Pretzel #8–Currying Flavor

Brews Brothers Brewing, Burbank, CA

OK, we’re now into our second week of reviewing pretzels, and it strikes me that the Achilles’ Heel of Bavarian pretzels is the beer cheese. You’d think this would be the easy part, but for some reason it’s rare to find beer cheese with the correct flavor and texture and consistency.

I need to make a confession, though. Last year I tried making my own beer cheese, using fairly straightforward recipe I found online. The recipe called for lager, but all I had in the refrigerator was stout. No problem, I thought. Beer is beer, I thought, especially when used in cooking. The beer ended up completely overpowering the cheese. And come to think of it, I might have substituted a different kind of cheese, also. And rather than a fondue-like consistency, this stuff was as thick as molasses and lumpy as a Motel 6 mattress. Bottom line is that this beer cheese was inedible.

My point is that beer cheese is hard to get right, especially if you don’t follow the recipe. So with that in mind, let’s turn to today’s review.

Just before attending the Edgar Allan Poe musical (?!) with college friend Bruce T, we popped into Brews Brothers Brewing in Burbank to fortify ourselves with beers and burgers. I used the opportunity to try their Bavarian pretzel, and I was not disappointed. This pretzel was just this side of perfection.

It was huge in size, extraordinarily thick, with a deep mahogany color and lots of lovely cracking. It was obviously handmade, in an artisan way, and the salt was distributed perfectly, lightly but evenly. And it was good-quality salt, as well–coarse, but not too chunky.

How did it taste, you ask? Perfect. It had a malty flavor that kept my interest to the end. It was nice and chewy, which I didn’t expect for a pretzel this thick. It was baked just the right amount of time, giving it a dark, hardy crust and a soft, spongy inside. They hit a home run with this pretzel.

And yet. One critical element stood in the way of perfection: The alleged beer cheese. Now, this pretzel came with not two but three dippers: You’ve got your standard honey mustard (ok, fine) and some kind of mayonnaise they claim is garlic aioli, which I guess is fine if that’s your thing. But the supposed beer cheese has the taste and consistency of mild curry. I’m serious. I didn’t even think it was beer cheese until after I was done and asked the waiter. Now I have nothing against curry; in fact, I enjoy it in Tikka Marsala, to name just one wonderful dish. But who puts curry in beer cheese? And if what I tasted wasn’t curry, then there’s something off about their cheese or beer or both. This stuff fatally undermined all the wonder and glory of the pretzel itself.

Regrettably, I cannot offer more than 3 stars to this otherwise glorious pretzel.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

As long as I’m sharing about my misadventures in the kitchen, let’s return to that soft pretzel I tried to make at the beginning of this adventure. You’ll recall that the knot came undone in the baking soda bath, and as a result the pretzel was unidentifiable as such.

Turns out the “knot” in a classic pretzel is very particular. It’s not difficult, per se, but each step needs to be completed just so. Loyal reader Sherrill J. brought our attention to a 1981 episode of Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, in which he visits the Julius Sturgis Pretzel Bakery in Lititz, PA. In this clip Mr. Rogers shows us the proper way to make the knot: