As the late, great Anthony Bourdain famously said: “Eat at a local restaurant tonight. Get the cream sauce. Have a cold pint at 4 o’clock in a mostly empty bar. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Listen to someone you think may have nothing in common with you. Order the steak rare. Eat an oyster. Have a negroni. Have two. Be open to a world where you may not understand or agree with the person next to you, but have a drink with them anyways. Eat slowly. Tip your server. Check in on your friends. Check in on yourself. Enjoy the ride.” We’ve always agreed with his approach (except for the rare steaks, we’re vegetarians). So, when our local hosts asked us if we wanted to hit a local brewery at 1pm and have some traditional Slovenian food, we obviously said "Yes!" We found ourselves at Pivovarna Zajc, translated as “Rabbit Brewery”. As you can see below, they have a booming bunny theme for their establishment. It will perhaps come as no surprise that we had an amazing carrot soup (with a generous pinch of saffron); local homemade pasta stuffed with potato and served in a pumpkin, leek, and carrot sauce; and – surprise surprise, carrot cake for dessert. The other folks had local fish, so jokes about us eating like rabbits abounded. It's amazing how beer can bring people together. The conversations were far-ranging and covered Slovenia, America, Gen Z work ethics, music, terrible government taxes, home ownership, etc. After a brief lull in the conversation, the owner said: “You see that cave over there?” PD: “Yeah” “That’s where archaeologists found the first flute” PD: “Wait, that one that was made by Neanderthals!?” “Yes, right over there." This was an unexpected surprise. As lovers of all things historical, we had actually read about this discovery years ago. So right here, in this very special area riddled with caves and flowing with good, clean, magnesium-rich water, is where musical instruments may have been born. It kind of makes sense. People lived in the caves in this area for millennia. They likely had to fight with cave bears and other megafauna (that have sadly gone the way of the dodo) for a chance to get a little break from the cold. It was in this very place, approximately 60,000 years ago, that some clever neanderthal with an artistic bent had some ice age inspiration. He or she poked some holes in a piece of leftover femur from a cave bear to create what may have been the very first wind instrument. It's a mere 4.5 inches (11.2 cm) long. Why did they do it? There’s probably not that much to do if you’re living in a cave except stare at fires and paint on walls with ocher. Even if a man didn’t craft it, this is still pretty macho. Who kills something and then turns the corpse into a goddamned wind instrument?!? We give it an A+ for creativity and an A+++ for the sick sense of humor. If you want to see this boney flute for yourself, you need to travel to , just can be seen the National Museum of Slovenia in the capital city of Ljubljana. But back to the beer… This place started during Covid and has been steadily expanding since then, with a good bit of variety (i.e., stouts to wheat beers, not bears). Outside of Czechia (see previous posts here and here), it’s very hard to find beer that tastes so “clean”. The secret has to be that water and the brewmaster's attention to detail. They also only use hops from Slovenia (with the malts imported from Belgium). Pivovarna Zajc is just one of over 90 microbreweries for around Slovenia’s two million people. Just for perspective, that’s about as many people as are in Washington, DC and its suburbs. Flavor Notes: The clear water is the star here.
