Though now down two games to one and facing Corey Kluber who shut them out in Game 1, the Cubs are in the World Series!  The first time since 1945.  If you didn’t know, there is a long-standing neighborhood bar that is a shrine to the Chicago Cubs, TK Bitterman’s on West Alabama a little east of Shepherd.
 
Proprietor Kent Marshall, the Bitterman, is a Chicagoland native and big baseball fan, especially of his hometown Cubs.  The bar is festooned with photos of legendary Cubs of yore including Sandberg, Santo, Sweet Swinging Billy Williams and – I don’t exactly remember – maybe even Sauer, Hank, who won the MVP in 1952.  There is Banks, of course, and Brock, Lou, in a Cubs uniform before the disastrous trade to the rival Cardinals. This is a Cubs bar, if there is such a thing in Houston.  And being a Cubs bar, you can get the true taste of Wrigley Field, Old Style.
 
In the 1980s and 1990s, beer-swilling Cub broadcaster Harry Caray was a popular pitch person for Budweiser, tying the notion of the Cubs to it in many people’s minds – “Cub fan and Bud man” – and there is a very prominent signage for it in the outfield of Wrigley Field these days.  But, it is Old Style that is the true beer of the ballpark. Like the regionally popular Lone Star here, Old Style is a bad-tasting light lager.  It’s a bad beer that tastes better consumed in the hot sun in profusion with thousands of other bleary baseball fans.  One trip to the bleachers in Wrigley Field some years ago, we made a stop at the first beer stand en route, which was an Old Style stand.  When asked where the other beers were, the attendant seemed put off: “You don’t like Old Style?” After a brief pause, he said, “I don’t drink this crap, either, the next beer stand is at the top.”
 
If you want to feel a Cubs fan at TK Bitterman’s, they can likely oblige.  They have many other better beers and libations, to enjoy the game or ease the pain of being a Cubs fan.
 
TK Bitterman’s
2010 W Alabama (east of Shepherd), 77098


Kent Marshall and a can of 'Doggy Style'

​The trade group for the wines of Georgia put on a seminar and tasting for its wines the other day at Camerata that was illuminating, an insight into a unique wine-making area and often rather unique wines.  These bottles weren’t from the Peach State, but from Republic of Georgia, which lays claim to be possibly the oldest wine producing area in the world.  Other than seeing bottles in odd shelves at Phoenicia or maybe Spec’s’ on Smith Street, these wines are rather obscure for local consumers.
 
Well, Georgia is rather obscure, which might ring bells for being invaded by its neighbor Russia in 2008. It might be better known as Stalin’s birthplace (and that of his sadistic security chief Lavrentiy Beria, too). Located in the eastern edge of the Black Sea and bordered by Russia, Azerbaijan, Armenia and Turkey it extends from the sea into the Caucasus Mountains, it is home to about 4.5 million people and countless small winemakers, mostly those making it just for families.  The wine culture is so pervasive, according to Taylor Parsons, wine director of the restaurant Republique in Los Angeles who lead the event, that Georgian feasts typically budget a staggering three liters of wine per guest.  They like wine there.
 
Georgian wines have garnered some press in recent years, mostly as an inspiration for winemakers in northeastern Italy by their use of amphora – called qvervi – for fermenting and aging wines, and for the so-called orange wines, white wines with extended skin contact and thus more body, tannins and often and orange hue.
 
But, what does it offer an American consumer, a consumer based in Houston?  I think so.  The nearly dozen wines tasted were all noticeably well-made and distinctive.  And possibly something to complement the way that you eat and drink.  They offer something different on the ever-growing world of quality wine.  At least a couple tasted broadly similar to Flemish sour beers, though lighter-bodied, but likely working very well as an aperitif.  My favorite of this style was the oddly named Our Wine made with the white Rkatsiteli grape fermented for six months in amphora that was bright, tart and flavorful with an enjoyably long finish.  The best red for me, and the best wine of the day, was Saperavi variety by Kindzmarauli Mariani that was excellent: balanced, with interesting fruit notes, very long-lasting, and modern-tasting in the best way.

That might have been the most modern style of wine, but it did not taste of the New World.  None of the wines brought tasted rustic, but distinctive, especially the two natural wines, which I found both discordant and not terribly pleasant.  All of the wines featured good acidity, and most would make for good food wines, each matching a different array of dishes. 
 
