Call it Brewski, Draft, Pivo. Call it Beer.

Earlier this week, I reported that being in Prague was like having a Bigee Smalls soundtrack playing in my head: it was all a dream. I used to read Word Up magazine.

Now we read Afar Magazine. I now also drink super fancy things, like beer.

On our first day in Prague, we tried a Pilsner Urquell. The restaurant was hot. There was no air conditioning. There was only a window, beckoning a breeze that refused to come in. “Drink,” said the waiter as he slammed down a frothy blondish beer in front of me. “But you must drink fast.”

“Drink fast?” Hundreds of thoughts ran through my head: Is the froth only tasty when drunk fast? Will the chilled beer turned warm because it’s so hot? Is this the customary way to drink beer in Prague? He wants me to chug? Where’s my beer bong?

So, I drank. Fast.

Then midway through my drink, I stopped. “This beer is warm, yo,” I cringed, “with a mild iron-curtain-y flavor.”

See Exhibit A:

Warm and frothy, with a heavy barley taste.

If there was one word to describe this beer, it would be “bitter.” Mixed with goulash and an epic heatwave, the taste went down quite harshly. It left me all warm and tingly inside, but not in a good way. It was more like: “I just paid five bucks for this, so it’s going down whether I like it or not.”

Most of the beers made in Eastern Europe have a much different taste than what I’m used to. I prefer the flavors of a fine Stella Artois and a Kirin Ichiban or a Sapporo. I dislike American beers, though. And for good reason: they’re just not very good.

In Budapest, we had the Dreher:

Drehel

Just like Prague, the Dreher in Budapest, had a distinctly pivo taste. And this is the trend I was noticing: beers in the Eastern Bloc are strong and a little honey badger-y; as in: it just takes what it wants and it doesn’t give a s*** what you think.

Serbian beer.

Cevapcici in Serbia is salty. If you’ve had Cevapcici before, then you know that it’s usually ground meat with diced raw onions and sometimes served in a pita bread.  It can be as salty as licking a salt lick or made with only a little flavor. So, it’s imperative to get something to drink with your meal.

Beer should not be that drink. The…well I don’t know what that says, it’s in Cyrillic…is quite strong. It’s a real kicker in that it actually woke me up while I ate.

Actually tastes reindeer-y

Pivo in Serbia is so strong, no matter the color or how it’s brewed. The Jelen above actually tastes reindeer-y, I kid you not. Reindeers aren’t exactly the loveable creatures with cute red noses that Christmas songs make them out to be. No, reindeers are actually jerks. And that’s what this beer tasted like: a jerk.

Better than Budweiser

Interestingly, my choice at a restaurant in Zagreb was either Pan or Budweiser. I kid you not, those were my only two choices. So, I went with the Budweiser.

I’m kidding. I went with the Pan. As long as it’s not Bud, it’s always a good choice.

Serbian Wine

But after all those beers, and after not being able to find even one that I liked, Serbian wine made up for it. Serbia may not be known for their wineries. In fact, they seem to be the neglected redheaded stepchild in Europe, but this Cabernet was delightful. I’m not much of a wino, but I’d swing that way if this was on the market at my local grocery store.

What’s your preferred beer?
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