2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #29: The Beav’s Pretzel

Block 15, Corvallis, Oregon

“Gee, Wally, why would a person fly all the way to Corvallis just to eat a pretzel? I mean, you can get ’em right here at the Woolworth’s lunch counter.”

“I dunno, Beav. Sometimes adults just do nutty stuff. Like when Dad tried growing a beard. Or that week when Mom started buying ‘oat milk’ instead of normal milk.”

As should be obvious, today’s review is of another OOSP (Out-Of-State Pretzel). Specifically, we’re off to the Beaver State to try the “Bier Bread Pretzel” from Block 15 Brewing in Corvallis.

Block 15’s owners–Nick and Kristen Arzner

Block 15 actually has two locations: The Downtown Pub (which is more of a conventional restaurant), and the Southtown Tap Room (where they actually make the beer). I visited the latter, which, I must say, smelled like a brewery. Which is to be expected, because it is a brewery, with the fermenting tanks prominently on display, doing their thing.

I ordered the “extra large bier bread pretzel served with stoneground mustard and bier cheese sauce.” I thought the description sounded fairly promising, except for the “sauce” added to the description of the beer cheese, and the pretentious German spelling of “beer.”

When the pretzel showed up it didn’t quite match my expectations. For starters, this was not an extra-large pretzel. A truly extra-large pretzel would be at least 50 percent larger than this one, and typically would be hung from a hook. In addition, the color seemed unusually dark, and there was no sign of glossiness. There was practically no salt at all.

I then tried a bite, and my skepticism was validated. This was an incredibly bland and bready pretzel, entirely lacking in pretzel taste. It was like eating a dinner roll. Given the appearance and the taste, it’s almost certain they skipped the critical step of boiling the pretzel in baking soda or lye.

The very least they could have done to kick up the taste a bit would have been to properly salt it. The little salt they did use was not kosher salt, but just a little salt dust like the kind you’d find at the bottom of a container of Morton Salt. Just look at the photo; this is essentially a saltless pretzel.

The supposed “bier cheese sauce” was equally disappointing. It was flat, lacking anything resembling a cheesy tang. And I suspect they call it a “sauce” because they mixed their (pathetic) beer cheese with something like mayonnaise. On top of all this, the “bier cheese sauce” skins quickly, similar to the Jell-O pudding my mom used to make.

I cannot in good conscience give this anything higher than 1.5 stars.

ALERT! ALERT! ALERT!

Just moments before this review went to press, we received a dispatch from our son, Ian B., who happens to be going to graduate school in Corvallis. He had just eaten a pretzel at Block 15’s other location (the Downtown Pub). Here is his report, slightly edited from the original Millennial Text-Speak:

This pretzel is a bread bomb that lacks the alkali boil. The salt is good and the mustard is good. The beer cheese tastes like Velveeta. 3 stars…but the more I eat this pretzel the lower the score drops. Would not recommend this. The size is appreciated, but it’s the equivalent of getting a double roll of Smarties–I don’t need more than one.

Who uses a knife with a pretzel?

So there you have it. It seems like Ian’s pretzel was larger than mine, and as the photo shows, it clearly had plenty of good-quality salt. But we seem to be in agreement about the lack of alkaline bath, the breadiness, and the sub-par beer cheese.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Pretzels are the future.

At least, this is the impression I get from reading market trend analyses. The global pretzel market is worth $8 billion. This is expected to continue growing, owing to “increasing consumer demand for convenient snack options, the rising popularity of pretzels as a healthier alternative to traditional snacks, and a surge in product innovation, including gluten-free, whole grain, and organic options catering to health-conscious consumers.”

Hard pretzels constitute a larger share of the market than soft pretzels, but soft pretzel sales are growing more rapidly. Further, “Brands are shifting away from plain salted varieties—which still account for over 80% of consumption—toward bold, adventurous flavor infusions like parmesan, garlic, barbecue, sweet profiles, and specialty artisanal pretzel salts.” I’ve gotta say, I’m no so sure about these “sweet profiles.”

