Invited into a Vat of Světlé

A Summer Trek in the Czech Republic, Part 3

Beer Travels November 10, 2005
Written by MartinT

Montreal, CANADA -

An overcast sky led us into the weekend as we travelled north to the Krkonoše mountains where our next 3 days would be spent hiking, clouds willing. It is here in Vrchlabi that our suspicions about bus terminals in this country were nursed. They are never in the center of town! We had to walk at least 2-3 kilometers with our backpacks in the drizzle before reaching the main drag where our quaint hotel was located. Thankfully, the cool mountain air was keeping us fresh, making every move glide almost effortlessly. Alright, not quite, but it was better. Today, Saturday, we had been invited to a mini-beer festival in the nearby village of Harrachov, a ski resort a couple kilometers from the border of Poland. Pivovar Novosad, a brewpub attached to a glassworks factory, was hosting this weekend party, and had invited two other breweries, Svijany and Konrad, to join them in serving beers and food in their inner yard. No one in Vrchlabi seemed to know about these festivities, so we knew this was going to be an authentic Czech experience. So after walking back to the bus station to catch our bus for Harrachov, and checking out the schedule, we envisioned that we had about 2 hours and 30 minutes to spend at the festival, eating, drinking, relaxing and taking in the bucolic scenery. The problem is that we didn’t know that the only bus going to Harrachov on Saturdays would not drop us off in Harrachov per say, but rather at the junction of the highway and the road leading into town; 3 freakin’ kilometers away from the brewpub…After a quick calculation, our time of merriment would be cut down to 1 measly hour. Oh, but we would be getting our daily exercise of course. I think we were maintaining a 20-kilometer daily average since the beginning of the trip, god knows we didn’t want to mess with that. And the drizzle intensified. Do you feel the joy?

Arrived on the scene though, the blaring wind quartet oohmpa-oohmpaing away in the middle of the food and beer stands set the stage for veracity; exactly what we were looking for. We immediately set off to find our host, Petr Novosad, son of the brewpub’s owner, who had let us in on this little piece of Czech revelry. A first try at the brewpub bar proved absolutely worthless as the waitress feigned to misunderstand my pronunciation of Petr’s name. I mean, how hard is it to imagine someone slightly mispronouncing Novosad (it’s the name of the brewery!) and Petr, in a different accent from the one she is used to. Anyway. I was desperately aching for a Novosad beer, so we immediately went off to the brewpub’s tent outside. I was hoping for a beer and Petr. Of course no one there spoke English too, so I had to take out my best Czech to get what I wanted. I asked for their 12° Světlý , which looked scrumptious. Believe it or not I was also able to ask for Petr! But the problem though was that no one at the booth knew where Petr could be. Argggh. The citrusy hay and tropical fruit sweetness of my pint brought me back to pressing matters, as I was raging thirsty from the unexpected hike. A luxurious body offered a great malt/hop balance with plenty of hay and grass, adorned by a yeasty prevalence. A very good and nourishing example of the style, which could have used some more hop flavor and bitterness to reach stellar status. A mouth-watering klobása (paprika sausage) accompanied us into our tasting, as the incomprehensible but decidedly happy banter carried on from all around. Aaaaah. Vacation…Marie took the Tmavý of course, which was bursting with wealthy caramel, fruity earth, grassy hops and their rising bitterness emboldened by the yeasty predominance. A stunning tmavé, full of personality. Originally, it is said that these beers (and a Výčepní) were brewed on the premises to quench and refresh the glass blowers of the adjoining factory who work all day in hellacious heat. I don’t know if it is common practice here (still couldn’t find Petr to confirm), but workers that day were drinking pints of beer in between their display of artisanal prowess. But the link between the workers and the beer doesn’t stop there. There is even a ledge from the second-floor brewpub which looks down on the glassworks, a feature enjoyed by most visitors I’m sure. I have a feeling they have a couple taps set up in the factory as well…

So with the hike back to the bus looming, we only had time for another “sample” pint, so we went straight to Svijany’s kiosk, anticipating a chance to try their gorgeous Rytír Bitter on tap (in hindsight, still one of the best Bohemian Pilsners in my experience). They had none though, as they were only serving their 11° světlé, called Máz. It was very fruity and earthy, lightly-hopped, with a frothy carbonation which seemed to bulk up the body somewhat. An interesting světlé, but nowhere near the originality, complexity, and full flavors of their Rytíř Bitter. As soon as we finished our pints, it was inevitably time to walk back to the bus corner which would take us to our love nest in Vrchlabi. One of the most intense days in the trip, but one I would no doubt relive if only for that hour of pure multi-sensorial and culture pleasure. If only we had been able to reach Petr.

