Category: 2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #23: Man Bites Pretzel

steveboilard6 Comments

Placerville Public House, Placerville, CA

Smiling man eating a pretzel while holding a beer at an outdoor festival

In the 1980s, I wrote my Master’s thesis on a Macintosh. (For my younger readers: A “Macintosh” is the name Apple gave to their personal computer. And that explains the origins of the “Macs” that Apple sells today.)

Anyway, I had a Macintosh, which was an expensive machine for the time ($2,500, or about $7,700 in today’s dollars). But it was objectively superior to the crap that rival companies like IBM or Commodore were putting out. The Macintosh used a then-novel “windows” interface that was intuitive and simple, as opposed to the clunky “DOS” operating systems used on other computers. Those of us who owned Macintoshes felt smugly superior and looked down on the dorks who used yesteryear’s DOS machines. This ad, that famously ran during 1984’s Super Bowl, captures the self-importance of us Apple people:

But then something truly revolutionary happened: a little company called Microsoft released a program called Windows that quickly became the standard operating system for virtually all computers. Suddenly, you didn’t need to buy an expensive Macintosh to get the cool interface. Apple’s market share took an enormous hit.

Apple tried suing Microsoft for stealing the “look and feel” of the Macintosh operating system, but the courts largely sided with Microsoft. And this explains why today only a small number of people are willing to pay more for a “Mac” computer. And yet those people are still out there, futilely trying to convince others and themselves that the Mac somehow works better than a $300 Lenovo.

I was reminded of all this today, when I made a visit to the Placerville Public House on Main Street in Placerville, CA. This is frankly one of the most comfortable, welcoming restaurants I’ve ever eaten in. The servers treat you like family and the place radiates warmth and well-worn comfort. It’s in a historic Gold Rush-era building, with a stamped-tin ceiling and original exposed-brick walls and an ancient wooden floor. There’s a pool table and antique light fixtures and heavy wooden tables and comfortable chairs. Interestingly, this building was constructed over the stump of the infamous “Hangman’s Tree” from which the town got its original name (“Hangtown”).

Naturally, I came for a Bavarian pretzel. But my server informed me that they only had something called “Pretzel Bites,” little bite-sized chunks of soft pretzel. I spent a few moments pondering whether I could possibly make the transition from a full, proper Bavarian pretzel to this cutesy “pretzel bites” concept that seems like something a 12-year-old would order. In other words, I felt the way a Mac loyalist might respond to a suggestion to try a Chromebook. But I’m quickly running out of places that serve Bavarian pretzels, and I still have over a week of reviews left to write. So I ordered the Pretzel Bites.

And now, after trying them, I’m wondering if Pretzel Bites are the Windows of the pretzel world. For I found these to be just as delicious as a well-made Bavarian pretzel. In fact, I’m willing to say that the “pretzel bites” concept is in many respects superior. They key, I think, lies in the surface-area-to-volume ratio. These pretzels bites have more surface area, and thus there is more crispy outer skin per cubic centimeter of pretzel. This makes each bite less “bready” than the same size bite off a Bavarian pretzel.

Now is probably a good time to share what I learned from the server: These pretzel bites are run through the Public House’s pizza oven, which, being a pizza oven, bakes quickly at a high temperature. This creates the thin, crispy skin without over-baking the inside of the pretzel. I also learned that, after baking, these pretzel bites are brushed with butter and then salted. This differs from the process used by some of the other restaurants I’ve visited this month, where the pretzels were brushed in butter before baking. By waiting until after baking, the butter isn’t burned off and thus remains to impart a delicious, greasy flavor that coats your mouth similar to the stuff on movie-theater popcorn. Plus, that wonderful surface-area-to-volume ratio is again leveraged to ensure plenty of butter in every bite.

Butter and salt residue on the serving paper.

And as if all this weren’t enough, there’s the beer cheese. Oh wond’rous elixir! Thou creamy nectar!

Since I was in a poetic mood, I asked ChatGPT to write an ode, and this was the result:

Edgar Allan Poe gazing at a pretzel

Upon this board, a rich and amber cream,
Whose sav’ry depth surpasses fancy’s dream;
The brew of hops and dairy’s golden grace
Conjoin to bless this humble dining place.
Oh, nectar smooth! Delicious to the tongue,
A timeless feast by rustic poets sung.

