1 issue
GOOD NEWS FOR PEOPLE WHO LOVE GOOD BEER
originalgravityCANmag
F R EE
CRAFT BEER BREWERY TAPROOMS BEST BARS TASTING NOTES BEER TRAVEL …and other nice stuff!
OGBeerMagCanada
@original_gravity_canada
PLANET BEER To r o n t o a n d B e yo n d
ART OF BEER / TORONTO BREWERY TAPS / HEFEWEIZEN
Left Field Brewery
Issue 1 | Contents
Cover illustration exclusively for Original Gravity by Adam McNaught-Davis / lindoneast.com
The Mash /p04 • Location and beer /p10 • Photo essay /p14 • Toronto taprooms /p16 Essay /p19 • Copenhagen /p21 • Tasting notes /p22 • Your round /p23
HELLO CANADA! Welcome to Original Gravity
What you have here is a beer magazine like you have never before seen, one which brings alive the stories of beer and those that intersect with beer. We want you to read the words in Original Gravity and start salivating, start booking plane and train tickets or planning your next TTC brewery crawl, and start thinking about beer in a different way. I started Original Gravity as winter was arriving to London in 2014. The tagline, clumsily paraphrased from a Modest Mouse song, was ‘Good News For People Who Love
Good Beer’. And more than three years and 17 issues later, that remains true. So why Canada and why now? Well, like most things in life, serendipity. I’m a Brit still based in London, but my wife is Canadian and I edited a magazine in Toronto for a year, too. Then, about three years ago, I met Stephen Beaumont in Belgium and we started an extended conversation about launching a Canadian version, the fruit of which you now hold in your hands. Stephen is one of the best-known beer writers in the
world and his passion for the exploding Canadian beer scene is both indefatigable and infectious. As Editor-in-Chief, he’ll be bringing that same sideways look at beer culture that has so inspired our readers in London and Manchester, in Bristol and Leeds, and deliver it to the bars and brewery taprooms of Ontario. We’re not going to be geeky, but we are going to be enthusiastic. We spend our lives thinking about beer and beer culture, obsessing over the amazing stories connected
to both, and we want every word to count. We want anyone reading, no matter what their ‘craft beer cred,’ to find plenty of interest, sometimes unexpected, such as the heartfelt essay we recently ran in our British edition on what it means to be gay and walk into a pub, even in 2018, and sometimes insightful, like our expert beer reviews. A brewery profile piece, I’m afraid, just doesn’t cut it. Daniel Neilson, Publisher
ORIGINAL GRAVITY What beer should a visitor to Toronto absolutely try?
Contact daniel@originalgravitymag.com +44 (0) 1323 370430 Advertising jess@originalgravitymag.com Website: originalgravitymag.com Twitter: @original_gravity_to Facebook: /originalgravityCANmag Instagram: @OGBeerMagTO Editor-in-Chief: Stephen Beaumont Design & illustration: Adam McNaught-Davis Publisher: Daniel Neilson © 2018 Original Gravity is published by Don’t Look Down Media. All rights reserved. All material in this publication may not be reproduced or distributed in any form without the written permission of Don’t Look Down Media. Views expressed in Original Gravity are those of the respective contributors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the publication nor its staff.
Stephen Beaumont
Greg Clow
Robin LeBlanc
Jordan St. John
Daniel Neilson
OG editor-in-chief Stephen Beaumont has been writing about beer for 27 years and 13 books. His newest book, Will Travel for Beer, is out now. / itravelforbeer.com
Greg Clow is the founder, publisher, editor, writer, and everything-elser at Canadian Beer News. / canadian beernews.com
Robin LeBlanc is a beer columnist, awardwinning blogger and co-author of two editions of The Ontario Craft Beer Guide. / thethirstywench.com
The co-author The Ontario Craft Beer Guide, Jordan St. John writes for magazines and teaches people about beer at George Brown College. / saintjohnswort.ca
Daniel Neilson is the founder and publisher of Original Gravity. He's also a travel writer and magazine editor. / @danieljneilson
Steam Whistle Pilsner enjoyed at the brewery as an ideal kick-off to Toronto beer explorations.
Granite Peculiar served on cask at Bar Hop, combining where Toronto craft beer began and where it is now.
Left Field Laser Show Vermont-Style IIPA, best enjoyed at the brewery so its refreshing tropical and citrus notes shine.
Henderson Repatriation Lager. It has the taste of watching a friend's band play Cameron House ca.1989.
It's Beau's Lug Tread that is always in the fridge at my friend Jess' when I get to Toronto, and always welcome.
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The ART OF BEER WILD CARD BREWERY / BENJAMIN NELSON
It was the beautifual illustration above that first caught our attention. It's the label for Wild Card Brewery's Cardinal Truth beer. We caught up with illustrator Benjamin Nelson to discover his inspiration and what else he works on (spoiler alert: it's pretty cool).
How do you go about approaching each beer label? It’s pretty simple. The brothers of Wild Card send me the name of a beer they need a new label for, and that’s what I go off of in terms of imagery; as well the type of beer.
Your designs for Wild Card are really distinct. Did you have this style already or is it something that Wild Card saw and wanted for his beer? Thank you! That is my illustration/ drawing style. I also do collage.
Which other designers do you admire? In beer and out of the beer world? A superficial history of beer graphics, Canadian and abroad, has always been a part of my life. I don’t know any beer designers, but I grew up in the 80s and 90s when my father collected beer paraphernalia. He had a 200-can collection of all types of beer. I absorbed companies, logos, fonts; Labatt’s Blue Jays commemorative cans; beers that just said ‘beer’ on them, like in Repo Man. I saw a history: half a century's worth of beer design. With labels like Wild Card’s, we wanted to do something fresh, and because beer iconography is a major influence of mine, with a project like this I can play off the standards, I'm familiar
You also design album covers and posters. What is different about designing for beer? Not much is different between the two except for a beer label's food packaging parameters. I specialize in design for entertainment, and the nature is similar. Making labels for Wild Card has given me the opportunity to push guidelines that I don't always experiment with.
