It's called applewoi. Frankfurters swear by it as their nectar of longevity and enjoin you to try it, so you rise to the challenge and it's pure vinegar. But then there's another glass brimming with the stuff before you and you try it; you find that though it's pretty tart it's drinkable and have another which isn't so bad at all. After your fourth drink everything is a rosy glow and angel's choir. You will, however, pay for your audacity within twelve hours on the outside with the worst case of Moctezuma's revenge in your personal history. This drink is the essence of democracy since it hits every tippler equally. Applewoi is a cider, but rather than hard it is a sneak. Actually, its sour taste should be enough to warn off the curious innocent, but then, it is an excellent thirst quencher and Sachsenhausen -- a part of Frankfurt kept apart from the city by the river, and if this was England it'd be called Saxonham -- is full of applewoi stuben crammed with happily cajoling applewoi quaffers who, if asked, insist their joy comes not from alcohol (of which they'll swear there's hardly any in the drink) but from its acidity, and once your taste buds are dead you go on and fate will take its course. (by Fred Schütz or Fred Schuetz, depending on whether you like the old or the revised spelling.)