Bohemian Biergarten

I live in Boulder: that vegan-chowing, chakra-chanting din of collegeness. It is its own juxtaposition at times — the moneyed haunts of Mapleton Hill sloping down from the Flatirons alongside raggy sandwich stops on the Hill across from campus. But Pearl Street is where it all converges. You have dusty bookstores hawking European café-au-laits to the whistle of moustached hippies; trendy dining destinations at the corner of Popular and Cutting-Edge; and avant-garde upstarts, beers-in-hand, with nothing more than a mission for good food and brew. 

So it makes sense — but it doesn’t — that just off this menagerie of a mall sits a German haunt, aptly named the Bohemian Biergarten.

It is what imagination conjures at the thought of feather-capped German youth frolicking with steins as big as their heads. (Minus the lust, of course.) But step inside this brick-faced curio and you’ll see Germany in spades: rough-hewn wooden benches, legs slung over them like saddles; a backlit bar with lanky, suspendered bartenders toiling through pours; and at the back, the heart-warming tug of local bands strumming and drumming their way to Teutonic happiness. It truly is a world unto itself.

But the proof is in the pint, so let’s get straight to sipping. What’s on tap? Ah, just the usual Deutscher biermeisters: Paulaner (their Doppelbock is sinfully delicious, a tad sweet, and better than sex), Hofbrauhaus, and the gang, partnered with some delightful Colorado varieties that have taken to the old styles. Depending on the brew, you can get your pick in half-liter or liter pours, which should do you for quite a while — especially if you have a tumescent wurst calling your name.

Speaking of, the food is no “I-suppose-we-must” throw-away. A sausage grill will do your bidding, with names and link sizes too dizzying to tally — though I must say, the beef-and-pork-plumped Knackwurst is a beautiful match for a potato pancake. My all-in-one fix has to be the Currywurst, which is married to an onion relish and finished with a side of toasty fries that I’m convinced literally stick to your ribs.

Did I mention this isn’t dietetic? All things in moderation, but if you wanted a sausage-and-brew indulgence on a Tuesday evening, Bohemian Biergarten is happy to accommodate. Just find a bench in your own corner of the tchotchke-laden hall and examine the climbing wooden beams, the foreign words scrawled on brick, Czech posters peaking behind suspenders, and hefted steins standing at attention until somebody drops by to take
your order.

Oh — still hungry after that double-link? Get some Strüdel. Still thirsty after your Paulaner pour? Get another. Perhaps a beer cocktail, even. Nobody’s counting. And while it might seem that I’m advocating gluttony and alcoholism, it’s just not true; I’m simply asking you to connect with your inner German, because, as we all know, everyone is a little bit German.