You might want to give one a try, though you probably will not be able to find many, if any, of the good wines of Georgia on local lists or stores.  But, stay tuned; there was interest in the room among wine buyers.

A few of the orange wines from Georgia.

​El Meson, with its eclectic menu of Cuban, Tex-Mex and Spanish items has been a staple in the Rice Village since the early 1980s.  It’s also one of those hidden nuggets on the local dining landscape for its fairly expansive and interesting collection of wines from Spain, something good to know for the wine lover.  As Eric Asimov in New York Times recently wrote, “No country has had its wine map filled in so intriguingly over the last 25 years as Spain. And perhaps no country has rewarded wine consumers more with a combination of value and enticement.”
 
There are numerous enticing wines from Spain well beyond the most famous names of Rioja and sherry on El Meson’s wine list, though you will be amply rewarded with choices from those areas, as I was on a recent visit. 
 
With a taste for a reserve Rioja, when the restaurant was out of my first choice, Jessica Garcia, the daughter of proprietor Pedro Garcia, made a very nice selection from a Rioja producer with which I was unfamiliar. The wine was Ontañón Reserva 2005 that showed nice very enjoyable plum and cherry notes along with the refinement, subtle earthiness and a long-lasting taste that you would expect with a quality Rioja Reserva.  For what it’s worth, the Wine Spectator awarded it 91 points.  One of the benefits of Rioja – and El Meson – you can drink a wine with over a decade’s age on it for not whole lot.  The wine was just $52, a bargain by restaurant standards for the quality.
 
El Meson
2425 University (near Morningside), 77005, (713) 522-9306
elmeson.com

Though it dates from 2010, the owners of McGonigel’s Mucky Duck, Rusty and Teresa Andrews, are still justifiably proud of their trophy from Guinness awarded for serving the best pint of its signature dry stout in the entire Houston area.  Sampling pints on several recent visits, there is no reason to believe that this is still not the case.  The Duck consistently serves a terrific pint of Guinness.  It still might not be ideal weather for Guinness, but the interior of the Duck is nicely air conditioned.
 
Poured from a tap with about 70% nitrogen mix allowing for a creamy head, much of the taste of Guinness stout seems to result from the quality of the bartender's multi-step pour, which you will see at most bars and certainly throughout Ireland.  As with other beers, the age of the keg, the length of time it has been opened, the cleanliness of the lines, tap and the glasses matter matters quite a bit, possibly even more.  The quality of Guinness varies greatly across the city, more so than any other beer:  sometimes it is thin, weak and overly bitter while other times it is thick, rich, smooth and wonderfully enjoyable, as it always is at the Duck.  A big reason, likely the biggest, is that they serve a lot of Guinness.  So, that opaque black beer will be fresh, the lines clean, and staff well-versed in pouring a proper pint.  Plus, the Duck’s pint is still 20-ounces, a size that is nearly extinct in Houston.
 
For those that think of the Duck as primarily a showcase club featuring top regional and local Americana musical acts, it has actually always had an excellent beer program.  One of the earliest bar employees in the 1990s was Chris Black, the “king” of Denver’s beer scene and owner that time zone’s best beer bar, Falling Rock Tap House.  When Black worked there, the bar was a regular stop for Jeff Bagwell, Craig Biggio and most regularly, righthanded starter Mark Portugal, for whom a sandwich is named that still on the menu, and long the most popular item.  The Duck now features roughly thirty beers on tap in a range of styles and regions, and a pint can be reason enough for visit, especially if you enjoy Guinness.
 
McGonigel’s Mucky Duck
2425 Norfolk, 77098, (713) 528-5999
mcgonigels.com

​Here are the cursory results of my most recent research since the last post about reviews.  Some good, very good, in fact, bad and ugly.  The bad and ugly were one and the same.

Amalfi – Very Good
La Vista – Satisfactory
Palazzo’s (Briargrove) – Good
Pass & Provisions – Very Good / Good
Sonoma (Heights) – Poor
Spaghetti Western – Good
Tasting Room (Uptown Park) – Good
Vincent’s – Fair
Weights + Measures – Good

The margherita at Weights and Measures, consumed.  Such a good place that works well in a variety of ways.