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with and create a product that draws from that history without being totally subjected to it. In terms of drawing, I draw from Serigraphie Populaire and Zelout who were both music poster and screenprinting artists in the mid-2000s, Tandanori Yokoo for his drawing style and David Carson in terms of collage, both of them for their processes as well. Away from beer, what stuff do you do? I do a lot of music design and album packaging for Canadian bands like Our Lady Peace, The Deers, The Rural Alberta Advantage, Scenic Route to Alaska, etc. I also design merchandise for municipal tourism with my friend Vince Perez at Everlovin' Press. What new projects are you working on that you're excited about? I’m currently making a retro music poster celebrating Kingston, ON’s array of music festivals. The graphics are icons of music festival paraphernalia; each icon is a symbol for a specific festival. I use nostalgia
to inform the work – taking events that maybe people haven’t been to and applying a nostalgic lens to illustrations of items that are already heavily associated with the music festival experience, to give the buyer a sense of the city’s long music history. In July, I also joined a band, Deux Trois. We do our posters, album packaging, videos, social media branding. I'm attracted to bands that do their own design and like the idea of branding and curating a band. It's being more than a band at that point, where the business meets art. A company has a logo, a uniform. Designing the packaging of the band is part of designing our music. I've had to change the way I think of a band, seeing it as a designed product. We just put out our first single last week and I’m excited to see where the release, and my involvement in Deux Trois as both a musician and designer, will take me. DN / bnelsonartdesign.com / wildcardbrewco.com
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The INTERVIEW
EDITOR'S LETTER Finally, Ontario Gets the Beer Publication it Deserves!
If you have seen fit to pick up this inaugural edition of Original Gravity, chances are that you have at least a passing familiarity with what’s been going on in beer in this city and province over the last several years. And if you don’t, or if you’d like to freshen that knowledge, Jordan St. John’s story on Toronto brewery taprooms, found on page 16, will go a long way to updating you. The point being that beer in these parts has changed almost immeasurably over the past three decades, from just a small handful of breweries and brewpubs – anyone remember Upper Canada Brewing? How about Denison’s? – to 41 operating within the city limits and 250 scattered across the province, according to the latest numbers from the Ontario Beverage Network, which probably became out-of-date the day after we went to print, such is the pace of brewery expansion in 2018.
on Dave M strati urr Illu ay
Indie Alehouse's Jason Fisher
Do you feel as though the Ontario beer scene is coming out of the dark ages, or has it always been there ready to jump up? I am likely alone in my beliefs and from time to time get some grief for my views, but that doesn’t bother me – I think Ontario is largely still stuck deep in the dark ages when it comes to beer, and although there are plenty of positive signs, we have a ways to go. The Ontario craft beer scene is unique in may ways, the local craft beer scene is still very new having undergone explosive growth the last few years with the number of available beers up 100 fold in less than a decade. This kind of growth is usually filled with 'growing pains', and any way you look at it here, it's a mess. To be clear, there are many very positive signs, and so much more passion and great beer than there was even five years ago, let alone ten. But, any examination of the scene is delusional if it excludes the many huge issues we have to overcome as well. The market — consumers and brewers — is largely inexperienced and uneducated. Put nicely, they
are exploring and finding their way; put another way, they have no experience and at same time think they are experts. This disparity gives rise to a common issue in booming yet immature markets where people think a product is great, when it is not. That’s probably true in other places, but it’s very prevalent right now in Ontario and it’s very hard to even have a discussion about. Most people don’t want to hear their local brewery or beer they have invested emotional support in, is not very good. Balance that with there are some world class beers being brewed here that many people have not yet discovered, and while it's a huge positive for such a new craft beer scene to have so many good beers, its also true the future of the industry requires some hard truths to be discussed, the sooner the better. The other part of this that I often rant about is the amazingly brutal liquor laws and the horrible distribution and retail system we have in Ontario. And don’t get
me started on the 'contract brewery' scene that is only dominant in one place on earth, Ontario. Again, many people disagree with me, that's ok, we'll see how it ends up. Who are your other favourite Ontario breweries? Really tough to just pick a few. I seem to have a Great Lakes Brewing beer a couple times a week; anything from Matt at Bar Hop has been great; Tooth and Nail in Ottawa is always great; and I wish I could find more Half Hours on Earth beers around. Hard not to mention Sawdust City and Bellwoods. There are just so many good beers around now, it's great. When the big boys come knocking, do you drop the 'Indie' bit? If there is a dump truck of enough gold to make everyone I know really rich, then I'd probably sell it all. Sitting around counting gold might be fun for a bit, but making and drinking beer is timeless. Interview by Daniel Neilson
Yet beer literature, never much of a thing around Ontario, simply hasn’t kept up with developments. Until now, that is. What you hold in your hands is a beer publication of a different ilk, one that seeks to challenge as much as it does entertain, to inform as well as to provoke. You will find beer reviews, of course – Greg Clow and I take on a quintet of brews on page 22 – as well as style features and profiles of the people who work hard to bring you great-tasting beer – both starting to the right. But you will also discover within the following pages things that you might not expect to find in a beer magazine, like Robin LeBlanc’s wrenching essay of loss and community on page 19 and our quirky spotlight on The Art of Beer on the page opposite this one. In short, what we are aiming to bring you with Original Gravity is a magazine that’s as challenging, diverse, surprising, illuminating and captivating as is the Ontario beer market we cover. In other words, the kind of beer publication this province so richly deserves! Stephen Beaumont
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The big PICTURE The Big Picture is a series that focuses on one single image. It doesn't have to be beautifully shot, but it tells a story. As much as craft breweries have proliferated to the point that there is now one for every 55,000 Ontarians, one aspect of the
Beer
BOOKS
business that hasn’t changed much over the years is the camaraderie shared between competing brewers and brewery owners. While enjoying a glass of Oberkassel, brewer Luc Lafontaine’s note-perfect homage to Uerige altbier, I was able to witness this beer-born solidarity yet again
Project Extreme Brewing / Sam Calagione, Jason and Todd Alström This is a seriously fun book for all you homebrewers out there. You'll learn to make extreme beer from Sam Calagione, founder of Dogfish Head Craft Brewery, who writes alongside and Jason and Todd Alstrom, of the Beer Advocate. The book includes recipes for exotic brews, instructions, and insider tips. DN / quartoknows.com
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when Jeff Talmey of Whitby’s Town Brewery showed up with a few bottles of his Planet Caravan Double IPA for the ownerbrewer of east Toronto’s Godspeed Brewery. Talmey later told me on the phone that it was his first time both visiting Godspeed and meeting Lafontaine, although the
Good Beer Guide Belgium / Tim Webb and Joe Stange Now here's a book we wouldn't consider going to Belgium without, and now it has been updated to its 8th edition, the first since 2014. It is an indespensible guide to all aspects of the Belgian beer scene from the best bars to which beers are on point, all written in the inimitable style of Tim Webb and Joe Stange. DN / camra.org.uk
two acted like old friends. It was also the convergence of three relative toddlers, with Godspeed a mere nine months old at the time, Town even younger at six months, and Talmey’s daughter, in the pink hoodie, the senior of the group at ten and a half months. SB
Will Travel for Beer / Stephen Beaumont
On the surface, this book by Original Gravity’s Editor-in-Chief offers 101 of the world’s best beer experiences. Fascinating, fun and worthy in itself. But read through Stephen’s prose and you’ll see it’s just as much a comment and insight on beer culture from around the world. Interesting and essential. DN / octopusbooks.co.uk
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NE WS
capable of filling in excess of twenty cans per minute and fifty cases per hour with just one operator, according to Cask.
