Invited into a Vat of Světlé

A Summer Trek in the Czech Republic, Part 5

Beer Travels November 24, 2005
Written by MartinT

Montreal, CANADA -

The romantic and bucolic panoramas of the village of Telč (pronounced “telch”) attracted us initially, and delivered accordingly. The bus station was naturally a couple kilometers from the town center where our hotel was located, so we arrived drenched in the 35-degree blaze. And lo and behold, there was a village festival in the works here too! Most participants wouldn’t show up until the next day, the official day of the gathering, but a couple notable booths were already up and ready to sell their wares. Pivovar Jihlava, a sausage maker, and Velkopopovický Kozel! If those aren’t the makings of an excellent lunch, I don’t know what they are. Jihlava were serving a few beers on tap, including their special 12° světlé, brewed especially for Telč, called Telčský Zachariáš. Slightly different from their regular 12° (called Gold), this one was earthy, grainy, and moreover subtle, with pleasant runs of wildflower honey and tickling herbal hop bitterness. Marie had their 10° Tmavé as I had predicted, but it was too light bodied and with little personality to completely satisfy. Some fruit and roasted malt bitterness for an okay tmavé, nothing more.

The houses bordering the expansive triangular town square sparkled with bright colours and elaborate paintings to the amazement of the few tourists. This village is certainly one of the prettiest sights we saw in the Czech Republic. The view from the centrally-located castle tower presented us the calm, winding river which served as a moat, and its tranquil, verdant park, hugging its shore. Perfect for lying in the grass, following ducks floating away in families, couples walking by with their baby carriages. The urge to frolick is inevitable. Marie teased me incessantly about the bulging bump on my head which appeared to be growing by the minute. Those damn door frames can be so low in some old buildings!

The vital sounds of the cobblestone square underneath our bedroom window beckoned us to go back down after yet another shower (it’s still 35° Celsius), and we found a nice back terrace onlooking the town’s old fortifications, where a little restaurant was operating. Simple but tasty beef medallions with smoked cheese proved to be delicious, especially with another excellent, and very hoppy for the country, Pilsner Urquell. Strange how this ubiquitous product is one of the hoppiest beers in the country. On the way back up to our room, I picked up an efficient pint of Kozel Premium 12° from their stand a few feet away from our hotel entrance. How fun is it to walk wherever you want and have fresh pilsners poured from the tap for you! The incomprehensible conversations leaped up and bounced onto our bedroom walls from the thriving square below, as costumed percussionists walked about the square to the rythmic thuds of their tribal playing, announcing the coming weekend’s festivities to all. We were going to miss them alas, but not those of Český Krumlov though, southern Bohemia’s crown jewel, and next destination!

But first, I have to take a little weight off my chest. What’s the problem with Czechs and double beds? What don’t they understand in this apparently romantic concept we take for granted? This is the 4th time out of 5 that we don’t have a real double bed (that’s a mattress for 2 people in case there are still some who don’t know). We have two single beds put together, which leaves a slight gap in between both single mattresses, where one can easily hurt oneself during the night or get some random piece of flesh caught in there. And what about those pillows which aren’t pillows really, but rather thin sacks made from old bed sheets which you have to fold over 3-4 times before you get a decent cushion to lay your head upon. The Czechs can’t be very romantic, can they?

Marie was battling with asthma anyway, so I spent the evening writing an article for Les Carnets de ma Bière, a bilingual Québécois newspaper, checking on Marie as best as I could.

And the percussionists drummed along…

HEADING FOR KRUMLOV

It’s 4:45am and there are some people speaking very loudly in the town square, seemingly right below our window. Their voices reverberate throughout the square, and must have woken up everyone who had a window overlooking the day’s festivities. They would converse for at least 30 minutes of course, unaware that there were other people on this planet. We were definitely pushed to get up around 6:00 when the castle tower bell started to ring in the new day. With 200 tolls in 5 minutes. What happened to good old 6? 6 tolls to announce 6 am. Not enough I guess. And of course this false double bed that we had here was as hard as they came, so much so that I felt like I had slept on a park bench, with the proximity of the noise and all. I predict a couple hours of grumpiness for both of us today.

Half-awake in this blistering heat wave, we embarked on a 4-hour journey to Český Krumlov, through České Budějovice. The bus from Budějovice to Krumlov was ridiculously overcrowded, and they just kept taking people. A night and morning like today is the perfect way to make you appreciate what you have at home. We are so comfortable, and sometimes we don’t realize it. At least Český Krumlov would make our sleepy grumpiness vanish easily. We had reserved a cozy room in a 16th century tower that once was part of the town’s fortifications. Simple and full of character. With real double beds! What we hadn’t realized when booking was that this superb pension was right in front of the Eggenberg brewery. It was as if I had planned it…Our hosts weren’t there when we arrived, so we walked around for about 30 seconds before deciding to sit down at a brewery kiosk right in front of us. The Vltava river was flowing nearby to the joy of canoers of all ages. The beer stand was as perfect a lunch stop for them as it was for us. Locals were fooling around on the park benches and tables surrounding the booth, and it was obvious that some of them spent most of their summer in this exterior bar area. The brewery gate announced guided tours every Monday at 11:00, so we of course made a mental note of it. For now we were immersed in Eggenberg Pivovar’s libations. As had become tradition, I ordered the 12˚ Světlé, and Marie the Černé. The Světlé was faintly aromatic, with some grainy hay and delicate earthy hops. Once imbibed, the intensity of the green hop flavor and bitterness was impressive, but it’s definition was lacking for me. Very light-bodied and quenching, which is the purpose obviously, but the fragility of the malt structure rendered it unappealing for this irrationally-challenged beer traveller. The Černé was pleasantly roasty and fruity, full of plums, raisins and berries carefully laid out on caramel-oozing pumpernickel bread. Quite complex and flavorful, whilst remaining quenching. The sun was lighting smiles on the faces of everyone in the riverside paradise that is Eggenberg Pivovar, so we set forth for another round, this time with a 10˚ Světlé, and a Černé again for Marie. Disappointingly, the 10˚ had none of the 12˚s appeal, and simply felt like a watered-down version, with more fizz, and even some adjunct-y sugar veggies. The paprika klobásas we were having once again were delightful, and made the 10˚ appear flavorful at times, but all was an illusion of course.

