The Bavarian Restaurant & Biergarten.
332 Weaverville Hwy. Woodfin/Asheville, NC 28804 · (828) 645-8383
About the Chef!
Dieter (Doc) Homburg born in Germany 1939 came to this country at an age of almost 17, alone and worked in a restaurant as a dishwasher.
Not knowing any English it took some time to get adjusted as I moved up in positions in the kitchen. I worked in this restaurant called the "Tallyho" for 6 years before moving up to manager. I took a job after that in a country club for about 2 years as bartender.
After that bought the "Tallyho" where I started as dishwasher. Have owned since then many many restaurants (12 or more), all kinds.
Until the last 15 years I have concentrated on old fashion German cooking that I always enjoyed as a child in Germany and learned to cook from my mom and grandparents. Last restaurant was in Carthage NC before moving to this wonderful spot here in Asheville. Our menu is simple but very authentic German food.
I normally stay in a business for about 5 to 7 years and then sell it to someone that has worked with me for years
That's is to insure that not to many changes are made to the food.
If you have ever been in the restaurant business you must understand that in five to seven years we just burn out and have have had the good fortune to be burned out and take a long vacation to see the word a few times
I always called it my early retirement, but after a few years life gets bored and I open up another restaurant and will do so until the end of my life .having taken my retirement long before many others are still working and one can still enjoy most everything in life.
I try to do the cooking show about once a month to get Americans interested in some German sole food We only cook with Himalayan salt - its the best and purest salt on earth.
Please look up WLOS in North Carolina where you may enjoy the cooking show on line Fresh Homemade German Specialties our speciality like 6 kinds kinds of Bratwurst and don't forget to order a Schweinshaxe 24 hours before dining with us.
Are you looking for authentic German cuisine at competitive prices in Asheville A comfortable restaurant that offers a fine dining experience at affordable prices. Upon entering our restaurant and experiencing our charming ambiance, you will feel as if you've gone back in time to old-world Germany. Plus, our menu is stuffed with everyone's favorite Bavarian items [ I call it Bavarian sole food ]from bratwursts and schnitzels to landjager that is sure to satisfy your whole family. We also have a Biergarten that can seat over 80 guest
With the promise of true hospitality and cuisine from our homeland, we invite you to dine with us so that you may learn the meaning of "Gemütlichkeit"!!
Und ein PROSIT
Eigentümer (Owner) - Dieter (Doc) Homburg
From "Mountain Xpress" - 07/25/2007
"I am not an especially good menu planner. While I admire those prescient cooks who can size up the meat counter on a Monday and somehow know they’ll want pad Thai on Wednesday, my stomach doesn’t usually settle on a craving till I’ve entered some medically classifiable state of hunger. I blame my inability to cook largely on my impulsive appetite: I spent my formative cooking years in a tiny Southern town where even a quick trip to the nearest Jitney Jungle took the better part of an hour, so a sudden yearning for quesadillas was best fed by yet another visit to Applebees."
"That said, I know exactly what I’m having for dinner come December: A plateful of Bavarian Lodge’s perfectly-pounded schnitzel, accompanied by a slice of chewy brown bread. The Germans pretty much invented winter—if coming up with the mercury thermometer to measure its severity counts—so it makes sense that their cuisine matches the season. But there’s nothing rational about the deliciousness of the dishes at the Bavarian Lodge, which exceed every expectation most Americans have for onion-smothered meat and doughy, boiled spaetzle. The food is resolutely wonderful, and well-deserving of a spot on anyone’s culinary calendar."
In Woodfin, the sausage is savory
by Kent Priestley in Vol. 14 / Iss. 25 on 01/16/2008 "Mountain Xpress"
Several weeks ago, I asked the editor of this section if I could write the occasional column on locally made sausage. The day before I made my request, I had passed a sign outside a produce stand in north Asheville that read “FRESH SAUSAGE,” and nearly caused a multiple-car pileup trying to drive off the road and closer.
