2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #3: Dad’s Revenge

October 3, 2026October 3, 2026 steveboilardLeave a comment

Knee Deep Taphouse and Grill, Folsom, CA

So, two old, retired guys walk into a bar….

Those two guys are myself and my friend Vic. And the “bar” isn’t exactly a bar, but rather a taphouse, which means it has a lot of beer on tap, from various different brewers, and if you’re lucky they have a decent food menu as well. Anyway, Vic and I had just finished buying several cases of beer at Total Wine (as I said, we’re old, retired guys) and figured we’d get us some lunch at the Knee Deep Taphouse and Grill which is just across the parking lot from Total Wine.

I won’t go into detail about what I considered the mediocre-to-poor service we received from the bartender/server. Suffice it to say that, by the time we finally placed our order, I was having second thoughts about coming there in the first place. My dad was a pro at this, by the way. From the moment he would enter a restaurant or ice cream parlor or even his dentist, he would be silently scrutinizing the place for some problem or personal slight or faux pas that he could seize upon a reason to turn on his heel and vamoose, shaking the dust from his feet and peppering my mom with rhetorical questions like “why couldn’t they seat us right away?” or “that cashier was on a personal call, wasn’t she?” And instead of our family enjoying a steak dinner at Sizzler, we’d drive home in silence and mom would make us sandwiches.

So anyway, Vic and I placed our orders and took a seat, and ten minutes later I was looking at Knee Deep’s Hoppy Pretzel.

This was a surprisingly good pretzel. And I say “surprisingly” because I was ready to write off the whole establishment due to its poor service. But, of course, the kitchen staff are a whole separate operation, and they, evidently, are this place’s secret weapon. They are the U.S. Army Rangers of Knee Deep’s staff.

For this pretzel was a thing of beauty. For starters, it was presented on bespoke “Knee Deep” serving paper. It’s a small thing, but a welcome, special touch in a culinary world that’s typically provisioned by Sysco. The pretzel itself was hefty, and of a toasty-brown hue that made my mouth water just looking at it. Though it doesn’t show up well in the photo, the pretzel had a distinct gloss, and the salt was distributed perfectly. (The salt itself also deserves praise– flaky and chunky without being overwhelming.)

I was in love at first bite. It had a good snap, and the inside was nice and chewy. This must have been freshly baked, and even toward the end it never seemed tough.

Even the beer cheese was exceptional. It had a distinct malty, beery flavor in the background, and the mouthfeel was creamy without being mayonaise-y. In fact, it resembled potted cheese more than the typical beer cheese, which can have the consistency of salad dressing. My only complaint is there wasn’t enough of it; the beer cheese ran out well before the pretzel did, which can frankly ruin your day.

I wish I knew the secret behind this amazing pretzel. But I was unwilling to interrogate the server, who clearly wished I would die or disappear or both.

This is a four-and-a-half star pretzel.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

In 17th Century Germany, wedding ceremonies would often include a ritual where the bride and groom wore stylized pretzel symbols and/or broke a pretzel to seal their union. Some say the pretzel’s association with weddings helped promote the saying “to tie the knot.” I’m not making this up.

The pretzel is also a good wedding symbol because it reminds us that a good marriage should be a little salty, and that it’s best accompanied by lots of beer.

Pretzel #2–Blobs and Beers

October 2, 2026October 2, 2026 steveboilardLeave a comment

Bistro on Bridge (Phoenixville, PA)

I write this from an altitude of 31,000 feet, aboard a Southwest flight to Baltimore. I’m on my way to PoeFest, where my book Potable Poe: Cocktails of Mystery and Imagination (Fulcort Press, 2025) is (shockingly) a finalist for Poe Baltimore’s coveted literary award. A few moments ago I tried explaining the point and purpose of PoeFest to my seatmate, and I fear that I came across as a nutcase. Me: “It’s a gathering of people who like Poe’s writing!” Seatmate (sounding like Colombo): “But what exactly do you do?” Me: “Well, like we listen to people doing readings of Poe’s works!” Seatmate: “But haven’t you already read them all?” Me: “Well, we also go to Poe’s gravesite and drink a cognac toast to him.” Seatmate: “Flight attendant! Can I be moved please?”