​When I was a kid, pizza seemed to come in just two ways: topped with pepperoni or a plain cheese pizza.  Of course, you could always add other toppings to the invariable New York-inspired crust from a limited array that always included sausage, (canned) mushrooms and anchovies.  There were no margherita pizzas back then; these were just the province of Naples and its environs.
 
The most interesting thing I have found in my “research” into local margheritas has been at Mascalzone and Taverna, two Italian-owned and -operated restaurants.  Though their versions have of the margherita have both been a little disappointing – and I have had a couple of very enjoyable pizzas at Mascalzone before – they give a hint into how the great American cheese pizza came about.  In each of these versions, the mozzarella was diced into small pieces and layered around the top, allowing it to mix with the tomato sauce and creating somewhat of an orange sheen, even a touch of grease helped by some olive oil.  More so, these two versions tasted a lot like the American cheese pizza.
 
So, my thought is that the cheese pizza probably had its origin in the margherita fairly early in the last century.  The gooey, greasy cheese pizza works much better with the sturdy New York-style crust than does the more delicate margherita assembly.  “Cheese pizza” might have been an easier sell to non-Italian-speaking customers, too.

The margherita pizza at Mascalzone recently, looking like a cheese pizza to me.

Over the years that I have been writing about food, friends have questioned whether or not I have a bias against chain restaurants.  I do.  I have a preference for locally owned and operated establishments, which do, generally, turn out much better food and offer a more enjoyable dining experience.  But, I can’t ignore the fact that some chain restaurants actually do serve some pretty good food, very good in some cases.  Here is a list of a dozen regional and national chains which have operations in Houston that I do enjoy.  I’ve excluded the home-grown places, since these are, to my mind, well, local places.  Hamburgers and steaks are two themes that seem to do well in replication.

Chuy’s – Though Austin restaurants in general are ridiculously overhyped, this old school transplant is still a favorite for no-fuss Tex-Mex.  Actually, it would be a favorite stop, but the River Oaks location, the only one somewhat close to me, is seemingly always packed and parking is a hassle.  Maybe I am biased because I was visiting the original location when it was still just a single outpost on Barton Springs Road during my very unsophisticated undergraduate days in Austin, but the food is consistently well-prepared, flavorful, and it is a very good value to boot.  It can be a fun place, too.  I’m still a sucker for their enchiladas, chile rellenos, and the additive creamy jalapeño dip.  There are seven area locations.

Del Frisco’s – For some reason I have always felt that the Galleria location of this upscale steakhouse chain from the Dallas area has been quite inviting.  It is certainly not the steep menu prices, but maybe the consistency in the quality of the preparation of the steaks, the professionalism of the operation, or maybe the light from the big windows warming the plentiful dark woods for a warmer feel in this appropriately masculine setting.  To be honest, the appeal is mostly the steaks, which seem to be worth tariff when dining here. One area location.

Five Guys – Consistency and the juicy, beefy and flavorful hamburger patties are the biggest reasons why I keep coming back to this national burger chain.  Noticeably good ingredients like the sautéed mushrooms help, as does the slice of (the processed) American cheese, which really does make for a better burger here.  The appeal is the basic burger and fries done very well.  Eighteen Houston area locations.

Fuddrucker’s – Another burger concept that churns out quality burgers for a fair price, I’ve enjoyed Fuddrucker’s for years.  Freshly made buns are much better than typical and a big plus to making these a tasty treat, but it begins with the quality beef patties that are nicely available for four different hamburger sizes.  The condiments bar featuring a wide array of hamburger toppings is also a welcome addition.  Nineteen Houston locations.

The Halal Guys – The burgeoning chain’s ninth location and in just the third city outside of New York opened earlier this year near Shepherd Plaza.  The chain began life, and continues, as a well-regarded and well-publicized food cart operation in Midtown Manhattan that initially served the Muslim cabdrivers of the city.  The gyros here are all-beef – and assumingly halal – and provide a very pleasant, clean taste for the center of sandwich or a plate.  That distinctive odd taste often found with many gyros is thankfully absent here.  With lettuce, and the addition of chopped onions and bits of bell pepper, a generous dose of the white sauce and hot sauce, all rolled into a fluffy pits bread, the gyro sandwiches are very good, if not quite Aladdin quality. The fluffiness of the fresh pita bread makes The Halal Guys just a different than the most of the other casual, local Middle Eastern restaurants.  This might be due to its roots in Egypt rather than the Levant or Palestine, the origins of most of the established local spots.  The sandwiches are the way to go here.  Just skip the cheap-tasting fries.  Just one location, but more on the way.

