Corinne Trang

Cologne has a lot to offer: Kölsch, the local ale, and “bubbly” pig knuckle…

In the late nineties, I traveled to Cologne, Germany. A beautiful city located on the Rhine, it is known for its art scene and museums, and has a rich Roman history. I was there to lecture at the Fachhochschule Köln (University of Applied Sciences) about bamboo as a food to students who were using it as a building material.

My jolly good friend, Thomas (pronounced TOH-MAAS) was born and raised in Cologne, and though now currently living in the States (somewhere…he moves around a lot, sailing), has always talked about how much he enjoys going back home to visit. So proud are the people that the language, its inhabitants, and beverage, a top-of-the-barrel ale, are all referred to as Kölsch. When we’d get together, Thomas would tell stories of his life in Cologne and reminisce about sending his 6-year old son with a stein to his favorite spot, a well known brew pub called Paffgen Das Brauhaus. There every morning to fill the stein, the kid had already built a reputation as one of the regulars by the time his 7th birthday came around. Thomas, a tall and skinny man, grinned when he talked about how centrally located his home was, “ya, it’s just across from Paffgen…das ist gute!” I was more expecting to hear that his home was near Kölner Dom, the cathedral.

Kolsch at Paffgen

And so on my first evening in Cologne, my initiation to drinking the fizzy brew took place at Paffgen. Thomas was so excited to make me try his favorite beverage that Paffgen would quickly become one of many brew pubs that followed. He spoke about Kölsch, the way I talk about wine, with great passion. That night, I learned a lot about Paffgen or Kölsch in general. 1) the 8-ounce glass is filled every time you empty it…automatically, that is! And don’t dare refuse the refill or you’ll be dealing with one nasty look from your waiter; 2) it always has the perfect head of 1-inch (see pic!); 3) it is drunk at room temperature; 4) it is served out of the barrel fresh and lasts exactly 72 hours at which point any leftover is wasted, if not the customer; and 5) if you really must end the drinking fest, place the coaster on top of the glass…and please no exchange with your waiter, especially if words like “no,” and “stop,” are included. Oh and 6) be sure to take off very very soon—I cannot emphasize this enough—after you’ve finished drinking to make room for customers who REALLY appreciate this fine beverage.

Paffgen is also a place for food, and Thomas always talked about pig’s knuckle and being the adventurous eater that I am, I was ready for some chow after all that ale. He promised a “bubbly gute” dish, and with that I let him order dinner. What came was a 2-pound pig’s knuckle, x2, one for him and one for me. Thomas dug in immediately. Staring at the massive boiled chunk on my plate I simply had to ask Thomas “when you say bubbly…hmm, what exactly do you mean?” and he, food-in-mouth, explained that the little pores in the pig skin filled with juicy fat was the best part. As far as I could see, it was the ONLY part. And so I dug in for some of the bubbly goodness! At about a quarter of the way through, noticing he had finished his, I asked “would you like to finish mine?” to which he responded “oh no…I’m full.”

The next evening he took me to Maximillian’s, another brew pub. It’s important to note here that Kölsch can be tangy, sweet, or bitter depending on where you drink it. So take your time while in Cologne and go brauhaus hopping for the full experience…and if you still have time the museums are quite lovely too. But I digress…so back at “Max’s” while drinking our Kölsch, we looked at the menu. On it was listed pferdefleisch, horsemeat. As a child in France, I ate a lot of horse steaks, and up until recently, there were a lot of butchers specializing in this delicacy. Lean like buffalo, but more flavorful, I ordered horse steak which came with delicious pan-fried potatoes. After enjoying my meal, and many a drinks later, I struck up a conversation with the brewmaster, telling him how much I had enjoyed the meal. Naturally I had to ask “tell me, where do you get your horsemeat?” Getting ready to take the address of the butcher down on paper, he responded…”Texas!”