A fresh head of garlic, an onion, some fresh basil and, well, what else could I do to help the Wife cope with a rough way and an eighty minute commute? Guinness, which necessitated a trip to the liquor store.
And in an conclusion more predictable than James Bond saves the world and gets the girl, my spaghetti and meat sauce was spectacular. The Guinness was a warm hug in a cold pint glass.
However, a trip to the liquor store was an excuse to self-indulge, and one without the risk of the Wife giving me a hard time about it because of the last paragraph.
So, how does a guy like me indulge? $4.99 for a sixer of Famosa. I’ve never had it before, it was five bucks, it’s from Guatemala and, if I didn’t try it in order for the lager to extend its famousness to me, I felt I was opening up the brewery to a false advertising lawsuit. I would feel guilty about that.
As I was paying, I asked the store owner if Famosa is actually good or not. He said that it’s actually a fairly expensive beer, but he had marked it down because he’s trying to clear inventory as a result of cutting ties with the distributor who supplies it. Well, I don’t believe him.
First, the beer placement wasn’t with the pricy imports, or even with the Corona’s and Modelo’s of the world. It was with the types of low cost domestics that change their can design this time of year to blaze orange, camouflage, or a combination of both.
Secondly, the taste. It definitely starts better than domestic non-light lagers. It had a fuller, more rounded taste. The flavor profile then evolves to that tin-y taste that reminds me of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and then finishes with a sweetness that, dare I say, hints of vanilla. This is not at all to say that the beer was bad. In fact I liked it and will probably buy it again. But, it was not what a beer snob will bring you at the rare beer get-together. And why would they? It’s not rare, it’s Famosa.
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