Hax’n, Rollbraten or Leberkäs? What would you answer to this question? This was the very question posed to me when I walked up to the cafeteria counter. I was in search of
something to satiate the hunger that had built in me while wondering the monastic grounds of a monest- dammit.

I was visiting what is said to be one of the most important monasteries in Bavaria, Andechs. It was everything that I thought a monastery would be: religious, old, and with a world class… Brewery! I started by doing the regular tourist stuff, such as taking pictures, which I will probably never look at, staring at (and pretending to understand) plaques written in German, and sitting completely silent in the church for a few minutes. The tourists and I filled the pews; all of us lost in our reverent thoughts (notice I don’t consider myself a tourist, I see myself as more of an adventurer like Indiana Jones, Laura Croft or Tin Tin). [Editor’s note: Kreston is absolutely Tin Tin]. I was thinking what any man from a young western country thinks when confronted by the awesome wonder of an ancient cathedral that has the soul purpose of making you feel closer to God: “how the heck did they build this place hundreds of years ago using nothing more than elbow grease and what is considered primitive tools?” (Side note! If you want some good fiction on this subject, track down Ken Follett’s The Pillars of The Earth; Its all about building cathedrals. I worn you though its a big frickin book!)

Once I accomplished the required amount of touristing, it was time to get to the real business of why I was drawn to this site in the first place, which had to do with my almost religious worshipping of beer. Andechs boasts the best beer in Germany and when I heard this I came running. See, this wasn’t just a touristy day trip for me, it was a religious pilgrimage to the Good Beer Mecca. When I entered the hall my senses were overwhelmed by the sights and smells of the place. I stood for a minute just drinking it all in (pun intended). Like a father who first lays eyes on his new born child, I loved it instantly. [Editor’s question: Kreston, how do you know what this feels like? What aren’t you telling us, man?] The more that numerous Bavarians filled the place with their raucous laughter and deutsch conversation the thirstier I got. The crowd was seated at long oak tables that ran into other oak tables, giving the impression one might feel when they first gaze on the great hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was mesmerized by the activity and all the different characters and, for a second, began searching for Waldo amongst all this chaos. A small part of my heart did break, however, when I realized that with all of these people crammed in here, I couldn’t spot one pair of leederhosen. It healed, rather quickly, when I saw the size of the beer steins everyone was drinking out of, and paused to calculate if I would even be able to lift one. I gathered a beer and some local eats, found myself a spot and prepared to slowly soak in the experience.

My late afternoon lunch was about to consist of one mighty pretzel, a plate of sauerkraut, one Swine Hax’n, a liter of Weissbier, and a liter of dark beer, which was so thick and black that if BP spilled it near the Mississippi Delta, environmentalists would be scraping it off birds.

Too soon?

[Editor’s note: yes, but everyone has already forgotten about it, so I’m glad to remind the world of such things].

“Yes, yes” you are thinking impatiently, “but what is Hax’n?” Well my friend, it is the leg of a pig, slow cooked and looking extremely mid-evil. Eating haxen was like Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, intense from the first page (bite), often I found my forehead sweating, and I couldn’t put it down until I was finished. Throughout my “Epic Meal Time” I sparked up a conversation with the couple beside me. We were soon close friends enjoying each others’ company as they explained to me some of the finer points of the food they were eating, which to me was simply a full trout on a plate. I must admit it was an amazing feeling, being a part of this community, even if just for a moment. I say community because of the difference of this drinking establishment and what I am used to, coming from North America. At home all serious drinking establishments are exclusive; with limits on the amount of booze they can serve you at one time, age restrictions on admittance, and tables far apart so each party can have their own island of independence. Here it is all about community. You are able to have as much booze as you can muscle back to your seat, people are allowed to have a picnic in the restaurant, plus children and dogs are welcome patrons.

In Andechs, in sight of the alps and framed by a backdrop of stained glass windows, it is all about the social.