inherent in Brunswick’s unique business model, one which sees it acting more as a partner brewery than a contractor of brewing services. “To be able to brew with some of the most iconic and innovative brewers in a brand new, world-class facility is something you dream about,” said Swinkels.
/ NEW CANNING WORLD Canada’s Cask Global Canning Solutions, the company that pioneered the equipment responsible for what has come to be known as ‘micro-canning,’ in March announced the launch of their new, next generation MicroAutomated Canning System (mACS). What the company describes as a “uniquely versatile canning line,” the new system is designed to allow for the canning of both carbonated and uncarbonated beverages, allowing breweries to expand into the packaging of, say, cold-brewed coffee, and is able to fill cans of varying heights and diameters, from 163 mL to 568 mL. Changeover between package sizes can occur in as little as 30 minutes. The mACS is
Brunswick partner Mike Laba was thrilled at having been able to secure the services of one of the most recognized brewers in the Benelux region. / BRUNSWICK SCORES INTERNATIONALLY ACCLAIMED DUTCH BREWER Toronto’s Brunswick Bierworks has hired the renown brewer Lodewijk Swinkels, formerly of the Koningshoeven Brewery in the Netherlands, as their new Brewmaster and Head of Operations.
“It is truly an honor to have one of the world’s best brewmasters coach, train and mentor the Brunswick Bierworks brewing team,” he said.
/ MUSKOKA SERVES UP G&T Fresh off their expansion into the spirits world with the Legendary Oddity Gin, the Muskoka Brewery’s distilling division, Muskoka Spirits, has released Docker, a packaged gin and tonic for summer. Featuring the distillery’s gin, Muskoka touts their G&T as containing less than half the sugar and calories of “most pre-mixed beverages,” a fact which comes across in a dry, cucumber- and lime-accented flavour that doesn’t bury the gin beneath an avalanche of sweetness. Containing 4% alcohol, Docker will be available in 473mL cans at the LCBO and in the brewery store beginning in mid-May.
A seventh generation brewer and 14 year veteran of Koningshoeven, popularly known by the brand name, La Trappe, Swinkels was attracted by the challenges and opportunities
Anatomy of... PILSNER Be careful what you say around a Pilsner brewer. A couple of pints in, I once asked my host, a Czech master brewer, what else he had. ‘Why, what’s wrong with this?’ he replied. Nothing was wrong. I was just curious to try different things. ‘Then I have failed,’ he said. Pilsner is a style that is micro-engineered in every respect to create maximum drinkability. That doesn’t
STRENGTH Typically around 5%, a true Pilsner can go down to around 4% if it has to. Inevitably, craft brewers have given us ‘imperial Pilsners’ of up to 9%.
FLAVOUR Lemony, grassy, herby notes, with a light, crisp bitterness. German ‘Pils’ tends to be lighter and crisper than earthier, fuller Czech Pilsner.
APPEARANCE Crystal clear, golden and bright like the summer sun, Pilsner should be served with a thick, creamy, white head of foam.
HISTORY Created in the Czech town of Pilsen in 1842 via a marriage of English pale malt, German lagering expertise and Czech ingredients, it was immediately copied around the world.
mean it’s bland, like so many industrial versions that use words like ‘goes down easy’ as synonyms for tastelessness — a true Pilsner has a character that teases your taste buds and rouses your palate. Why else would the average Czech drink more beer than anyone else on the planet? Pete Brown
AKA Brewers in some parts of the Czech Republic don’t want Pilsen to take all the credit. In Prague, ask for a světlý ležák — literally, ‘pale lager’.
THREE OF THE BEST / Pilsner Urquell, 4.4% Literally the ‘original Pilsner’, every golden lager in the world is a photocopy of a photocopy of this 1842 classic, still brewed in Pilsen. SB
FOOD Infamous as a foil for spicy curries, it’s also a superb complement to lighter dishes. A goat’s cheese salad with a citrusy dressing is a heavenly match. WHERE TO DRINK There’s no better place than Prague, but uniquely among beer styles, some of the very best examples are widely available across Canada.
WEIRD FACT The term ‘Pilsner’ was never trademarked, and has been appropriated by lager brewers across the planet whose brews bear little resemblance to the original.
/ Czechvar, 5% Renamed in Canada for legal reasons – guess why?! – this is a brilliantly balanced beer from the Bohemian town of Budweis, or České Budějovice. SB
/ Tooth and Nail, Vim & Vigor, 5.2% Straight from the outset, this young Ottawa brewery nailed the pilsner profile. It never disappoints in its superbly quenching character. SB
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The 6 PACK HEFEWEIZEN
Beer meets... COMMUNITY Beer of any sort brings us together: in bars, in the backyard for a barbecue, in conversation or debate. But beer from a small, local brewery joins us in a different way, uniting entire communities, whether simply in moral support of the local business or in more tactile ways, like neighbours getting to know one another at the local brewery tap. In many ways, such beer is community.