So, if you would like to visit for yourself, just click here to see when they're open and take your rental car to Reka 27, Reka 5282 Cerkno, Slovenia. Side Trips:
You MUST try some Slovenian cheese (sir). Each region has its specialty. We are partial to tolminc cheese from the area around Tolmin. Though you can find it at the store, it is best when bought directly from a local babushka who hangs a little sign outside of her house. We also found it the large, local grocery store in Nova Gorsica Slovenia. Hiking is a BIG deal in this area. Everywhere you look are stunning, crystal-clear rivers and streams, with well-marked paths against rugged mountains. Watch out as they paths might double as local roads and can be colonized by cute, long brown slugs after a good down pour. Conclusions: Go to Slovenia. Eat the sheep cheese. Order a local beer at 1 pm and chat with the locals. Then, when you are nice and relaxed, craft a musical instrument out of the bones of your enemies. There’s nothing quite like international travel all by your lonesome. Though it was strange to do at first, I came to really enjoy it. You can obviously do this in your home country, but there’s something special about being in a foreign land, left to your own devices, and doing your best to live like the locals even though you don’t know much of the language or many of the customs. To be fair, this can lead to some bad surprises. When I was solo in Romania one time, I purchased what I thought to be a lovely pot of yoghurt for breakfast. When I opened it up the next morning, I made the horrifying discovery that it was actually sour cream. Not the taste sensation I had planned to start my day with. However, sometimes solo travel leads to good surprises, even if they are very stressful and don’t feel good at the time. This was the case on my first trip to the Kozel Brewery in Velké Popovice, Czech Republic. Having been a fan of Kozel beer since our first visit to Prague, we always planned to visit the brewery. However, due to some scheduling snafus, only one of us could actually make it there. I knew from Czech friends that this was a popular tour, so I booked my ticket well in advance. I was even able to get onto an English tour, as my Czech is wildly insufficient for understanding the nuances of brewing beer. Unfortunately for me, traffic was horrible that day, and I only got there a few minutes before the start of the tour. I literally speed-walked to the gift-shop, walking past a very cute goat in the process. It was PACKED, with people buying t-shirts, coasters, and other Kozel-themed merchandise and chatting animatedly in Czech, Slovak, German, and several other languages. Looking at the time, I had about a minute to use the restroom before the tour would be called, so I chanced it. As I came back to the hall, I saw a line of people wearing brewery vests going outside. My keen eyes detected backpacks and baseball caps as well, and my amazing powers of deduction led me to conclude that brewery staff were probably unlikely to be wearing high-heeled shoes to work. “Oh my god!” I thought, “I’m missing the tour!”. I raced after them and approached the petite older woman who appeared to be in charge. I started out good, “Dobre den” (Good day – a typical polite Czech introduction) and then quickly went off the rails, “Uh… English tour?” and pointed animatedly at the ground. She seemed annoyed (rightfully so) and made it very clear that I needed to also be wearing one of these vests or I couldn’t go on the tour. So, I raced back inside, found the box of vests, and caught up with the crew. Feeling as if I’d already made a bad and very stereotypically American first impression, I sulked toward the back of the group and tried to be invisible. After some introductory remarks that I couldn’t follow, we went into a room that looked like a very fun bar, with multiple beer taps, dozens of Kozel beer mugs, and a lot of anticipatory excitement. From what I could piece together, the man behind the bar was one of the master brewers at Kozel. He was going to show the different types of beer pours that are popular in Czechia. He demonstrated four types and, indeed, he knew what he was doing. There was a pour that was British style, with no foam, called Čochtan. Then there was one that was almost entirely foam called Mlíko. In between these extremes were the Hladinka (20% - 25% foam ) and Šnyt (½ foam and ½ beer) pours. I was trying to take mental notes of the relative angles of the mug and the tap. All the while, I must say that I had a vague feeling that something was wrong. I couldn’t quite place it. It was sort of like the experience of watching any of the first three Star War films (i.e., Episodes 1-3). Something was very wrong from the get-go of each, but it was difficult to figure out why until a little time passed and that stupid Jar Jar Binks made his appearance. Then, something very unexpected happened. The bartended called up a member of the group to learn the first Czech pour. That was very surprising. Having been on several Czech beer tours, I had never seen this level of audience participation. That’s when I finally made sense of that strange, uncanny feeling… They were all speaking Czech! I was on the wrong bloody tour! My mind raced to the land of horror and catastrophe. Jesus, am I going to get kicked off the tour? Is getting on the wrong beer tour a capital offense in Czechia? They take their beer seriously here… Will they still let me pet the goats if I offer to pay the full fee? Though I’d seen this tour online, there were no English versions available when I would be at Velké Popovice, so I opted for a “standard tour” that did not involve learning to pour Kozel beer. I noticed one of my fellow tourists spoke German to a friend. I discreetly asked him auf