Fruhlingfest: The Not-So-Giant German Beer Festival Experience

When you think of German beer festivals, what pops into your head? Lederhosen-clad folks hoisting giant steins of beer, right? That’s Oktoberfest for you, the crown jewel of beer celebrations, and let’s be honest, most Americans have at least heard of it (even if they think “Prost!” is a beer brand). But hold on! Have you ever heard of Fruhlingfest? No? Well, buckle up, because after living in Germany for several years, I stumbled upon this local springtime celebration—and let me tell you, it was a wild ride (and not the rollercoaster kind)!

Apparently, the Germans have cracked the code on celebrating the changing seasons—not once, but twice! They roll out the welcome mat for the beginning and end of summer, probably due to their fierce refusal to use air conditioning, despite the annual heatwave that makes you feel like you’re living inside a sauna. So, why not throw in another festival to enjoy some beer and pretzels while sweating profusely?

Excited, I marched my way to a local Virginia Fruhlingfest, practically drooling at the thought of authentic German beer. But my enthusiasm took a nosedive when I realized that instead of the generous liters I was dreaming of, I was handed an 8-ounce cup. Eight ounces! What am I supposed to do with that? Take a sip and then just stare longingly at the empty space where a full liter should be? Thanks a lot, America! I mean, who do you think I am? A delicate flower?

Now, let’s talk about the food because, oh boy, the food! You expect bratwursts that are juicy, spicy, and bursting with flavor, right? What I encountered looked more like a sad little sausage that had just run a beer mile and lost, collapsing into a nearby trash can. And the pretzels? Don’t even get me started! They were more like salt with pretzel-flavored air, not the hearty, chewy goodness you find in Germany. I half-expected them to float away on the breeze like balloons at a kid’s birthday party.

But here’s the kicker: despite the smaller beers and lackluster food, the atmosphere was just like Germany! Picture this: people in T-shirts instead of lederhosen, attempting to sing along to non-traditional German songs while waving their tiny cups like they’re trying to summon a waiter for a refill. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was like a cultural exchange gone hilariously wrong!

As I watched my fellow festival-goers with their miniature beers, I realized that the essence of Fruhlingfest was still alive and well. Sure, we might not have the authenticity of Germany, but we sure know how to have a good time—even if it involves a little less beer and a lot more laughter.

So here’s to Fruhlingfest! Where the beers are small, the brats could use some pep, and the spirit of celebration is big enough to fill a liter! If you ever find yourself at one, just remember: it’s not about the size of the beer, but the size of the fun you can have with it! Prost! 🍻✨

Journey to the Summit of Sacrifice

Mount Katahdin, Maine

Many of us climb mountains; some literally, some metaphorically, but we all climb. I’ve done both, and while the view from the top of an actual mountain is breathtaking, the latest climb I'm tackling is of the metaphorical variety. Spoiler alert: it’s not nearly as exhilarating.

If you’ve been following my blog (and if you haven’t, why not?), it’s no secret that I enjoy beer. Specifically, craft beer. It’s my hobby, my passion, and let’s be honest, my liquid friend. I brew it, I drink it, and since my triumphant return from Europe, I even work part-time at a brewery. You could say I’m living the dream, or at least the dream of a very thirsty person.

So, you can imagine my dismay when my physician—let’s call him Doc—placed me on a “Candida Diet,” which I’m pretty sure translates to “Can’t Eat” in some ancient, gluten-hating language. And what does this diet entail? Oh, just the small matter of being gluten and dairy-free. This means no pizza, no pasta, and, most heartbreakingly, NO BEER. Not the kind I’ve been enjoying for the last decade, anyway. 

As I stared at the list of forbidden foods, it felt like I was looking at the menu at a restaurant where they serve only kale and disappointment. I mean, how am I supposed to survive a summer without a frosty pint of my beloved IPA? The thought alone was enough to make me want to start scaling my own personal Mount Katahdin—or at least the fridge for one last hurrah.

But fear not! I’m nothing if not resourceful, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years of climbing  beer lists, it’s that there’s always a way to adapt. Enter the gluten-free beer revolution! Yes, folks, there’s a world out there of gluten-free brews waiting to be discovered, and I’m about to embark on a quest to find them. It’s like a scavenger hunt, but instead of hunting for treasure, I’m hunting for something that resembles beer and doesn’t taste like sadness!

Exploring the Options

As I lace up my metaphorical hiking boots for this gluten-free beer expedition, it’s time to explore the options available in this brave new world. While there are hundreds of gluten-free and gluten-reduced beers on the market, most of them seem to come from macro breweries like AB InBev or regional breweries that proudly boast limited distribution. It’s a little like trying to find a needle in a haystack—if the haystack were made of gluten-laden wheat and the needle was a cold, refreshing pint.

During a recent trip to my local beer store, I realized that their selection of gluten-free options could comfortably fit on one shelf in my closet. And let me tell you, that shelf is reserved for my collection of “I’ll get to these someday” items, not for gluten-free beers. But I digress; I’m on a mission, and I won’t be deterred by a lack of inventory!

First up on my gluten-free quest is Stone Delicious IPA.  Now, before you raise an eyebrow and say, “Wait, that’s not gluten-free!” let me explain. This delightful brew is gluten-reduced, which means it’s made with actual grains, but the brewers add enzymes to reduce or remove the gluten. It’s like they took the gluten and sent it packing, leaving behind a hoppy, flavorful IPA ready to quench my thirst. It’s a clever little trick that allows me to indulge without completely throwing caution to the wind. I’d say it’s a win-win, or at least a win-lose ratio that’s more favorable than my usual beer choices.

Next on my list is Glutenberg. Now, despite its German-sounding name that might make you think of a hearty Oktoberfest, this beer is actually brewed in Canada. Yes, the land of maple syrup and polite hockey players also produces a gluten-free gem! Glutenberg has made a name for itself in the gluten-free community, and I’m eager to see if it lives up to the hype. I can already picture myself sipping on this brew and pretending I’m in a
cozy Canadian lodge, enjoying the winter chill—except, of course, I’ll be doing this in the middle of summer, possibly while wearing shorts and flip-flops.

As I embark on this gluten-free beer journey, it’s clear that the landscape is diverse, albeit a bit limited in my local store. But with options like Stone Delicious IPA and Glutenberg on the horizon, I’m hopeful for what’s to come. Who knows? I may even discover a hidden gem that becomes my new go-to beer. Or, at the very least, I’ll have a few hilarious stories to share about my attempts to find the perfect gluten-free brew. 

Stay tuned for my tasting notes, triumphs, and maybe a few comedic mishaps along the way. After all, if I’m going to navigate this gluten-free mountain, I might as well do it with a smile, and maybe a gluten-reduced IPA in hand! Cheers to exploration!