Houston’s – Better-than-usual comfort food done well in comfortable settings are why these restaurants are always crowded during peak times.  Though I have enjoyed eating at Houston’s over the years and I still believe that they do a good job, there is really no reason to eat at Houston’s in its namesake city.  There are too many other good restaurant options offering similar, and I believe, better fare.  With that, Houston’s has been a great choice when traveling.  Two area locations.

La Madeleine – I have been a fan of this French-inspired casual café since it was a single location in Dallas and a hotspot for coeds from nearby SMU.  The latter might have affected my affection, but it has been their assertive, very not-French Caesar salad, quiches made with properly flaky crusts, croquet monsieurs, and tomato-basil soup that has had me coming back to the various locations in Houston for years.  Their pastries are very good, too, and La Madeleine also does a fine job for the breakfast hours.  Fourteen Houston area locations.

Morton’s – Now owned by Houston-based Landry’s – not necessarily a plus, in my opinion – this steakhouse chain began life as a single restaurant in Chicago and provided the show-the-customer-the-pre-cooked-steak-and-barely-moving-lobster that has long been copied by other steakhouses.  I have always had a very good experience at Morton’s (which has nothing to do with the fact that a client or company was usually picking up the always considerable tab).  The steaks have been tremendously flavorful and cooked as ordered, and the starch or cream-laden sides properly baroque in stature, a perfect complement.  There is a location in the Galleria area and another downtown.

The Palm – Expense-account steakhouse chains, with their buying power for prime beef and the straightforward cooking necessary technique for their staple dishes, lend themselves to quality replications.  The different upscale steakhouse chains are not terribly different than each other.  Some are just better than others, or more consistent than others.  The Palm has a few Italian-American items on the menu, but maybe it is more of an emphasis on huge lobsters – steakhouses’ second major protein offering – that helps sets the Houston location apart just a little from its direct chain competitors.  One Houston location.

Pollo Campero – I have to admit I was not a big fan when the first of these hit the Houston area from Guatemala (yes, Guatemala).  The very first American location might have been the one on Bellaire in Gulfton, and I found the chickens rather scrawny and less flavorful than the African-American chicken places I frequented on a regular basis.  Since that time the menu and the concept has expanded from its chicken-centric concept and there are many items suited to local tastes, at least my tastes.  The settings are clean and inviting enough and a couple steps above the usual fast-food restaurant.  Four Houston area locations.

Smashburger – Where as Five Guys takes a sloppy, but still very commendable approach to the great American hamburger, Smashburger’s offerings are a bit more refined, though just about as tasty, and with more menu options, including healthier ones.  The burgers and fries, especially the garlic-rosemary Smash Fries, are consistently quite satisfying and the settings are more comfortable, and much more so than the typical burger joint. Sixteen area locations.

Steak ‘n Shake – Not hamburgers here, but steak sandwiches are the calling card at this fast food-ish national chain.  OK, these are really hamburgers, but they taste something much better than the typical fast-food hamburger and the lofty name is kind of warranted here.  Three area locations.

A gyro at The Halal Guys: tasty, messy and of dubious nutritional value.  Looking forward to my next one.

I just had a margherita pizza at Amalfi, which was very good, as you might expected.  It featured halves of cherry tomatoes, something that is not traditional for margherita pizza, though I am finding sliced tomatoes in a number of local versions of the pizza as I continue my sampling of the genre.  

Below is what I wrote about the noticeable quality of the tomatoes at Amalfi at a visit last year; it's something that can be a good insight into the quality of the restaurant.  To note, Bollo's tomatoes were better during my most recent visit, but not exactly flavorful, much less the level of those at Amalfi.

Underripe, nearly tasteless, and even worse, tomatoes are commonplace across the dining landscape.  To be fair, delicious tomatoes can be difficult to grow in the area and what usually gets shipped to local supermarkets, and restaurant supply stores, are bred for their transit-worthiness and shelf-life rather than their flavor.  When eaten raw in salads, a common occurrence, the quality of a tomato is quickly evident.
 
