We walked back to Pretzfeld, had a quick beer in Gasthaus Herbst because Mike needed a wee, took the train back to Ebermannstadt, ate in the other brewery in Ebermannstadt, Schwanenbräu (bit disappointing, Mike called the beer "flavour-free"), had a nightcap in Sonne, then went to bed. On to Sunday.A couple of things smacked my gob when researching the trip. First, that we could get to Hohenschwärz by bus. Even on Sunday. Second, that there was another pub in such a tiny village. An afternoon in Hohenschwärz was immediately pencilled in.
While I was at it, I included all the villages on the way in my bespoke guide. Information, like books, is something you can never have too much of. Maybe we'd get to visit one of the pubs. You never know. But Gössweinstein was definitely on the itinerary. We had to change bus there.
For something that's just barely a town, Gössweinstein has a bleeding enormous church. One of those baroque things with lots of twiddly bits. Built of pretty yellow stone. There was a full house when we walked past. Not something you often see here in Holland. Round the back was a market. Where Mike finally found the hat he'd been searching for. I got a present for Lexie at the same stall. A Franconian flag. He's into flags.
(Me and Lexie each made our own flags a few weeks ago. His was a combination of the Scottish and Polish flags. Mine was all white. "As soon as a war started, I'd proudly raise my flag." "But it's white, Dad. They'd think you were surrendering." "Exactly.")
My guide included three pubs in Gössweinstein. Three selling not-very-exciting Leikem and Monchshof beers. The other was supplied by Vasold & Schmitt. I'd never heard of them, which was a good sign. We teetered along the ludicrously narrow pavement, past tourist shops full of minerals and walking sticks. It wasn't far. We sat in the garden.It wasn't yet 11 o' clock. The pubs had only been open a couple of hours. But we still had the garden to ourselves. We chose a spot next to its boundary, where the cliffs surrounding the town, dappled with trees, were visible through the vegetation. If it hadn't been for all the traffic on the main road outside, it would have been idyllic. It was still much better than a wet Tuesday in Swindon. Better than a sunny Saturday in Swindon. Better than Swindon, let's just leave it at that.
A waitress appeared. "What beers do you have?" "Pils, Helles, Dunkles." "Two Dunkles it is, then." Like those we'd had yesterday, it wasn't a very dunkles Dunkles. But I wasn't in a mood to quibble. Franconia had me under its spell and I was as chilled as a polar bear in a deep freeze. "That's alright." Commented Mike on the beer. He's very stinting in his praise.
On the bus from Ebermannstadt, there had been but one other passenger. The bus to Hohenschwärz was much less crowded. As it wound through the tight valleys, castles and watchtowers reaching upwards from weatherworn cliffs, I primed Mike on Hofmann. "It's wonderful."
Fränkische Schweiz is unutterably scenic. Each village vied with the last in picturesqueness. And all had at least one pub. And a bakery. It genuinely is god's country. Blessed with beauty and bounty. You'd have to travel far to top its quality of life. All the way to heaven.
In the last town before Hohenschwärz another passenger joined us. Just before the bus snaked up one steep valley and down into the next. On a high plateau, rich with farms, we burst upon Hohenschwärz. The hanging sign of the brewery waved us into the village. "There it is!" I pointed excitedly at the mundane exterior of the brewery Gaststätte. "Looks a bit modern" Mike grumbled. He wasn't yet quite as chilled as me.Midday had barely passed, yet Hofmann's bar was nearly full. The garden was full. Luckily we could find a couple of seats inside. "A bit modern." Mike commented. "Look at all that carving. Barley and hops. OK, it's a bit new, but it'll look great in 50 years." "We won't be around to see it." OK, OK, don't rub it in. We're at an age when mortality becomes more palpable.
"Something smells nice." Food's the best way of perking Mike up. "How many sausages should I have? Two or three?" "It's your stomach, Mike." I've always been careful of what I eat. Just the small Schweinebraten for me.