Americans eat about 2 pounds of pretzels per capita annually. This might not sound like a lot, and it’s less than half of what Germans eat (5.5 pounds per capita). But American pretzel consumption really depends on where you live. Residents of Pennsylvania reportedly eat over 12 pounds of pretzels per capita annually. And while that number is impressive, I figure I’ve personally eaten over 30 pounds of pretzels in October alone.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #28: Pretzels and Lost Wages

BrewDog Brewing in Las Vegas

You may remember that earlier this year I took a road trip through the Mojave along Death Valley Road (known to you mortals as CA Route 127). It was a fascinating though slightly melancholy trip, with far more going on than you’d expect for a desert drive. And relevant for today’s blog post is the restaurant where I got lunch right after picking up my rental car in Las Vegas. It’s a place called BrewDog.

BrewDog is a brewery chain, but we won’t hold that against them. Their operation in Las Vegas is hip and vibrant, and has a comfortable rooftop patio where you can literally look down on the streetbound tourists.

I took a seat at a table in the shade (the thermometer had already entered the 90s when I arrived for lunch). And because I already knew my October blog posts would feature Bavarian pretzels, I figured I’d get one in the can early. So I ordered BrewDog’s “warm pretzel with beer cheese and honey mustard dips.” Are you imagining it the same way I did? It’s a single pretzel with two dips, so surely it’s a big Bavarian pub pretzel.

But no, it’s not. It’s three funny-looking, braided breads.

Despite their disappointing format, these pretzelish loaves showed some promise. They were generously salted, they glistened with brushed-on butter, and they were oven-warm.

I took a bite. It presented just the right amount of chewy “give”to the texture, which was also abetted by the presence of crunchy chunks o’ salt. I then dipped a piece in the beer cheese, which tasted quite delicious indeed. It was creamy and tangy and warm, with a barely-detectable beer finish. (The honey mustard, on the other hand, was thin and watery, with a heavy sweetness and almost no mustard. It tasted like honey mustard salad dressing. Which perhaps it was.)

Anyway, I figured I’d just stick to the beer cheese. I took another bite, and it too was good, although the top of the beer cheese was beginning to congeal. I stirred it up a bit and tried a third bite. This time I noticed that the “pretzel”was beginning to get tough.

To cut to the chase: This dish was quickly passing its eat-by date…which is about three minutes after it’s placed on the table. Bite by bite, it became progressive tougher, like quick-set mortar. After I managed to gnaw through the first loaf, I gave up, for the second had the consistency almost of a Snyder’s of Hanover hard pretzel. And anyone who’s shared a meal with me knows I am not a slow eater!

Meanwhile, the cheese dip remained tasty, but quickly developed the consistency of latex paint that’s in an old can that’s been on the garage shelf since the first George Bush administration.

I suspect microwave usage. To be fair to BrewDog, they probably expected that this dish of three pretzels would be shared by a group of people, and thus consumed quickly. I was treating it as a leisurely meal. But still, microwaving bread (if that’s what they did) is unacceptable.

Golden retriever on a bicycle reaching toward a microwave

3 stars for the first pretzel, 0 stars for the second and third, for a weighted score of 1 star.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t realize until today that October is National Pretzel Month.

What I did already know, and surely every schoolchild knows, is that National Pretzel Day is April 26.

So why is National Pretzel Day not part of National Pretzel Month? The day was proclaimed in 2003 by Pennsylvania’s then-governor Ed Rendell. Naturally the proclamation emphasized the importance of pretzels to Pennsylvania’s economy and society. (We’ll overlook the fact that a state’s governor declared a national holiday.)

National Pretzel Month, on the other hand, has murkier provenance. According to the Infallible ChatGPT, “The exact origins and official creation date of National Pretzel Month (celebrated annually in October) are obscure and undocumented.” But I suspect the National Bakers Association (“The voice of the baking industry”) had a hand in it. In any event, October makes sense as the best time for celebrating pretzels, given Oktoberfest and all. (And yes, I’m aware that Oktoberfest doesn’t align exactly with the month of October, but Americans don’t care about that part.)