/ Community Beer Works, The Whale, 5.9% Founded in 2012, those behind this brewery were so intent on making themselves part of their Buffalo neighbourhood they declared it plainly in their name. And from modest size and aspirations, Community has grown to two neighbourhoods in Buffalo and one in Niagara Falls opening this summer, with a six-pack of regular brews including this nutty, roasty American take on a northern English brown ale.
In southern Germany it is ‘breakfast beer,’ a concept that has never quite caught on in North America where we are known to still fret about the sun passing ‘over the yardarm’ before we allow ourselves an alcoholic beverage. But the Bavarians have it right: hefeweizen really is the ultimate for earlyin-the-day drinking, perfect as a first beer in the mid- to late-morning when the flavour of coffee has faded from the palate and the nascent rumblings of post-breakfast hunger have arrived to stimulate the appetite.
ordinarily identified as kristall or kristallklar – the brewing of hefeweizen was once the exclusive purview of the Wittelsbacher dynasty, and popular enough that its production filled the coffers of the Bavarian royals for close to two centuries. When the beer’s appeal began to fade, the rights fell to Georg Schneider, who founded the Schneider brewery.
typically produces spicy and fruity notes in the finished beer, most often clove in the case of the former and banana in the latter. In fact, so important is this yeast that it is incorporated into the style name, hefe being the German for yeast.
Aside from the generous amount of malted wheat used in its creation, by law a minimum of 50% and often considerably more, the secret to any proper hefeweizen resides in its yeast. A true hefeweizen will always be fermented by one of a family of yeasts that
Coupled with the natural zesty, faintly acidic and citrusy character of the wheat, the effects of that yeast, along with a healthy amount of carbonation, add up to a truly refreshing, light-bodied yet by no means simple or insipid beer. One that is ideally suited to the hours before noon, or at least those experienced while the sun is still shining! SB
/ All or Nothing, Hopfenweisse, 5.1% Wheat and yeast play second fiddle to hops in this copper-hued beer with citrus and banana on the nose and a body that starts and stays floral and citrusy. Part hefeweizen and part pale ale, as billed.
/ Cowbell, Kelly’s Contraption 5% The aroma of this ‘New World Hefeweizen’ brings to mind dried orange peels mixed with fresh hop pellets, while the body seconds that notion with tangerine and green leaf notes and hints of spice.
/ Weihenstephaner Hefe Weissbier 5.4% Close to modern weissbier perfection, this sandy-gold favourite mixes perfumey clove notes with dry-ish caramelbanana, culminating in a quenching and just off-dry finish.
/ Schneider Weisse, Original 5.4% More brown that gold, this almost 150-year-old classic entrances with an aroma of clove and black pepper and flavours of cooked toffee and soft fruit, finally surprising with a bone dry finish.
/ Hacker-Pschorr, Weisse 5.5% A deep sandy gold, this take on the style by one of Munich’s ‘Big Six’ brewers edges towards soft and round fruitiness – toasted banana split – and away from bold suggestions of spice, finishing slightly sweet and a bit cloying.
/ Side Launch, Wheat 5.3% Ontario’s oldest hefeweizen – née Denison’s – is a favourite of the online beer tickers and justly so, with a fresh banana-y nose and zingy clove-led spice and lemony citrus in the body, ending with just a whisper of sweetness.
Known equally, and synonymously, as hefeweissbier, weissbier, weizen and hefeweizen – a filtered, yeast-free version is
/ People’s Pint, Helles Island American Lager, 4.9% Located in the former digs of Junction Craft Brewing, People’s began life at ‘pop-up’ events where they sold memberships so that the community at large could try beers brewed by Toronto’s GTA Brews homebrewing club. Now gone legit with, among other beers, this cracking, just off-dry and lightly lemony-floral lager, People’s keeps a guest tap or two free for notable GTA Brews member collaborations.
/ Left Field, Laser Show Vermont Style IIPA, 8% You can tell a brewery has cemented itself in a community when you arrive in the taproom on a weekday afternoon to find it occupied by new parents and their babies having a welcome adultstyle meet-up. Which is what happens at the east side’s Left Field, along with quirky events like a Backyard Beekeeping Workshop and, of course, the brewing of beers like the brightly tropical fruity, slightly resinous Laser Show. SB
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Location, Location, Location ...and Beer WINE HAS TERROIR AND BEER HAS... WHAT EXACTLY? STEPHEN BEAUMONT GOES IN search of BEER'S SENSE OF PLACE
t is Sunday morning and I am watching Coronation Street with my wife, Maggie. All five of the week’s episodes will be broadcast in a row, but as is our habit we won’t watch it all, instead using frequent bursts of fast-forwarding to condense the 2 ½ hours to a leisurely-paced eighty or ninety minutes of actual viewing. If ever you have watched this famous and extraordinarily long-running British soap opera, you’ll know that a good deal of it takes places at the Rover’s Return, a community pub
set in the fictional Manchester-area town of Weatherfield, and that a significant amount of what is consumed there is cask-conditioned ale. And it is with this fact, week after week after week, that my problem begins. For you see, in watching fine-looking pints of cask ale cross the bar in scene after scene, I grow steadily more thirsty. Not thirsty simply for beer, mind you, but thirsty, quite specifically, for cask-conditioned best bitter poured in a proper English pub. This being Toronto, arguably the best
Beer and Place It is said that beer is a beverage with no sense of place, no real terroir, as they would put it in wine circles. Which may or may not be true, or be true to a limited degree – and more about all that later – but of beer enjoyment there is one aspect that is undeniably true, and it is that certain beers simply taste best when consumed in certain places. What’s more, some such beers can also be better or even only properly understood in specific places. Take, for example, gueuze lambic. I have been fortunate enough during my career to visit Belgium in general and Brussels in particular on a very regular basis. And for a long stretch of time, over a decade of at least annual trips, one de rigueur stop during each such visit was the Cantillon brewery near the capital’s Gare du Midi.
