Eating - Prague and the Czech Republic - page 129

ing Krušovice, Gambrinus, Staropramen, and Kozel. Budvar,
from the town of Budějovice (“Budweis” in German), is popular
with Anh e use r- B usch's
at to r n eys . ( T h e C ze c h
and the American brewer-
ies for years disputed the
“Budweiser” brand name.
The solution: The Czech
Budweiser is sold under
its own name in Europe, China, and Africa, while in America it
markets itself as Czechvar.)
The big degree symbol on bottles does not indicate the per-
centage of alcohol content. Instead, it is a measurement used by
brewers to track the density of certain ingredients. As a rough
guide, 12 degrees is about 4.2 percent alcohol, 10 degrees is
about 3.5 percent alcohol, and 11 and 15 degrees are dark beers.
The most popular Czech beers are about as strong as German
beers and only slightly stronger than typical American beers.
Each establishment has only one kind of beer on tap; to try
a particular brand, look for its sign outside. A typical pub serves
only one brand of 10-degree beer, one brand of 12-degree beer,
and one brand of dark beer. Czechs do not mix beer with any-
thing, and do not hop from pub to pub (in one night, it is said,
you must stay loyal to one man—or woman—and to one beer). Na
zdraví means “to your health” in Czech.
this area. Natives congregate here for their famously good “pig
leg” with horseradish and Czech mustard (daily 11:00-24:00, a
block into the Old Town from the bottom of Wenceslas Square at
Provaznická 3, tel. [phone]).
U Medvídků (By the Bear Cubs), which started out as a brew-
ery in 1466, is now a flagship beer hall of the Czech Budweiser.
The one large room is bright, noisy, touristy, and a bit smoky (daily
11:30-23:00, a block toward Wenceslas Square from Bethlehem
Square at Na Perštýnì 7, tel. [phone]). The small beer bar next
to the restaurant (daily 16:00-3:00 in the morning) is used by
university students during emergencies—such as after most other
pubs have closed.
U Zlatého Tygra (By the Golden Tiger) has long embodied
the proverbial Czech pub, where beer turns strangers into kindred
spirits, who cross the fuzzy line between memory and imagina-
tion as they tell their hilarious life stories to each other. Today,
“the Tiger” is a buzzing shrine to one of its longtime regulars, the
writer Bohumil Hrabal (see page 277), whose fictions immortal-
ize many of the colorful characters that once warmed the wooden