To start, there are 20 breweries, 2 gypsy brewers and a cider maker at the Timisoara Craft Beer Festival 2019. However, the first thing I remember was the music.
“This song… Do you remember this song?”
“Yeah, I remember this song. Back when it was called, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’ Eh. There’s still three more bands. Let me find us some more beer, then the music will get better. You can tell this isn’t – how should I say – Romanian extreme metal.”
“I would prefer anything extreme much more now.”
“Agreed. So another Hazy Owl with Mosaic hops?”
“Može. Može, brate.”
The band were kids. They played perfectly fine funk rock, yet every opening riff was lifted from a popular 90s rock band. It was Romania Hot Chili Peppers led by Kurt Ceausescu.
First, our irritation was not so much because of the band, but from the early hour. It was only 3pm, and blazing hot. A recent trip to the Budapest Craft Beer Festival had trained Srdjan and I to start festival drinking early. Srdjan’s friend, Ljubica, joined us for the trip. The previous night, we had checked into our Air BnB in Timisoara, gone out late, woke up late today, and ate a long lunch. Despite this, we were practically the first people at Parcul Rozelor (Roses Park) for the festival.
If you want the festival facts, skip to the bottom.
Timisoara Craft Beer Festival 2019
Several dozen stacks of wooden pallets lay under a large tent. What few attendees were there lazily slumped on the pallets or leaned against them. In front, about 200 meters away, the alternative-whatever rock band played on a curved stage. In front of the stage, one brave fan roasted in the blistering sun.
Everyone else at the festival were brewers, bartenders and promoters from the nascent Romanian craft beer scene. The breweries’ stands were arranged in an angular horseshoe perimeter around the central tent. Signs marked entrances at the corners of the horseshoe. Outside of one entrance, food trucks lined up.
The Bereta Brewing stand was our base for most of the day. They shared space with another brewer, Owl Brewery, with whom they had created a killer Mosaic IPA collaboration. When I returned for my second round, we started chatting.
“But you guys don’t have a brewery yet?”
“Yes, we brew at Bereta Brewery.”
“Ok, so you’re gypsy brewers.”
“Yes, that’s right!”
A big, dark-skinned guy stepped behind the Owl Brewery stand and interrupted:
“Hey, hey now! We aren’t all gypsy brewers. It’s one gypsy, me, and one white guy.”
My eyebrow went up. The guy chuckled and stuck out his hand.
“I’m Vlad. This white guy, also a brewer, is Bogdan. Don’t worry, I hang out with foreigners a lot. And I see you like our beer.”
The gypsy gypsy brewer served me another round of beer on the house.
We aren’t all gypsy brewers. It’s one gypsy, me, and one white guy.”
The Kurvas Of Kutuma
Owl Brewery, and the Bereta team, gave me recommendations for other Romanian breweries at the festival. Better to try the best than sample 100+ beers in one afternoon. It was still not yet 4pm.
The heat and the half-empty festival grounds bored my friends. They were all in for the roadtrip from Belgrade to Timisoara. But to them it didn’t much matter whether they drank craft beer, industrial beer or Romania’s bitter national spirits: tiuaca and palinka.
I needed to entertain them.
“Hey, Srki. Do you want some kurvas?”
“Oh? Romanian kurvas?”
“Yes, that brewery over there, Kutuma, has a Pale Ale named Kurva. Film me ordering it.”
Childish entertainment, but it works. With my most serious face, I approached the stand and asked the staff for their finest, freshest Kurva.
They laughed. Great.
“On the way… Your Kurva, sir. That’s 15 Lei.”
“Only 15 Lei? Much cheaper than Budapest. Koszonoum Szepan. Normally I prefer them hot. But I think cold is better this time.”
We figured, by the names, that the brewery was owned by Hungarian Romanians. For example, their wheat was Zarva, meaning “closed,” a word Srdjan and I knew too well from trying to get into already closed bars on late nights in Budapest. Both of these Kutuma beers were light and pleasant.
The Double Drop Gose Cooldown
Timisoara is in a region of Romania known as the Banat. This wide plain, which also extends into Serbia, was once part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Because of this, many ethnic Hungarians and German people populate the area. Additionally, since it also shared land with present-day Serbia, around 10% of Timisoara’s residents are ethnic Serbs. We had Hungarian beer.