Place and Beer folk would either have never previously experienced the complex, dry, tart flavours of lambics or would admit to having tried a lambic or two but not really liking it! For such people, the draw to Cantillon was history and novelty rather than beer. That always changed after an hour or so at the brewery. I remain to this day unsure as to whether it was the context provided by the self-guided tour or the fact of being in a century-old brewery using techniques virtually unchanged over that time, but pretty much every doubter I encountered at Cantillon left the place a lambic lover. Being where the beer was born and sampling it in situ simply provided them with an understanding and appreciation they couldn’t otherwise attain.
From one of the most challenging of the traditional beer styles to one of the most widely underestimated, another beer which can only be fully comprehended in its home is kölsch. The geographicallyconstrained beer of Köln, Germany, a city better known to Anglophones as Cologne, kölsch is, on the surface, a fairly simple beer: Pale to medium gold, lightly to mildly hopped and fermented as an ale yet matured cold, like a lager. However, kölsch is also a beer of nuance and grace. Taking to the streets of Köln causes many of those relative subtleties to quickly become yawning gaps, as the soft fruitiness of Mühlen Kölsch stands it quite apart from the comparatively sharp hop of Gaffel or the fresh and floral character of Päffgen, all three of which may be sampled within a short walk of one another. Trod those cobbled straßen long enough and the complex nature of kölsch begins to make itself clear, defined not as with some IPAs by lashings of bold flavours, but rather by a soft caress of malt here or a tease of fruitiness there. Appreciation builds sip by sip in a tutelage unavailable anywhere else in the world.
Remembering that, in the late 1990s and early 2000s, neither the spontaneouslyfermented wheat beer known as lambic nor the Brasserie Cantillon were the tourist draws they are today, a typical visit to the brewery back then might have seen my path cross that of a dozen or fifteen other curious visitors. Further, a large percentage of those Will Travel for Beer (Mitchell Beazley) by Stephen Beaumont, is out now
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city in the world for cask ale outside of the U.K., I do have the option of slaking my cask-conditioned thirst at any of a number of bars around town. Hell, the Granite Brewery pours a dry-hopped Best Bitter Special on cask that is every bit the equal of any number of exemplary British bitters! But no matter how good the beer, how appetizing the hoppiness or thirst-quenching the dry and biscuity malt, the pint I sup in Toronto shall still be one enjoyed in a Toronto bar rather than a London or Manchester or Bristol pub, and therein lies a crucial difference.
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Illustrations: Adam McNaught-Davis
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F E AT U R E
Terroir at the Bar
The Dawn of Appellations
Still, not all beer drinking is about education and understanding – it can easily be argued, in fact, that very little of it is. What is unquestionably of greater import, indeed what is the reason most people drink, is hedonistic delight, and that too can be augmented greatly by being in the right place and time for specific beers.
But back to this notion of terroir, that thing beyond context which connects a beer to its place. For wine, terroir is, of course, the soil and conditions that combine to create the grapes that make the wine. For beer, it’s a bit more complicated.
Whenever I consider the way in which circumstances can alter the perception of a beer, I am taken back to my early days as an on-line beer writer. In that bygone era, before beer blogs proliferated and beer rating sites were relevant, I would regularly field questions from readers about why such-and-such a beer tasted so much better in its homeland than it did imported to the writer’s home province or state. The beer most commonly invoked in such instances was Guinness. “Guinness in Dublin is great,” my correspondents would declare as if it were an immutable fact, “So what do they do to make it taste so different over here?” Ordinarily, the inquirer would then offer some conjecture as to the reason the famous black beer tasted so much better in its home town, frequently citing a conviction that a different brewery was producing it (usually untrue), a belief that the beer exported was different from the one kept in Ireland (same) or a concern about the length of time it would take for a keg to make it across the Atlantic (well, maybe). While there was a kernel of truth in the last supposition, if only a very small kernel, the more salient fact was far more simple: Guinness enjoyed in Dublin is usually enjoyed in an atmospheric Irish pub, often while the visiting imbiber is relaxing on holiday. How on earth could a pint consumed in Joe’s Corner Bar at the end of a stressful workday ever compare with that, even if the keg from which it was poured had been flown directly from the brewery that morning? In a similar fashion, brewery taprooms can and do often cause a company’s wares to taste better than they do at home, a marvellously atmospheric bar like FrangÓ in São Paulo, Brazil, or the Drake Eatery in Victoria has the ability to elevate everything consumed therein, and as noted at the outset, the right British pub and the right cask of ale can come together to create something of almost magical beauty and joy. Hell, even an ordinarily insipid tropical lager is improved when served cold on a Caribbean beach or beside a pool on a sweltering day.
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Once upon a time, hops and water and to a slightly lesser degree barley malt defined place for beer, so that pilsner was inextricably linked to the soft water and floral hops of Bohemia in what is now the Czech Republic and the sulphurous ‘Burton snatch’ that defined pale ales brewed in Burton-upon-Trent in England resulted from that city’s particular water. As time passed and brewing techniques developed, however, any brewer anywhere became able to replicate water profiles and purchase whatever hops and malt and yeast might be necessary to brew any given style of beer. Place became unimportant. Today, however, that is changing as the craft brewers of various nations seek to define their beers as unique among of those of the world. Perhaps the first such instance, even if it might not be widely appreciated as such, came when Anchor and Sierra Nevada gave pride of place to the American Northwest’s Cascade hops and so created the American pale ale. Thereafter followed other such movements, albeit at a bit of a chronological distance. It took Italian brewers numerous years and at least one misstep – the ill-fated attempt to define chestnut beer as Italy’s signature – before they arrived at Italian
Is There a Canadian Beer?
grape ale, highlighting the use of grape juice, wine must or wine barrels; Kiwi brewers exploited the distinctiveness of their county’s hops to develop the New Zealand pale ale, also known as Aorteroa pale ale; the Japanese perhaps predictably settled on saké-influenced beers; Amazonian beers, flavoured with the distinctive fruits and woods of the vast Amazon rainforest, became the calling card of Brazil; and Polish brewers have relied upon the revitalization of the mostly-defunct grodziskie style. Other examples may be found with steady and increasing frequency, from Australia to Mexico to China. The most successful and easily replicated of these styles will eventually be co-opted by the international brewing community at large, as has happened to American pale ale and is happening with Italian grape ale and grodziskie. But even as those lose their sense of place, it’s fairly safe to expect others to arise in their place, particularly ones which, like Chinese ales seasoned with traditional Chinese medicinal (TCM) herbs, are less easily copied. And where even those start to lose their geographic uniqueness, there will still remain the distinctiveness of local bars, pubs, hospodas, izakayas and cafés, which connect beer to its home in a way that somehow eludes wine and spirits and most other drinks. In that, beer will always have a sense of place, and I will always have a reason to yearn for a Manchester pub on a Sunday morning.