Not bad for a robotic algorithm that’s going to destroy humanity.

Anyway, this beer cheese (which is made in-house, of course) was the best of the month so far. It’s creamy and cheddary, with a pleasant spicy bite and a distinct beer note on the finish. The beer they use is something called Slab Creek Pilsner, made by Jack Russell Farm Brewery in nearby Camino, CA.

So, I’m conflicted. On the one hand, this was the best-tasting pretzel/beer cheese combo I’ve had this month. On the other hand, it’s not a proper Bavarian pretzel. Because of this latter point, I can’t in good conscience award it the full five stars. But then am I being like the Mac devotee who can’t admit the Lenovo is just as good? Let’s compromise and give the pretzel bites 4.75 stars, which is the highest score so far but in theory would permit an equally-good, proper Bavarian pretzel to edge it out if it were to arrive on the scene. Let’s see what happens over the next eight days!

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Do you remember when crop circles were a thing? Out in the middle of Iowa or wherever, a large circle would appear in the middle of a cornfield literally overnight. The circle would be caused by the mysterious flattening of cornstalks in a perfect pattern. Some people insisted these were caused by UFOs that had landed briefly overnight. The circles kept “cropping up” (so to speak) all over the world in the 1970s and 1980s. It should come as no surprise that these supposed alien-formed symbols were eventually revealed to have been made by pranksters pulling a heavy board attached to a rope that was tied to a stake. And yet many so-called experts had been gravely stating that these formations “could not possibly have been created by a human hand.”

Crop circles were broadly debunked by the early 1990s. But in February 2021 a new, intriguing crop circle appeared in a snow-covered field in Shelley, Idaho.

Here’s an aerial view:

Turns out this was a marketing stunt by the pizza chain Little Caesars. They were promoting their “pretzel crust” pizza, which is a periodic, limited-time offering. The perimeter of the crop circle is supposed to be the pretzel crust with big grains of salt. The series of numbers and letters in the center was a code that you could enter on Little Caesar’s website to win supposedly fabulous prizes.

I don’t know about the crop circle, but the idea of pretzel crust pizza sounds pretty good to me. I wonder if I could find 31 of them for next October’s blog…

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels · Breweries

Pretzel #22: Pretz-well

steveboilard1 Comment

BJ’s Restaurant and Brewhouse, Folsom, CA

As a rule I try to avoid big restaurant chains, which to me always feel impersonal and corporate, overseen by unseen pencil-pushers living thousands of miles away. The logo and decor and menu seem to have been focus-grouped to within an inch of their lives. If you’ve been to an Applebees or Olive Garden, you know what I mean.

I’ve generally placed BJ’s Brewhouse into this same category. They have 217 restaurants across 30 states. Surely to satisfy customers in that many regions, you have to sand off any interesting or unusual aspects to your business model. But here it is, the 22nd day of October, and I’m getting desperate to find nine more pretzels. So off to BJ’s I went.

I ordered their “Big Twist Pretzel with Beer Dip.” See what I mean? Even the pretzel’s name screams recent-graduate-with-a-bachelors-in-marketing-from-Ohio-State.

When the pretzel showed up, it looked perfect…maybe too perfect.

Note the crime scene splatter of buttery goodness on the paper.

Look at that superb shape–impeccably symmetrical, golden brown, with a lovely sheen and gracefully knotted in the middle. There’s not the slightest surface crack or width irregularity or other evidence that this wasn’t extruded by a soulless machine. It was simply too perfect.

But I had a job to do, so I took a bite. It was piping hot, slightly salty, and pleasantly chewy. It had evidently been brushed with butter, which complemented the salt nicely, and through it all came a genuine, comforting pretzel taste. I tried another bite. This was a damn good pretzel.

I then dipped a piece in the beer cheese, which, I learned, is house-made. It tasted delicious and was definitely of high quality, though I could detect no beer flavor. (The server said they make it with their Brewhouse Blonde ale, which is a German Kölsch-style pale ale. I’m guessing the beer is perhaps too light to stand up to the cheddar, which was prominent.)

The server also told me that they source their pretzels from US Foods®. Before I started this project I would have frowned on that revelation. But as we’ve learned after three weeks of pretzel reviews, almost no one makes their pretzels in-house. So I’m not going to hold that against them.

