When was the last time you had a bock? Was there a goat involved when you tasted that rich, pillowy, definition-of-maltiness? It’s a strange question to ask, to be sure, and if you’re anything like me goats freak you out (their eyes are unnerving…), and you’d rather not share a pint with them. However, goats are sort of the key to the history of bock beer; a history illustrating the regional differences in Germany and how beer styles change throughout time.
First off, what makes a beer a “Bockbier”? I know everyone starts with that question for every beer ever, but this one is a little more unique. A bock is very much defined by shades. Is it a shade lighter in malt character? Then it’s a Munich Dunkel. Is it a shade lighter in color? Then it’s a Maibock or Helles Bock. Does it have a shade more alcohol content? Then it’s a Doppelbock. While some of those beers are still in the “bock family”, they’re not a true bockbier, which is what we’re talking about. We’ll get to those related ones later.
Bocks are, to me, the absolute standard for malt flavor. Again, it’s a gradient thing. They’re not too heavily balanced towards that chocolate/toffee sweet maltiness, nor towards the roasty coffee maltiness. They sit right in the middle where it’s hard to define beyond saying “malty”. It’s sort of like sticking your head into a bag of cara or Munich malt. It is the essence of malt; mildly fruity with a full-bodied breadiness and a lingering sweetness, though not cloying. When done well, it’s truly a beer to behold.
This isn’t how bock beer started out, though. By all accounts, the bock style started in Einbeck, in northern Germany (Lower Saxony, to be exact) and was originally a very different beast. It was an open, top-fermented beer that was much paler in color, and featured hops, which, in the 14th century, was not necessarily a widespread practice. However, this beer caught hold and interested people rather quickly. This could be due to the quality of the brew, as it was overseen by the government of Einbeck, or it could simply be due to the fact that people were able to get their hands on it through Hanseatic trading.
Einbeck joined the Hanseatic League in 1368, which allowed them protection to export their beer to a wider range of locations. The beer traveled well, which undoubtedly had a hand in it becoming the beverage of choice for the well-to-do throughout portions of Germany. Martin Luther himself lauded the quality of Einbecker beers. When presented with a tankard (A cask maybe? sources vary) of the quality quaff at the Diet of Worms in 1521, he proclaimed it “the best drink one can know”. This is saying something considering his wife was a pretty prolific brewer.
Beyond just excommunicated monks though, the wealthy occupants of Munich had a taste for “Oanpockish pier” (deciphering old spellings can get a bit crazy), which seemed to be superior to the local dunkel lagers that were being produced throughout Bavaria and Franconia. The local dunkels were a bit more utilitarian and of a, generally agreed, lower quality. However, they too had a hand in what was to become bockbier.
The popularity of Einbecker beer led to the importation of not only beer, but talent. Apparently this started as early as 1540 through Duke Ludwig (Louis) X of Bavaria, but sources are a little scarce on that. However, there’s plenty of evidence that Elias Pichler, an accomplished brewer in Einbeck, was enticed to come south to Munich in about 1617, in order to introduce the practices that made Einbecker beer so popular.
There was a little bit of an issue there, though. The ingredients used to make Einbecker beer weren’t necessarily the ingredients available to Munich at the time. For one, wheat, which made up about a third of the original Einbecker recipe, was forbidden in beer thanks to the much-lauded Reinheitsgebot. This meant that the beer had to be produced from 100% barley, and that barley needed to have a little deeper color to it. This was because the water available in Munich was a little more on the alkaline side of things, and needed a more heavily roasted (thus more acidic) malt to balance out the profile. In addition to changing base malts, the brewing procedure had changed since bock’s late 14th century origins. German brewers now preferred to store (lager) their beers in cold caves which produced a smoother product than the open fermentation previously practiced.
With Pichler’s move to brew in Munich, Bockbier attained the idealized form that we now try to recreate. Bock became more similar to the Munich Dunkel, a brown lager with pronounced maltiness, but it still held a high regard and an assumption of elevated quality, as well as a generally elevated alcohol content. It also acquired a name change throughout the years. What was “Einbecker bier”, through years of being filtered through a southern German accent, became “ein bock bier”, which, as we all know, means “a male goat beer”. Obviously. There's that whole goat connection. This is why the goat is so important to this whole process. It's the connecting factor back to the Einbeck origins and is also illustrative of the southern German interpretation.
There’s quite a bit of the story that still needs to be told, but for all intents and purposes, we now have the finished product. Bock beers will be altered, adapted, and adjusted to fit the need of the time, but those usually became different beers within the Bock Family. We’ll get to those over time, to be sure. One of the most important things that bocks held onto throughout the years is that it’s a beer of celebration and expectation. This “starkbier” (strong beer) is associated with all sorts of holidays, especially those in the winter and the expectant spring. And I think that’s how we should think of it now, as well. A celebratory libation meant to warm our way through the bleak winter into those days of lengthening sun and the promise of warmer weather.
So now we have the beer that we all think of; that luscious, malty ambrosia that, in fact, has very little to do with goats in any way (thankfully). It’s not, unfortunately, a style we see a whole lot of here in the US though. We tend to get more in the way of doppelbocks because, well, we are a nation prone to extremes. If you find a good bock beer at your local pub cherish it! Get a glass as big as possible, sit in a warmly lit local (your favorite bar should do admirably here), and savor the rich and heady history that this style recounts.