But wait! J&J Snack Foods, the conglomerate that make the Superpretzel I reviewed recently, claims that April in National Soft Pretzel Month! So literally one-sixth of the entire year is devoted to celebrating pretzels in one form or another.

Clearly this is a cynical ploy to sell more Superpretzels, since the promotional poster they sent to schools everywhere includes trivia facts like “Every year Superpretzel bakes 1 billion pretzels” and “[Superpretzel’s parent company] is the largest manufacturer of soft pretzels in the world.”

So I’m going to ignore April and instead stand by the (relatively) honest National Pretzel Month designation for October, and I hereby retroactively declare this month’s blog entries to be my humble contribution to this most auspicious celebration.

And don’t you forget it.

MAILBAG

Loyal reader Pam S., borrowing a page from the Da Vinci Code, thinks she made have discovered a hidden element in the Last Supper portrayal I shared on Monday:

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #27: Got 5 On It

Brewhaus in Nevada City, CA

Before diving into our Pretzel of the Day, I thought I’d share a few items in the mailbag.

First comes a few photos from loyal reader Brian W, who responded to my call for photos of Muffler Men. He’s on a road trip from Denver into Michigan and stopped in Atlanta, IL at a place called the American Giants Museum, which displays a number of authentic Muffler Men. It almost feels like cheating, having so many in one place. But at least they are preserved and visible to the public.

Note his left hand.

Of note is the giant that looks like Alfred E. Neuman (next to the Indian in the middle photo). Compare him to the one I spotted near Philadelphia earlier this summer:

We also heard from loyal reader Peter D., who noted the connection between the “last supper” pretzel in yesterday’s Pretzel Trivia, and the Lenten pretzel in the Pretzel Trivia from my October 12 post. He also shared this article about “Holy Pretzels,” which even includes a Pretzel Prayer.

Holy or not, I’m not sure these would rate well under my scoring rubric.

Finally, loyal reader Jonathan C. reported on several pretzel sightings in southern California. He writes:

“I wanted to be sure you know that Rock n Brews offers a Bavarian pretzel w mustard. But they charge EXTRA FOR BEER CHEESE. Nelson’s, at Terranea, also has what I thought was a pretty good pretzel – hot, buttery and salty, with no extra charge [for beer cheese]. But at their prices it’s likely “baked in” anyway.“

I appreciate not only the “baked in” pun, but also the outrage at being charged extra for beer cheese.

And now, on with the Pretzel:

Today’s pretzel comes from The Brewhaus in Nevada City, which, of course, is a city in California. The Brewhaus is a very comfortable, welcoming space with plenty of outdoor seating. Just watch a few seconds of these photos on their website and you’ll get the vibe.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, so I took a seat outdoors and ordered their Bavarian Pretzel and a mug of their Secret Incantation Porter. (I realize now I should have standardized my beers, to control for that variable in my reviews.)

This was a truly wonderful pretzel. Attractive artisanal shape, good size, firm crust, soft and chewy inside. In fact, the texture may have been the best so far. The salt was agreeably flaky, if a bit unevenly distributed. The taste was malt-forward, with a bit of molasses (?) on the finish.

And then there was the amazing beer cheese–warm, creamy, cheddary, beery. It perfectly complemented the pretzel, adding depth and character without overpowering the pretzel. My only complaint is that I wanted more.

So, this was about as close to a perfect pretzel experiences as I’ve had so far. I have to admit that the attractive outdoor seating area and the perfect weather added to the experience. But, as we discussed yesterday in our review of frozen pretzels, part of what you pay for at a restaurant is the setting and the staff interactions and everything else that I call the Total Pretzel Experience. So I feel its fine if these factors influence my rating.

And so, this is a perfect specimen of the rare Five Star Pretzel. Even without a hook!

