2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #8–Currying Flavor

October 8, 2026October 7, 2026 steveboilard2 Comments

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:

Pretzel #7: Not Your Dad’s Pretzel

October 7, 2026October 6, 2026 steveboilard1 Comment

Craft & Logic Taproom, Truckee, CA

Every year my brother (Dave) and I spend a day commemorating the birthday of our father, who passed away in 2017. We would visit sites where Dad had taken the family on vacation–which were almost exclusively hot and dusty campgrounds in the Sierra foothills. These trips with Dave are a good way to remember Dad, reminiscing about key memories like passing through Sacramento’s 105-degree temperatures in our non-air conditioned station wagon or the time that Dad rigged up a broom in place of the tent pole he somehow lost.

It’s funny how the passage of time transforms painful or tedious experiences into nostalgic memories. The 12-year-old me found much to complain about, what with mosquitoes and poison oak and campfire-burned toast and sleeping in a thin sleeping back on rocky ground. But today, I would give anything to relive those experiences. And in particular to spend some time with Dad again.

In the past few annual outings for Dad’s birthday, Dave and I have come to realize that there are only a few places that Dad ever took us: primarily the Wild Plum campground on the north Yuba River, and D.L Bliss State Park near Lake Tahoe.

Eventually Dave and I tired of returning to these usual sites, and so we’ve decided to instead visit places that we never visited with Dad, but that we wish we had. This year we chose a long hike through an old, abandoned railroad tunnel that the Central Pacific cut out of solid granite near Truckee in the 1860s. Dad would have loved everything about this place: Its history, its status as a major engineering feat, and, most importantly, its free admission.

Anyway, after exploring the tunnel I talked Dave into getting a pretzel with me in the town of Truckee (pop: 17,000). We ended up at Craft & Logic Taproom. Their motto promises an “elevated craft beer experience,” but I’d say the only thing that was elevated was the prices. Dave and I each had one beer and we shared a pretzel order. The bill came to $45. This might be why, during the lunch hour on a beautiful September day, Dave and I were the only customers.

The first thing that strikes one about these “pretzels” is the odd shape. Rather than a traditional pretzel knot, these pretzels had the shape of a giant banana slug, complete with antennae. The other analogy that comes to mind is the Vincent Price classic, The Tingler.

Now, I know that the shape shouldn’t affect the taste, but it certainly affects the eating experience, from how you hold it and break pieces off of it, how you get a purchase with your teeth, how it appeals (or not) to your visual senses. All that said, these “twists” had a positively delicious pretzel taste. They presented a perfect glossy sheen, there was a satisfying snap when you bit into it, and the dough was chewy and warm and fresh. The salt was distributed perfectly.

Then there’s the sauces. As is evident in the photo, there’s a bit of fussiness in the presentation. The stuff that looks like stone-ground mustard was mighty tasty, with a subtle honey sweetness. It paired perfectly with the pretzel and offered an unexpected zing. The so-called beer cheese, alas, was where this otherwise-wonderful experience failed. There was no cheesy tang. There was no beery malt. It offered nothing interesting or complex. This so-called beer cheese offered all the excitement of a thousand island dressing pouch from a take-out salad at Wendy’s.

Still, everything else was so spot-on that I’ll give this four stars. Definitely an enjoyable snack. But prepare yourself for the price!

PRETZEL TRIVIA

So, the other day we discussed the world’s largest pretzel. Today let’s take a look at the world’s smallest pretzel.

It’s actually a video of someone making three teeny pretzels, using teeny equipment. There’s something very charming and entertaining and relaxing about this video. It’s well worth the two minutes it takes to watch. Enjoy!

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #6–A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far, Far Away

October 6, 2026October 5, 2026 steveboilardLeave a comment

Troublemakers Beer Garden, Lotus, CA

Surely you, like me, harbor memories from ages ago that have become your own personal parables that convey Great Truths. For me, one such Great Truth comes from 1988, when I made two visits to a restaurant in the Santa Barbara area called Mariann’s Italian Villa. Mariann’s was a comfortable, family-style Italian restaurant, and my wife and I stopped to eat there one weekend while we were on a long bike ride. I was famished from the long ride, and I ordered a plate of penne alla vodka that was the most delicious meal I’d ever eaten. It came with some fresh focaccia bread and we shared an excellent bottle of cabernet. I sopped up every last bit of sauce with my bread, repeatedly telling my wife between bites that we just had to make this our regular place.

*Photo from Yelp, which reports that Mariann’s is now permanently closed.*

A week later my wife and I drove back to Mariann’s, anticipating another sensational meal. I ordered the same dish…and it was flat and lifeless. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it was nothing to write home about. My wife, too, was underwhelmed by her meal, and gave me that “why did you bring me back here” look.