Now, attentive readers will recall that earlier this summer I attended BlobFest, which, as should be evident from the name, is a fest(ival) celebrating the 1958 horror classic “The Blob.” Gatherings such as PoeFest and BlobFest don’t simply allow us to pay homage to a great writer or a great (or maybe mediocre) movie. And they don’t simply provide opportunities to study societal subgroups. More than anything, I think, these events allow us to get a better understanding of ourselves. Why did I come here? What is it about this event that appeals to me? What kinds of people do I choose to associate with? Where did my wallet go?

I think all of us have different facets or dimensions that we tend to only reveal when we’re around similar people. So I get my Poe on at PoeFest and I get my Blob on at BlobFest. What? You don’t do this as well?

In any event, there’s a reason I’m bringing all this up, and that’s because, while I was at BlobFest, which takes place annually in beautiful downtown Phoenixville, PA (pop: 19,000), I had lunch at a place called Bistro on Bridge, which has a relaxed outdoor dining area with a view of the historic Colonial Theater (which, you will recall, was the site of a crucial scene in The Blob).

And what did I see on the menu but a pretzel. The description was pretty minimalist: All it said was:

I decided to throw caution to the wind and order one of these bad boys. To my surprise it turned out to be a much more elaborate presentation than the minimalist description suggested. It’s the size of a Miata’s front tire, and it’s hung on its own stainless steel hook-stand. The hook-stand is in turn placed on a rustic wooden serving board, and the aforementioned beer cheese and spicy dijon mustard are nestled at the base. This is not just a pretzel; it is an event.

Before digging in I made a quick visual inspection of the pretzel itself. It sports an enticing mahogany color and presents some of the characteristic cracking that, to my mind, serves the same function as the celebrated “nooks and crannies” in Thomas’s English Muffins.

But, as with so many beautifully-presented foodstuffs, shortcomings become evident once you actually eat it. For starters, the salt was carelessly and haphazardly applied, resulting in half the pretzel tasting a low-sodium snack food and half resembling a salt lick. Second, the pretzel was too bready. Not even the nooks and crannies could surmount this fatal flaw. Third, as the pretzel cooled it became tougher and tougher, until it resembled that Miata tire in texture as well as shape. I strongly suspect that this pretzel was microwaved. Supporting this theory is the fact it arrived, piping hot, just moments after I ordered it.

And then there’s the beer cheese. It was thin to the point of watery, and quickly developed a rubbery skin on the surface, much the way Jack in the Box’s nacho cheese sauce congeals if you don’t eat it it fast enough. I suspect this so-called beer cheese was some kind of pre-fab condiment they buy by the barrel.

The mustard was good though. The taste was intense and horseradish-forward, reminiscent of Grey Poupon Deli Dijon. Being as piquant and potent as it was, the mustard worked together with the Nooks and Crannies to mask, or at least distract from, the pretzel’s other sins. This was one of the few times I preferred the mustard to the beer cheese.

And so, in the end, I managed to down a little over half the pretzel….until the mustard ran out. Still, I can’t say I enjoyed it as much as I should have. And so I am awarding it 3 stars, which is somewhere between “meh” and “I’ve had worse.”

PRETZEL TRIVIA

1n 1963, Joseph Nacchio of the Federal Pretzel Baking Company in south Philly made a 20-pound pretzel in connection with the mapcap movie It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. Even though this claim is repeated all over the Internet, I cannot find how, exactly, the pretzel relates to the film. Some say it appeared in one of the hardware-store basement scenes with Sid Caesar and Edie Adams, but I just finished watching those scenes on YouTube and there’s no sign of a giant pretzel. Others say the pretzel was used as a “promotional stunt” for the movie–a claim that raises more questions than it answers. But I can find no elaboration on this point, or any evidence that it actually happened. I would welcome any clarification from any film historians among my readership.

But what is reasonably well documented is that Joseph Nacchio also made a second, larger pretzel which was deemed the largest in the world at that time (1963). It weighed 40 pounds and measured five feet across. Interestingly, the width of the pretzel is the same as the interior width of a Studebaker Avanti that was manufactured in that same year. I know this because I own one. (The car, not the pretzel.)