PRETZEL TRIVIA

You may have noticed the reference to 1990s hip-hop lyrics in the title of today’s post. This serves two functions:

  1. The “5” in the title is a reference to the fact that one of the pretzels under review finally scored 5 stars.
  2. The hip-hop angle foreshadows our pretzel trivia, which concerns pretzel-related hip-hop lyrics.

You see, Garnet Valley High School near Philadelphia designates every Thursday as “Pretzel Day,” when the school’s Common Grounds Cafe sells soft pretzels for a dollar. In 2019, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear to me, the students created a number of music videos celebrating Pretzel Day. Here’s some sample lyrics:

(Mouth so dry) Hands full of yeast
These pretzels are our feast
Stomach full, salty heaven
Eaten so much but I can’t cease

Please check out Saltboi Carti’s “Pretzels in GV,” below, for the full ode to pretzels. (And if you’re in a hurry, just skip forward to 02:10, which is when the actual song starts.)

My favorite user comment for this video: “Eminem has been very quite since this dropped.”

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #26: Holy Pretzels, Batman!

Iron Horse Tavern, Folsom, CA

Much of my childhood was spent in front of a television set. As one of the last Baby Boomers, I missed the Golden Age of Television classics like Howdy Doody and Mickey Mouse Club. But I did watch my share of Get Smart!, The Wild Wild West, Batman, and Hogan’s Heroes. When my favorite shows weren’t on, I would channel surf (although that wasn’t yet a term) looking for some distraction. And one such distraction was a Western series called Iron Horse, which had lots of trains and gunfights. What more could a boy like me want?

Iron Horse featured a gambler named Ben Calhoun who won an (incomplete) railroad in a poker game. The plots focused on Calhoun encountering endless obstacles in his effort to complete the railroad.

A lot of the show was way over my head, including (in Wikipedia’s words) “a running subplot [featuring] Calhoun’s frequent and (for TV at that time) flagrant sexual dalliances with his many attractive female guest stars, as well as his steadier on and off arrangement with Julie Parsons, played by Ellen Burstyn. Though he was never shown in bed with any of them, there was little doubt about what was happening between scenes; and marriage was never proposed as a possibility.” I guess that explains all the shots of trains speeding into tunnels…

But this talk of the show Iron Horse leads us, of course, to a place called the Iron Horse Tavern. It was brought to our attention by a person we shall call “Captain Hook” (but he is actually loyal reader Robert I.) I hadn’t realized it, but Captain Hook was pursuing his own interest in Bavarian pretzels, with a special focus on pretzels suspended by a hook. He alerted us to Sacramento’s Iron Horse Tavern as a place with an exceptional, hook-suspended pretzel.

Turns out there are actually two Iron Horse Taverns, with the newer one located in Folsom, CA. This clinched it for me, as it’s only about a 20 minute drive from stately Boilard Manor. So I programmed the coordinates and before two shakes of the pretzel salt I found myself at the Iron Horse Tavern. And the first thing I did was order their Bavarian pretzel.

Captain Hook was right. This is one of the most attractive pretzels you’re ever going to find. It’s beautifully misshapen–cracked and lumpy and carelessly pockmarked with salt crystals. It looks like it was crafted by a blind, hook-handed man. It’s a nice, glossy brown that looks to be imparted by a generous brushing with butter. If I were actually using a proper scoring rubric, with specific, defined categories, this would get full marks for appearance. I mean, just look at that handmade, artisinal baked beauty! And, as Captain Hook promised, it’s hung on a lovely copper hook.

Plus, it’s not just a pretty face; this pretzel really delivered on flavor. Nutty and slightly sweet with a tinge of butter, this pretzel tasted like the pretzels mom used to make. If mom had made pretzels. And if she had been any good at it.

With my first bite I discovered this pretzel had a perfect crust, with a nice, chewy center. However, as I worked my way to the thick top of the pretzel, it began to seem a little bready. Still, this wasn’t a deal-killer. In fact this pretzel was clearly one of the very best I’ve encountered all month.