I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this pretzel. I was prepared to lambaste it as low-quality schlock from a budget-constrained recipe imposed by the corporate office in Huntington Beach. But this was seriously one of the best pretzel experiences I’ve had this month. It’s definitely worth 4.5 stars. The only minor flaws holding back a full five stars are the androgenous, characterless appearance, and lack of beer taste in the beer cheese. Fix that, and you’ve got the coveted Apotheosis Pretzel.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

OK, all you baseball fans: Who’s this?

I’ll give you a hint: He played the 1935 and 1936 seasons for the Phillies. He also had an earned-run average of 6.36, which I’m told ain’t that great.

His name at birth was John Pezzullo. But his odd, twisting pitching windup earned him the nickname “Pretzel” Pezzullo. According to Philly Baseball News, “He began the motion with a high leg kick, then dropped down to a sidearm release — a contorted sequence that left hitters thoroughly confused.”

After his two unremarkable seasons with the Phillies, “Pretzel” Pezzullo spent a few years paying in the minor leagues. He retired from professional baseball in 1941, after which he “designed aircraft missile models,” whatever that means.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #21: Pretz-hell

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Jamba Juice, Cameron Park, CA

Gather round, kids, while Uncle Steve tells you a story the worst pretzel he’s ever eaten.

Many years ago (in 1990, to be exact) a chain of juice bars came onto the scene in central California. It was a worthy concept, the brainchild of a Safeway manager named Kirk Perron. He opened the first one–called Juice Club–in San Luis Obispo, as part of a deliberate effort to combat the low-nutrition, high-fat fast-food offerings in the region. The juice bars specialized in blended drinks with fresh fruits and vegetables (and lots of crushed ice). It was a successful venture that continuously expanded. In 1995 the name was changed to Jamba Juice, and by 2025 there were about 750 locations worldwide…with almost half of them in California.

As is the often the case, Jamba Juice’s popularity led to some mission creep, as they expanded beyond smoothies into wraps, bowls, sandwiches, and baked goods. Acknowledging this diversification, in 2019 they dropped the “Juice” in their name and now go by simply “Jamba.” Interestingly, this is the same year that Dunkin Donuts changed its name to “Dunkin.” (It was also the year Jonathan Cheban officially changed his name to Foodgod. Hey, they can’t all be winners.)

And speaking of not everything being a winner: Starting in 2000, Jamba (Juice) added parmesan pretzels to its menu. I think I had them a couple of times over the years, but yesterday I decided I needed to do a formal review for this blog. And so I got their “Savory Pretzel,” which the menu describes as a “classic sourdough pretzel topped with savory parmesan cheese.”

At first glance, this looks appealing. It’s not huge, but it’s chunky and it’s absolutely coated in parmesan cheese. It looked promising.

But then I tried eating it.

This is a “pretzel” in the same way that a Steak-Umm is a steak. It has roughly the same general appearance, and it technically is made from the same basic stuff. But the quality, processing, and–crucially–taste place it in a separate category.

Jamba’s “pretzel” is the breadiest of bread rolls, an insipid and uninspired hunk of dry dough bearing no culinary relationship at all to a pretzel. It’s dry and bland, and even the generous coating of parmesan is undetectable amid the avalanche of tastelessness. It’s like a black hole sucking out anything resembling a flavenoid.

This “pretzel” does not come with any condiments, but I tried dipping it in some mustard I had at home. This at least imparted some flavor, but it would have tasted better if the “pretzel” had been omitted from the equation.

Zero stars.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

One of my favorite snacks is something called yogurt-covered pretzels. I think their appeal is due to their many contraditions: They are simultaneously sweet and salty; they are crunchy (pretzel) and soft (yogurt); and for a delicious snack food they are seemingly healthy(ish). I mean, the pretzels themselves are just little bits of baked dough, and yogurt is a fermented milk. I can seriously pound a half-pound of these things in one sitting and not feel guilty.

But earlier this year a class-action lawsuit was filed against Target for passing off sugary palm oil as “yogurt” in their yogurt-covered pretzels. Now, I think it’s pretty obvious that the delicious coating on “yogurt”-covered pretzels is quite different from the Greek yogurt you buy at the grocery store. But I admit that I purposely don’t think too hard about this, and tell myself that the stuff on my pretzels is generally in the category of yogurt and thus is healthier than, say, a chocolate coating. Turns out I might be wrong.

