Switzerland is an old country. It was founded August 1st
1291 when a bunch of sturdy mountain-loving fellows met for a few beers in a
hidden valley in the middle of the Alps. They started drinking, and before they
knew it they had united their three Cantons to form a country, conveniently
named after the only canton anyone could remember after several beers, namely
Schwyz. Eventually several more cantons joined this jolly party, including ones
where they didn’t understand a word of what they were saying in the others, but
despite such minor communication problems this strange mixture of mini-fiefdoms
somehow survived to become the only country in Europe that votes no to
everything every three months whilst simultaneously having trains that
run on time.
No single country in the world has more stereotypes
associated with it than Switzerland. Be it secret bank accounts, yodelling
alp-horn blowing peasants, big holes with cheese around them, being incredibly
neutral, complicated army knifes, triangular chocolate, expensive watches, picture-perfect villages
clinging to impossibly steep mountainsides or the aforementioned trains that
run on time, the Swiss have it all. It’s just a pity they can’t brew beer. This
blog post could have ended right there, if it wasn’t for the fact that the last
sentence isn’t entirely true. It’s mostly true, for sure, but not entirely.
Read on, and ye shall learn a couple of secrets – but let’s first look at some
background information.
There used to be hundreds of breweries dotted around this small
country. However, unlike their big German-speaking neighbour to the north, but
pretty much not unlike the rest of the world, the vast majority of these
breweries were either bought up, shut down, or bought up and then shut down,
during the years following the War. This resulted in two or three big players
in the market, which were then unsurprisingly bought up by big multinational
brewing conglomerates – yes, we’re talking about Heineken and Carlsberg. The
biggest selling brands in Switzerland such as Calanda and Feldschlösschen consequently
tastes pretty much like bland lager does everywhere else: boring and
predictable. Luckily, a few of the independent regional brewers have survived,
and, in the last few years, a range of small new breweries have opened.
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| The beer blogger approved of the tram depot |
Last weekend’s big occasion in Switzerland was the visit of
Muse, which is a very good band from England. The wife and I managed to get
hold of a couple of tickets at great expense, and consequently headed off on an
on-time train towards the capital of Switzerland, a place known as Bern, Berne
or Berna, depending on which official language you choose. You might think that
the capital of a country with almost 8 million inhabitants in the middle of
Europe would be a big city, but no: not wishing to make a dent in any of the
aforementioned stereotypes, the Swiss chose a small city with a cute old town
that would fit comfortably inside some of Paris’ biggest roundabouts.
After our on-time arrival, we obviously wasted no time in
tracking down a brewery, and we were lucky – in 1998, an enterprising soul or
two had converted an old tram depot beautifully located next to a colony of
bears and a winding river into a brewery. They brew three standard beers: an
unfiltered helles, a darker märzen, and a wheat beer. Additionally, they
frequently do special beers, usually to suit the season. I tried the helles and
the märzen, both of which were lively and full of flavour – great drinks to
accompany the unseasonably late arrival of summer.
The next day was the concert day, so after a pit stop at the
tram shed again to remind me how good the märzen was, we headed towards the
45000-capacity Stade the Suisse, where the aforementioned band were due to play
in a few hours. To avoid eating the overpriced food usually found at such massive venues, we had a pizza on the way, which I washed down with a couple of remarkably
tasty beers from the local independent survivor Felsenau, founded in 1881.
What followed was a delight from a music lover’s
perspective, but a disaster from a beer lover’s ditto. Why oh why is it so in
this world that a poor drinker can only buy not second rate, not third rate,
but rock bottom rate lager at big
events such as these? Carlsberg was the beer in this case, and though I ought
to have known better, I still went ahead and bought one. It did one good thing
– it confirmed my long-held opinion that Carlsberg is one of the few beers
whose taste actually improves as it passes through the body. Probably the best
piss in the world, though.
The weekend was, in other words, like experiencing the Swiss
beer scene in a nutshell. There are the new, usually very small breweries that
make decent – and sometimes very good – beer. Then there are a few surviving
regionals, most of which can conjure up a couple of very drinkable beers. Then
we have the nationals, which have been bought out by the multinationals, that make
the bland, boring stuff that everyone drinks and most bars and pubs stock.
Finally, there are the multinationals that sponsor all big events and have the
nerve to charge an arm and a leg for a plastic cup of vile-tasting yellow
liquid that is, to quote an earlier blog post of mine, almost, but not entirely unlike beer.
So, in summary: Switzerland is a nice country, and if you’re
concerned that someone may have a serious throat problem when they speak to
you, don’t worry – this is just the local dialect – speak back in your
own language and they’ll immediately switch. The scenery is stunning and the
skiing, especially in winter, is usually very good, so the Swiss can be
forgiven if they don’t have the best beer in the world. Having said that, it’s
certainly not the worst beer in the world either, and things are rapidly
improving. If you’re in a bar, ask for a beer from a local brewery, and if they
don’t have one, suggest that they should organize a referendum to ban mediocre
beer. You never know, perhaps they’ll vote yes one day.
