Beer and comfort food underpin any Bavarian culture tour

Carbohydrates and pork are the sacred duo of traditional Bavarian cuisine. It's pure comfort food, consumed in a place created to encapsulate that feeling of warmth and good fellowship: the beer garden. They even have a specific word for the combined aura of food, beer and company.

Gemütlichkeit.

It's a lot like Danish hygge, but practiced in public and without so many candles.  Who knows? Maybe the enduring legacy of battling through long, cold winters is the elevation of cozy fellowship to its own word. Whatever the origin, it's one of the best things about Bavaria.  I've now filled eight blog entries with the historic, cultural and artistic highlights of this trip.  But truth be told, we probably spent as much time, cumulatively, drinking and eating in beer gardens and halls while chatting to our neighbours as we did at cultural attractions. Because these are cultural attractions.  And no trip to Bavaria would be complete without a steady diet of them ... even though you risk putting on at least a pound a day.

First things first. Don't even attempt dieting. The standard traditional menu will have something called a wurst salat, but it's still loads of pork with some notional greens.  Vegetarian? It's easier than you'd think, but you'll be eating a lot of dumpling variants. Proper vegetables (as in ... not potatoes ... are few and far between.)

Get ready to drink beer. Lots of it. Even if you don't think you like it. Because (1) it tastes better in Bavaria and (2) it's cheaper than water.  Seriously. The Bavarians don't seem to do tap water.  On average, a one litre bottle of mineral water was €3.50. A litre of beer was €3.20.  What would you do?

The decor and atmosphere of beer halls and gardens varies greatly, but the menus don't.  We found them all almost identical, the food uniformly tasty if not memorable or elegant.  Everyone tries to out-do the others with claims of the best schnitzel (meat fillets pounded flat, lightly breaded and fried). The most resolutely traditional is served with a red berry compote and fried potatoes; I confess to finding that a bit dry and loving the version served with mushroom cream sauce. Schweinshaxe is the queen of all the pork dishes ... a whole pork knuckle encircled by lush crackling ... but you'll find pork prepared a variety of ways on every menu. Pork includes sausages, of course, and you could spend a lifetime learning to differentiate the varieties.  My own favourite is weisswurst. This disconcertingly anaemic veal sausage is traditionally served in pairs in a dish of steaming water. You're supposed to carve it out of its skin and eat it with pretzels and sweet mustard. You're also supposed to only eat them before noon but I think they're far too tasty to be limited to mornings.  Fortunately, most beer halls now share that view. I occasionally went off the porcine piste for some beef goulash, but rarely saw and was never tempted by chicken or fish.

They do meat well, but the Bavarians reach epic levels of comfort food when they start working with carbohydrates.  Soft, bready brezn ... the classic Bavarian pretzel ... differs slightly at every establishment and is the perfect warm up for any meal.  This is a meal in itself when served with obatzda, a soft ball of a cream-cheese based concoction mixed with various flavours and served with thinly sliced red onions.  (There are as many variations on obatzda as there are on brezn.)  Moving on to the potatoes ... a single dumpling the size of a child's fist, smothered in dark pork gravy, often upstages the meat beside it.  Spinat knodel is an adaptation of Italian spinach gnocchi and, as I argued about rococo architecture, it's just possible the Germans upstage the inventors. But the pinnacle of Bavarian starchy treats, the king of carbohydrates, the most comfortable of all comfort foods, is Käsespätzle.

Spätzle are little flour and egg dumplings created by running the dough over a grater-like press so the tear-drops of starchy goodness drop directly into boiling water. Removed when hot, fluffy and pillowy, they're then tossed with emmenthaler cheese, given a topping of deep fried onions and flashed under a grill to crisp everything up. This is possibly in the top 10 most unhealthy dishes of all time but, sweet Jesus, it's delicious.

And, of course, there's the beer to wash it all down. I have a guest blogger coming soon to cover that in another entry.

We worked our way through most of the Telegraph's list of the top 10 beer gardens in Munich, and sought out regional versions outside of town. My Munchener friends were actually a bit horrified. "We don't eat like that every day!" they exclaimed. "That traditional stuff is for Sundays and special occasions." Evidently they eat plenty of vegetables and foreign food at home. Certainly, we experienced the joys of modern German cooking at Geisels Werneckhof. But for the rest of the visit we stayed resolutely traditional, always seeking the elusive pinnacle of Gemütlichkeit. Here are some of our favourite spots. All are in Munich except when specifically noted otherwise.