If you’re interested in joining the class action, check out Sierra v. Target Corporation (Case No. 2:26-cv-02799, U.S. District Court for the Eastern District of New York).

Skeleton in black sweater holding a bone-shaped treat at a table
2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels · Halloween

Pretzel #20: Homemade Halloween

steveboilard6 Comments

Burning Barrel, Placerville, CA

There are only 10 more shopping days until Halloween. When I was a kid, this wouldn’t have meant anything. It’s not that I didn’t care about Halloween; far from it. But rather, it’s just that we didn’t “shop” for Halloween. I suppose mom bought a bag of candy to hand out to the trick-or-treaters, and we usually got a single pumpkin to carve with a steak knife. But we didn’t buy decorations. We just hauled out the same, dog-eared, cardboard, jointed skeleton and hung it on the front door. And in terms of costumes, my brother and I just cobbled together a “hobo” costume each year using old clothes and charcoal to smudge our faces.

I read that today’s average American household spends about $285 on Halloween. And for a household with children, that amount rises to $652. What on earth are these people buying?? Judging from my son and daughter-in-law’s household–that now includes a child–the money goes toward 12-foot-tall skeletons and animated, singing pumpkins. Oh, and they give out full-size, name-brand candy bars to the neighborhood kids. My dad used to make sure that each kid got one and only one generic black taffy. My how the world has changed.

For today’s pretzel I went to a place called Burning Barrel Brewery and Spirits, in Placerville. It’s a comfortable place, with a big, open dining area filled with unique, burl-topped tables and a shady patio area with picnic benches. It’s owned by a father-and-son team, which is cool.

But this place doesn’t really seem to have quite figured out what it wants to be. It’s a small-batch distillery (with impressive copper distilling equipment on display); it’s a restaurant with a serviceable kitchen; it’s a pub with a bar counter and taps dispensing beer they make in a separate facility in Rancho Cordova. And lucky for us, they are also a purveyor of pretzels.

So I got me their “Bavarian Pretzel served with house-made beer cheese and creole mustard dip.”

The first thing that strikes you is this is as big as the spare tire on your Prius. (And for $16 it ought to be!) I confess that this was too big for me to finish. And as you can see from the photo, I only had a dinky 12-ounce beer to go with it.

This seems to be another of those pretzels that is brushed with butter prior to baking. I’m not fundamentally opposed to this treatment, but I do object if the butter-brushing is meant to substitute for the alkaline bath. And I suspect that’s what’s going on here. This pretzel lacks that classic pretzel taste. It’s not bad-tasting, mind you; it has a melt in your mouth texture, kind of like an Auntie Anne’s. But a purist would never mistake it for a proper Bavarian pretzel.

I also think this pretzel would have benefited if it had been baked a little longer. If I closed my eyes I could imagine I was eating heated, raw dough. Perhaps the dough was too thick to bake properly??  The color seemed a bit too light, and there was no cracking in the surface.

This pretzel also seemed to lack flavor. If it weren’t for the butter and salt, the pretzel would be bland indeed. The key to eating this really lies in coating it with the beer cheese and mustard.

Alas, the beer cheese was kind of mayonnaise-y and lacking in beer flavor. The mustard is good though. It was quite spicy–not “hot,” but “spicy brown.” I’m still not sure what makes this “creole.” Was it horseradish-based? It certainly clears the sinuses.

Three stars for this pretzel. You could do better.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Quick, what is this?

I’ll give you a hint: it’s a drawing from US Patent #3,538,840, in 1970.

The patent was awarded to two brothers–Richard and Walter Nelson–who were trying to develop a new snack food. They sawed a pretzel rod into short lengths, then used a drill press to hollow the middle of each length. Finally, they filled the hollow spaces with cheese. And the name they gave to this new snack was “shotzels.”

The new snack was marketed in around the brothers’ home town of Battle Creek, Michigan. Eventually it caught the interest of snack and candy giant Mars, who gave the snack a classier name (and a more automated production process). And this, ladies and gentlemen, is how Combos were born.

I confess that I find Combos addictive, and I’ll pick up a bag whenever I stop at a gas station during a road trip. They deliver a satisfying hard-pretzel crunch that gives way to a beer-cheese-like filling that’s calibrated perfectly to the bliss point. They’d be the perfect snack, except the fat and chemicals probably take a few years off your life.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #19: The Pretzel Man Cometh

steveboilard1 Comment

Urban Roots, Sacramento, CA

I love smoke.