An appetizing tomato in Houston has become a hallmark for me of a restaurant of some quality and effort, maybe ambition, too.  Tomatoes eaten at two different restaurant on subsequent nights recently drove that point home.
 
On Thursday evening, I stopped at Bollo, the slick, new neighborhood pizzeria on W. Alabama in the space that used to be Sorrel.  I ordered their Margherita pizza, which was served with slices of tomato, instead of the Neapolitan way that features an uncooked, light sauce of pureed tomatoes at its base.  No matter, we don’t have strict naming conventions in this country, unfortunately, the tomatoes had unsightly, large yellow cores.  Obviously not very ripe, these tomatoes were very bland, at best.
 
The pizza was still pretty decent, if not nearly the Mascalzone or Dolce Vita level, and I’ll likely go back for a casual Italian-inspired pizza in a nice setting and atmosphere.  But, their tomatoes contrasted sharply with the tomato I had at Amalfi the next night.
 
You should expect that any tomatoes served at Amalfi, a restaurant featuring the cuisine of in and around the Amalfi coast from a native of the area, would be good.  Tomatoes are a staple of the cuisine there, and are absolutely terrific from the famed tomatoes grown in the San Marzano area to the large cuore di bue to the small cherry tomatoes.  Any decent replication of the cuisine would have to have succulent, flavorful tomatoes when meant to be eaten raw or lightly cooked.  And, they were that Friday night at Amalfi.
 
Soon after the start of what was an excellent meal, I noticed a purple half-sphere left on the plate of the nearly finished appetizer of luscious buffalo’s milk mozzarella, lettuce greens and at least a couple of different types of heirloom tomatoes.  I had almost missed it, a succulent, absolutely delicious tomato.  It was terrific, and a reminder of one the joys of southern Italian cooking, no matter the provenance of the tomato.  Something I wish more restaurant would take care in provisioning.
 
Amalfi
6100 Westheimer (between Fountain View and Hillcroft), 77057, (713) 532-2201
amalfihouston.com

Initially published on July 11, 2015.

The Regina Margherita at Amalfi on a visit last week.

Stanko Radikon, a very well-regarded and idiosyncratic winemaker in northeastern Italy, died recently at the relatively young age of 62.  Eric Asimov in the New York Times has a nice article about Radikon's wines and the winemaking philosophy that he employed to create expressive and very interesting wines from an area that is proving to be one of the best in the world for white -- and orange -- wines.  

Here is my initial, if slightly offbeat, take on these wines in 2012 after being introduced to them at a tasting in the sub-appellation of Oslavia, luckily sitting next to Saša Radikon, Stanko's son.

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The Collio appellation at Italy’s northeastern edge offers an impressive array of wines.  A number of varietals, both indigenous and French, thrive in its unique, mineral-rich soil and a temperate climate that is buttressed by the Alps to the north and Mediterranean to the south.  Sauvignon, as Sauvignon Blanc is called there, Pinot Bianco, Friulano, and Ribolla Gialla all produce excellent wines.  Merlot also thrives, as does Picolit.  Even Pinot Grigio can approach seriousness in the Collio. 
 
But, it was Ribolla Gialla that was responsible for the most intriguing stop on a busy tour of the area this past June, a tasting with the newest generation of producers of the Associazione Produttori Ribolla di Oslavia, Primosic, Radikon, La Castellada, Dario Princic, Fiegl and Il Carpino.  Elsewhere in the Collio, the wines labeled Ribolla Gialla are light, usually meant for antipasti or as an aperitivo.  For that duty several wineries create very enjoyable sparkling versions.  In Oslavia, on the border with Slovenia, the wines of Ribolla Gialla are completely different. 
 
Their signature wines made with the varietal are heavier, more complex, and just plain different.  Oslavia is, after all, the spiritual home of orange wines and Ribolla Gialla is their vehicle.  Orange wines are white wines made like red wines, with extended skin contact.  The term orange refers to their hue.  These wines can have a color that ranges from a deep yellow to amber to even orange.  The prolonged contact with the skins results in tannins and additional body plus the darker color.  This process provides a heft that otherwise could only come from a higher alcohol content or aging in newish wood.  These wines also exhibit a greater complexity than most white wines and have the ability to age.  Because of its thick skin, Ribolla Gialla is ideal for orange wines. 
 
