Oktoberfest - ain't nothing like the real thing

Last weekend, Munich’s world-famous Oktoberfest came to an end. This was after the event returned to the Bavarian capital following a two-year hiatus, due to Covid and the ensuing global pandemic. I haven’t read the full reports, but the consensus was that whilst everyone welcomed the return of Oktoberfest, attendance figured were down on previous years.

Many put this down to the unseasonably cold and damp weather experienced, which was in sharp, contrast to the mainly settled and sunny conditions we’d enjoyed here in the UK. However, early on in the annals of Oktoberfest the local climatic conditions did play a pivotal role in shifting the timing of the event which, as its name suggests, ought to take place in October. Since that early shift the bulk of the celebrations, are now held in September.

Without going into too much detail, the event was moved backward in the calendar in order to take advantage of the warmer weather normally experienced during September, along with the slightly longer hours of daylight. Despite the shift in its timing, last day of Oktoberfest the festival always occurs on the first Sunday of October, and hence the name of the event remained the same.

Over the years, the popularity of the event has mushroomed, and today Oktoberfest attracts millions of visitors, not just from Germany, but from all over the world. The festival has also spawned a huge array of imitators, and it is some of these that I want to talk about here. These “copy-cat” events are a relatively new phenomenon, as I don’t recall any taking place whilst I was growing up.

Everyone has their own general ideas about German beer festivals, and Oktoberfest in particular. Picture thirsty drinkers, knocking back large, foaming mugs of beer, oompah bands, roast pork knuckles, with a crusty crackling coating and revellers dancing on the tables. Some of these stereotypes are true, but the most widely held ones, are not. For example, the correct name for the large, 1 litre, handled beer glasses is a “Maß Krug,” rather than the commonly used name (not by those in the know), of “Steins.”  The latter implies, they are made from ceramic stoneware rather than glass, as “Stein” is the German word for stone.

The other misconception involves dancing on the tables, but for obvious
safety reasons, this is not allowed, and those that do attempt this are swiftly ejected from the tent. Three years ago, at Tonbridge’s own imitation Oktoberfest, Eileen’s boss tried this trick. He was rather the worse for drink, so it should have come as no surprise that the security staff were soon on to him. Unfortunately, as they attempted to catch him, he slipped over and damaged his back, which goes to show why this practice is frowned on, both here as well as in Bavaria. Incidentally, whilst climbing up on the tables is strictly Verboten at Oktoberfest, customers are permitted to stand on the benches, although given their narrow width, you can’t exactly dance on them! 

Jumping up on the tables is just one of the misconceptions associated with Oktoberfest, but the main one is that the event itself is a beer festival. Oktoberfest is more of a celebration of Bavarian culture, often centering on the kitsch aspect of this. There are also attractions such as high-octane fairground rides, shooting galleries, and all the goings on normally associated with a typical British funfair. The event is also very family oriented, especially in the morning and early afternoon. It is only later that the serious drinking and revelry takes place.

The family and I discovered this for ourselves when we stopped by at Oktoberfest, for a quick visit in 2017. We had flown into Munich the previous evening, with the aim of travelling on to our main holiday destination of Regensburg, but our itinerary allowed a few hours to experience the event, at first hand. The family aspect was very much to the fore, with parents and their young children in abundance, and before finding ourselves a seat in one of the tents, we visited a hall selling coffee and cake. It has to be said though, that Bodo’s Bar wasn’t exactly teeming with punters.

Which does now bring me onto the beer, which is a strong Festbier of around 6.0% abv. This type of beer has now replaced the more traditional, hoppy and dark-copper coloured Märzen Bier that was originally drank at the event. The beer isn’t cheap though, with the price of beer at Oktoberfest 2022 ranging from €12.60 to €13.80 per litre, which is an average of 15.8 percent more than in 2019.

The other point which will disappoint drinkers used to UK CAMRA-run beer festivals, is there isn’t a huge amount of choice, as only the six large, Munich-based brewers are allowed to sell their wares. These breweries are Augustiner, Hacker-Pschorr, Hofbräu, Löwenbräu, Paulaner, and Spaten. Several of these are either merged, or owned by foreign multi-national brewers, leaving just Augustiner and Hofbräu as independent concerns, but even the latter is owned by Bavarian state. Most of the “tents” too, (they are semi-permanent structures, rather than tents in the accepted sense of the word), are controlled by the same groups of people, with the rights and licenses to operate them passed down from one generation to the next.