It should be noted that the current record for the world’s largest pretzel was set in 2015 in San Salvador, El Salvador. It weighed about 1,700 pounds, or exactly half as much as a Studebaker.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #1: Pastries and Plastigoop

October 1, 2026September 30, 2026 steveboilardLeave a comment

Harris Family Farm, Pollock Pines, CA

When I was but a lad, my brother and I spent many hours making “Creepy Crawlers.” These were rubbery insects that kids would create by pouring “Plastigoop” into molds and cooking them on what amounts to a kid-scale hot plate that reached 400 degrees Fahrenheit. What could go wrong? The contraption was marketed by Mattel in the 1960s–an era when, evidently, consumer product safety wasn’t a thing.

I remember that the Plastigoop was strangely tasty . It wasn’t edible, of course, but somehow the combination of chemicals and carcinogens appealed to my 8-year-old palate, and so I snuck tastes of it whenever I was making Creepy Crawlers. A few years later I would do the same thing with “Vampire Blood,” which was marketed during the Halloween season. Now, put a pin in that while we discuss today’s pretzel. I promise we’ll come back to Plastigoop.

So, I recently found myself at the annual Oktoberfest celebration in my (current) hometown of Placerville. Promotional materials emphasize, and I quote, “the popular Dachshund Dash, a Bavarian costume contest, a giant zucchini contest, and men’s and ladies’ stein-holding competitions.”

*Not really.

As tempting as giant zucchinis naturally are, I was looking for a pretzel. This turned out to be a surprisingly difficult task, given I was at a friggin’ Oktoberfest. The realty office on Main Street was handing out these pretzels necklaces, but I was looking for Bavarian soft pretzels, dammit!

And then, manifested before mine eyes, I spotted my quarry. It lay on a vendor’s table alongside jars of jam and was sealed in a plastic bag, but I was assured it was fresh-baked. It was being offered by a place called Harris Family Farm, in nearby Pollock Pines (pop: 7,100), which sits on the original Pony Express Trail.

Anyway, the Harris folks were game for a special Oktoberfest offering, and so they were selling these pretzels. Twelve bucks seemed a little steep for a bagged, take-out pretzel, but it comes with a plastic container of beer cheese, and in any event you have to expect to pay more at a street fair like this where the vendors first need to cover the cost of getting the table and a permit and maybe a little local graft.

So I took my pretzel (“the ribbon is so you can wear it around your neck!” explained the young lady in a Dirndl who sold it to me) to a decorative wine barrel that served as a table, and got to work.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I feel obliged to classify this as this as the worst Bavarian pretzel I’ve experienced. My main complaint is that it was just too bready. It had the consistency of an Olive Garden breadstick. Based on my extensive experience of making pretzels once, I suspect that the Harris Family Farm pretzel is simply baked, eschewing the crucial step of boiling in baking soda (or lye). This would also explain the lack of gloss and the washed-out color. Now, to be fair, the salt distribution was spot-on, and the bread (qua bread) was tasty enough. It just wasn’t a pretzel.

But now let’s talk about the beer cheese. Or, as the young lady from Harris Family Farm called it, “cheese.” As every schoolchild knows, beer cheese is a magical substance made from a tangy cheese (usually sharp cheddar) and beer. The result is a wondrous dipping sauce that nicely compliments the malty, yeasty, chewy pretzel. Clearly this is not what accompanied my pretzel.

*“I know beer cheese. Beer cheese is a friend of mine. Senator, this is not beer cheese.”*

The stuff I received looked more like Velveeta than anything else. I dipped a hunk of my so-called pretzel in it and took a taste. Plastigoop. Seriously. This tasted exactly like orangish plastigoop (or at least my memory of it). It had a similar consistency as well.

Friends, I think we can all agree that half the point of enjoying a Bavarian pretzel is coating each bite in some warm, tangy, creamy beer cheese. As the old saying goes, “A pretzel without beer cheese is like a horse without rear knees.”

So I’m going to have to rate this pretzel experience as one star. That one star was earned strictly by the appearance of the pretzel, with its festive blue lanyard, good size, and optimal salt distribution. But its lack of pretzel taste and lack of authentic beer cheese prevent it from getting any further stars.

Let’s hope tomorrow is better!

PRETZEL TRIVIA

The average American consumes about two pounds of pretzels each year. Clearly I’m carrying the water for several non-pretzel-eating Americans…

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Knot Another Pretzel Blog

September 30, 2026September 27, 2026 steveboilard4 Comments

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.

*Seems like “Nutrition” should be in quotation marks.*

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.