In his earliest books, the pioneering drinks writer Michael Jackson would reference a beer style known as “Canadian ale,” a category that was for a few years judged at the Great American Beer Festival in the US. That style’s presumed distinction – golden hue, full malt and drying hop – has long since fallen away, however, leaving Canada wide open to a national beer style. Few have accepted the challenge. Maple beers, perhaps the most obvious contender, have come and gone, mostly with a sigh of relief, and the hop farms of the nation have not as yet delivered a geographically
distinct variety. Perhaps the future beer of Canada, then, shall be decided by grain. In its 2018 edition, the Alberta Beer Awards introduced a category called Canadian Cereal Ale, defined as being between 5% and 6.5% alcohol and containing “four Canadiangrown grains: wheat, rye, oats and barley, with the option of using triticale.” (The winning beer came from Cochrane, Alberta’s Half Hitch Brewing.) Not the most glamorous style name, to be sure, conjuring as it does Lucky Charms Pale Ale or Frosted Flakes Stout, but maybe a step in the right direction towards a distinctively Canadian beer style. SB
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P H O T O E S S AY
WHERE WE DRINK In his new book, OG editor Stephen Beaumont counsels readers to, as the title dictates, travel for beer. Here he explains why he chose some of his favourites.
JING-A Although owned by a pair of ex-pats, Beijing’s Jing-A brewery makes a concerted effort to employ unique Chinese flavours, often to impressive results.
PORTERHOUSE Dublin’s Porterhouse was first to pour beer other than Guinness on Temple Bar, and it’s still a highly recommended stop on the city’s nowexciting beer circuit.
HALF DOOR BREWING CO. During one San Diego stay, my hotel was across the street from Half Door Brewing, a casually comfortable and, amid the enormity of the city’s beer scene, often underappreciated gem.
ARENDSNEST In de Wildeman might still be the big name beer bar in Amsterdam, but for my money the allDutch-beer experience of the Arendsnest makes it the place to be.
SCHLÜSSEL Uerige might get all the beer aficionado love in Düsseldorf, famous for its altbier breweries, but I’ve always found zum Schlüssel to be at least as atmospheric.
SMALL BAR It is said that you can sample over 500 different beers within the short stretch of road that forms Bristol’s ‘Beermuda Triangle,’ but why you’d ever want to leave Small Bar is beyond me.
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P H O T O E S S AY BAR HOP BREWCO. Toronto beer drinkers need little introduction to Bar Hop BrewCo’s rooftop patio, one of my favourite open-air drinking spots in the city.
MA CHE SIETE VENUTI A FÀ If you aren’t looking for it, you might walk right by Ma Che Siete Venuti a Fà, aka ‘The Football Pub,’ in Rome’s Trastevere neighbourhood, and be very sorry later on.
TABERNA LÚPULO Thankfully, the Taberna Lúpulo in Puerto Rico’s Old San Juan escaped serious damage during Hurricane Maria, meaning this oasis of good beer still serves during the city’s continuing recovery.
BLACKFRIAR London has no shortage of heritage pubs, but the stunning interior of The Blackfriar makes it an absolute must-visit in the British capital.
ECCENTRIC CAFÉ The Eccentric Café of Kalamazoo, Michigan’s Bell’s Brewery may have started small, but it’s now an inviting, multi-roomed entity that includes this eccentrically Teutonic beer hall.
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F E AT U R E
Touring Toronto’s Brewery Taps THE KEY TO A BREWERY'S UNIQUE IDENTITY MAY BE FOUND
S
AT ITS TAPROOM. JORDAN ST. JOHN INVESTIGATES
itting comfortably at Left Field Brewery’s well maintained taproom bar, discussing hop varieties with the barman and watching as parents with strollers and bicyclists with panniers pop in to pick up a six pack from the retail shop, it becomes clear: Across Toronto, from Mimico to Scarborough, the way beer is sold is undergoing a renaissance. It’s hard to believe that, a little over a decade ago, there were no provisions in Ontario law to allow a brewery to sell a glass of beer on their own premises. In many ways, it was a different era for beer, and the assumptions that framed reality for drinkers were left over from the big brand monopolies of the late 20th century. It was simply assumed that you would buy a case of beer and go home to watch the game. Why would you want to spend any time in a brewery? In 2007, the law changed to allow the sale of glasses of beer on the brewery premises for the purposes of either educating customers or providing an enhanced tourist experience. As frequently happens, however, the wording was vague enough that it did not sufficiently stimulate the imagination of the brewers who might benefit from it. Conditions did not exist until very recently to make the taproom a necessary part of the business model for start-up breweries in Toronto. Today, at retail in the LCBO and the Beer Store, shelves are filled with products from larger, established companies, and getting into bars can be difficult, with dozens of breweries looking to be featured on a slowly growing number of rotating taps across the city. The brewery taproom, then, provides just the advantage a small brewery needs. Selling a packaged product to a bar limits the customer’s exposure to a brewery’s identity. On a rotating tap, the extent of the information conveyed about a brewery’s brand might be a few chalked words on a blackboard or a stylized tap handle. The taproom, on the other hand, expresses
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the brewery’s personality. Whether it’s the DIY ethos of the People’s Pint in the Junction neighbourhood or the recovered industrial feel of Saulter Street in Leslieville, the taproom vibe tells you a lot about the organization. In no case is this more apparent than at the massively popular Blood Brothers Brewing on Geary Avenue off Dufferin where, tucked into the corner of a nondescript industrial building, the taproom is one of the smallest in the city, with draught taps housed in what can only be described as a fairly worrying altar packed with obscure spiritual totems. It is the perfect expression for a brewery that has foregone outside retail sales in preference of their own location; a nearly literal cult following.
