Oktoberfest-why staggering numbers flock to Munich each autumn
You consider yourself pretty hip. You’ve forsaken the frothy peasant’s swill you used to chug out of plastic cups at college keggers; you’ve moved on. You’re no philistine, after all. Perhaps you’ve developed a fondness for microbrews or craft beers. Maybe you’re an aficionado of imports. Many of you may have experienced the thrill of having a fine German beer. (Some of you may have even experienced the thrill of having a fine German — but that’s another story.) Yet you haven’t really had German beer until you’ve imbibed a ponderous one-liter Mass of golden nectar forcefully thrust upon you by a burly, iron-fisted Teutonic Biermädchen while surrounded by throngs of drunken tourists and rotund Lederhosen-clad German Herren amidst the thundering cacophony of an oompah band while trying to maintain your balance atop a long, wooden picnic table in a beer tent at the Oktoberfest, all the while shouting out beer-drinking songs in a language you don’t speak.
When asked why he risks life and limb to scale a steep mountain face, the proverbial climber will inevitably answer: “because it’s there.” A similar retort may be all you have to fall back on to rationalize traveling halfway across the globe to join six million other thirsty tourists for the well-lubricated 16-day long “super bowl of beer drinking.” There are experiences in life that are all the more valuable precisely because they push one’s body and soul to the limit. Mankind loves a challenge and when it comes to challenges people automatically think in superlatives: the biggest, the wildest, the loudest, the drunkest — Oktoberfest is all these and more.
If you’re not already familiar with the Oktoberfest, you’re probably thinking, “Wow, the Germans must really love October, since they celebrate its annual arrival with such ardent partying each year. Gotta love those wacky Deutschen.” The truth of the matter is that what the Germans actually love is drinking beer — and they’re so anxious to hoist their steins that they can’t ever wait until October. The festival actually begins in September and ends on the first Sunday in October. Leave it to Teutonic punctuality to be a month early for a party while the rest of the world is still striving to be fashionably late.
The festival owes its beginnings to two immutably intertwined endeavors: marriage and drunkenness. The Oktoberfest originated as a horse race held on October 17, 1810, to celebrate the marriage of Bavarian Crown Prince Ludwig to Princess Theresa of Saxe-Hildburghausen. On that fateful day, Ludwig and the foundation for today’s Oktoberfest were laid. The original public festival lasted for only a day and was held in the Munich meadow, which still bears the bride’s name, Theresienwiese, or Wies’n, in local parlance. The festival has been held there annually ever since.
Over the years, the Oktoberfest grew in prominence and in duration. Modern Germans, with their inimitable ability to maximize production, decided to further extend the party to its current 16-day duration. It’s precisely this kind of dedication to productivity — combined with billions of dollars of U.S. aid in the form of the Marshall Plan — that has transformed Germany into the economic and beer-drinking wonder it is today. You drive their cars, you covet their models and you thirst for their beer.
On a historical note, the marriage of Liebe between Ludwig and Theresa ended in divorce. While the marriage failed, the party succeeded, and the original inspiration for the event has long since been replaced with a grander and nobler vision: the stalwart consumption of prodigious amounts of some of the finest beer in the world. This brings us to the very lifeblood of the festival: what is the allure of the elixir that calls out to the masses from around the world?
A love of beer is an almost innate characteristic of the German psyche and, with order and efficiency being the hallmarks of German culture, it’s easy to see how this attitude has spilled over into the production of their most beloved beverage. German beer production is governed by the world’s oldest “food law,” the Reinheitsgebot, or Purity Law of 1516. This law is still adhered to today with respect to all beer produced in Germany for domestic consumption. It states that German beer may consist of only three ingredients: malted barley, hops and water. (Wheat beer may include yeast.) Take that, Budweiser.
The majority of the beer served at the Oktoberfest is Märzenbier, meaning “March beer.” Yes, folks, the Germans, the most organized of people, have a party called the Oktoberfest, which begins in September when they drink a beer known as “March beer.” There are various explanations of how this came to be. Some beer pundits claim that a Munich brewer found his beer reserves depleted at festival time and decided to serve a brew made in March, hence the name. Others attribute it to that zany sense of humor that inspired those fun-loving Germans to play such practical jokes as invading France every now and then or misnaming the beer to confuse tourists. Since so few people can tell what month a beer was brewed in or can stand the French, it’s hard to know with any degree of certainty.
What we do know is that the proud Bavarian brewing tradition of preparing large batches of beer in March dates from the 19th century before refrigeration. Beer production was completed before the weather became too warm for brewing. The reserves would then be stored in cool places, such as caves or cellars, for use during the thirsty days of summer. By lucky accident, the development of mechanized refrigeration in the latter part of the 1800s coincided with the construction of fine European railways. This enabled thousands more parched Bavarians to travel to the Munich Oktoberfest. If you brew it, they will come. And they did, in droves. Even though the large Münchner Brauereien made special festival brews, as was done for most great parties, demand often outstripped supply. One way or the other, it is Märzen beer that became the Oktoberfest beer variety known to the world, though the style has had various incarnations over the years.
Recent changes in popular tastes have seen the traditional Märzen brew supplanted by paler, less robust “Oktoberfestbier” to suit broader, international tastes, though this brew still sets itself apart from the average lager. Dryer than Helles, the deep amber festival potable quenches with its somewhat spicy, full-bodied maltiness and higher alcohol content. Each of the six major Munich breweries (Löwenbräu, Paulaner, Spaten, Hacker-Pschorr, Hofbräuhaus and Augustiner) still produce a draft Märzen at Oktoberfest time for sale in their beer halls and festival beer tents.
While early autumn in Munich may be the most appropriate time of year to suck back countless liters of Märzen beer, be advised that it’s probably not the best time to soak up Bavarian culture, as the city is invaded by millions of extraordinarily raucous tourists. The beer-for-all’s bulging tents, which hold up to 10,000 visitors each, are the equivalent of sports stadiums hosting passionately contested events. If you venture inside, you should be prepared to engage in Olympian-like feats of beer-swilling prowess. Timid souls would be well advised to stay on the sidelines, but the hearty barley devotee should proudly rise to the challenge because, after all, it’s there.
