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"Munich Beer Garden" The famous painting by Max Liebermann (1884) Egalitarian seating, beer for the entire family, and Gemütlichkeit. |
Such
are the joys of a beer garden, an institution begun in Bavaria in the 19th
century, but now a part of life throughout southern Germany and in other
countries as well.
Eventually,
they say, everything arrives in Jerusalem – and now's the time for a beer
garden.
The
Jerusalem Beer Garden opened a few months ago at the First Train Station, the old Turkish railroad station at 4 David Remez Street. The wooden tables, the lights, the beer, the
food, and the music – all are there.
There's even a big outdoor screen to watch sporting events, something I
don't think you'll find in European beer gardens.
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The Jerusalem Beer Garden at night.
(Photo: Mike Horton)
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Mor also reminds me that the Jerusalem Beer Garden, like its European antecedents, will be closed for the winter. "Our plan is to shut down in October," he says. "That's long after German beer gardens have closed."

The
Jerusalem Beer Garden has 15 rotating taps for beers, a pretty impressive
number by Israeli standards. Most of
them are for imported European beers, but when I was there, they also had Herzl
craft beer from Jerusalem (Mor is a partner in that brewery), Bazelet beer from
the Golan Brewery in Katzrin, Shapiro beer from Beit Shemesh, and Alexander
beer from Emek Hefer. The price for a 400 milliliter glass of beer ranges from 19 to 29 shekels. There is a small
bar for other alcoholic drinks.
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The old blogger enjoys a mushroom burger and a Herzl IPA with manager "Roger" Mor (left). (Photo: Mike Horton) |
Although the food served is kosher-meat, the Beer Garden has no certification since it is open on Shabbat.
Before
he opened up his own, Mor delved into the history of beer gardens. "Did you know," he asked me
rhetorically, "that in the 19th century, beer brewers in Munich
began to brew their beer outside of the city, along the banks of the Isar
River? This was because explosions
sometimes occurred in breweries and the authorities didn’t want this happening
inside the city.
"Also,
beer had to be brewed during the cold months and kept cool for serving in the
summer. The brewers dug cellars along
the river to keep the beer cold, put gravel on the top as further insulation,
and planted lots of leafy chestnut trees to keep the ground temperature even
cooler."
It
wasn't long before they were putting simple tables and benches right over the
cellars and selling their beer on the spot.
When they began to also sell food, however, the smaller restaurants in
the city cried unfair competition. King
Maximilian the First of Bavaria issued a compromise ruling which forbade the
"beer gardens" from selling food, but which allowed visitors to bring
their own victuals.

Mor chuckles when I ask him if he allows visitors to the Jerusalem Beer Garden to bring their own food: "Well, our 'traditions' are different in Israel and we can't allow that."
What
is the same is the practice of sharing your table with complete strangers. This often leads to conversations and even
new friendships and who knows what else.
From the start, beer gardens were the most democratic of institutions,
with professors sitting next to housewives with children, sitting next to army
officers, sitting next to workmen. The
common denominator, then as today, is beer.
How
much beer you have is a different question.
In Bavarian beer gardens, most people order their beer in "mass"
mugs, holding a liter of beer. Not too
unusual in a country where individuals consume on average 116 liters of beer
per year. Here in Israel, where per
capita beer consumption is a measly 14 liters a year, the Jerusalem Beer Garden
sells it in 400 milliliter glasses.
"That's
still a nice quantity of beer," concludes Mor. "We supply you with
that and everything else, including what the Germans call Gemütlichkeit,
a cozy and relaxed sociability which makes for a real beer garden
experience."
The article originally appeared in The Jerusalem Post.
I'm always passing by this place but never knew it was a beergarden. Now that I know, I'll be passing through it frequently. :) Also, it's true our per-capita beer consumption is low, but keep in mind 15-20% of the population is Muslim. When Germany gets there in a few years, they'll experience the same thing that's happened in Lebanon, France, etc.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Doug. When I passed by there a while ago, I thought the variety on tap looked meager. Glad to hear that it has either expanded, or that I didn't look that carefully. Will make it my next beer-drinking destination.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry I can't support it even on a weekday. Forget whether you observe Shabbat halachically or not, forget the regulations of the rabbinate. Shabbat is a social revolution. People are together with their families. When the people who serve them are working and not with THEIR families, the end doesn't justify the means. Those places which are open on Shabbat will not employ Shabbat-observant people. Local stores are being run out of business by mega-locations open 7 days a week. I would love to have a beer where they are closed on Shabbat.
ReplyDeleteAccording to 2014 data, only five percent of the German population is Muslim, nothing like 15 - 20%. And from personal experience I can say that quite a few of those like a beer.
ReplyDelete