Showing posts with label retro menu. Show all posts
Showing posts with label retro menu. Show all posts

Monday, October 4, 2021

Retro Menu: Hofbräuhaus am Platzl

Another retro menu! This one is not from a flea market—it’s from my dad! As you might know, my dad spent his junior year in college studying at the University of Paris, and naturally he did a lot of sight-seeing. One of the places he went was the famous Hofbräuhaus in Munich. I’ll tell you the story in my next post, but for now, I wanted to feature the menu.

Hofbrauhaus am Platzl Munich 1954 Menu

A very similar (almost identical!) menu is scanned and available online at the website of the New York Public Library. It’s from the same month as Dad’s (Christmas 1954), so I wonder if it had belonged to one of Dad’s fellow travelers, mostly students from Virginia’s Sweet Briar College. Hmm.

A few interesting things about this. First, although the beer hall was originally built in 1589 and remodeled extensively in 1897, it was almost completely destroyed in the bombings of World War II; only the historic beer hall itself survived. History indeed, even just in the twentieth century: It was here that Adolf Hitler had announced the goals of the Nazis at a huge gathering of a few thousand people in 1920, and the next year he was elected Führer of the Nazi Party. Yeah, right at this very beer hall. It took years to restore the building after WWII, and they didn’t get finished until 1958. So my dad was there when they were still repairing the place.

The artwork on the menu is remarkably good. Its artist, August Roeseler (1866–1934), was an accomplished character illustrator, especially when it came to depicting ordinary, middle-class folks, and dogs (he was nicknamed the “dachshund painter”), and his abilities were put to good use on this beer hall menu. The theme is obviously Gemütlichkeit!

The front cover shows all kinds of people cheerfully gathering at the HB bar for a stein of beer. It is as if the viewer is part of the crowd heading toward the bar. You can see the backs of the people ahead of you. The bartender is happily dispensing drinks. The people who are facing the viewer are super cheerful, because they’ve already secured a full stein and food for themselves! They’re heading off to their tables.

The man at the front left has a look of private, smug expectation, with his HB stein and its overflowing foam in one hand and a plate of food (a Grillhendl, or roast chicken?) in the other. He’s a heavy man, and he’s not young anymore, but he wears his hat at a rakish angle, and his eyes are crinkling as he grins beneath his big white mustache.

In the front right is a woman and man who look as if life is finally getting back the way it ought to be. The woman’s stein is as big as her head. Roeseler apparently did a lot of works with people in this pose, looking straight into the camera and smiling.

In 1954, Germans were looking for reasons to smile.

In the front middle, a boy—a child—drinks from a big stein, too. He looks something like Peter Pan with his green cap and its long, curling white feather. He’s dapper in his lederhosen, crisp shirt, and tie. When he finishes that big beer, he probably won’t look so crisp. It’s a good reminder that prohibitions against children drinking alcohol are a relatively modern concept.

In case you’re wondering, the current German drinking age varies with the situation and the type of alcohol. Beer and wine can be consumed in public places by fourteen-year-olds, if they’re accompanied by a “custodial person” such as a parent. At sixteen, beer and wine can be purchased and consumed on one’s own. But you can’t have distilled spirits (whiskey, etc.) in public until you turn eighteen. Note that German alcohol law pertains to public places. At home, childrens’ welfare, including what and how much they eat and drink, is the responsibility of their parents or guardians, who are held liable if something goes wrong.

Back to the menu. A couple of details that might be easily overlooked are in the top corners. In the upper right, the white and sky-blue ribbons (traditional colors of Bavaria) are tied decoratively around some good ol’ pretzels. On the left, black and orange ribbons suspend—well, what are they? They’re big white radishes! Munich’s traditional colors are yellow and black, so I’m not sure what the orange and black symbolize. The radishes are easier to learn about.

Radishes have long been considered part of the traditional Oktoberfest menu, along with weisswurst and other sausages, senf (mustard), pretzels, liver dumpling soup, pork shanks/pork knuckles, and so on. Thinly sliced, now often spiral-cut white radishes, Bierradi, or bier-rettich, sprinkled with salt and/or pepper is a traditional garnish/relish. Red radishes or white Asian daikon will also be fine, if you’re thinking of putting together your own Oktoberfest menu.

The back of the menu continues the theme of “people from all walks of life.” They’re parading toward the viewer, encircling the logo and name of the business, forming a colorful wreath of the German population. I wish I knew more about historic uniforms, costumes, and fashion, but clearly there are businessmen, a hikers, a few dandies, a burgermeister or two, and I’m pretty sure that’s a birdwatcher, with his binocular case around his neck, at the left. Males outnumber the females nineteen to five, and three out of the five women appear to be servers (so, sexism, duh).

