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In addition to beer, I’ve always had a fine appreciation for metadata. That is, I love to know anything and everything I can know about a thing, particularly a thing I really like.

So, for example, I’m the kind of kid that begged his parents for Star Wars schematic books so I could really understand what went into the building of the Death Star. The experience of watching the films, then, was an enhanced by viewing with the book open in my lap so that I could cross reference what I was seeing on the screen with what I was reading. Last year at the Consumer Electronics Show when a company called Lumus previewed some pretty cool glasses that bring the internet, gps, email, etc. out of your pocket and directly into your eyes I nearly fell out of my chair. Metadata. I’m a geek.

This week’s trip to Zeppelin Hall had the added bonus of being packed full of metadata. Nate, a good friend of mine from college whom, by the time he arrived at our small liberal arts school north of Boston, had already lived a year in Germany after high school and whom, since college, has spent much more time in Deutschland and even earned a master’s degree in German literature was visiting with some European friends (whom, of course, he met in Germany).

Good news! It’s authentic. Our three guests agreed that aside from the apartments stacked atop the beer garden (do those people have to listen to noise from the bar all night? are the apartments sound proof? has anyone heard of any complaints?), Zeppelin Hall felt to them like a real German beer garden, albeit a newer, sleeker version. Nate explained that the communal, picnic-style table thing doesn’t exactly ring true of the beer hall’s he had visited but so much else — from the beer selection to the liter-size beer steins to the sausages — rang true.

And last week, when I promised to order more German beers instead of my usual ale-binge, I had no idea I was going to be treated to a brief history, beer-related language lesson (hefe, as in Hefeweisen, means “yeast,” dunkel means “dark” and weisen means “wheat”) and overview of Germany’s favorite beers. And, if this mini-masters class had come before, and not after, my first stein, I probably would have remembered more of it to report here. Alas.

Nate suggested that I try a Hofbräu, a popular Bavarian brew that dates back to 1589. Zeppelin Hall offers either the Hofbräu Original or Hefeweisen. Not much of a Hefeweisen guy, I went with the Original and I can say that it was the right choice for a hot and muggy August night. This beer was crisp and refreshing in the way that a Miller or Coors light commercial tries to convince you those beers are … but aren’t. You can definitely smell the hops as your nose drops into your mug and taste them as it smacks your tongue, but the key here is actually balance — no taste overpowers another.

Nate ordered a Paulaner Hefeweisen, Steph stuck with the Aventinus and our new friends from England went with a Bass (go figure). Having a German scholar at Zeppelin Hall with us truly did add to our enjoyment and made me wish I could replicate the experience each time we head over there, but somehow I think ignoring friends and searching through Wikipedia on my phone would miss the point of being at a Biergärten entirely.