A love letter to Festoon Black, the beer I want for.
Every now and again you have a beer that just captures you. For me, that’s Festoon Black.
Earlier today I saw the announcement of Donnie’s Nitro Dark Beer by Donzoko Brewing. A dark lager combined with a nitro stout? Sounds like it’s going to be bloody phenomenal and I for one cannot wait to try it next week. For some reason reading this inspired me to cast my mind back to the first dark lager I ever tried, just over nine months ago. Picture it. It’s March 1st, and more specifically a Saturday. It’s evening time and there is a biting chill in the air. You’re not fussed though, as you’re stuffed into Trafalgar Warehouse, just out from Sheffield City Centre, for the annual Indie Beer Feast. And I’m there too.
It wasn’t my first beer festival, that award went to CAMRA’s Steel City 47 a few months earlier, but this one was different. Actually getting to meet and speak to the brewers behind the stalls was such a surreal experience for me, and I can only imagine that they were all lovely. I say imagine, as my memory of that night is still slightly hazy (my friends and I made quite merry on this occasion.) With that being said there’s one moment that is unclouded and still very vivid in my mind - trying Festoon Black for the same time.
My friend has just walked back from the stall with a third in his glass, when asked what black liquid adorned his glass his only response was “I think they called it a dark lager?”. The concept of a dark lager is something that had really never occurred to me at this point in time, only being a year into drinking beer at all. Just the phrase ‘dark lager’ fascinated me, I loved Helles Lager and I fiendishly adored London Black (and still do) so this just sounded right, and it was.
I asked my friend if I could have a sip, sipped, and knew that I needed more. I finished the dregs of whatever fine beverage had filled my cup and marched over to the stall, collected my two thirds and allowed myself to enjoy it. I swirled the black around my glass and let it coat the sides before doing the same thing with my gullet. There was a crisp and refreshing elegance to it, working in tandem with the tempting notes of chocolate and roasted malt. I remember being particularly blown away by the fact that whilst it had a similar flavour profile to a stout, it was something that still felt light and airy. Sure I’d had a few drinks before this so you could say my judgement was skewed, but it’s nine months later and I still think about this beer and this moment. I awoke the next morning with a sore head and a goal, to find more of that beer. I’ll be honest, my attempts have been fruitless.
It was seemingly sold out on every site that I looked on, and no bottle shops carried any stock. Further research suggested it was a limited Oktoberfest beer, so I even waited and checked Amity’s social media around that time this year with no luck. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever try this beer again, and part of me questions if I even want to. At this moment in time that beer is perfect to me, a highlight of a great festival, the dot on the exclamation mark of a fun night with friends! And whilst it feels like it should be a complete experience, I know that it isn’t. The allure of this beer continues to call to me, it eats away at a small corner of my brain.
I’ve been hooked from that first sip nine months ago and the barbs are still deep now. I can only live in hope that Amity Brew Co. one day decides to release this again and allow me to indulge in this fantastic beer, and this fantastic memory just one more time.