But then disaster struck. It stuck in the form of the beer cheese, which wasn’t beer cheese at all, but rather Sriracha cream cheese. I mean, who replaces beer cheese with cream cheese?? If I’d wanted a bagel, I would have ordered a bagel. I can’t overstate how disappointing this was. Certainly no one has ever asked for their pretzel to come with Sriracha cream cheese. Surely this was some sort of joke. As a pretzel dipping sauce, Sriracha cream cheese has all the blandness of regular cream cheese, coupled with the entirely unwarranted burn of Sriracha. In the words of George H.W. Bush to Saddam Hussein, This Will Not Stand.

To be fair, I was also supplied with some housemade stoneground honey mustard. Now this is the stuff. It perfectly balances honey sweetness and an acidic mustard kick. And it has an easy consistency that’s a bit thinner than Grey Poupon, and thus it really soaks into the pretzel. I sopped up every last trace of that honey mustard.

My server informs me that the pretzels are made by by the restaurant’s owners (who call themselves MAC Hospitality Group), using their own recipe. MAC owns a total of seven restaurants, including the other Iron Horse Tavern in Sacramento. They make all their sauces made in-house, and they bake their own pretzels off-site.

I really wanted to give this pretzel 5 stars, but that ill-conceived idea of replacing the beer cheese with Sriracha cream cheese lost them a star. My server tells me that they periodically offer beer cheese as a special, seasonal item, and that I just missed the last offering by a week. But what good does that do me?

Four stars.

PRETZEL TRIVIA

My Catholic friends tell me that consecrated pretzels are never administered for Communion. But I have uncovered evidence that Jesus himself (!) may have served pretzels at the Last Supper.

This image is taken from a Gospel Lexionary created by the Abbey of St. Peter in Salzburg in the 11th century. In it we clearly see pretzels on the table (I’ve circled them in red) and it’s almost certain that Jesus is giving half a pretzel to Judas.

MS G.44, fol. 80 Gift of the Trustees of the William S. Glazier Collection, 1984

According to William M. Voelkle, Curator at the Morgan Library and Museum in New York (which owns this image), “During the middle ages pretzels were eaten during the penitential season of Lent. It is thus appropriate that Judas does his penance before he betrays Christ.”

I’m still looking for evidence that beer cheese was also involved.

2026 Oktoberfest Pretzels

Pretzel #25: They’re Coming For Our Pretzels

Superpretzel soft pretzel (Protein style)

Being of a certain age, I figured I should get my flu shot for the season. So I went to my local CVS, as one does. I really like this place; the pharmacist is a hard-working, competent, and friendly woman who manages to keep morale high for all her staff. Even though it’s part of a soulless corporate archipelago that sucks the life from the local business infrastructure, it’s actually a pleasure to go there.

But this time, when I showed up at the pharmacy counter, I was greeted not by a friendly face but rather by a touchscreen. More precisely, I was standing behind an elderly couple that was trying to navigate the screen. “It’s asking for a barcode,” Ma Kettle said to Pa. “Do we have a barcode?” Pa Kettle seemed bored by the whole affair and just shrugged. Ma asked for help, and the twenty-something behind the counter stopped filling pill bottles and said “You should have received a barcode in an email.” Ma Kettle looked confused. The employee said “Just enter your phone number, and I’ll look up your prescription for you.” Ma then spent five minutes entering her phone number with palsied hands and weak vision while the employee patiently waited.

I half expected Rod Serling to step in front of this scene, with his concerned frown and narrow black necktie, and explain that we were witnessing another step in the dehumanization of society. I mean, for the love of God, why does a customer’s attempt to pick up a prescription have to be filtered through a glass screen, especially when the employee is right there, just waiting for this hapless lady to go through the rigamarole that CVS Corporate decided was The Next Great Thing in Automation?

Man in suit holding a large salted pretzel at a festive market

Now, I know that, in theory, a touchscreen costs less in the long run than an employee. But you still need the employee to help people use the machine. Think of the last time you went to the self-checkout at Home Depot or the grocery store; there’s always at least one employee whose sole job is to help customers deal with frozen screens or mis-scanned items or whatever. Not to mention that you still need an employee to watch over the operation in a (halfhearted) attempt to stop people from stealing stuff.