Were there any Serbian-Romanian breweries?
That question will have to wait. The band playing now was worth a listen. It was a surf rock trio: Grave For Sale. We took our Kurvas and Zarvas from the Kutuma stand and returned to the tent. The pallet stacks looked occupied now. It resembled a festival. In the rising party atmosphere, our beers drank quickly.
Soon, I was at another recommended beer stand, the Double Drop Crew Brewery. Although the sun was lower in the sky, the June heat was still unbearable. Double Drop Crew had a gose on tap. Sour beer, when done right, can fight summer sweat like a bottle of Gatorade. The gose was a relief: tart, light and a touch of pineapple made it better.
This was a warmup. Now we start tasting.
No Bereta Taproom: No Problem
Previously, the Bereta brewer, Silviu, and I had agreed to hold a beer tasting at their new taproom. Two Polish brewers were joining us that night at the taproom with a dozen beers for a bottle share. Unfortunately, testy Romanian customs agents aborted the plan. The Polacks’ beers had been detained at the airport and could not be claimed until Monday, after the festival was over. In fact, the Polish had disappeared too. With only eight beers between Silviu and I, we decided to drink everything on the festival grounds.
Silviu had four small elegant tasting glass arranged on the beer stand.
“This Triple IPA is a good start.”
“How’d you get American Monkish over here? Oh wait, that’s Northern Monk...from England?”
False start, but anyway it was a great IPA. Heavy, juicy, that bitter OJ taste.
Although the tasting glasses were small, I saved a little for my friends to try. They were excited. We were going to get some (free) beer to pick us up. On cue, the music picked up too. And people were now piling into the festival. (Still gravitating to the tent though; it was really hot.)
Some Tent Trauma
The wind also picked up. A cool breeze blew under the tent canvas. It felt good. But suddenly, the breeze became a strong gust. A startled shout, followed by a baby shrieking, came from one end of the tent.
The wind had shaken the tent enough to loosen a metal support pole in the middle. It lay on the ground next to a sobbing child. The child was unhurt, but the pole had landed close enough to startle it. The parents looked far more disturbed then their kid.
I ran to ask how the family was. They looked confused. Well, I can’t speak Romanian, so I ignored them, grabbed the pole and hoisted it upright. I noticed there was no base on the bottom. Strange. It had simply been stuck in the ground, with only the canvas’s weight to hold it in place. I turned to the nearest stack of pallets and stabbed the pole downward between the wooden slats. It looked secure.
A mutter of discontent rippled through the crowd under the tent. The staff came and suggested that if the wind picked up again, we should simply leave. Um, aren’t we in the EU, where things get fixed properly? Sensing that they hadn’t offered the best solution, the staff got to work. Soon, several people were at each outer pole: hammering, lashing, tightening, doing anything to keep the poles permanently secure. The crowd relaxed. Problem solved.
I returned to my current problem: an empty tasting glass.
“This one is great. We’re starting on the big beers. It’s Mikkeller – Platinum Or Ice Or Gold.” It was rich, full of cinnamon, chocolatey and too good for me to waste time analyzing it.
We started sharing our bottles with the other breweries at the festival: Hop Hooligans, Blackout, Hophead and Double Drop. When liquor hits me, I’m not sedate. Walking around to share our beers cured my restlessness. Also, I was hungry.
Vamos A La Casa Del Juan
Earlier, I had had seen two ridiculous Mexican stereotypes parading around the festival. One man sported a huge straw sombrero, and the other wore a lucha libre wrestling mask. Was this a joke? Or were there real Mexicans in Timisoara?
I tracked these potential Mexicans down to a food stand with a colorful sign labeled ‘La Casa Del Juan.‘ Yes, the guys were promoting the restaurant, and – ya tu sabes– the owner was a Juan. Serbia is in short supply of real Mexicans and real Mexican food, so I was eager to eat this grub from Romania.
I approached the Mexicans. In my worst gringo Spanish I declared I was La Migra and had came to make sure they would pay for America’s big, beautiful pinche wall. My Southern neighbors broke out laughing, then moved me to the head of the line. Juan served me a giant taco with extra guacamole and salsa that was “picante hasta el culo.“
After four years in The Balkans, that was the spiciest thing I’d had so far. Only Mexico can do this. I returned to the tent to share some of that magnificent taco with my Serbian crew.