Given the hordes of other diners, our food arrived remarkably quickly. And what food it was. The most lip-smackingly delicious meal I've eaten all year. I all but licked my plate. "Fucking A." was Mike's opinion of his sausage. You don't get higher praise than that.I love Hofmann's only beer, a dark Export brewed from mostly Vienna malt. Water and yeast aside, it only has three ingredients. Yet I've never tasted a Dunkles like it. Mike was more downbeat. "It's OK, but nothing special."
Mike had his heart set on a beer garden. Must have been his experience of the day before. "Why don't we look for the other pub?" he suggested, barely had our plates been cleared away. "Do you have a map of the village?" Er, no. I hadn't seen the need. From the bus stop we could see the roadsigns marking either end of the village.
It's so big there aren't any street names. Just house numbers. Hofmann is 16. Buchwaldstüberl is number 5. Finding it wasn't much of a challenge. There was a sign pointing to it at the village's only road junction.
Mike went straight to the garden without asking me where I wanted to sit. But he wasn't going to get any argument from me. In sharp contrast to Hofmann's, it was nearly empty. Just a biker couple and a family. I'm not sure why it was so empty. Truth be told, it was a far nicer garden. The piebald shade of overhanging trees enveloping its tables. And silence. Except for human and animal voices.The landlord hobbled over to us. You can probably guess what happened next. We got a pair of Dunkles and , leaning back in our seats, felt as happy as pigs in shit, as my dad used to say. There was only one difficult decision facing us. Should we get the 14:28 or 16:38 bus? We'd already decided for the later option before our first glasses of beer were drained.
They're very big on fruit schnapps in Franconia. Many places make their own. When the landlord walked rockily over to us to take our second order, I asked which types they had. Of schnapps. "I'll have a Schlehengeist." "What's Schlehe." Mike asked me. ""Sloe, I think." It certainly tasted like sloe. Darkly fruity, in a plummy sort of way. Overlain with an enticing almond aroma. "They must leave the pits in." I said. "You get the same almond flavour in some Krieks."
A few customers came and went. Beers arrived and were dispatched. Horses clattered by. Crickets chirruped and birds sang. The trees soaked up the sun and showered us with shade. The world was a beautiful, calm place. All the heat and bustle, noise and trouble of everyday life was far way. So far, it could no longer be discerned.Then we got peckish. "What about sharing a Bauernplatte?" that Mike and his food. "Sounds good to me." I'm nearly as bad. I felt a bit guilty about making the poor landlord run in and out quite so much. But not enough to stop making fresh orders.
A wooden board, covered in meaty delights duly appeared. And some cheesy delights. Tangy sourdough bread and fiery horseradish completed the feast. Washed down with more Dunkles.
For the second time in as many days we'd been blessed with perfection. A brief moment, so still and pristine, it seemed the earth had returned to its youth. To that first earthly garden, from which man had been so cruelly expelled.
And the bus showed up on time.
The fun isn't quite over yet. Next time, a Haxe, some Rauchbier and more books for my collection. And a bizarre coolbox. Don't miss it.
Want to know which beer we drank in Buchwaldstüberl? Their beer menu is to the right. Still can't work it out? Lindenbräu Vollbier. At least I think that's what it was. And another thing that was properly dark.Buchwaldstüberl
Hohenschwärz 5,
91322 Gräfenberg - Hohenschwärz.
Tel. 09192 / 99 74 35
Fax 09192 / 99 33 36
http://www.buchwaldstueberl.de/
Gasthaus Herbst
Bahnhofstr. 5,
91362 Pretzfeld
Tel: 09194 / 365
Fax: 09194 / 76986
Schwanenbräu
Am Marktplatz 2
91320 Ebermannstadt
Tel: 09194/209
Fax: 09194/5836
Email: dotterweich@schwanenbraeu.de
http://www.schwanenbraeu.de/
Brauerei Hofmann
Hohenschwärz 16,
91322 Gräfenberg - Hohenschwärz.
Tel: 09192 -251
Vasold & Schmitt
Schellenberger Weg 3
91077 Neunkirchen a. Brand.
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