Why, in the name of Saint Arnold and all the patron saints, does this market have three booths selling mead, but there's nothing beer-related in sight? Nobody can persuade me that men could survive the Middle Ages without beer! That’s me—trudging, lamenting, but thoroughly excited, through a three-day all-medieval-themed market, its colorful stands unfurled like a multicolored carpet on the cobbled streets of Bremgarten, Switzerland. Wait, is it wort I am smelling?!
And wort it is. Lo and behold, ahead is a group of robe-clad men, bearing intricately embroidered crests on their chests and smartwatches on their wrists (I pretend I don't notice those), boiling a murky brown liquid in an appropriately ancient-looking cauldron. One of them, the most sociable of the "brothers," calls in an energetic voice: "Come, come all thee punters, and taste the beer!" Nobody can resist an invitation like that, so we close in obediently and buy a glass each.
What should I expect? A full-on medieval replica of the beer of days long gone, no hops, low alcohol, barely palatable? A modern industrial beer pretending to fit into the event's theme? It's neither.
First, it's a Lindenbier made with basswood blossoms. Decidedly rustic, flowery, and sweet. Second, it's a homebrew. Due to a legislation quirk, Switzerland can boast the highest number of breweries per capita in the world (about 1,200 for 8 million people). If you are a homebrewer producing more than 400 liters of beer per year, you are obliged to register and pay taxes. From there it's relatively easy to obtain permission to sell beer, so the overwhelming majority of the breweries are tiny, with brewing capacity of 50-100 liters. For many of them, brewing is a self-sustaining hobby, not a business. The venerable "monks" offering us their Lindenbier operate on the same principle.
It never ceases to amaze me how different and multifaceted brewing can be in different countries. But still at the core it is the same: people want to have a beer, be it Middle Ages, or contemporary times. Nobody can forbid them to do it, deny the enjoyment of the drink itself or the sheer excitement of discovery, no matter the intricacies of law, discrepancy of categories, or uniqueness of cultural peculiarities. I cheer to that with gusto, celebrating this lonely beer booth, standing proudly amid this small sea of meads.
Words + Photoby Lana Svitankova