Paulaner Hefe-Weizen:  Heaven in a Fluted Glass
or Just an Excuse to Put a Lemon in your Beer?
by Christian the Turk

Having never been a large fan of German beers I only grudgingly came to appreciate this sublime elixir.  I've never bought into the hysteria that seems to surround the brews of the Fatherland.  I mean, how many Pilsners can one country produce?  Belgium, a lovely little lowland country just begging to be invaded, produces far more appetizing and intricate beers.

What's not to like - their best beers are brewed by monks whose life consists of praying, brewing, eating and drinking.  Also, the per capita consumption of beer in Belgium dwarfs that of Germany and England and makes a mockery of the quantities the average Yankees' bleacher creature can put away during a Sunday afternoon double header.   If the Second World War had been decided by who drank the most and best beer, we'd all be speaking a bastardized French/Flemish and debating whether the Flems or the Walloons are really God's children.  But I digress.

So, having established myself as a fan of Belgian beer, let me tell you that I've suffered a crisis of conscience.  I never quite forgave Germany for giving us Budweiser (King of the Bastard Pils) and that noted humanitarian and Left-Wing icon Adolph Coors.  But, and this is a big BUT, I can't seem to find it in my heart to say something bad about Paulaner's Hefe-Weizen (PHW from now on).

Two years ago, having heard about how good a weisse beer is in the summer,  I sat myself down at my local beer bar Sparkey's on a hot day to test the theory.  Being next to a church Sparkey's cannot get a full liquor license so drunks like myself are forced to imbibe massed quantities of lager, ale, stouts (they pull a grand Guinness) and weisses to achieve our desired state of other-worldly intoxication.  Thus I found myself staring at one of the larger beers I've seen since my hedonistic days of beer bongs in college.  You see, Paulaner properly served comes in a 22 oz. tall, sorta fluted glass- I say sorta because the top of the glass is about 25% broader than the bottom.  This makes it top heavy enough to make it a serious risk in the hands of a drunk such as myself.

Due to this bigger than the the typical pint size, PHW costs a touch more, but I assure you it is worth it.  The first thing I discovered is that ALL weisse beers, even one so fine as Paulaner's, taste a bit like chalk.  This did not strike me as a particularly refreshing flavor.  But then the lovely and talented bartender and Irish Goddess Angela (sorry guys - she'd married to a large New Zealander who might eat small automobiles for lunch) mentioned that most people drink Paulaner with a wedge of lemon in it.  Being a skeptic but always willing to put some extra vitamin C into my system (scurvy is a nasty disease after all) I gave it a shot.  And was reborn.

"Put a lemon in your beer?" you may ask.  Yes, YES a thousand times yes!  Unlike putting a lime and some salt into a Corona, which merely serves to camouflage the fact that you're drinking shit beer that most Mexicans won't touch, the lemon in weisse beer creates a new dimension, balancing the chalkiness with a tang that makes it perhaps the most refreshing drink on the planet.  Filled with disbelief that such a simple act could turn a seemingly mediocre German brew into the nectar of the gods I vowed to have several dozen more to see if it got better with quantity.  It did.

I have heard that to some Germans putting a lemon in your beer is like goose-stepping your way through downtown Warsaw - ill advised at best and downright dangerous at worst.  But what do they know?  This from the land that gave us over twenty varieties of schnitzel (what the hell is schnitzel anyway - sounds like it's made from dog).  It may seem like you would cover the flavor by adding fruit to your beer but it actually enhances the taste.  Unlike a framboise lambic beer from Belgium, which is flavored with real raspberries during the brewing process (and is quite delicious in limited quantities), adding a lemon to your Paulaner is entirely a matter of personal choice.  I know some who disdain the addition of anything to their brews once the brewing process is completed - it's like second guessing the brew master.  To them I say, have your chalky beer but let me refresh my body and soul with a dash of lemon.

A word of warning, however.  Refreshing as a half dozen Paulaners may be on a hot afternoon (or morning or evening) they pack a kick somewhat stronger than your average beer (even the tasty micro brews) and leave a hangover that makes you feel like you've been brewed yourself.  But it is supremely worth it.  With no hyperbole, Paulaner Hefe-Weizen is my favorite beer, especially on a hot day.  The lemon cuts through a dusty throat like a hot spoon through soft-serve ice cream, and the friendly burbling in your stomach makes for a happy tummy.  So, the next time you feel REALLY hot and want something to cool you off - give your body (if not your liver) a treat and order a Paulaner with a wedge of lemon.  Then sit back and consider the reunification of Germany, the collapse of the Soviet Union and why Ziggy just can't seem to get a break.  (Rating ***)