First off, what makes a beer a “Bockbier”? I know everyone starts with that question for every beer ever, but this one is a little more unique. A bock is very much defined by shades. Is it a shade lighter in malt character? Then it’s a Munich Dunkel. Is it a shade lighter in color? Then it’s a Maibock or Helles Bock. Does it have a shade more alcohol content? Then it’s a Doppelbock. While some of those beers are still in the “bock family”, they’re not a true bockbier, which is what we’re talking about. We’ll get to those related ones later.
Bocks are, to me, the absolute standard for malt flavor. Again, it’s a gradient thing. They’re not too heavily balanced towards that chocolate/toffee sweet maltiness, nor towards the roasty coffee maltiness. They sit right in the middle where it’s hard to define beyond saying “malty”. It’s sort of like sticking your head into a bag of cara or Munich malt. It is the essence of malt; mildly fruity with a full-bodied breadiness and a lingering sweetness, though not cloying. When done well, it’s truly a beer to behold.
This isn’t how bock beer started out, though. By all accounts, the bock style started in Einbeck, in northern Germany (Lower Saxony, to be exact) and was originally a very different beast. It was an open, top-fermented beer that was much paler in color, and featured hops, which, in the 14th century, was not necessarily a widespread practice. However, this beer caught hold and interested people rather quickly. This could be due to the quality of the brew, as it was overseen by the government of Einbeck, or it could simply be due to the fact that people were able to get their hands on it through Hanseatic trading.
Einbeck joined the Hanseatic League in 1368, which allowed them protection to export their beer to a wider range of locations. The beer traveled well, which undoubtedly had a hand in it becoming the beverage of choice for the well-to-do throughout portions of Germany. Martin Luther himself lauded the quality of Einbecker beers. When presented with a tankard (A cask maybe? sources vary) of the quality quaff at the Diet of Worms in 1521, he proclaimed it “the best drink one can know”. This is saying something considering his wife was a pretty prolific brewer.
Beyond just excommunicated monks though, the wealthy occupants of Munich had a taste for “Oanpockish pier” (deciphering old spellings can get a bit crazy), which seemed to be superior to the local dunkel lagers that were being produced throughout Bavaria and Franconia. The local dunkels were a bit more utilitarian and of a, generally agreed, lower quality. However, they too had a hand in what was to become bockbier.
The popularity of Einbecker beer led to the importation of not only beer, but talent. Apparently this started as early as 1540 through Duke Ludwig (Louis) X of Bavaria, but sources are a little scarce on that. However, there’s plenty of evidence that Elias Pichler, an accomplished brewer in Einbeck, was enticed to come south to Munich in about 1617, in order to introduce the practices that made Einbecker beer so popular.
There was a little bit of an issue there, though. The ingredients used to make Einbecker beer weren’t necessarily the ingredients available to Munich at the time. For one, wheat, which made up about a third of the original Einbecker recipe, was forbidden in beer thanks to the much-lauded Reinheitsgebot. This meant that the beer had to be produced from 100% barley, and that barley needed to have a little deeper color to it. This was because the water available in Munich was a little more on the alkaline side of things, and needed a more heavily roasted (thus more acidic) malt to balance out the profile. In addition to changing base malts, the brewing procedure had changed since bock’s late 14th century origins. German brewers now preferred to store (lager) their beers in cold caves which produced a smoother product than the open fermentation previously practiced.
With Pichler’s move to brew in Munich, Bockbier attained the idealized form that we now try to recreate. Bock became more similar to the Munich Dunkel, a brown lager with pronounced maltiness, but it still held a high regard and an assumption of elevated quality, as well as a generally elevated alcohol content. It also acquired a name change throughout the years. What was “Einbecker bier”, through years of being filtered through a southern German accent, became “ein bock bier”, which, as we all know, means “a male goat beer”. Obviously. There's that whole goat connection. This is why the goat is so important to this whole process. It's the connecting factor back to the Einbeck origins and is also illustrative of the southern German interpretation.
There’s quite a bit of the story that still needs to be told, but for all intents and purposes, we now have the finished product. Bock beers will be altered, adapted, and adjusted to fit the need of the time, but those usually became different beers within the Bock Family. We’ll get to those over time, to be sure. One of the most important things that bocks held onto throughout the years is that it’s a beer of celebration and expectation. This “starkbier” (strong beer) is associated with all sorts of holidays, especially those in the winter and the expectant spring. And I think that’s how we should think of it now, as well. A celebratory libation meant to warm our way through the bleak winter into those days of lengthening sun and the promise of warmer weather.
So now we have the beer that we all think of; that luscious, malty ambrosia that, in fact, has very little to do with goats in any way (thankfully). It’s not, unfortunately, a style we see a whole lot of here in the US though. We tend to get more in the way of doppelbocks because, well, we are a nation prone to extremes. If you find a good bock beer at your local pub cherish it! Get a glass as big as possible, sit in a warmly lit local (your favorite bar should do admirably here), and savor the rich and heady history that this style recounts.
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