In another twist, Munich’s six large brewers, operate as a cartel, excluding all outside competition. Several decades ago, Crown Prince Luitpold, attempted to sell beer from the brewery attached to his Kaltenberg Castle home, but was thwarted by the cartel. This was particularly galling given that the prince is a direct descendant of the Wittelsbachs, the family which had ruled the Kingdom of Bavaria between 1805 and 1918, and which had governed other German territories from as far back as 1180.

As an aside, older drinkers might remember the heavy promotion given to Kaltenburg Pils, by Whitbread, back in the 1980’s, but even Prince Luitpold’s pedigree and royal credentials, were insufficient to break the stranglehold that Munich’s six large brewers, have over Oktoberfest. Although going slightly off topic, it is worth taking a brief look at the latest attempt to break the cartel.

Founded in 2006, Giesinger Bräu are a relatively newcomer on the Munich beer scene, but from humble beginnings in a garage in the Giesing area of the city, the company have expanded by opening a €20m (£16.8m) brewery on the northern fringes of Munich. More importantly, they have sank their own well, plunging 152 metres into the ground, from where it extracts pure Munich water. This will enable Giesinger to produce "Münchener Bier," a term protected under EU Law since 1998, and a beer that requires real Munich water, as opposed to the local tap water.

Given this development, founder and current owner, Steffen Marx believes he is now in a position to challenge Munich’s big-six and start selling his company’s beers at Oktoberfest. Watch this space but Giesinger Bräu seem to be on a mission, and I am pleased to record a making a visit to their original garage brewery in 2014, where I picked up a few bottles, followed by, three years later, enjoying the hospitality of the tap room and restaurant, attached to their new brewery.

Returning now, to the UK  where the number of copy-cat events seems to grow each year. These range from the local pub hanging out a string of Bavarian flags and serving up a few sausages to go with the one or two big-brand German pilsners (not really Oktoberfest style), to those pubs and breweries that really make the effort to get things right. This might include, importing a few kegs of genuine Festbier from Munich, or going all out to brew their own version Märzen.

Jonny Garrett’s excellent book, “A Year in Beer,” which I reviewed a couple of months ago, lists Bristol’s Lost & Grounded Brewery as putting on one of the best homegrown Oktoberfest events, but with an English twist. There are others, of course, and Braybrooke, Utopian and German Kraft spring to mind, but this then leaves us with the also rans, one of which was the aforementioned Tonbridge Oktoberfest.

Held, back in October 2019, and housed in a couple of large marquees adjacent to the clubhouse of Tonbridge Angels FC. Eileen's boss obtained the tickets for us (see above), and the beer at least was a genuine brew from Bavaria, in the form of a Helles, from the revamped Hofmeister Brewery. So far, so good, but now comes the bad bit, the beer was only served in rather tacky, plastic beer mugs, which customers had to buy. I deliberately left mine behind, when we left, as I absolutely detest plastic drinking vessels. I also dislike music played at a volume that makes conversation all but impossible, so a big thumbs down to that particular event.

Too many UK Oktoberfest events get it horribly wrong, with some unashamedly hankering after the stag-do, rugby club, lads’ piss-up type of audience, and selling any old German beer they can pass off on an unsuspecting public. Many are ruined by overloud music, as referenced above, with some just paying lip-service to the real thing. Worse still are those which charge for admission or require pre-booked tickets.

This just doesn't happen at the actual Oktoberfest in Munich, where there is no charge for entry, and no charge even for those wishing to reserve a table. Admittedly, the beer isn’t cheap, as already mentioned, but the quality is good and the table service, where the beer and the good solid Bavarian food is brought to your table, by a Dirndl-clad waitress, is exemplary. Oktoberfest is so much more than an excuse for excessive drinking, and anyone who loves good beer, good food and a great atmosphere in traditional Bavarian surroundings, should make at least one pilgrimage to Munich for Oktoberfest, during their life time.