For the initiated, Bellwoods’ uptown location serves as an alternate destination for their highly sought after special releases. Many stay to try the more frequent releases on tap and use the opportunity to keep tabs on the nearly constantly expanding set of equipment visible beyond the white picket fenced drinking area.
The taproom is also a brewery’s opportunity to define the way in which they wish to engage the community. Sitting at the heavily baseball themed bar at Left Field, watching a 36 person euchre league play, brewery co-owner Mark Murphy explains: “We give them the opportunity to do things they wouldn’t otherwise be doing. The vibe is important. We have a community feel. We get everyone: Grandmas, babies, kids, dogs.”
Left Field’s Murphy concurs. “We have control over the glassware, the product, the story, and the entire customer experience,” he says, “There are more varieties of our beer here than anywhere else.”
At every taproom, content is different because the personalities of the team that make up the brewery are different. Take west Toronto’s Henderson Brewing, for example, which features an industrial space with retractable garage doors for the summer, Rube Goldberg contraptions on the wall, and which appeals to audiophiles with their Vinyl Show and Tell nights. For those seeking something new, there’s a new beer release every month on the 15th which the brewery refers to in a Caesarian fashion as the ‘Ides’ series. Sometimes it is the special release that draws the most attention. Bellwoods Brewery’s North Toronto location near Lawrence and Keele can’t hope to match the coolness of the original brewpub on hip Ossington because it’s an industrial area, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t foot traffic. “We’re happy to be a picnic area,” says brewery coowner Mike Clarke. “Local businesses have embraced it because it’s somewhere they can pop in for lunch. Sort of an oasis in the desert.”
“Any smart brewer is going to want to control the experience as much as possible,” says Clarke, “It’s just better business.” Going into an unfamiliar bar or tavern, there are questions for the drinker, beer freshness and draught line cleanliness foremost among them. Variability is a real problem, and one that the taproom solves.
Left Field taproom beer pours from a line that runs perhaps all of two feet from cold storage and which has always been recently cleaned. While the versions of the beers available at the LCBO are monitored closely for freshness, there’s no way to beat the perfect condition of drinking or buying the beer in situ. Since the maximum service size allowed by law at a brewery taproom is 341 millilitres, there’s barely even time for the beer to warm up. In an era of increased competition, one other important factor is worthy of consideration. The combination of a taproom and retail store is the single most lucrative method for craft beer sales, with no delivery cost, retail markup, listing fee or sales force. “This location only accounts for 36% of our volume, but it’s 45% of our revenue,” explains Murphy. Effectively, the taproom has become crucial to the success of a modern craft brewery in Toronto, and it’s easy to see why. It allows beer drinkers to experience the full force of a brewery’s identity expressed not only through the cultural trappings emblematic of the staffs’ personalities, but with the best and freshest version of the brewery’s beer.
F E AT U R E
BELLWOODS BREWERY Above and right: The original Ossington location of Bellwoods boasts a 'coolness' factor the brewery couldn't replicate at its more industrial north Toronto location. Photos by Celine Kim
LEFT FIELD Top, far right and above right: More of Left Field's beers are poured at the bewery taproom on Toronto's east side than are anywhere else.
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E S S AY
Life between buildings Big cities can often seem cold and impersonal, but a good bar can change that
I always forget that Toronto is such a big city. I mean, logically I know that it’s the largest city in Canada and the fourth largest in North America by population, and as such should be a frantic, busy, and intimidating place. But I only ever become aware of that when dealing with friends who either don’t live here or have just moved here, such as the transplant from Niagara I knew who had daily anxiety attacks because there was too much of everything. For me, having lived here all my life, it’s less a sprawling mass than it is an old friend. I’ve walked these streets more times than I can count and frequently feel a strong, almost spiritual connection to them. For me, Toronto has always been there. It’s always been familiar. It’s always been... home. Not being able to relate doesn’t stop me from giving advice, though, and my most often recommended way of getting used to a city is to go out and people watch, an activity for which there is no better place than a bar or pub. Growing up, I would tag along to bars of all shapes and sizes, and in retrospect, I learned a lot about
Toronto that way: Buying rounds, singing along to the background music, laughing over some dumb story, and most importantly, quietly taking in all the scenery. For me, it normalized the city so that it wasn’t at all big and scary. That comfort changed, however, nearly a year ago. I had just moved and was still getting accustomed to my new apartment in Cabbagetown when suddenly two people, a neighbour in my building and a dear friend, both went missing within the same month. Despite one of them eventually turning up alive and well, those disappearances that summer hit me pretty hard and drastically changed my view of the city. Like out of a horror movie, my cosy, familiar home suddenly twisted, groaned, and transformed into a dark and horrible labyrinth swarming with far too many people, more bad than good. I became keenly aware of the danger lurking outside my door and, aside from having to deal with the police, press, and my own highly imaginative anxiety, I found myself unable to take comfort in things. Even the familiar world of craft beer felt distant and unreal, all the little excitements and problems within
By Robin Le Blanc
it feeling insignificant and stupid compared to the weight of actual missing people. I stopped going out. I didn’t admit it, but I felt afraid to leave my room, and would often feel tense running simple errands like going to the grocery store. At that point I understood what people outside of Toronto were talking about: The city seemed scary, massive and chaotic. I didn’t sleep much and, aside from work, couldn’t write. When I did go out, it would be to my local pub, a desperate escape from the swirling chaos of the world and my own mind. Fortunately, my own clan of friends really stepped up to help, feeding me the very advice I gave people when their world felt bigger. I was taken out, dragged out in some cases, to bars throughout the city and treated to a wide variety of experiences in different districts. From laughing over pints of Mountain Lager with Jordan during 90s trivia at Duke’s Refresher to marvelling at the kitsch of Hotmess Tex Mex before a nightcap at Birreria Volo with Fawn, the company, the beer, the liveliness grounded me. Seeing the diverse crowds of people coming together over laughs and good drink, while I
was doing the same thing, just clicked somehow. Experiencing the city at its most individual, human level brought down the scope for me. After one of those nights, I was walking home, half-drunk and half-dancing – to ‘The Leanover’ by Life Without Buildings, if you’re interested – my pace never breaking and finding myself enraptured by the bustle of the streets, change in architecture and difference in vibe with each new block. So many changes in such a short distance, I thought. The city really was small. I laughed at my own realization. The labyrinth had turned back into its original, familiar form. The only red light I hit was on the crosswalk at Carlton and Parliament where, arriving from the west, you can’t help but notice a large, brightly lit sign declaring ‘WELCOME TO CABBAGETOWN”. I paused, thinking about the night I just had, how happy I was to have had it, and all the days and nights to come when I would once again leave my troubles at the curb outside of some pub. I arrived at my building and looked up at it. “Home”, I said.