I’m kind of resigned to the self-checkout thing, but I’m dismayed that they’re now taking away the human element at the pharmacy, where potentially dangerous drugs are dispensed and needles are jabbed into my arm. Surely robot police officers are not far behind.

And this inevitably leads us to bake-your-own frozen pretzels. For unlike your standard frozen meals like Stouffers, frozen pretzels do not free you up from cooking a meal. Because no one makes pretzels at home. Bavarian pretzels exist as part of an experience at a pub or an Oktoberfest or whatever, with a tasty draft beer and table service and the company of others. No one wants to just sit in their own kitchen and eat a pretzel all alone like the guy eating peas in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

So frozen pretzels are, like touchscreens at CVS Pharmacy, a dystopian “advance” that no one asked for. But given that yesterday I compared the pretzel at The Station Public House to a microwaved frozen pretzel, I figure I should check out what a home-baked frozen pretzel actually tastes like. So I got a package of “Superpretzels” and got to work.

So now pretzels are a superfood?

According to J&J Snack, these are “hand-twisted, Bavarian-style soft pretzel with 10 grams of plant-based protein per serving while also being vegan and low in fat. Each box contains four 2.5-oz pretzels that are ready to eat after 30 seconds in the microwave or 4 to 6 minutes in the air fryer or oven.” Now, it’s hard to believe the “hand-twisted” part. I would have thought that these are extruded and shaped by a machine, but maybe it’s cost-effective just to hire child labor to twist them.

So, right out of the box one is struck by how small these are, clocking in at less than 4 inches wide.

They come unsalted, but they give you a little package of pretzel salt so you can sprinkle it on yourself. (That is, you, yourself, can sprinkle it on the pretzel.) So that’s what I did.

I chose to heat mine in a conventional oven, because I figured the convenience of a microwave would unfairly degrade the taste for this review.

And guess what? It turned out to be a reasonably palatable pretzel. The flavor was a little like whole-wheat bread, with a hint of “this came from the freezer” funkiness, but the mouthfeel was reasonably chewy. The salt was a little dominant, but that’s on me, the person who added the salt. I then tried it with a little mustard from the fridge. This improved things a bit more, but it was no beer cheese.

So, as far as heat-it-yourself snacks, this was about a B. But as noted earlier, the FPE (Full Pretzel Experience) really requires that the pretzel be brought to your table, piping hot, preferably hanging from a hook, and accompanied by house-made beer cheese. A pretzel out of your freezer just can’t deliver those essential elements. And let’s face it: any bread that’s been frozen can never regain freshness.

One thing I wonder about but for which I’m unwilling to find the answer: Are the pretzels we get at restaurants frozen and then heated?

My score, comparing it against restaurant pretzels: 2 stars

My score, comparing it against frozen snack foods: 3.5 stars

PRETZEL TRIVIA

Surely you’ve been to a county fair or town festival or other semi-creepy event where felonious-looking carnies try to get you to play games with the (non-existent) chance to win a non-licensed Elmo(ish) doll. Sometimes these are “derby” games, which involve shooting a water pistol or tossing a ball, with your and your competitors’ progress marked by wooden horses moving down a “track.”

But did you know there’s also an Oktoberfest version? And rather than horses, it is pretzels that race down the track?

Let’s get a closer look at one of those anthropomorphic pretzels:

Now isn’t that far superior to a boring old horse race? (I am, however, still trying to figure out why these little guys are stabbing themselves in the head with pikes.)

Be that as it may, you can rent this game for your next party, at the low, low price of 945 Euros (about $1,059). Here’s the pitch from Xtreme Events:

Familiar from the fairground, now in a compact event version: at the Oktoberfest Derby it is not horses that race, but pretzels. Every hit sets the pretzel in motion – whoever crosses the finish line first wins the Oktoberfest race. An illuminated signal above the relevant lane shows the winner, even after a nail-biting neck-and-neck finish.

And yet, the pretzels don’t have necks!