Now, I realize I take a risk by admitting this, but no matter: I like sausage. I really like sausage. And not just any sausage, mind you: I prefer the sight of glistening links piled behind a butcher’s case to their frozen counterpart, the kind of sausage sold on a Styrofoam tray.
Which is exactly what led me, a few weeks ago, to Bavarian Restaurant in Woodfin and the company of its owner, Dieter Homburg. Since opening Bavarian last year, Homburg has brought all the attention to detail, craft and freshness to sausage that his former countrymen in Germany might expect.
Each week, he fires up a smoker and flips the switch on the sausage stuffer. He minces choice, lean cuts of pork and turkey, blends them with spices, salt and a bottle or two of beer. He slips a gossamer length of pork casing onto his stuffer and guides the ingredients into it, twisting the casing as he goes along to create individual links. From the stuffer, some of the sausages go directly to the fridge for later frying; others go directly to a smoker that sits in a courtyard behind the restaurant. All told, he makes about 150 pounds a week.
For all the hard work, Homburg’s customers are rewarded with the taste of Germany. (Should you doubt it, at least one sausage per plate is served with a tiny German flag piercing its skin. The flag says “A Taste of Germany” right on it.)
Homburg is proud of his ingredients, but he becomes a little more circumspect if you press him for specifics. “For the garlic sausage, we use garlic,” he said. “For the cheese, we use cheddar cheese. For the curry sausage, we use curry.” A dash or more of cayenne goes into the hot sausage (which, be warned, is hot). And about those spices? “I can’t tell you,” he said, his crinkly blue eyes narrowing and hardening somewhat.
One ingredient that Homburg is uncompromising on is his salt. He is a believer in the power of Himalayan salt, a pinkish material said to contain all the materials needed for life (or something along those lines). “Years ago, we were saying, ‘Accent wakes up flavor,’” said Homburg. “Well, we know now that MSG is bad for us. But this salt is a natural flavor enhancer.” Mined from mountainous regions of Pakistan, the salt is reputed to have remained untouched for 250 million years.
But a good sausage is considerably more than the sum of its parts. It is also the reflection of careful handling. By Homburg’s measure, the way one cooks a sausage is nearly as important as its ingredients. For those who are inclined to souse their brats in beer or boil the dickens out of them, he suggests this: Instead, roll them lightly in flour and fry them over a medium-high flame until their skins char slightly and pop. The flour raises a delicate crust on the sausage and the high flame yields a tender casing. “That’s all you do,” he said.
And never, ever, poke holes in a good sausage. “The sausages you buy in the store have a lot of fat in them,” said Homburg. “Ours don’t, so if you start poking holes in them, you lose everything.”
Homburg is exactly the kind of guy you’d want making your sausage. For one, his kitchen is immaculate. His German accent doesn’t hurt, either, and neither does his convincing array of facial hair, which would look equally at home on a marine mammal.
Herr Homburg also has a mild and welcoming manner that seems to transport his restaurant from the side of busy Weaverville Highway to high on an Alpine slope, something that, by itself, even the best sausage has a hard time doing.
“First,” Homburg said, as my sausage plate was being prepared, “you should have a beer.” He flicked the tap-lever on his bar and poured a monumental glass of weissbier—German wheat beer—with a dense, rocky head. “Now that,” he said, “is how you serve a beer.”
The plate arrived a few minutes later, with three mighty links surrounded by herbed potatoes, warm sauerkraut and a spiced apple ring.
Both the cheese and the garlic sausage were superior, but the “traditional” brat was hands-down delicious, and so delicately seasoned that no one flavor came to the fore. There was one more sausage to try, the dry, smoked one called “landjäger,” which literally translates as “country hunter,” alluding to its rustic origins. Homburg hoisted a few of the dense links from a hanger and sliced them apart. Their texture was dense and buttery, the taste, a concentrated zing of smoke and spice.
“Put a link or two in your glove compartment,” he said. “They’ll keep a long time.”
I did, and they’re still there in case of emergency—though I might not wait that long.