One of our hosts commented that “contact with skin can be the oldest or most traditional method” to make wine.  It was used by the older generations simply to ensure that the wines would remain drinkable until the next vintage.  With the diffusion of modern winemaking techniques this method eventually disappeared.  It was revived by Josko Gravner in the 1990s, and it eventually caught on with some of his neighbors in the tiny hamlet of Oslavia and their brethren next door in Slovenia.  Then winemakers elsewhere in Italy and in other countries picked up on it.  Still quite rare, these wines are a relatively recent phenomenon on wine lists and in stores.  Their uniqueness and relative scarcity have helped make them “the indie darling of the wine world” according to an August Grub Street headline, and an object of fascination for many sommeliers, especially those with a high hipster quotient, as Food & Wine noted. 
 
During the visit we tasted Ribolla Giallas made with skin contact ranging from one week to three-and-a-half months.  Before this, my experience with orange wines was limited to just what I had read.  The ones we sampled were not as atypical as the unusual winemaking process might suggest, and were notable for their dryness, balance, length of finish, and big mouth-feel.  
 
After several sips of the richest of the orange wines, I thought that these could be appreciated by an entirely different segment of wine drinkers than my more experienced fellow travelers, and probably even hosts, had imagined.   I suggested to Saša Radikon, who was next to me, and the other producers that might not these orange wines – which are consumed almost solely by those with experienced or bored palates – also work for people who are much less refined in their wine preferences, those who avoid white wines and drink only big, tannic New World reds?  I had been diligently spitting, but a lack of experience with orange wines was certainly helpful in devising that postulate, as was familiarity with this type of enthusiastic and not-so-sophisticated wine lover.
 
It has been my experience that there are many Americans, almost entirely male, whose drinking habits in early adulthood consist nearly entirely of light beer and whiskey, which later expand to include big red wines as they mature and progress into a world of occasional business dinners and respectable social functions.  Too many never look much beyond California Cabernet.  I quickly surmised that this type of drinker might be able to appreciate the largely familiar mouth-feel and tannins of these orange wines.  Their dryness and complexity, well beyond the most familiar whites, and lack of a Chardonnay-like creaminess would be additional selling points.  Orange wine could be a gateway wine (to white wine).  Not easy to find and not inexpensive, these would be unique in that regard.
 
The response from Radikon and the others, at least those with whom I could make eye contact, were affirmative, if maybe not energetic.  In addition to being terrific winemakers, they also were gracious hosts.

The tasting at the Fiegl winery on the Italian-Slovenian border in 2012.

It’s late September – or it was when this was originally written –  the season for Oktoberfest, that famous beer festival in Munich that inspires breweries in the German state of Bavaria, Munich’s home, and across this country to produce a slate of copper-colored, medium-bodied beers of the same name. The festival of Oktoberfest begins in September and runs into early October in Munich. The style commonly known as Oktoberfest, a lager that is clear and copper-red in color featuring a smooth and malty taste buttressed by a judicious use of classic German hops, was introduced by the Spaten brewery in 1871-72. It replaced the dark brown lagers as the specialty beer of Munich’s Oktoberfest event.  The style is derived from a style of lager beer created in Vienna a few decades earlier.
 
Today at Oktoberfest and on German labels, and seemingly since the mid-1970s and the dawn of the age of light beer, Oktoberfest beer can mean this classic style or a just a heartier style of the brewery’s main lager beer.  The use of both “Oktoberfest” and “Marzen” on a label means the beer is in the traditional style created by Spaten.  Marzen is March in German and was the last month in which brewing was possible because of the wild yeasts that quickly propagate during the warm days of summer in the time before refrigeration. The beer was stored in cold cellars (“lager” in German) and drank during the course of the summer.  The last of the beers were consumed by the end of the September and early October for the festival and its predecessor fall festivals.  The long storage beer ensured an especially smooth and flavorful beer.
 
It remains today in the best versions of Oktoberfest, even if the beers are not stored nearly as long as they once were.  These can make for terrific session beers, especially when the weather is a little cooler than summertime Houston.  Since I enjoy the style and drink it regularly throughout the year – much less so in summer – I recently conducted a tasting of all of the Oktoberfest beers I could find in Houston.  The results are below. 
 
