The City of Beer

Doppelbock has its origin in Einbeck, in the north German state of Lower Saxony, and an important link in Middle Ages European commerce. It is near Hanover and Brauschweig on the mainland, and the port cities of Hamburg and Bremen. This geographical kismet nurtured vigorous trade, and the relatively flat terrain and access to the Baltic and North Seas allowed easy establishment of commercial routes. With an eclectic assortment of tradesmen, each city had its particular specialty; Einbeck’s was brewing. These scattered merchants and guilds were willing to pool their guile and skill, forming the Hanseatic League in the 14th century, a symbiotic alliance of trade.

Membership in the League ensured Einbeck beer export via land and sea to every accessible market. England, Russia and Scandinavia where easy marks, but France, Belgium, Bavaria and the Mediterranean also were targets.

Some of Einbeck’s exported beer was made by homebrewers. In fact, the mayor himself was the chief brewer. A communal brewing kettle rotated from house to house and any excess beer that passed stringent critique by authorities was exported. This rigorous quality control, coupled with strict fermentation guidelines, guaranteed a minimally flawed, stable product. Historical accounts suggest a beer made of one-third wheat, two-thirds barley, both lightly kilned, top fermented at cool conditions, of somewhat high gravity to weather the travel, and highly hopped (Einbeck was an early hop cultivation center): essentially a hoppy weizenbock.

So what caused the rather dramatic shift that resulted in today’s dark, non-wheat, malt-accented, bottom-fermented beer that we know as doppelbock? The answer is found in a collaboration of Einbeck and Munich brewers, secular and monastic disciplines and ultimately a “Munichizing” of the legendary Einbecker bier.

The Transformation

Until her brewers got access to Einbecker artisans, Munich’s brews were considered rather pedestrian. So keen were the brewers of Munich to learn the superior northern method that King Ludwig X of Bavaria brought braumeisters from Einbeck in 1540 to teach them the ways. This led to limited success until finally, in 1612, Duke Maximilian I hired esteemed Einbeck brewer Elias Pilcher to stay and brew in Munich. This was the turning point.

The death knell of brewing in Einbeck sounded shortly thereafter, as the Thirty Years War and a massive fire ravaged the city. The torch passed to Munich, the new brewing epicenter of Germany. Though under Einbecker tutelage, Munich brewers would make use of its own brewing heritage.

Bottom fermentation and prolonged cold-conditioning methods were kept, as they had been used since around 1400. Darker kilned local barley malt made up the entire grist, and wheat was saved for royal brews. They were brown and lightly hopped, as Munich wasn’t a prolific hop-growing region and the water wasn’t conducive to brewing hoppy beers.

In general, this could be used as a description of modern bocks, virtually unchanged from the 17th century. They were known as bockbier, a corruption of “Ainpoekish Pier,” Bavarian dialect for Einbecker bier. This tidy chronology would continue with the help of an order of monks who came to settle in Munich, “the place of monks,” and the beer evolved into doppelbock.

The first portion of Amarillo hops he dropped in was already more than he’d usually use. He looked at perhaps 10-fold more in the remaining bags. Then he looked at the Americans. “How much?” he asked.

They didn’t hesitate, replying in unison: “All of it.”

If Roy didn’t already understand that these five American brewers who visited Belgium in March were different, he must have at that moment.

Brewers of New American Beers have been heading to the east side of the Atlantic for more than two decades to taste traditionally brewed beers and learn how they are made. Call it the inspired visiting the inspiration. Seldom, however, do they arrive with a large supply of their own beer and hand out samples to both brewers and consumers. Seldom do they end up with their photos accompanying stories on the front page of local newspapers, nor do they attract television crews who want to do interviews.

Dogfish Head founder Sam Calagione came up with the idea for the trip as part of “research” for his next book, Extreme Brewing (due from Rockport Publishers in the fall). It wasn’t hard to talk Tomme Arthur of Port Brewing, Vinnie Cilurzo of Russian River Brewing, Adam Avery of Avery Brewing and Rob Todd of Allagash Brewing into joining him on the trip.

“We look forward to sharing our beers with them,” Calagione said before going. “We’re not saying our stuff is better than yours or anything like that. We want to recognize they are the Mecca.”

Delivering the keynote speech at the Craft Brewers Conference in Seattle several weeks after returning, Calagione made another point, “We knew we weren’t just representing the five breweries present but everyone in this room as we turned more and more people on to the amazing beers being made all across this country.”

Earlier in the same speech, Calagione drew an analogy between the revolution in American beer than began in earnest in the 1980s and changes in music—taking his electric guitar and electric backing band onto a folk stage—that Bob Dylan sparked in the 1960s.

Outside its native Germany, exquisite examples are brewed in Switzerland, Norway, Italy, Canada, The Netherlands and the United States. Bocks run the color gamut from golden to dark brown, and the strength scale from moderately strong to bludgeoning force. Some bocks are seasonal, coinciding even with religious calendars, but many can be found throughout the year.

The Birth of Bock

The roots of bock beer can be traced back to the 14th century and the city of Einbeck, in northern Germany. Bock’s history is less nebulous than that of many other beer styles. Einbeck was a major European trade center in the Middle Ages and a member of the powerful Hanseatic League, a group of cities that worked together to protect each others’ trade interests during a tumultuous time. Einbecks beers were highly regarded throughout Europe, and with the aid of the League, it wasn’t long before the product was exported to its devotees in England, Scandanavia, the Mideast, and Mediterranean and Baltic countries.

Several things contributed to the quality of Einbeck beer. The city is located in one of the earliest hop growing regions in Europe, which no doubt made the beer more stable and unique, considering that herbal gruit was the more common beer spice of the era. Einbeck beer was also brewed with the palest malt available, one-third wheat and two-thirds barley, making for a more delicate than usual beverage. It was brewed only in winter, and therefore stored cold, making it cleaner and less prone to infection. When compared to the generally murky, darker brews of the day, it’s no wonder that those of Einbeck won so many fans.

Even though Munich was a brewing center during the same time, its beer couldn’t match that of Einbeck. The Munich braumeisters set out to change this disparity. In 1612, Duke Maximillian I invited the best brewer in Einbeck, Elias Pichler, to teach them the moxie necessary to produce Einbeck beer. Munich’s indigenous brown beer, probably the forerunner of today’s dunkel, was then made using the Einbeck procedure. The resultant brew still was dark, and probably stronger. Within a few years, it became wildly popular. Refined over the years in keeping with advancing technology, these beers are known today as traditional bock.

Bocks are bottom fermented and extensively lagered to give them a smooth, deep maltiness. They are generally dark amber to dark brown in color and often scantily hopped. They are substantial beers at 6.0 to 7.5 percent alcohol by volume.

Many authors have presented various legends, some believable and others quite farfetched, about the origin of the bock name. One theory holds that it is a corruption of the beck in Einbeck. Another cites the German word for goat as the origin, referring to the kick of the strong brew or even its coincidence with zodiacal Capricorn. Yet another cites a corruption of the German word “pogkmedt” (mead) as the origin. Still another attributes bock to “Ainpoekische,” dialectic Bavarian for Einbeck, and a shortened version, “Poeckishe Pier.” This seems the most logical, but it is still open to debate.