Best Surprise - Westenriederstrasse Street Festival

The Saturday before the official opening of Oktoberfest, we were wandering aimlessly around Munich when we stumbled upon a festival in a small street near the Isartor.  Relentlessly local, we heard little English and watched with delight as locals in full Bavarian dress settled in for a sunny afternoon. We dubbed the older man behind us the mayor of the street; crowned with an impressive boar-bristle flourish in his hat, he graciously accepted the greetings of a stream natives coming to pay their respects.  An excellent local band called Wies n Buam gave traditional oompah an injection of youthful cool, and a festively-decorated wagon drawn by glossy black draught horses rolled in mid-afternoon for the ceremonial delivery of the Augustiner Bier.  This is one of our fondest memories of the whole trip, enhanced by the pure serendipity of stumbling upon it.  You can't schedule stuff like this, but it should be remembered: a planned afternoon of sightseeing is worth throwing out the proverbial window when you stumble upon unexpected local delights.

Best Atmosphere - Hofbrauhaus
It's the one beer hall in Munich that everyone has heard of, and nobody can imagine visiting the city without dropping by. You'd think that would turn it into a tourist trap. In fact, it ensures that there's always a buzz about the place, there's non-stop Bavarian music and you're generally sharing a table with someone who can speak English. Since part of the appeal of these places is hanging out for hours making new friends, that's useful. In other places across the week, we found weekday lunches to be dead and nights early in the week to be equally slow.  The less touristy a place is, the more likely it is to only be crowded and offer entertainment around the weekends. The Hofbrauhaus is consistent from Monday afternoon through to Sunday lunch. The high, vaulted ceilings with their  paintings along the theme of the good things in life and long tables beneath them with dark wooden benches deliver the quintessential picture of a beer hall. There's a warren of rooms and a large enclosed courtyard with tables beneath the trees, meaning you can get as close to or far from the music as you want. Girls in dirndls stroll around selling fresh brezn ... the best we had in Bavaria. Trip Advisor reviews aren't keen on the food, but we thought it was in line with most other places. Only two negatives: service can be ridiculously slow, and the congenial atmosphere is sometimes broken by bus tours walking through to take pictures without stopping for a beer. Tragic.

Best for View - Hohensalzburg Castle (Salzburg)
There are a couple of restaurants up here, and one has a beer garden in the northwest corner of the castle ramparts.  The views are spectacular. From one side, Salzburg spreads beneath you like one of those toy towns beneath a Christmas tree. On the other, leafy suburbs give way to farm fields before the mountains of Berchtesgaden (story here) rear out of the valley floor.  Beware: even on a sunny day, the stiff wind can make it chilly up here. Memorable spinach dumplings.

Best for the Local Experience - Chinesischer Turm
Perhaps the finest example of the Bavarians' delight at borrowing foreign styles to create festive backdrops, this faux Chinese pagoda sits in the middle of the Englischer Garten, a sprawling urban park based on 18th-century English landscape design principles.  Capability Brown would be proud, though he might be a bit perplexed by the dichotomy of a Bavarian brass band blasting out Ein Prosit from beneath the Oriental geegawgery of the tower.  Hundreds of tables spread out from this wonderfully preposterous centrepiece, shaded by venerable old chestnuts.  Beyond them is a ring of booths selling beer and food. It's a fantastic outing for a Sunday, when it's packed with families and friends getting together.

Best Architecture - Zum Augustiner
One of the few Art Nouveau buildings in Munich, this is an architectural fantasy on the theme of Bavaria. Dark panelling, traditional murals, sweeping arches, plenty of antlers, dramatic light fixtures. Don't miss the chandelier that brings the cooper's dance (part of the show on the nearby town hall clock) to life.  It's a warren of rooms, all with different architectural highlights to explore.  The glass-domed Muschelsaal, or Mussel Hall, is so named because its walls are decorated, grotto like, with the shells. I wish we'd had time to return for a sunny afternoon in the Arcade Garden. Tucked away in the back, it evokes the medieval monasteries where the local brewing tradition started. Zum Augustiner is on Neuhauser Strasse, the main drag between the train station and the Marianplatz; impossible to miss.

Best for Oktoberfest - Hacker Pschorr
Getting a seat inside any of the beer tents inside the official Oktoberfest grounds (the Wiesen) can be challenging. And, unfortunately, you can't get a beer unless you're sitting down. Hacker Pschorr provides a great alternative. It's located on a rise just across the street from the fairgrounds. Have a wander, then stroll over to this place to drink and eat.  It's a modern building with several vast halls inside and a big garden overlooking the Wiesen. Faux stonework, a maypole and massive copper brewing kettles give the interior a bit of charm, but on the whole it feels more like a big American sports bar than a Bavarian Beer Hall. A mood exacerbated on a Monday night when we found it empty, dimly lit and a bit spooky. Five days later, at the height of the Oktoberfest crush, there was still room here, and once populated the atmosphere picked up. That bit of local knowledge saved our day from disaster.

