I’ve most of the day to myself. Giving me time to nip across to Bamberg. Cool. I don’t need to be back until the early evening,
First. Time for breakfast. We’ve committed to breakfast in the hotel again. It’s cheaper than at the last place. How will it stand up?
There’s nothing hot, other than tea and coffee. At least you get a pot of them. The cold cuts are rather sparse, too.
“They’re proper bakers’ rolls, at least.” Dolores says, slicing open an irregular brown roll.
“But no bacon. Breakfast isn’t breakfast without bacon.”
“Not worth the money.” Dolores always keeps a close eye on the budget.
With the new day, a wifi connection has appeared. I check my mail. I’m busy with arrangements for a trip to Chicago a couple of days after I get back from Germany.
I jump on a train just after midday. With a Private Eye and a special “cola” drink. I’ve made sure to take the one direct train an hour. It’s not that crowded, as it’s a Saturday. No Schoolkids.
It’s ages since I was last in Bamberg. 2013, when I was on an Annafest trip with Andrew. Even discounting two pandemic years, that’s a long time. With all the US trips I’ve been on, I couldn’t squeeze in long German visits.
Rumbling through the little towns and wooded hills of Franconia is very soothing. And thirst inducing. Just as well I came prepared.
First destination is Fässla. It’s easy to find from the station. At least that’s what I thought. I manage to go the wrong way. That’s ten minutes of pub time lost.
Fässla is quite crowded. I have to sit in the Schwemme. Not to worry. Soon there’s a Lagerbier in my hand.
It’s pretty good. Clean, simple and very drinkable. There’s a hint of tobacco in the flavour, I guess from German hops. Balanced and “süffig” as the Germans say.
Now here’s a beer that I’ve never been able to pigeonhole stylistically. Lagerbier. I get that’s just the strength – but why is it amber? Amber Lagerbier, I suppose. I just can’t think of any other examples.
Not much seems to have changed in the decade since I was last in Bamberg. At least in Fässla. They still have the fake barrels. They’ve always irked. Especially, as on my first visit they had real barrels.
After a couple of Lagerbiers, I move onto Zwergla, the Dunkles. Only bottled, sadly. To be honest, it’s not that different from Lagerbier. A little hint of dark malt, maybe. Or maybe not. It isn’t really scratching that Dunkles itch.
Looking back on my life, it’s a bit like the hero’s in Obyčejný život (An Ordinary Life), one of my favourite novels. Dull and ordinary mostly, but with odd special bits. Moments when I’ve been blown around by the winds of history. It could have been a lot worse.
My plan was to visit Spezial next. But can see the shutters are shut even before I leave Fässla. What the fuck? What pub closes early on Saturday afternoon? Time for Plan B. Where to go next?
This might sound like heresy. I decide it’s not worth walking all the way to Schlenkerla. It’s 3 PM and it will probably be packed. Plus, I have decent access to their beers. Much as I love the beer and pub, my time can be better spent.
Sternla is my choice. I whittled away a hot summer afternoon in their beer garden once. A happy memory. Since, a brewery has been installed. Two good reasons to drop by.
I only get a table because there’s a later reservation. It’s pretty lively. There’s a group of older blokes on the next table which is pretty excited. They must have been here a while.
The menu lists two of their own beers: Export and Märzen. Obviously, I go for the latter. 13º. I thought it had to be 13.5º to 14º in Bavaria. Have they changed the rules, or do I just have it wrong?
All academic, as it’s off. Export it is then. 12.8º Plato, 5.1% ABV Not just unfiltered, positively murky. Tastes OK. If a bit yeasty. I suppose that freshens it up. Maybe. It’s not long before a second appears. Well, after I ask for it. Not magically.
The middle-aged men on the next table are getting enthusiastically stuck into shots. Dangerously enthusiastically for a Saturday afternoon. Especially as he shots don’t seem to be dampening their enthusiasm for beer much.
I can’t have too many. I have a train to catch. Must get back to Kulmbach on time. I pick up a sarnie in the station. I've sort of forgotten to eat.
Brauerei Fässla
Ob. Königstraße 1921,
96052 Bamberg.
https://www.faessla.de/
Brauhaus Zum Sternla
Lange Str. 46,
96047 Bamberg.
http://www.sternla.de/
In a middle aged moment yesterday, I thought Fässla Zwergla had been my first draught beer in Bamberg, but of course as you say it's bottled. I suppose you'd call it an amber Märzen, although what it really reminded me of was a best bitter, maybe partly because the pub with its corridor and small rooms has quite a Northern English layout: https://whenmyfeetgothroughthedoor.blogspot.com/2012/07/last-orders-in-bamberg.html
ReplyDeleteAmber Lagerbier is the archetypal Franconian beer. You have surely drunk it before all over. Doesn’t fit into Bavarian categories. Too dark to be a Munich Hell, too pale to be a Dunkel, hoppier than either. Meister and Penning-Zeißler are the classic examples.
ReplyDeleteAlthough it seems to be being slowly displaced by Kellerbier. Even in Franconia time moves on.
What's with all the '-la's? Schlenkerla, Sternla, Fässla... Short for 'Lage'?
ReplyDelete[looks up Schlenker]
ReplyDeleteOn the 'Lage' theory, that would be the barrel place, the starry place and the wobbly place. Sounds about right.
Phil, "la" is the diminutive ending common in Franconia. The closest equivalent in English would be “wee" or "little", I suppose. So it’s The Wee Shoogly Guy, The Little Star and the Wee Barrel.
ReplyDeleteStandard German has "-chen" which is the same thing. It's the way in which Brot, bread, becomes Brötchen, a bread roll, or Hund, dog, becomes Hündchen, puppy.
Other local endings are -le in Baden and -li in Switzerland.
Brötchen, Brötla, Brötle, Brötli all mean the same thing.
Phil, the suffix "-la" in Franconian dialect is the diminutive, equivalent to "-chen" in standard German, so it's little barrels, star etc. Fässla also has Zwergla (little dwarf) amber Märzen and Special a Höfla (little yard).
ReplyDelete