The Rheinheitsgebot, or German Purity Law, is the oldest law pertaining to the safety of Bier. Originally placed in the lawbooks in 1516, there are still a few breweries around today that still follow the provisions set forth. However, my friends, as with all things pertaining to deutsche Gesetze (german laws) there is always more that lies beneath the bureaucracy. This weekend I discovered a little law called das Geheimnisbiergradausteilungsundschutzvonauslanderngesetz von April 1945. Ready for the English translation? Secret Beer Grade Distribution and Protection from Foreigners Law of April 1945. In the turmoil this little law pertaining to beer drew little notice from the public. There were, after all, larger problems at hand.
The locals do not talk about it. Nor do they respond in kind when you approach them in an academic fashion thanks to its horrible origins. My discovery of this secret came only through months of infiltration. I have spent months at a local Kneipe (pub). I believe my blonde hair, blue eyes, and improved grasp of the german language when drinking led the barkeep to believe I was one of them. When only regulars were sitting around the bar in the early morning hours, he offered me something unnexpected when I asked him what was good. He replied, “Möchtest du etwas anders probieren? Vielleicht *ein Ultrabier* diese Runde für dich?” The way he said *ein Ultrabier* made it irresistable. Little did I know, what I was truly in for.
One sip of the amber and I was removed from all inhibition. German unity and its implications were suddenly made completely clear. The cited works of Goethe, Schiller, Herder, and other great german authors flooded out of my previously uncultured mouth. Melodies composed by Mozart, Beethoven, and Haydn were played with ease through my fingers. The intricacies of the subjunctives, a stumbling block for many the german and german studying student alike, made perfect sense. This was Ultrabier. This was their great secret.
While the Ultraalkohol of Ultrabier worked its way through every corpuscle in my body, I was able to learn of another secret brew. It is called Omnibier, and it is only drunk by those who have tasted no other alcohol stemming from outside the borders of Germany. Omnibier is so potent that it is only legally allowed to be consumed as the last drink of those that are dying. Witnesses say that once consumed, the fate of all who they have come into contact with during their lifetime is made known, and is the last thing the person sees before they die. First-hand accounts state that the smile that comes to their face cannot be removed even post mortum.
My liver and kidneys did their job purging the Ultraalkohol from my system. In a yellow stream, all that I had sung, cited, and debated over had disappeared in a haze. My amazing ability to craft the most complex sentences in german disappeared. Forget Absinthe, Ultrabier is my new love.