A few days later I was explaining this to a friend, and he said “Dude, Mariann’s is just a basic restaurant. There’s nothing special about it. You were insane to make such a fuss over it.” I eventually came to understand that my favorable assessment from the first visit was colored by the fact I was famished after a long bike ride and relieved to be out of the sun and at a comfortable table. In other words, the quality of the meal is affected by more than the quality of the food. This, friends, is what I’ve come to call the Mariann’s Phenomenon.

The Mariann’s Phenomenon came to mind recently while we were out with a friend at Troublemakers Beer Garden in the town of Lotus (pop: 760). Sitting on the bank of the American River, Lotus sprang up during the California Gold Rush, just a mile or two from where James Marshall discovered gold. Today it’s mainly visited by river rafters.

Troublemakers is a special place. The kitchen is practically their only indoor space, but they’ve got an enormous deck with tons of seating under giant oak trees. It’s always crowded with families and rafters and and old-timer residents. There’s a raised stage where they always have some kind of live music. There’s a playground for kids. There’s an Airstream trailer where you can get an ice cream or a caramel-pecan brownie.

And of course they have a “Giant Bavarian Pretzel with Beer Cheese.” About a year ago–well before I started these pretzels reviews–I had a Troublemakers pretzel and enjoyed it immensely. I remember it paired perfectly with my beer, and it was delightful to eat it while I listened to an awesome band playing their version of Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues.” But now I wonder if that wasn’t the Mariann’s phenomenon at work. So this time, while my companions ordered burgers with fries and onion rings, I put another pretzel through its paces.

They aren’t kidding when they say “huge.” This pretzel is large both in terms of acreage and, owing to density, in terms of weight. It’s really picture-perfect, with a nice dark color, and exhibiting the characteristic cracking that comes from proper baking. The salt is a little uneven, but it looks good.

Biting into it was deeply satisfying. You get that nice snap, and then you experience the chewiness of that dense dough.

This pretzel comes with three condiments: small containers of stoneground mustard and sweet mustard, and a small tub of beer cheese. Sadly, none of the condiments is really exceptional. The stoneground mustard was inoffensive, but not interesting. The sweet mustard was too cloying. And the beer cheese lacked that all-important cheddary tang.

Of greater concern, something was off with the pretzel. The taste was inoffensive, but it lacked interest. Especially with a pretzel of this size, you need a little complexity to give it staying power. I learned later that Troublemakers brushes its pretzels with butter and eschews the alkali bath, which, I’ve been learning, is really a mistake. If it’s not boiled in baking soda, you have what amounts to a bread stick.

Troublemakers has such a good vibe that their food gets a nice boost from the surroundings. But now that I’m hip to the Mariann’s Phenomenon, I’m able to separate the two. But I’m not sure that I should!

3.5 stars

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Did you even know this song existed?

How come they don’t make songs like this anymore?

You were cryin’ in your pretzels when I met you
You were washing
All the salt away from the dough
You were cryin’ in your pretzels

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #5: Market Mania

October 5, 2026October 4, 2026 steveboilardLeave a comment

Baltimore boasts one of the nation’s oldest public markets (you know, places like Seattle’s Pike Place and the Los Angeles Grand Central Market). Baltimore’s Lexington Market dates back to 1782, though the building that houses it has gone through several iterations.

*Shed that housed the Lexington Market from 1871 to 1949.*

In its current form, the Lexington Market hosts about 50 local food vendors selling everything from fried chicken to seafood to baked goods. It’s a relatively vibrant place, drawing residents from the surrounding neighborhoods, workers at local businesses, and students from the nearby university campuses. This weekend it also hosted PoeFest, which, I must say, seemed to clash with the local vibe.

*(Photo stolen PoeFest’s Facebook page)*

Anyway, you can probably guess where this is heading: Among the many food purveyors at Lexington Market is a place called B’More Twist, which sells soft pretzels!

Even though it looks like an airport fast food joint, these things are the real deal. They make the dough, roll it out, tie it into pretzel knots, soak them in a baking soda bath, and bake them, all right in front of your eyes. Here’s a glimpse of the process that I managed to film before security approached:

So, the freshness of these pretzels is beyond question. So I ordered one up and got to work.

*What it lacks in presentation it makes up in freshness*

Now, this did not come with beer cheese, but for $3.95 I really can’t complain. I took my first bite and it was clear that this is not an authentic Bavarian pretzel. Instead, it’s closer to an Auntie Anne’s mall pretzel. I think this owes in large part to the fact they brush it with a heavy dose of butter, giving it a greasy mouthfeel not unlike a slice of Domino’s Pizza. In other words, it was delicious. It practically melted in my mouth, and delivered a salty, sweet, and savory flavor. I scarfed it down in under a minute, enjoying every greasy, lardy bite.

So, again, this really wasn’t a proper Bavarian pretzel, and it lacked the all-important beer cheese and/or mustard. But it was satisfying in the same way that a Jack In the Box nachos are satisfying: As honest junk food.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Speaking of Auntie Anne’s: Can you recognize the smell of their baking pretzels when you’re in a mall? And do you find the aroma pleasant?

Auntie Anne’s is betting that you do. And therefore they launched a perfume called “Knead: Eu de Pretzel.” And I am not making this up.

According to their press release from August 2024, “The perfume transforms the iconic aroma fans love into a wearable scent infused with notes of buttery dough, salt and a hint of sweetness. Each spritz evokes the experience of passing an Auntie Anne’s store and inhaling the nostalgic aroma of their pretzels.“

Alas, it was a limited run of 2,500 bottles, and they sold out in the first 10 minutes. But if you really need this to be your new signature scent, there’s a one-ounce bottle currently available on eBay for $299.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels · Breweries

Pretzel #4: Edgar Allan Pretzel

October 4, 2026October 4, 2026 steveboilard2 Comments

So I’m here in Baltimore (pop: 570,000) for PoeFest. It got me wondering why they call this town “Charm City.” Turns out it was part of a deliberate branding campaign by mayor William Donald Schaefer in 1974. Working with a group of PR flacks, he settled on the nickname “Charm City, USA.” Tourists coming to town received a starter charm bracelet, and could collect additional charms by visiting various sites around the city.

*An original starter charm from the 1970s*

The charms are no more, but the nickname seems to have stuck. Which is all well and good, but the folks who put on PoeFest want you to think of Poe when you think of Baltimore. Poe only lived here for about three years, but he wrote several of his most notable works here, and he happened to be passing through town when he died in 1849. What’s more, he’s still here, buried in the churchyard of Westminster Hall. It’s not for nothing that the local football team is named The Ravens.

*Raising a toast last night at Poe’s gravesite.*

Anyway, here I am in Baltimore, and because I was feeling a bit peckish around noon yesterday I paid a visit to the Pratt Street Ale House. It’s not far from where Poe had lived–about a mile away, as the raven flies.

The Ale House is situated in a wonderful historic building that dates back to 1888 and for many years was home to the Pratt Furniture Company. It became the Pratt Street Ale House in 2009.

Much of the historic interior features have been preserved, including the brick walls and an antique elevator.

*That’s quite an indicator dial over the doors…but it serves only a three-story structure. I’m guessing it’s not original to this building.*

Once I got situated I ordered the Soft Pretzel and a Raven Beer Special Lager. I thought seventeen bucks seemed a bit steep for a pretzel, but it turns out I was paying for two:

Sadly, the pretzel(s) did not match the quality of the setting. The moment I picked one up to take a bite, it broke under its own weight like a desiccated mummy. This pretzel was drier than James Bond’s martini. It was more crumbly than a Costco granola bar. It was…you get the idea.

Seriously, it seemed to me that this pretzel was made with biscuit dough rather than bread flour. And that goes for both the texture and the taste. I tried a small piece without salt or any condiments, and I seriously could not identify any taste at all. It wasn’t just bready, it was as vapid and dry as a week-old Pillsbury biscuit. I suspect that they got the nice brown color by brushing them with butter and sending them straight to the oven, without the benefit of boiling in alkali.

The beer cheese, however…that’s a different matter altogether. It’s delicious! Unlike what’s served in most pubs, this beer cheese actually has an identifiable beer taste. I learned that Pratt Street sources the beer from a local brewery (Oliver Brewing Company) that used to be housed in this very building. The beer imparts a malty, yeasty note to the beer cheese, providing complexity and depth. I think Pratt Street’s beer cheese contains more beer than most beer cheeses, because this is the first time my senses definitely identified strong beer notes. Even better, they did not skimp on the cheese side of the equation. This stuff was flavorful and delightful and frankly addictive. After loading up a few chunks of pretzel with the beer cheese, I ended up just eating the beer cheese straight with my spoon. The pretzel was that superfluous.

The Dijon mustard was OK. It did its job. But I wouldn’t eat it on its own!

Zero stars for the pretzel, 5 stars for the beer cheese, and 3 stars for the mustard. Weighted total: 2.5 stars.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

There are two kinds of Guinness Records: Those that just happen (tallest human, oldest wooden building, heaviest cat) and those that result from the efforts of someone who wants to be in the Guinness Book (the most snails on one’s face for 10 seconds, the most watermelons chopped on one’s stomach in a minute, cycling backwards with a violin. I’m not making these up). (Incidentally, the Guinness people have retired the “heaviest cat” category because cat owners were overfeeding their cats expressly to be in the Guinness book. I’m not making this up, either.)

*Our cat Vincent–potential winner if Guinness ever brings back the “heaviest cat” category.*

Anyway, the people of Freeport, Illinois (also known as “Pretzel City USA–see my blog post) set a record in the latter (contrived) category in 2025, when they created “the largest human pretzel image” with 603 people forming the outline of a giant pretzel.

I really don’t see the point, but it seems harmless enough. Unlike overfeeding your cat.