Best Rural Retreat - Hirschgarten
Reputed to be the largest beer garden in the world, 8,000 people can find seats here. But you'd never know, because the tables stretch out into heavily forested parkland. Deer graze in an enclosure to one side, children gambol in meadows on another.  It's fronted by a long, low-slung building with multiple dining rooms should the weather not be clement enough for outdoor dining. Ideally incorporated into a day out at Nymphenburg Palace, the 15-minute stroll through the surrounding leafy suburbs will give you a taste of where you might choose to live in Munich if you had a particularly good compensation package. Best Käsespätzle of the trip.

Best Escape from the Crowds - Ratskeller
The Ratskeller saved us on two occasions when crowds were queuing everywhere else in the town centre. It takes up the entire basement underneath the New Town Hall, so you can't get more central. I'm not sure why the crowds don't find their way here, as well, but both our experience and guide books hint you can usually find room here. Maybe it's the subtle signage, or the fact that you're retreating underground in a world where people love their beer gardens. Classic decor, traditional food, no-nonsense servers who seem to be lifers. It's nominally a beer hall on one side, and a wine hall on the other, but the menu is consistent in either place.

The Rest
We didn't find any of these spots to be particularly exceptional, but they all have their merits if, like us, you're on a mission to visit as many beer halls as possible.

Schlossbräustüberl (Hohenschwangau) - Crouched in the valley between Ludwig's two castles here), it's the perfect place to grab lunch before your ascent to Neuschwanstein. Classic decor and food, somewhat diminished by bus tours and the rapid turnover of tourists in a hurry. The house brewery is still owned by the Wittlesbach family.
(described

Schlossbräuhaus (Schwangau) - Considering the fact it's the closest, decent-sized tourist town to Germany's most popular tourist attraction, Neuschwanstein, Schwangau is curiously short on evening possibilities. Maybe it's because the majority of tourists are day-trippers; maybe it's seasonal. (At least three restaurants on the main street weren't open.) Thus we ended up at this place twice. Modern and efficient, complete with salad bar and adjoining mini-golf course, were it not for the German speakers and the resolutely Bavarian menu, it could have been a micro-brewery in an American shopping mall. Resolutely average, but a better option than the hassle of getting in a car to seek out something better.

Augustiner Keller, Löwenbräukeller, Paulaner am Nockherberg - Much of a muchness, this trio of traditional beer gardens are all outside of the central ring of Munich town centre. The first two are fairly close to the main train station, the last out beyond the Deutsches Museum. All have both big buildings for indoor drinking and large gardens stretching away beneath chestnut trees; standard traditional menus across the board.  The first two are clearly older with more traditional architecture and atmosphere. Paulaner is in a modern stretch of offices and industrial buildings (our fellow diners were mostly office workers grabbing lunch), but probably had the best service of the three and there's a stunning view over the rooftops of Munich as you climb up here.  Löwenbräu was the biggest disappointment, with rotten service and the only place on the whole holiday that served short measures.

In the land of sausage and dumplings, a German-Japanese chef puts Munich on a different culinary map

The words "German cuisine" and "gourmet" are not a natural fit.  Plenty of people head to Bavaria for the beer, but they rarely rave about the food.  Every beer garden and traditional tourist restaurant serves the same hearty fare, building from the twin pillars of carbohydrates and pork products.  A bowl of kaesespaetzle (the Alpine version of mac n' cheese) is as comforting as your mother's warm hug as she tucks you under a fluffy duvet, but it's hardly elegant.

But, as a Munchener friend pointed out to me, that's not the way the natives eat.  Like the famous British fry-up ... which foreign visitors assume the locals eat every morning because that's what they get in every B&B, but the natives may do at home once a month ... traditional German specialities are  just one slice of the food scene here.

Like Copenhagen before it, young chefs in Munich are mixing tradition up with innovative ideas and unexpected fusions.  Based on our experience in the talented hands of chef Tohru Nakamura, I wouldn't be surprised if Munich starts trending as the Danish capital did a few years ago, and his Michelin-starred Geisels Werneckhof starts getting mentioned regularly alongside Noma and the Fat Duck.  At each place, chefs have turned traditional cuisine on its head to give the world something completely new.  In Nakamura's case, it's the improbable-sounding Japanese-German fusion.

This was the best meal we've had all year.  It was the one activity that appeared on both of our lists of favourites from across the whole holiday.  We have nothing in London like it.  Quite simply:  If you're serious about your food, it is worth planning a weekend getaway in Munich just to eat here.  It's that good.