At the bottom, at the front of the two lines, are two boys; one is apparently a baker’s delivery boy, with his basket of bread hooked around one arm while he holds his enormous stein up to his face with both hands. The other boy, who looks incredibly young, wears a robe and holds his stein up: prosit! I wonder if the style of robe has some meaning, with its big golden cross on the front, formed by the robe’s lining and sash. Maybe someone who reads this will shed some light on it.

Finally, at the very bottom, is a whimsical dachshund—the artist’s signature touch—carrying several links of sausage. All together now: “Awwwwwww!”

As for the rest of the menu, I’ll just provide the images. I’m loading them as large files, so you can click on them and see them better.

There’s not much I can say about them, as my German’s nothing to write home (or anywhere else) about.

Do note, however, that the top of the first column on the second page, there’s a box under the heading “Spezialitäten von Heute”: Weihnachten 1954. That dates this menu at Christmas 1954. Also, at the bottom of the first column on the first page, there’s a box that reads: “Für die Feiertage und Sylvester: Die prima Weißwurst, jede Menge auch außer Haus erhältlich!”—an advertisement for the holiday season, including New Year’s Eve, that they have plenty of white sausage (weisswurst) that (I believe they are saying) is available for carryout, as well.

So much food, and so much food for thought. I hope you enjoy looking at, and pondring, this old menu as much as I have.

Friday, October 1, 2021

Retro Menu: The Italian Room, Partenkirchner Hof Hotel

Look, another retro menu that I bought at a flea market, er, antique mall! I got it for a dollar, and what a find it is!

It’s for a restaurant called The Italian Room, at the Partenkirchner Hof Hotel, in the town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen in Bavaria, Germany. It’s a resort town offering skiing in Germany’s highest alpine peak, the Zugspitze. The town was famous as the home of the 1936 Winter Olympics, where Alpine skiing made its first appearance as an Olympic sport. . . . Then the Nazis took over the hotel . . . and then the American Army monopolized after the war.

The Italian Room, which dates to the American Army’s use of the hotel, is long gone. I think this menu dates to about 1950. The Partenkirchner hotel was a “leave and rest center” for the US Army. The last line of the front of the menu reads “USAREUR Leave and Rest Center”; USAREUR means “US Army in Europe.” (Now, it’s the USAREUR-AF, since the US Army Africa was combined with it in 2020.)

The hotel is still there, having gone back into private ownership in 1959. It’s now called Reindls Partenkirchner Hof. It looks like an amazing place. You can read about its history here.

While you’re online looking at stuff, here’s another hotel in the area that has a similar history; its website has a more thorough description of postwar American presence in the area. Indeed, the different hotels in the Garmisch area served different cuisines; one offered a “Chuck Wagon Steak House,” another had a “Pagoda Room,” another had a “Hawaiian Room.” These and other cuisines moved around among different hotels.

And here’s a big long, scrolly-scrolly page of memorabilia about the US Army in Garmisch.

Anyway, I’m just sharing this menu. Remember that you can click on my blog pictures to make them bigger.

I think it’s interesting that they were offering Italian food at the literal peak of the Bavarian Alps. Perhaps this was supposed to offer American soldiers a break from the wursts, schnitzels, kartoffel, spätzle, and kraut.

I’m also amused by the artwork on the front, depicting stereotypical scenes of sunny Italia—all those lusty, rustic, romantic Italians playing guitars, dancing with tambourines, and drinking wine from a wineskin. Mamma mia!

The inside of the menu is preprinted with a color field guide to pasta shapes, so you don’t have to embarrass yourself by not knowing your mezzanelli from your bucatini, or your ragitone from your denti-delegante. You had the choice of pasta, then you could decide to have it with tomato sauce, meat sauce, meat balls, or fresh sausage. Saturdays and Sundays, the specials were lasagne and ravioli. They also served pizza, which you could customize with toppings.

I often think about how American soldiers, returning from Europe, brought back with them a love of Eye-talian and other then-exotic cuisines. Back in America, they were likely to say, Yeah, let’s go out for a pizza pie!

The “Chef’s Specials” were typed (using carbon papers; this was before photocopiers, of course) and stapled to the more permanent menu.

I’ll let you read the rest of the menu via pictures. It’s a really interesting mix of what apparently was truly fine food prepared by people who knew what they were doing, and dishes like “Cheeseburger,” “Fried Chicken,” “T-bone Steak,” and “Bacon Lettuce Tomato” sandwich—stuff familiar at any American diner.

Whenever I find something like this at a flea market, er, antique mall, I pretty much figure that it was left over from someone’s military mementos. Someone had served in Europe, as part of the USAREUS, then probably passed away, and his (yeah, probably a “his”) family or survivors jettisoned the stuff. I find it fascinating. I hope you do, too.