I love smoked meats.

I love smoked Scotch.

I love the smell of a campfire. While I felt sorry for the people who lost their homes in the Caldor fire in 2021, I enjoyed the nonstop smokiness that permeated the county for several weeks straight.

I love to have smoke in a box; I love to have it with a fox.

I mean, smoke is my Kryptonite. Or maybe it’s the opposite of Kryptonite; I’m never really sure how to frame this. My point is that if you add smoke to something I immediately want to consume it. A few years back my wife bought me a device that pumps wood smoke into your drink. The inventor of this device really deserves a Nobel prize.

And so I was intrigued when Loyal Reader Peter D. suggested I get a pretzel at Urban Roots in Sacramento. He had done the research and learned that the pretzel is smoked in a smoker.

Urban Roots is an independent brewery and smokehouse in downtown Sacramento. They smoke their own meats, and thus their menu is larded (literally) with mouth-watering sausages, pulled pork, ribs, and the like. Among their offerings is a Bavarian pretzel that itself spends some time in the smoker. This is an inspired feature that really sets their pretzel apart from others. They start with what appears to be a regulation Bavarian pretzel, brush it with butter, and then consign it to the smoker for awhile. The result is a flavorful pretzel with a rich, smoky flavor, chewy consistency, and an intoxicating aroma.

The pretzel is served on a small metal dish and that also includes a plastic container of beer cheese (as well as some brown mustard–but you’d be better off telling them to skip the mustard and double the beer cheese. That’s not because the cheese sauce is so great. It’s actually a little bland, and has the consistency of Hellmann’s mayonaise. And yet you find yourself dipping every bite of pretzel in it, the same way you find that you finished that bag of Andy Capp’s Hot Fries.)

But back to the pretzel, which is seriously good. The skin of the pretzel has a toasty consistency, which lends a crunchy snap to each new bite. Then, they’ve sprinkled it with just the right amount of coarse salt, that sticks to the buttery goodness on the skin. Oh, and it retains its chewy/crunchy texture long after it’s delivered to your table. This appears to be a fresh-baked pretzel, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they make them from scratch. My only critique is that it’s a bit small, and thus I can’t say it’s a meal in itself. But if you pair it with a few malty beers, as I did, you should be good.

The beer cheese, while definitely serviceable, isn’t quite up to the standard of the pretzel. It lacks the beery backbone that I’ve come to expect from a good beer cheese. And as noted above, it’s a little too creamy for my taste. Indeed, I suspect that some queso might have even outshone their beer cheese.

Total score: 4 stars. Totally worth getting this dish, but the beer cheese prevents it from entering amazing territory,

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Check out this grave marker:

Pretzel Pete was the name the good citizens of the Philadelphia gave to a mysterious stranger that showed up in 1962 and sold pretzels from a cart on Ridge Avenue. He didn’t speak much English, and occasionally got into angry arguments with invisible people in a language that no one understood. He didn’t have a home, and lived in a tent pitched in someone’s backyard, or sometimes in a shed or garage. But every morning he somehow was there at his spot on Ridge Avenue, selling his pretzels.

Pretzel Pete, with his camber-inflected cart.

Such was his life in Philadelphia’s Roxborough neighborhood for some three decades. At some point some juvenile delinquents vandalized his pretzel cart, so he spent his last years selling pretzels out of a shopping cart. (There’s a special place in Hell for those juvies.)

At some point a Russian-speaking priest from the local Orthodox church tried to offer help to Pretzel Pete, but the latter responded angrily. Turns out Pete didn’t much like Russians, but after the priest calmed him down a bit, Pete told his story.

Pretzel Pete was an Albanian, born Choban Hoxha in 1913. During the Second World War he was captured by the Germans and sent to a prison camp. At the end of the war he was captured by the Russians and sent to a labor camp. He eventually escaped, and made his way to America. He arrived here in 1962, and spent the rest of his life selling pretzels. When he died in 1995, the local funeral home paid for his burial, and local townspeople collected funds for his headstone.

I tell you, if I had been in charge of ABC records when Steely Dan released Pretzel Logic in 1973, Pretzel Pete would have been on the cover.