Vrchlabi was in the middle of its own little town festival this weekend, situated on the tiny village square right in front of the castle. Artisans from the village were showing off their work in the hopes of making a few profitable sales, as sausages and beer were being sold to onlookers who gazed at the medievally-dressed swordfighters on the stage. We had had enough palpitations for the day, so we went shopping in the conveniently located supermarket in front of our hotel, to spend a quiet evening of resting. This market had a very decent selection of Czech beers, about 40 to 50 of them, including the Krakonoš lineup, which I was happy to find. Hotel room tastings to come, yes!

And I was again disappointed by my understanding of Czech as I read a man’s t-shirt which, to me, meant “national hot-dog”.

A vacation within the vacation was now prescribed. It was still raining on and off, so we’d be staying put to rest our muscles. The amazingly smooth and engaging narration of Alessandro Barrico’s “Silk”accompanied me into the afternoon, taking me far away from the green hills sitting at my windowsill. Marie’s deep into her study of French surrealism, we are both content and marvelously immobile. Bread and paštika (pâté) will sustain us until dinner, accompanied by a few bottles we had picked up at the IT Centrum supermarket. The first is Krakonoš Světlý Ležák 12, from a microbrewery nearby. Price for a 500-ml bottle? 6.5Kč (0.30$US). Incredible. The subtle sweet aroma precedes the presence of honeyed malts and pale fruit esters, as a pleasant hop resin bitterness licks the back of the tongue. A well-made but very tame example. Can’t complain though at such a price. Later we share another 12° světlé, Bernard’s Sváteční Ležák, an unpasteurized and unfiltered version of their regular 12°. Herbal, grassy hops are promoted shyly, saved by the muscular rising of wooden hop bitterness. Crisp hay enlivens the palate as honeyed malt sweetness completes a fine sip. Nothing to write home about, but yet another successfully brewed pilsner. Just enough to make you want more of the same quality, so we decide to have dinner at a brewpub on the outskirts of Vrchlabí: Pivovarska Bašta. A 30-minute walk from the castle in the middle of town, this brewpub/restaurant/hotel sits right near the highway exit, and attracts roaming bikers (and skiers in winter) with the promise of a nice pint on an open and casual terrace. If you bus into town though, you might not want to consider going to Hotel Basta by foot, as it would be a strenuous 4-5 kilometer walk through Vrchlabí. Take the local bus which crosses town back and forth; you’ll thank yourself. Basta sells their pints of Krkonošský Medvěd (the house brands) for 35Kč a 0.4-liter glass. Pretty steep if you remember the bottle of Krakonoš we had picked up at the supermarket. But the beer is worth it though. The Světlý Ležák is an unfiltered beauty, full of fresh hops and hay, in a delicate and fruity interpretation which serves its purpose efficiently. The Tmavý Ležák is equally well-conceived, teeming with vibrant pipe tobacco drying out on wet earth. Chocolatey and fruity, this is another splendid way to nourish and quench at once. Bašta brews a few intriguing beers on top of the basic one-two punch that are Světlý and Tmavý : a cherry beer and a honey beer. The honey beer (Medu) has the Tmavý as its base, and it works pretty well. Its sweetness is bold and dessert-y, creating a portly body of roasted chocolate and fat fruitiness. A competent after dinner lager. The cherry beer (Třešní) though felt more like soda pop to me with its deranging unidirectional sweetness and fizzy carbonation. I never liked Cherry Coke anyway. The stuffed potato pancakes and hot and spicy bread bowl, supposedly Giant Mountain specialties, were both very tasty and well-spiced. I don’t think we’ve had a disappointing meal so far! On the way back, purposely trying to get lost on the quiet side streets of Vrchlabí (it’s impossible anyway), we encountered an intriguing sign on the outside of a bar/restaurant. Remember that in the Czech Republic most restaurants and bars display the brewery that supplies them on a sign over the door? Well this one advertised Krkonošský Medvěd; so this place would be an outlet for the brewpub! Right in the center of town! Zámecká Konírna is indeed on a back street close to the castle with a small terrace overlooking the tiny town square and the castle, on Zámecká Ulice. We would be coming back to investigate the next day for sure.

