Drinking Kölsch in Cologne, pt.1
Everyone said we'd love Cologne, and they were right.
When we packed up our van to spend 10 days in Belgium, Germany and the Netherlands, I knew Cologne was on our agenda, and I was excited about it. Cologne, or Köln, if you want to say it like a German — which I really do, but I’ve had to stop because people think I’m talking about Colne, a very different beer town — has been on my list for years. Every winter when the flight prices dip, I plan a trip based around our birthdays in January, and every winter we fail to make it. Holidays are expensive, and both of us hate flying. Now we were actually planning to go there for real. It’s not an exaggeration to say this was a dream come true.
Travelling up through Rhineland-Palatinate via the Mosel road was a beautiful experience, even during the bleak midwinter. Dipping over the ridge at Piesport to be met with my favourite view of the Mosel was like seeing an old friend, the steep hills and flat, meandering river like a slick of oil paint lying out before me in reality after all these years away. Although I warned him that in December the vines would be pruned-back sticks and the doors to the wineries would be tightly shut, he still wanted to see it all. I’m glad he did.
We wound our way up to Koblenz, and then through the industrial regions of the Rhine, and passed through Bonn on our way to Cologne, reading about the history of each town we drove through on Wikipedia. I’ve never known more about Wilhelminian architecture than I do now. I’ve visited almost every Aldi on the Bundesstraße 9 — which began as a Roman road, in case you were wondering.
The first time I saw Cologne cathedral, I was silenced. It punched the breath out of me. With shadowy hands around my throat, I could not stop staring at it, watching it turn slowly in perspective as we drove over the Severinsbrücke. I’ve never experienced a reaction like this to a building before — it was like staring into the face of a vengeful God. Tom made doomy feedback noises every time it came back into view to enhance the sensation that it was looming over the city, judging, seething, doling out punishments.
As a result, visiting the cathedral, known colloquially as “Dom”, was the first thing we wanted to do. I wanted to touch the blackened stone of this awesome building and see its sharp spires pierce the foggy night sky. I wanted to see if its power was as potent up close. It was a bit daunting though. Perhaps we needed a drink first.
It’s illegal, or at least impossible as far as we could work out, to park a van in the centre of Cologne, so I booked a very cheap hotel for two nights. This was actually an amazing idea and a stroke of genius too, because Mühlen Kölsch ended up being right around the corner. This was our first Kölsch in Cologne.
This being our first Kölsch in Cologne, we were excited to be ushered to a tall drinking table in the heart of the building. The building itself is an historic brewery hall, dating from 1858. To get in you must navigate a heavy revolving wooden door and then push yourself through an equally heavy velvet curtain, adding a definite feeling of pizzazz to the dining room you enter into. As most people in there have been seated and enjoying a peaceful meal until you arrived, they probably won’t enjoy your squeals of delight at being shoved through into what is essentially German Narnia.
To describe a beer in Cologne as clean and fresh, we learned, is the bare minimum. At The beer at Mühlen Kölsch was tinged with a hint of bitterness, but only so much as to enhance the flavour of the local water.
Just pausing here a moment to talk about the water in Cologne. It is amazing. It’s like drinking water for the first time. It’s like drinking health, like being able to taste without all the interference of years of drinking, eating garlic, and sleeping with my mouth open. It also made my hair beautiful, and I am jealous that this stuff just comes out of the tap if you live there?? Anyway, back to the story.
The next place we visited for Kölsch was Pfaffenbrauerei, a completely baffling place that combines traditional/touristic wooden dining tables and 16th century décor with detailed wooden carvings, and statues of men popping through your drinking table. We liked Pfaffen a lot, and the service was rapid. We were joined at our tiny man-statue table by two chatty Belgians who were inexplicably drinking wine and dark beer. We stuck to the house Kölsch, which was slightly bicarbonate and sweet in its flavour, perhaps something to do with their well but also because of the malt content too — it was much more golden than the other Kölsch we tried. We stayed for our regimented three glasses, and then left for the next.
Directly after walking out of Pfaffen and then to the left, we found Brauhaus Sünner at Sünner im Walfisch on the corner of Salzgasse and Auf dem Rothenberg. Even after spending another day drinking Kölsch after visiting Sünner im Walfisch, this still remains my favourite. It had everything I wanted.
16th century wooden beams
Historic remnants from building being something else earlier (this was once a townhouse)
Smell of delicious food
Tiny snug area where we were ushered in immediately “Don’t be shy! Squeeze in with everybody!”
