Joe Schutzman is a Newport firefighter who loves Northern Kentucky’s culture, sense of place – and beer. Come back each month for a new column on the latest brewery opening, Joe’s seasonal favorites, and more. Find Joe’s previous columns and more on NKY dining here.
Had I discovered running marathons before drinking good beer, perhaps I wouldn’t be sitting at my desk now, a local Northern Row hefeweizen by my side, typing away. For better or worse, this was not the case, but had it been, I have a sneaking suspicion my running days would have come to an abrupt halt the day I had my first sip.
Now it’s my understanding that folks who run marathons train quite extensively, running for months in advance at varying levels of distance and intensity, all in an effort to perform at their optimal level come race day. A trip to Oktoberfest is no different. The principle is the same, and the process infinitely more enjoyable.
As of writing this, I’m currently a week out from heading to Munich, Germany, to attend my second Oktoberfest there. I’m a firm believer that you never step onto a moving train without first taking a running start. That’s the best way to stay on your feet, and that’s exactly why I moseyed on down to Newport and Covington a few weeks ago to check out the local Oktoberfest festivities.
First, let’s talk about the beer. Newport offered Warsteiner, one of Germany’s largest private breweries, brewing since 1753. They were serving their dunkel and Oktoberfest. Obviously, in the spirit of the day, I went with the latter.
Covington, on the other hand, was sponsored by Northern Kentucky beer titans, Braxton, who had a very nice fest beer on tap, aptly named Oktober Fuel. I was stoked to drink something local, and I was definitely pleased.
Besides beer, one of my favorite Oktoberfest traditions is the dancing. In Newport, I was fortunate enough to catch the Enzian Dancers, a local troupe that performs traditional Bavarian folk dances. I even had the chance to speak with one of the members, Sylvia Nadler. Her father, a German immigrant, founded the group back in the 70s, and she has been performing with them since she was 14.
It took me back to last year, when I was traveling through Buching, a small Bavarian town about 100 kilometres southwest of Munich. We had the privilege of attending their annual Viehscheid, a parade and festival celebrating the return of the cows from their summer grazing up in the mountains back to the village before being taken to market. The celebration includes traditional music, dancing, food, and of course, beer!
I also caught Newport’s stein holding competition, where contestants hold a liter full of water with their arm straight out in front of them. The rules are straightforward: First one to spill their stein or drop their arm loses. And if you’re wondering why the competition uses water, the answer is simple. We don’t spill beer.
And of course, an Oktoberfest celebration is never complete without a little bit of “Oompah” music. The Zinzinnati Bierband was live in Covington and frankly, they tore the roof off the joint. The band was having as much fun as the crowd, and they also appeared to be enjoying the beer as much as the crowd too, possibly even more.
Whether you’re attending a local Oktoberfest, flying around the world to attend one in Munich, or merely cracking open a homegrown festbier with a friend or two in your back yard, never forget that it’s all about community.
It’s about the intertwining of your story with the greater story of the festival. Oktoberfest has deep rooted traditions, not only in Bavarian culture, but in our own culture within the region. It’s your opportunity to participate in that history. I can’t help but to marvel at the beauty of a festival tent full of friends, family, and strangers sharing an afternoon together with a good beer.
It’s a social affair. Tell the band you loved their set. Ask the group of Bavarian dancers about their story. And if you happen upon a ridiculously cute beagle named Remy, as I did in Newport, who is proudly sporting lederhosen, don’t pass up the opportunity to say hello and pet her, with her human’s permission of course.
So here I sit finishing my writing for the day, satisfied with a delicate balance of words written and suds imbibed, awaiting my trip to Munich with the giddy joy I remember experiencing as a child on Christmas Eve. By the time you read this, I’ll be sipping it up at the Weisn, the hallowed grounds of Oktobefest, where friends and strangers alike create community. Prost!