Deutsch what the tour start time was. Yep, I was on the wrong fucking tour. Oh, the barrage of Czech obscenities I imagined would be coming from my tour guide. Then, to make matters worse, the bartender pointed at me and called me over to the tap. This was a dilemma… If I went up there I would be drawing attention to myself and my non-Czech language skills, but by saying no, I would also be drawing attention to myself. I decided to go with option number one and nervously learned how to do the Mlíko pour. I sort of cocked it up, getting a bit too much beer on the bottom, but it was a passable pour (or at least that’s what he indicated to me, probably out of Slavic pity). Then, the tour guide lady comes over and asks for my name. “This is it!” I thought catastrophically. I whispered my name to her. Instead of checking for it against her list, finding a discrepancy, and then getting cross with me, she instead pulled out a blank certificate, wrote my name on it, and lets me know that it will be provided at the end of the tour. “I just might make it through this damn tour without incident after all”… I start to relax a bit. After the pouring and drinking was done, we go outside again to see the three famous Kozel goats. I might have petted a couple of them through the cage, but one was aloof. So, what did I learn from this? First, Always check that you’re on the right tour. Second, I look stupid in a brewery vest. Perhaps most importantly, though, this experience reminded me that sometimes anxiety and stress experienced in the moment can quickly evaporate, leaving one with good memories and a snazzy certificate proving to the world that I am indeed a master Czech beer pourer. Tasting Notes
We’re most familiar with the two types of Kozel most likely to be sold outside of Czechia. These are the light lager (Ležák) and the dark lager (Černý). My personal favorite is the Ležák. It is a very refreshing, perfectly balanced beer. They use three different malts, and it is pleasantly sweet, like a really good loaf of French bread, and almost has a subtle vanilla pudding quality at the end. However, it is well hopped and nicely bitter as well (i.e., not too bitter and nowhere near an American IPA). They use the beloved Czech Premiant hops in an elegantly restrained manner. This is not fruity (or sulphury, for that matter). It is a solid, clean, tasty workhorse (workgoat?) of a beer. The Kozel Černý is the favorite choice of the other half of the PD team. The Černý is a dark beer, but you shouldn’t expect a stout flavor. It has some very nicely caramelized malts – four, to be exact – and mild hops that combine to form a very nice and rich beer with character. Not as refreshing as the Ležák, it’s more of a fall sipper than a summer chugger. The folks at Kozel even recommend serving it with some powdered cinnamon on top of the foam, preferably using one of their goat stencils (free templates can be found on their website). Though we were initially aghast at this very American-sounding idea, we tried it. We can verify that it isn’t a bad addition for a holiday beer vibe. It certainly beats most pumpkin-spiced beers we find in the US in terms of fall cheer. Where to find it outside of Czechia It is super easy to buy Kozel beer in the UK and the rest of Europe. We’ve found it carried in a number of grocery stores and even convenience stores/gas stations. Just look for bottles of Pilsner Urquell and scan around there for the cheeky goat graphic. It’s also possible, but significantly more difficult, to purchase Kozel in the US. To be honest, we’ve only found it in European grocery stores, and it’s always a pleasant surprise when we do. One of the few reliable sources we’ve found is at the Taste of Europe grocery store in Gaithersburg, Maryland. So, if you’re ever in the Washington DC area, you can give it a shot. To book your own tour at Kozel: www.velkopopovickykozel.com/#brewery-tours Some of us plan and seek experiences, especially when travelling. On occasion, though, something new appears, and it is hard to not say, “sure, why not?” Thus was the case of discovering our favorite bottom-shelf Czech beer. It was an unexpectedly scorching early fall day in Prague. We had spent the previous five hours wandering the city in search of the elusive, vegetarian doctors’ sausage (post to come) and loaves of freshly boiled Knedlíky for our dinner (yes, another easter egg…). Needless to say, It was hot, we were out of water, and we were looking forward to cooling off in our hotel room for a few hours before exploring Old City Prague’s famous absinthe bars. As we approached the building, we were confronted with a minefield of Central European construction equipment. Not a good sign. Crowed around a large hole in the sidewalk were a half dozen, shirtless men in bright yellow vests that seemed strategically parted to display their Slavic pectoral muscles to the beautiful Slavic women. We tried not to judge them too harshly, and they were working hard, but this had been a quiet, pec-less location when we left, and we were on the borderline of cranky. Upon entry to the building, we noted hastily scribbled signs on computer paper that read “no water, water line break” in Czech, English, and German. This wasn’t good, either. Refreshing showers and refills of our water bottles were apparently not in our near future. We shared a knowing yet furtive glance indicating that this might not be our most relaxing of evenings as we passed the reception desk and hit the stairs. About a third of the way down the hallway toward our AC-less room, a table partially blocked our path. The table was filled, in a ramshackeled, but nonetheless compelling fashion, with aluminum cans displaying pictures of a cute goat (Kozel) and one loan water bottle. A checky note perched atop stated, “Save Water and Drink Beer”. This not only brightened our mood, but gave us a visual window into this strange Czech culture. Not to get too nerdy, but according to the World Beer Index the Czechs drink the most beer of any country in the world. 