Genuinely happy and smiling team pouring endless rounds of Sünner Kölsch
Locals initiating chats and welcoming us to the city
We had such a lovely time in Sünner im Walfisch that it was quite hard to leave. We’d been chatting to a local pair of friends who bought us a shot of Underberg each and they’d told us this was their favourite place to drink too. I really enjoyed the beer here — an exceptionally mineral flavour that Tom didn’t prefer but I likened to Lake District water. Honestly, if you’re a water nerd when it comes to beer, get yourself to Cologne. Also, Sünner have had a bit of a recent rebrand and their logo is really cool. I liked the whole vibe of the place and the beer a lot.
I asked them how, as locals, they felt about the imposing presence of the cathedral felt as they went about their daily lives.
“You just get used to him,” they said, as though I was insane.
I suppose it’s strange to be scared of a building, and it was quite a weird question. I enjoy the German way of looking at things.
That’s it, our drinking for the night was done. We’d had a long day of travelling and getting lost on the tram on our way back from the Park and Ride, and we had two more things to do before we could go to bed — see the cathedral, and eat a classic German post-beer snack. I was strangely nervous as we wandered the tight medieval streets of Cologne’s old town. I didn’t have to wonder for long how much the Dom would tower over me. There it was.
At night, in a haze of drizzle, Dom looked magnificent, but after putting hands on the smooth, rounded stone of a buttress and looking straight up to the sharpened pinnacle above, I was no longer scared of this building. The black is just soot. Up close, where the Gothic lines from earth to sky aren’t so closely concertinaed and crisply drawn, it’s beautiful. I spent too long in the rain admiring the stonework. Eventually, Tom said it was time to go back, and we walked home to the hotel. I felt like I’d finally been let into the city officially now, the mighty Cathedral had met me and we were no longer strangers. We trudged home in the wet, feeling lighter somehow, stopping only for the essentials: a donner kebab, and some currywurst.
Other Stuff
It’s Koksijde today, a big Cyclocross race on the calendar. This story from a vintage Rouleur issue really gives a true account as to what being a Cyclocross spectator is like. (If you’d like me to do a version of this for the newsletter, please let me know! I realise 99% of you do not care about the sports I like so I won’t unless you say so.)
Because of Dom I’ve become really interested in Cathedral architecture (again). This is a great glossary on the subject.
Call it self-preservation or self-harm depending on how you look at it, but I’ve been reading every long-form piece on the Pelicot trial I can find. This, by Sophie Smith for the London Review of Books is devastating in a new way — it breaks down preconceptions about patriarchal violence and rebuilds them anew. It’s easy to understand, and that’s what makes it cut so deep.
Have you ever thought about writing about beer, wine or cider? Give a Golden Pints piece a go! I would do it too, but I drink a lot of macro lager and people will drag me for it.
Even though the festive season is over and now we must pay penance for our indulgences, I can’t stop thinking about this caviar dip and chips dish from Fiona Beckett’s Matching Food & Wine blog (she says lumpfish roe and crémant will work just as well)
My Stuff
A quick boastful reminder that this newsletter won Silver at the 2024 British Guild of Beer Writers awards, and that there are now well over 900 subscribers to The Gulp! Thank you for your support!
My piece for Pellicle about my local pub The Swan With Two Necks was included in Boak + Bailey’s Best Beer Writing Of 2024 roundup, alongside some truly exceptional pieces on beer. It just shows that despite it all, there is a vibrant world of beer writing all around us. You can find my story here.
Vocal champion of my work from day-dot (and don’t think I don’t appreciate it, Alan) A Good Beer Blog named The Gulp as Best Beery Newsletter of 2024. “The wide range of topics Katie Mather weaves into her writing makes it the one I first go to in my inbox.” Read the whole roundup here.
I’m continuing my work as Deputy Editor of Pellicle magazine this year, and I’m working on some exciting developments coming soon. Please support our work as an independent publisher by becoming a Patreon subscriber in 2025.
We visited Cologne and Dusseldorf in late December a few years ago. A walking tour of Dusseldorf included lots of brewery info. NYE in Cologne was plain frightening. But I did enjoy the Himmel und Ad.
I had the same reaction to the Dom. I think the soot helps it seem more menacing. I have family in Koln so I love visiting it. My partner is a big fan of the beer and the small glasses that will magically be full again if you don't put your beer mat on it.