Once settled in our medieval tower, we set out for the center of this historical town. Absolutely beautiful. As many tourists as its small size can manage, but still amazingly authentic, artfully decorated, and full of personality. A delight to walk through back and forth, again and again. Our first real meal here was taken at a riverside restaurant which defied timelines. Very often in this part of the Czech Republic, people aren’t able to trace back the history of their building, and rather start its chronology by saying “the first records of this building date back to the 11th century…”. Its construction could have been centuries earlier. It is here, overlooking the towering castle emerging from the rocks across the river, that we had what they called an Old Bohemian feast, which consisted of, you guessed it, various meats (smoked pork, chicken, etc.), but this time with a salad, vegetables, and a superb millet casserole, all served from the kitchen to our waitress through the rustic high kitchen window onto the outside dining room. Sweating charm. Accompanying our timeless venture were two different local meads whose names I wasn’t able to obtain. One was a blond mead from Southern Bohemia, which proposed cinnamon spiciness on top of the strong and alcoholic honey structure. The second, a Moravian one, was almost burgundy in colour, full of berries and expressive spices, much like the French hypocrase (spice wine). Both were delicious, and fit the venue more than we had hoped for.

Clue in clown music. The swaggering locals are still at the Eggenberg kiosk. And they’ve brought an acoustic guitar! They will enchant us with Czech folk melodies beneath our tower window like the improvised bards they are. Unusually romantic…

The following day is our official Český Krumlov tourism day. The castle baroque theater was presented to us by a fact-filled robot who droned and repeated his various enumerations with the charisma of a rusty clock. The painted exterior walls of the castle complex and its elevated position on the rocks boarding the sinuous river created a most endearing picture of the Krumlov castle. It is definitely one of the most unique and charismatic castles I had ever seen. The puppet museum followed a visit of the torture museum, where artisans of yore had their cruel devices exposed. Ugh. The day ended with a retreat to our romantic tower for a tasting of 2 výčepnís. Mestansky Pivovar’s Samson Svetlé Výčepní was the blandest výčepní I had ever had, and Eggenberg’s Kristian Výčepní was carbonated hop water, pleasant and better than their other výčepní, but ultimately a bore.

The next day was Monday, so we headed for the Eggenberg brewery gate, right in front of our pension. After some deliberation, they were able to get us an English guide and off we went into this huge brewery, producing close to 1000hl a day on brewing day. There weren’t any concerns for cleanliness on this tour, the brewery was in full operation, and we were walking around from building to building soiled boots and all. Some of the operational buildings date back to the 16th century, and the condition of the ceilings were obvious proof of that. We had to duck pretty often not to bump our heads on exposed pipes and hinges. In one corridor, a drain was collecting yeast runnings leaking from a duct in the wall. Right in the middle of the hallway, next to the fermenting tanks! We could step right into it if we wanted, and carry the crud to another room. And all the while, the guide was proudly explaining the brewery’s distinct house character...

Soon after, we walked to the Egon Schiele Art Centrum, where the works of Estonian impressionists, and Czech sculptors were presented, amongst which František Skála was my favorite. A quick peak into the town’s cathedral was followed by a call from hunger, so we tried a place off the main tourist zone which happened to serve beers from Lobkowicz Pivovar. We had the Princ (10˚ světlé) and Vévoda (11˚ světlé) to accompany our čevapčiči and guláš. The Princ sported an impressive sweet lime perfume, topped with nascent wilderness, which led me to believe that there was a protein buildup in the keg, maybe due to old age. They were off the main drag…The Vévoda was citrusy as well, but also hoppy and bitter, nowhere near infection. A competent pils, just like the Princ must be in prime form.

Later in the evening, for dinner, I gave another chance to Budvar. I’m not the kind of guy to hold grudges, see? ;) Well, again, there were no hops to speak of. No aftertaste. Big bubbles and near flavorless malt. A decent body nonetheless, but mostly made of sweet malt water. I don’t know why Urquell and Budvar are compared anymore, probably only in market shares, since the present tap version of each are leagues away from each other, Budvar pleasing the party crowds with tasteless fizz, while Urquell actually offers a flavorful, balanced pint that the Czechs are, and should be, proud of. No possible comparison in my book. I gave another chance to the Eggenberg 12˚ as well, and it surprised me with a beautiful cheesy hop scent, artsy lacing, and more hop flavor than bitterness. After seeing the brewery’s innards, I understand why such variability exists. The Eggenberg 12˚ can be a superbly well-crafted pils when the conditions are right.

And I swear this is the last time I bump my head. Goddammit.

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