Le Boris Royale, Muthafuckas
After lunch, we continued tasting at the Bereta stand. Silviu had a bottle from one of the few US craft breweries which is available in bottle shops in the Balkans, Hopping Frog. It was the Whiskey Barrel-Aged Boris Royale, named after the famous “Royale With Cheese” conversation from Pulp Fiction. As Silvu swirled his glass, he grinned and pointed at the stage.
“Perfect. We’re listening to Quentin Tarantino music with this Quentin Tarantino beer.”
Sure enough, Grave For Sale was running through a surf tune that, even if it wasn’t Misirlou, it did deserve a fucking robbery. I downed the heady Boris Royale. Next, Silvu poured a wild Belgium Sour.
At that point, time started racing faster than that rat-a-tat guitar riff…
I went to Hop Hooligans’ stand to share the Belgium Sour. Thanks, American, here’s a beer for you. Another band went on. I think they were good. Somehow, I found my Serbian friends drinking with a group of Erasmus students, all Germans. No. One was a lovely blonde Belgium girl. You remind me of Uma Thurman. Now I’ve a Belgium in each hand. Giddily, I escorted her around the festival, raving in beer geeky joy about her country’s legendary ales. We had beer from Blackout Brewing – am I blacking out? It seemed the whole festival staff knew us. Bottles made rounds. Surprisingly, I found the missing Polish brewers. Then the girl was gone. And there go my dreams of living out my golden years sipping golden ales besides her at a farmhouse in the Flemish countryside.Â
I wandered. Hey, the stars are out already?
Meet And Greet Beerologique Geeks
“I’ve been looking for you all night.”
Well, it wasn’t the lovely Belgium. It was more beer geeks.Â
Andrew and his wife, Teodora, are an English-Romanian couple who have a blog about Romania’s craft beer, Beerologique. Apparently, they had heard about Pivoslavija. They have a far more detailed, precise account of the festival happenings than I do. I think they were sober.
I, meanwhile, was drunk. And again had no idea where my Serbian friends were.
Eventually, the festival wound down. Around the midnight hour, the remaining staff huddled under the tent. Everyone except my Serbian friends. I supposed the Erasmus students had abducted them.
Momentarily, I was concerned. But that concern dissipated into a bottle of homemade calvados. A Scottish expat, the brewer for the Bucharest brewery Perfektum, had produced this liquor. Calvados is not something I particularly enjoy. However, now I was beyond caring, and the apple pie flavor burnt smooth and warm as it went in my chest.
Far From The Ancient City Walls
The Timisoara Craft Beer Festival 2019 was over, but the party continued under the tent. Bottles of homebrew went around. Someone heard I was “Serbian.” Like magic, from a speaker, I heard Bajaga i Instruktori telling me how life was “sometimes grey, sometimes gold…”
Again, I realized I should find my Serbs, since I was the only one with a key to the apartment. I left the tent, then headed to the Hop Hooligans stand. It was closed, but they agreed to sell me two cans of Crowd Control IPA.
I dropped one can in my pocket, then cracked open the other. Briefly, I considered how, even if I found my friends, I still didn’t remember where the Air BnB was. Some profile description about “near the ancient city walls” flitted through my hazy memory.
I sipped my can, then set off to find those ancient city walls.
What To Know For Timisoara Craft Beer Festival 2019
- Free Entry – For Timisoara Craft Beer Week 2019 you pay nothing. The festival takes place on the weekend of June 14th – June 16th. It starts at 2pm, but things pick up after 4pm.
- Festival Location – TMCBF is at Parcul Rozelor (Roses Park), named for its colorful rose gardens. If you are staying in the city center, there is no need to take public transportation. It is located just south of the central square on the bank of the Bega River. From our Air Bnb, it took a 10 minute walk.
- 23 Romanian Breweries – There were 20 breweries, 2 gypsy brewers and a cidery at TMCBF 2019. This was almost twice as many as the first year, and they come from all over Romania, not just Timisoara and Bucharest. Additionally, there are local homebrewed coffee stands and food trucks.
- Live Music – TMCBF 2019 features live concerts on a central stage. The bands are national groups that range from funk to surf to metal and more.
For a guide to the best craft beer bars in Bucharest click: here
