You should read the first part before this one. I'm not joking.
With jolly bellies, we left Schneider-Weisse and headed headed to Essing, enjoying the gorgeous Bavarian countryside as we cruised along.
The day was on full spring when we parked in front of the Brauereigasthof Schneider and we went straight to the deck in the back of the building. An idyllic setting, really. I picked the Bock of the house, which was a bit too thin flavoured for my taste, but I didn't care, I was like a pig in shit.
Schneider Brauerei, who had agreed to show us around his brewery.
It has absolutely nothing to do with the one with had left about an hour before. A coincidence of names, which isn't so surprising, given how common the surname is. It's also a much smaller brewery than the other one – between 2,000 and 3000 hl/year. The brewery has been in the for six generations (if I remember correctly), with a seventh pretty much guaranteed as the son of the current owner is training to take over the business. The 5hl copper brewhouse is beautiful and looks like it's been around for a couple of generations, too. The rest was pretty standard, open fermenters, lagering tanks and a space to bottle condition their Weissbier.
It took us longer to find the brewery than getting to the town. Actually, I found it right away, but those three Czech čuráci wouldn't listen to a pajero from Argentina and we drove aimlessly around Riedenburg. Still refusing to listen to me, we stopped to ask directions to an old geezer who said he didn't anything about a brewery – more likely, though, he was so pissed he didn't remember.
We did make it to brewery in the end, but I don't know why we bothered. The beer garden looked like it was open for the season yet. We walked towards what appeared to be a taproom in the main building. It was actually a gift shop (I could swear I saw an IPA, but who wants to drink IPA with so much lovely dunkles and helles?), which was also closed (everybody pisses off at noon on Fridays in this part of the world – maybe we should learn a couple of things from the Germans). The only one there was a bloke in an office, attentively watching a computer screen – likely some of that weird fetish porn Germans like so much – who told us there brewery had a tap in the centre of town and gave us directions there.
It was Zum Poste, an unremarkable gasthof located near the main square. We took a table outside. I ordered a Helles, which I'm sure would have been much better without the tinfoil note that dominated the first half of the pint.
Schlossbrauerei – gorgeous building, indeed.
Schloss Bräukeller – located in what used to be the floor maltings. I regretted every second, though it reminded me why I don't go to the gym – it would hurt. Nothing that some beer wouldn't be able to take care of.
Obatzda, a great beer snack served with pretzels. For main course I had Rahmschwammerl mit Semmelknödel und gebratenen Kräutersaitling, which was every bit as big as it sounds; the sort of thing that could give a militant vegan a stroke just by looking at it. Saying it was delicious wouldn't do it justice. I'm sure German has a word to describe that; lemme see, völligverdammtwunderschönen, that sounds about right. It was a völligverdammtwunderschönen meal through and through. I had some difficulty finishing that mastodontian piece of animal with the works, but finish it I did, and I felt my gut would explode if I made any sudden moves. No problem, schnapps came to the rescue – a couple of times – together with some more of that Naturtrüb.
We made our way to the hotel somewhere around 11, feeling that life was beautiful, and, certainly, a lot less drunk than we would have been without so much food. And yet, we knew that the following day would be a lot more intense, but you'll have to wait to know about that one.
Disclaimer: When we asked for the bill, we were told that dinner was on the house. Thanks a lot.