I've encountered a few places claiming Japanese fusion, but they've been car crash hybrids offering oddities like wagyu beef tartare or chicken cordon bleu sushi.  This is far more subtle.  In fact, if you sat down to eat without context, you'd only see high-end European food.  You'd know that something was different, but not be able to put your finger on it.  A lightness of touch, a clarity to the sauces, the crunch of vegetables and the hint of flavours you can't identify.  But you won't be flying blind, because Nakamura takes the time to visit each table at the start of your meal, explaining his concept and why things will taste a little different.  How, for example, he uses Japanese "dashi" for the base of his sauces, which tends to make things lighter, brighter and a bit sharper.  (And you don't even need to speak German or Japanese; he rolled out perfect English for us.)

We went for the chef's menu, which you can select in a nine, seven or five course version.  We chose the middle path, though the profusion of little extras amounted to three or four additional courses on their own.  Starting with five would more than suffice on a second visit, but I'm glad we opted for more to experience the range of Nakamura's innovation.  We also went for the matching flight of drinks, selected in the same spirit of innovative fusion by Gascon-born sommelier Gerard Desmousseaux.  After checking our tolerance for experimentation, he delivered a menu of seven beautiful glasses ... each with interesting commentary ... that used wine, sake and beer to reach that perfect match to the food.

After a spread of delicate, unusual and gorgeously presented amuse bouche (top photo), our first course delivered the combination of taste, surprise and presentation that would characterise the rest of the meal.  Locally sourced char had been mildly smoked in juniper branches, then combined with a creamy custard and served in a perfectly hollowed-out egg, with chervil root for a bit of crunch and meadowsweet for herbal back notes.  We'd barely gotten over our appreciation for the first fish course when a second followed:  langoustines two ways, served in a bit of tasty broth with kohlrabi that had been given time to go soft and soak up the flavours.  (The notes in the Riverford veg delivery box always explain away the kohlrabi with "it's very popular in Germany"; if I could make it taste like this, I'd be happier about receiving it!)  The subtle Japanese elements here were umeboshi ... a fruit ... and a herb called shiso.  And, no doubt, the precision plating with flowers that channeled the horticultural perfection of a ikebana flower arrangement.

The dish of the night, for me, came next.  Regular readers will know that I'm a sucker for foie gras and have eaten far more than my fair share.  But never combined with sweet chestnut and pistachio (another favourite of mine), beetroot and sour cherry.  The sommelier paired this with some rose sake, sweet but with a dry finish, that pushed the whole thing right over the edge into sheer perfection.  It's one of those stand-out dishes I will remember for a long time.

It was so good, it nearly overshadowed the local pork that came next.  But it didn't, because: I've never had pork "shabu shabu" before (thinly-sliced, cooked quickly in boiling water); the accompanying pork belly was incredibly succulent; and pork with eggplant (aubergine) is a revelation I need to repeat.

The cheese cart arrived to divide savoury from sweet.  A solid, traditional offering, this was the course I could most easily have lived without.  But then I would have missed the spot-on pairing of a creamy, Belgian dark ale with the cheese.  There's one to try at home.

The menu promised two sweets, first a lavender honey ice cream.  Curiously, it was the secondary element, fig and oxalis pistou (note another use of little-known herbs), that took pride of place.  It was essentially a tartare-style patty of diced fig meat with the ice cream on the side, and a real treat for anyone who loves that fruit.  The final course was a celebration of pumpkin, yuzu (an Asian citrus) and carrot.  I appreciated this course intellectually, as a testimony to how sweet vegetables can gender-bend to the dessert side of things.  As an American, pumpkin for pudding is no stretch for me.  And I loved the presentation, arranged on a striking pottery plinth somewhere between pillow and altar.  But as a dessert lover, I was a bit disappointed.  Where was the chocolate?

I needn't have worried.  Noting that it was both our wedding anniversary and my birthday, the team wheeled out a third dessert course to wrap things up.  I was already well past replete and heading for stuffed when confronted with five more little chocolate-based sweets, one a mousse revealed by lifting up a delightfully kitschy "lucky cat".  A great element of fun to wrap up a very serious gourmet experience.

Geisels Werneckhof is a tiny place, with just two rooms and a handful of tables seating up to 50.  That allows for plenty of personal attention under the firm front-of-house direction of Julia Pleintinger.  Everyone was aware of our special occasion and made a fuss over us.  Though this isn't at all a touristy place, everyone spoke to us in English.  And everyone ... most particularly chef and sommelier ... realised we were serious about our food and wine and took the time to chat and give us details about our experience.  This remarkable meal was a high point of the whole trip, and I suspect it will be quite a while before we find another culinary experience that surprises and delights in such equal measure.