A Krakonoš Světlé Výčepní 10° was patiently waiting for us in our room as a nightcap, as the grey sky turned to black and our bodies started to tingle with complacency. Výčepnís are rarely superior to the 12° světlés, or so I thought, as they mostly are, as I’ve told you, lightened versions of the 12°, with less hop flavors and bitterness, less malt, and usually more carbonation. Simply put, the soft drink version of pilsner. But the Krakonoš Výčepní was quite interesting, and much more so than the Ležák. A personable maltiness verged on quirkiness as butterscotch and caramel topped slender herbs to emulate curious pastries and even greasy hot dogs. A slick mouthfeel, full of malt, with a wooden, grassy hop bitterness slowly rising in the back through the low carbonation. Tastier than the 12°, and a definite knockout for the price (6Kč = 0.30$) and alcohol level (under 4% abv). I will later regret not to see this bottle again on our way.

Morning rose again in Vrchlabí to another dreary firmament. The small medieval festival was still pulsing away on the town square, but you needed about 30 minutes to see and do everything, so it didn’t entertain us for very long. We travelled to Špindlerův Mlýn, the country’s primo ski resort and highest mountain, but our planned hike was aborted by a deluge, as the freezing winds and 12° Celsius surrounding temperature pushed the pounding rain into our eyes, which, with the thick, bushy clouds covering anything in near altitude around, rendered us completely wimpy. We retired back to the hotel room for a quick lunch and preparation for our next 3-day escapade : Olomouc and the Moravian Karst. And yes, there was still beer in the hotel room fridge, Bernard Světlé Pivo, a výčepní which fit the stylistic description well, with subtle hay and citrus hops, virulent carbonation, a soft hop aftertaste and an ultimately “okay” experience. The evening brought us meat and cheese of course; beef sirloins, pork-haunch rolls, filled with ham and cheese, flambéed in plum brandy. Otherwise called “The Sword of Christopher from Gendorf”. I like these traditional recipe names; I had read about some before travelling over to the Czech Republic, and particularly wanted to try “Digger Ondrej’s Breath”. Studies suggested me to look for it in the Olomouc region. More on that later. A Lobkowicz tmavé accompanied my daily gratinéed meat, called Baron, on tap at the restaurant. Another surprise this one was, almost stout-like for a lager, tons of chocolatey cherries, very sweet and full, but very nice for what it’s attempting. Marie had some mulled red wine with her chicken fricassée, the perfect way to warm up the senses and clean the nasal passages and throat.

And the rain is a fabulous reason to cuddle.

Speaking of warming up, we crossed the street over to Zámecká Konírna after our meal, in order to further our merriment and relaxation. Whatever this bar lacked in atmosphere, décor and service (compared to the parent brewpub) was quickly made up for by the selection and prices. They had more Krkonošský Medvěd beers than the brewpub itself! And prices for a full pint (not the 0.4-liter pints of the Bašta brewpub) ranged from 12Kč to 18Kč (0.60$ to 0.90$), depending on the chosen beer. More than half price! So we started with a pint of unfiltered Světlé Výčepní, which wasn’t as good as the unfiltered Světlé Ležák we had had the day before, but which defended itself proudly with cheesy, farmy wafts, hay-like malts and milky sweetness. A softly flavorful pint which was even tastier than the following filtered Světlé Ležák, which was a depthless shadow of its unviolated self, with linear honey sweetness, raw grain and watery passages. Disappointing for a brewpub pils. We then pondered on whether to buy a bottle of the remaining Krkonošský Medvěd beer, called Veselé Pivo, or have it right away from the tap. Hey, we’re on vacation, what the hell! This 7% abv strong lager was a beefier version of the filtered Světlé Ležák, offering lots of honey sweetness mixed with unappealing fruity concentrates. It got cloying and vinous as the pint was downed, and ultimately just wasn’t my thing. 14° světlés or speciálnís apparently aren’t my thing either as this was a fine example of the style. Tomorrow, we would leave the rainy mountain freshness for the hilly pastures of Moravia. Sleep was filled with dreams of agriculture, communist rubble, and sunshine. Hopefully sunshine.

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Originally, it is said that these beers (and a Výčepní) were brewed on the premises to quench and refresh the glass blowers of the adjoining factory who work all day in hellacious heat.

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