Knot Another Pretzel Blog

There goes another summer. Never quite delivered on the promise it held during those first days of spring, when the budding branches and warming temperatures and lengthening days brought heady visions of lounging by the pool, bottomless cups at the local brewfest, and long naps with the cat in the hammock. Not that we’re complaining; Summer 2026 had its moments. But the key word here is “moments,” over and done with while we were still working up the energy to take down the storm windows. And now summer is just a memory, and we hurtle towards the season of short days and cold weather and gusts of wind turning our umbrellas inside-out. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.

But there is an upside, a glimmer of light providing a small but welcome measure of solace as we stumble into our semi-hibernation. And that glimmer of course emanates from Oktoberfest. And I’m not just talking about the copious beer, which, being German beer, we have to acknowledge is not especially good. Rather, I’m talking about those big Bavarian soft pretzels paired with mustard or beer cheese. This, friends, is why we salivate.

And that got me thinking: why not make pretzels the theme of my October blog posts? As you, dear reader, have surely noticed, each October I turn over this blog to some Fall- or Halloween-aligned theme. We’ve done 31 days of Frankenstein movies, 31 Halloween-themed cocktails, 31 different types of Halloween candy, and so on. So this year, it’s going to be 31 Bavarian pretzels, each made at a different brew pub somewhere in the United States.

So what exactly is a Bavarian pretzel? Sometimes it’s called a “pub pretzel,” especially by California brewpubs and Teutophobes. But in all cases it’s a rather large, soft pretzel, served warm, and accompanied by condiments like mustard (yellow, brown, spicy, sweet, whatever) or a magical substance called “beer cheese” which, not surprisingly, is neither a beer nor a cheese.

I should clarify that we are not talking about those abominations they hawk at your local mall (assuming you still have a local mall), under names like Auntie Anne’s or Wetzels Pretzels. These are not proper Bavarian pretzels. I’m not even certain they are technically classified as food. They are essentially greasy, bready delivery systems for sugar and salt. Which, admittedly, doesn’t sound half bad. But for this blog we’ll be restricting ourselves to house made, classic Bavarian pretzels.

Pretzels are generally understood to have been invented by an Italian monk during the Middle Ages. A little later, bakers in southern Germany got on the pretzel train and kind of adopted it as their own. Crucially, it was they who perfected the “soft pretzel” which we know today as a Bavarian or pub pretzel.

To dig deeper into the mystery of the Bavarian pretzels, I decided to try making my own. This, I learned, is easier said than done. Even though there are only a few ingredients (mainly flour and yeast), they emerge magically from an alchemy of twice-risen dough, are rolled and shaped by hand, spend some time boiling in a baking soda mixture, and then are baked at a high temperature for a short time. In other words, there are many opportunities for things to go wrong.

The recipe I used came from Cook’s Illustrated. To make a dozen pretzels, it calls for 3 cups bread flour, 1 tsp instant yeast, 1/4 cup honey, 1 cup water, 3 Tbsp baking soda, and 2 Tbsp coarse salt. Essentially, all you do is mix the first four ingredients together and knead it into dough. Divide it into 12 pieces and roll them into ropes, then twist them into pretzel shapes. Now the magic begins: You need to boil the pretzels in a pot of water with the baking soda. Then you pull them onto dry land, sprinkle them with salt, and bake them. The recipe gives lots of warning and suggestions that I won’t bore you with, but that’s the essence of it.

It should be noted that other recipes call for lye rather than baking soda in the boiling water bath. Evidently its the alkali that gives the pretzel its characteristic sheen and brown color. Some say lye gives it more of those characteristics. But I still remember that Dickey’s Barbecue fiasco and I want nothing to do with lye.

Anyway, I dutifully made the dough and formed the pretzels and boiled them in the baking soda bath. But somehow I had screwed up the twisting process and the knots came undone while boiling. As a result, the finished product resembles something you might find in the backyard of a dog-owner’s house

Nevertheless, I must admit that they tasted great. Not perfect, but very tasty. I tried dipping a piece in some brown mustard, and it tasted even better. If I were to try this again, I would try boiling them a little longer in order to get a chewier texture and a glossier finish.

So now that I’ve experienced the basics of making pub pretzels, it’s time to go out and get all judgey about the attempts of others. And so, starting tomorrow, I’ll be presenting daily reviews of pretzels from 31 different restaurants. Key considerations will be: Appearance, taste, texture, and condiments. I’ll also be sharing a salty morsel of pretzel trivia with each post, and maybe some other surprises. It all starts tomorrow. But if you can’t wait to get your pretzel on, check out this post from last year, when I visited “Pretzel City USA.”

Golden Bear Corner

Long-time readers of this blog will recall our obsession with the old “Laughing Bear” automotive signs. So we were pleased when alert reader (and father of my grandson) Ian B. send this photo of a laughing bear sign in Albany, Oregon.

The sign, admittedly, doesn’t look that old. But FL Snyder and Son has been at the same location since 1896, starting out as a blacksmith shop and then servicing cars since World War I. However, according to the infallible Chat GPT, “Public records and local business histories do not designate it as an official or certified ‘Golden Bear’ shop.” So this sign might be a forgery. We will of course alert you if we get any further clarification on this important issue.