2021 records show that each Czech drinks, on average, 184 liters of beer per year. That is about 48 U.S. gallons (!!!) or enough beer to almost fill a standard wine barrel (i.e., 60 gallons). This isn’t just because beer is on average cheaper than water - to be fair, non-touristy sites serve very good beer for around 1 USD. Rather, beer production, and, by extension, drinking, has been a popular activity of Bohemia for almost 2000 years. Modern historians mostly agree that beer making in Bohemia dates to at least the 1st century C.E., if not earlier. It likely predates Slavic tribe migration. Archeological records suggest hops have been grown and traded in the region since 900 C.E. and were possibly cultivated by early Celtic tribes. Hops were of such great value during this period that (the Good) King Wenceslas had anyone caught exporting plant cuttings put to death. If you try the beer this seems somewhat less of an unreasonable punishment... During the Middle Ages beer was brewed in towns by a licensed council member or at monasteries by specially appointed clergy. Common lore suggests that beer was more popular than water at this time (duh), but there is good literature evidence to suggest that water was still a primary beverage of choice for the poor and/or the hyper religious. This is because water was free, and most spring-well sources had low to no biological pollution. Beer was expensive (as licensed commodities are) and predominately consumed by laborers and the upper echelons of society due to its high nutritional content. There are several examples of Bohemian laborers being paid their daily wages in beer rations at their local brewery. One wonders if they noticed that raises led to decreased productivity in their workers. The idea that beer was a safe drink during the Middle Ages has some merit though. Correctly prepared beer contains low amounts of bad bacteria. It is also moderately rich in carbohydrates, fat, protein, fiber, vitamins, and minerals, contains electrolytes, and boasts other “medicinal” attributes. This is not a crazy idea, as barley is now known to contain antioxidants that may boost the immune system and may reduce the risk of contracting viral infections like colds and flus. Other constituents of the frothy beverage have been identified to lower levels of inflammation. Beer was thus considered a “health food” at the time. It was sort of like Medieval spirulina. These benefits made the brewing of beer in Bohemia a lucrative endeavor until at least The Thirty Years’ War in the early 1600’s. This population and architecturally devastating timeframe decimated the Bohemian beer industry, turning beer into a pricy commodity. Beer became so highly valued at this time that it is rumored (not yet confirmed) to be used as a method of payment to Swedish forces to prevent the invasion and destruction of Kutná Hora; a storybook town that is home to Sedlec Abbey and its astounding Ossuary chapel. Flash forwards several centuries, and in the 1900’s the price of beer again dropped due to Communist-state production takeovers and subsequent state-enforced price fixing. The low, low prices made beer drinking a popular and legal recreation among Czech men. However, this also resulted in low quality brews due to a lack of government reinvestment in local agriculture technology and brewing equipment. Although price controls ended after the Velvet Revolution in 1991, the famed České Budějovice brewery Budějovický Budvar (aka, the real Budweiser) is still controlled and operated by the Czech government. We can personally attest that the modern beer brewed at Budějovice is very good! Today, the price of Czech beer is still comparatively low, but the quality has much improved. This is in part due to the revitalization of traditional Czech brewing traditions that were almost lost during the times of Communism. Czech famed Pilsners can be found in any tap room along side many other styles. When purchasing beer, it is important to note that most are labeled with the “degree scale” that represents the strength of the draft, with strength being related to the post-fermentation weight percentage of sucrose. It is not ABV (as we were initially shocked to see so many people seemingly downing 10% horsepower beer). Generally, the lower the degree scale the lower the beer's alcoholic volume. Confusingly, this scale is often accompanied by the terms lehké (light, <8 degrees), ležák (lager, 11 to 12.99 degrees), and výčepní (draught 8 to 10 degrees)... and several others. History aside, Czech beers are best drunk near or just below room temperature as the heat helps bring out their many aromatic compounds. Oh, and foam is good… very, very good. Although the beer on the stairway table wasn’t as cold as it should have been, it was free and a welcomed distraction from the heat of that fall day in Prague. Since we knew we were on “the honor system”, we only took two each to our room. As this was our first taste of lower priced Czech beer, we weren’t sure what to expect, but imagined that it would be “ok”. However, we were very much surprised by their quality and balance. Buying equivalently good beer in the states would set us back at least $8 per pint. So, we made some careful mental notes for which beers we wanted to try from a tap (i.e., both – duh) and also wanted to do a blind taste test of the other commercial brews. However, the one beer we tried that day stood horns and hooves above the others. This will be the topic of our next post.
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