The ratings are done in a hybrid of my copy of Michael Jackson’s Pocket Guide to Beer (signed by the author himself) and the New York Times wine ratings, [nothing] to ****.
 
Ayinger Oktober Fest-Marzen  ***
Easily the best of the dozen beers, and a very flavorful example of the style, Ayinger just does not disappoint; it is certainly one of the top breweries in the world. Their versions of hefe-weizens and dunkel-weiszens have done very well in tastings I have conducted over the years, and this Oktoberfest, sporting a malty aroma with a hint of nutmeg has a very long, extremely smooth and malty taste with proper touch of sweetness that makes it a very easy beer to enjoy.  5.8% alcohol by volume; 21 IBUs.
 
Spaten  Octoberfest  **
Featuring the deepest brown color of the tasting field, this was good, but not nearly as tasty as good kegs I have drank in the recent past.  It was smooth enough, but missing some of the malty sweetness that I have come to expect.  5.9% alcohol; 23 IBUs.
 
Samuel Adams Octoberfest  **
Malty aromas were followed by a properly malty taste. Made in the traditional style, Sam Adams has been making this beer for a number of years and knows what it is doing; the best of the American versions. 5.3% alcohol; 16 IBUs.
 
Paulaner Oktoberfest Marzen  * ½
Notes of nutmeg in the aroma and some sweetness in the back of the mouth, but not the best representation of the style, as the beer does not quite come together in the glass. 5.8% alcohol; 24 IBUs.
 
Karbach Karbachtoberfest  * ½  [** in September 2016]
Lighter in color than nearly all of the others and the most effervescent, this had a long taste that was not nearly as malty or strong as the typical style and a bit of an odd aftertaste.  That “It’s still summer” is written on the can could be a key to the idea behind this beer, which tasted almost of a blend between the Munich helles, their lighter standard beer, and a Marzen. 5.5% alcohol; 25 IBUs.
 
Rahr & Sons Oktobefest  * ½
The slight malty nose led to a maltier taste with caramel notes and a fairly full body. Not entirely smooth, but a pretty good effort from this Forth Worth brewery. 7% alcohol; 27 IBUs.
 
Harpoon Octoberfest  *
With different aromas, this features a malty taste with a touch of dryness and some rough patches during a sip. Mediocre. 5.3% alcohol; 32 IBUs.
 
Josesphbrau Oktobefest  *
A slight malty aroma was followed by a relatively light body and a touch of sweetness.  Made with corn, I wondered. There is nothing charming about this beer contract-brewed for Trader Joe’s by a brewery that has not mastered the art of a Marzen-style lager. 5.3% alcohol; 25 IBUs.
 
Saint Arnold Oktoberfest  *
Thin and odd-tasting for the style with an odd almost soapy taste, like that of Shiner’s version.  This prominently features the Saint Arnold’s house aftertaste, which is not at all pleasant for this type of beer. 6.0% alcohol; 24 IBUs.
 
Shiner Oktoberfest   *
Odd with a hint of soapiness in its short taste. Thin for the style and tasting fairly cheaply made.  5.7% alcohol; 18 IBUs.
 
Brooklyn Oktoberfest  ½
A unique take on the style that does not work.  Looks that part with its dark copper color, but had none of the maltiness you look for in these beers paired with a bit of spice that does not really, help plus a dryness that was also at odds with both the style and enjoyment.  A misstep by a good brewery. 5.5% alcohol; 25 IBUs.
 
Leinenkugel’s Oktoberfest  ½
The worst of the lot and another beer to avoid.  The malty aromas led to fairly malty taste that finished badly, just like beers made with cheap ingredients do. 5.1% alcohol; 20 IBUs.
 
If you enjoy the style or a flavorful smooth-tasting beer with a bit of body Ayinger is the clear winner.  The progenitor of the style and one that is available year round, Spaten, is still quite tasty, if maybe more variable than it should be.  A freshly tapped keg of Paulaner, always a laggard to Spaten in terms of Marzen, can be very enjoyable as can Sam Adams Octoberfest.  If not great, Rahr’s showed some promise, and packs a wallop, too, at 7% alcohol.
 
The rest, unfortunately, should be ignored.

Original article was initially published in September 2014.

Below, two different Oktoberfest beers sampled at The Ginger Man.