy being the new kid on the block in a city steeped in the tradition of a particular beer style. Bu you gotta hand it to these folks. They could have just double dry-hopped their beer, called it an Imperial Alt, and called it a day. But they didn’t.

If their aesthetic is a study in contrasts when compared to the old-time spots, their beer is Altbier through and through. It’s an attractive dark mahogany beer that bears a passing similarity to Uerige’s Altbier, with more emphasis on malt sweetness. Maple sugar puts in an appearance alongside black cherry and brown bread, joined by a dusting of hop spice in the finish. Rounder than most other Altbiers, Kürzer’s Altbier has a plush quality that makes it more suitable for sipping than quaffing. A solid Altbier, but one unique enough to make a statement all its own.

Uerige Hausbrauerei, Brewers of “That Delicious Drop”

The best known of the Düsseldorf Altbier breweries internationally, Uerige is located in a sprawling Altstadt building not far from the Rhine. Opened in 1862, Uerige takes its name from its original owner, the innkeeper and brewer Wilhelm Cürten, whose nickname in the local dialect was “der uerige Wilhelm” (cranky Wilhelm). Cürten had a reputation for being surly, but the beer was good enough that patrons overlooked his ill humor.

As soon as you’ve crossed the Marktplatz you’ll see an elaborate wood and wrought-iron sign hanging from the first-floor balcony bearing the word Uerige. Copper plaques streaked green from years of exposure to the elements grace the façade above the awning, each plaque an allegorical depiction of a scene in the life of beer. The inscriptions are small poems: “Erde gibt der Hopfen / Feuer braut den Tropfen.” (Earth provides the hops / Fire brews the drops.)

Step through the heavy brass-plated doors embossed with brewing scenes and you’re greeted with a warren of nooks and niches, some dark and secluded, some more open, some lit by incandescent globes in copper fixtures, some lit by a skylight. It’s an ethereal place made up of wood-paneled rooms darkened from years of cigarette, cigar, and pipe smoke.

I take a seat in the restaurant section just off the Schwemme and notice the magnificent sepia-toned oil-on-wood painting of Düsseldorf on the Rhine around 1890 just as the Köbes completes the scene with an Altbier. It all blends together in an instant.

Uerige describes its Altbier as dat leckere Dröppke, or “that delicious drop.” This is no idle braggadocio. Uerige’s Altbier glimmers autumnal with twinkles of mahogany, and exudes splendid aromas of herbal hops, dried cherry, and elegant malt notes that range from spiced raisin bread to cinnamon sprinkled over toast. The Alt here is smoother than elsewhere, with none of the dark toast or breadcrust notes of some Alts. It’s also slimmer in the mid-section, making it all the more dangerously drinkable. Pepper and spice add a tingle, with cherry and sweet tobacco cresting into an almond nuttiness and pleasantly bitter finish.

That pepper and spice pairs well with the Soleier I had on a recent visit, an interactive “choose your own adventure” beer snack par excellence. You get two pickled hard-boiled eggs already cracked and ready to peel, along with mustard, oil, vinegar, and salt and pepper. After peeling, you cut the egg in half, remove the yoke, then mash it up and add the other ingredients to your liking. Return the yoke to the halved whites and enjoy!

I stay for a few more and dreamily soak up the ambience. I’d like to have another and then another, but the pinwheel of pencil marks the Köbes has left on my beer mat is a vivid reminder that it might be time to place the beer mat on my glass, square up, and wander off into the night.

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All images by Franz D. Hofer.

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