On a Mother-Daughter Road Trip In Germany, It's Hops vs. Grapes

The Beer

Germans take their beer seriously. Since 1516, a purity requirement has been faithfully followed, allowing only water, hops, barley malt and yeast as ingredients. Each town or region has its own breweries, which, like the terroirs of wine, have their own unique taste. And there are a variety of styles of beer to be brewed.

Beck first introduced me to Hefeweizen. We were in Bad Kreuznach, about 20 miles southwest of Wiesbaden, a town whose claim to fame is a centuries-old bridge on which two houses perch. We found a table at an outdoor cafe, where we enjoyed a pizza and the Hefeweizen, a slightly sweet and cloudy beer made from wheat found largely in southern Germany. It's one of Beck's favorites, and I could see why.

The next day, shortly after we passed by the Burg Pfalz -- a tall, white castle standing midstream where "robber knights" demanded tolls from passing traffic on the Rhine in the 14th century -- we stopped for a cold drink in St. Goar, named for the patron saint of pottery. Beck had me try a Pilsener, a light-colored brew made from barley, which gives it a distinct taste of hops. I liked it, although I preferred the yeasty taste of the Hefeweizen from the night before.

Other beer essentials came in spurts. Helles are a lager, light in color, and have more malt sweetness and less hops flavor. I liked the taste of hops more. Bocks and Dunkels are dark, strong and sweet lagers with a higher alcohol content. The darker color is from roasting the malted grain, so there's a definite flavor there. You've got to be in the mood for such a thing -- and hand over the car keys, I discovered.

At Cochem, upriver from Winningen, Beck ordered me a Kristallweizen, a Hefeweizen that has had the yeast filtered out, so it has a cleaner taste and look. I liked it, but I thought the Hefeweizens I tasted earlier had more character.

Not that the afternoon needed more character -- or characters. At a nearby table, a group of young men sang the popular song adopted as the anthem for Germany's soccer team and waved krugs of beer. One man, who was wearing a bright red camisole (stuffed in the right places) and matching lipstick, got up and sang by himself. He swaggered over and posed for a photo in front of me, then looped his arm over Beck's shoulder and posed again. We wondered what kind of bet he had lost.

At our last dinner in Freiburg, Beck had to have a "Hefe" for the road. So did I, which surprised me. Not a wine with my Wiener schnitzel and potatoes, but a beer -- and a specific kind at that. I'd fallen for its foam and yeasty taste.

But then another surprise: Beck queried me on how to make a good, rich sauce for pork chops that would show off a Riesling, a bottle within her student budget. Go figure. Now she wants to learn more about pairing wine and food.

Beth Wiegand is a writer in North Carolina.