Photo by Robin Le Blanc
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Photos: Clockwise from top left - René Roslev; Maja Tini Jensen; Mikkeller; Mikkeller; Adrian Lazar
BEER
T R AV E L L E R
Copenhagen By Adrian Tierney-Jones
Ace of Spades is being played so loud that it almost sounds palatable. Away goes Lemmy with the chorus line as the guitars try to re-enact what I imagine could be World War 3. As if in sympathy with the aural brutality crashing through the air, the paint-stripped wooden tables and chairs have a similar sense of heavy metal doggedness. Funnily enough though, this crashing of sonic waves on far away shores is great fun – after all I’m in Copenhagen, whose zen-like calmness can make the most horrific of sounds sunny and serene. Welcome to Warpigs, a Mikkeller-linked bar whose beers have achieved a somewhat stellar reputation in craft hotspots around the world. Naturally, I have an IPA, whose name completely escapes me and it’s turbid in the glass, unseeing, orange and glowing. I rather like it, even though I’m still not sure what its name is, which then lets me travel down a totally different wormhole: do we need to know the name of a beer that we have drunk and enjoyed? Probably not, but I should have been more attentive as I am sure I will be back in Copenhagen. Come to Copenhagen, come to Carlsberg came the invitation. Come to Copenhagen, come to see how Carlsberg is weathering and feathering itself as the craft beer storm rages outside in the world would have been a better choice of words. Over a day and a half, the talks, the lectures, the tastings for journalists from all over the world all pointed towards a realisation, we were told, that the way
Carlsberg has been going about things was not the right way (whatever that meant). And meanwhile out beyond the elephant gates this craft beer storm is perfectly realised in Copenhagen as I continue to explore. Fermentoren, just around the corner from Warpigs, was a happy accident, where I immediately felt at home. The interior was all wood and gleaming taps, while candles in 750ml beer bottles glittered on the tables and slow and low blues played in the background. Music posters dotted the walls, once again a reminder of the rockbased background of the craft beer crowd, which made me think that this is why people have been drawn to the whole aesthetic – like rock music, it’s an attitude, a pose, a breaking out of the beers of our forefathers. Perhaps? Meanwhile, my reverie was interrupted by American voices (male and female) asking for tasters; one woman declaimed with judicial authority, ‘I like Belgian ale’. Two friends at the other end of the bar toasted life with stemmed glasses gloweringly full with what I imagined a strong dark beer, perhaps Prairie Paradise, an imperial stout infused with coconut and vanilla and brewed in Tulsa (I’ll be returning to the subject of imperial stouts later on). There are 24 taps, with one for cider, Sheppy’s of Taunton, which means that there’s a little bit of Somerset in this bar. The rest are beer, a compendium of what’s upfront and urgent in today’s beer world (one look at the list and you can imagine
the shivers running down the collective spine of Carlsberg). Boon, Dupont, Fourpure, Beavertown, Crooked Stave, De Dolle, I mouth their names as if in prayer, alongside beers from Dry & Bitter who also produce Fermentorem’s house beer Dad Joke. This is a selfproclaimed brown ale whose roastiness is reminiscent of a good coffee, alongside a chime of fruitiness. I asked for a glass of Dry & Bitter’s Dank & Juicy, which yes was an IPA, juicy and lustrous in the glass, a whisper of West Coast-style allium alongside berry jam on the nose, a restrained bitterness and a fullbodied sway on the palate. It was rather pertinent in the way it perked up my palate and yes it was hazy and yes it could have passed for fruit juice in the candle light, but it was one of my IPA highlights of the summer (tellingly, the other one was from Berlin’s Heidenpeters). There’s an inclusivity to going out in Copenhagen, a feeling that you’re part of something bigger than yourself, though it’s not a banging of the tambourine, we-are-all-methodists kind of joining in. Neither is it the I’m-cooler-thanyou sharp-elbowed elitism that you can discern in some North American cities – it’s more of a, let’s say, and I apologise for using the word again, a zen-like calmness. Even though Ace of Spades might be roaring away in the background, there’s no panic, no sense of what’s missing, mindfulness perhaps. Which reminds me, what is missing on the
beer list at Mikkeller’s original bar, which is the one I prefer to the more glitzier foodie alternatives, is an imperial stout. For at the end of the night I really want an imperial stout, I really want to dive deep into the dark pool of danger that an imperial stout brings into the world. On the other hand, this is Mikkeller and there are two self-proclaimed imperial stouts available. However, and a big however, one is fermented with a Sahti yeast and the other is a collaboration between Evil Twin and Westbrook, Imperial Mexican Biscotti Cake Break, which has coffee, cinnamon, almonds, cocoa nibs, vanilla, and habanero peppers in the mix. The first one has a soft vinous note on the nose and is sweet and alcoholic, roasty and dirty. The second is soft and sweet, biscuity and vanilla. Both are quite palatable but I just want an imperial stout without all this decretive flim-flam, but this is Copenhagen and as people’s voices whirl about me as if on an invisible carousel I hit the zen button and decide to just sink into the madness of it all. Carlsberg might not have been doing things the right way (though their ReBrew based on their original 19th century lager is rather splendid), but I hope they never make an imperial stout with cake mix or toast in the blend. I think my newly found sense of zen might just take a hike. / warpigs.dk / carlsberg.com / fermentoren.com / mikkeller.dk
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TA S T I N G N O T E S
5 BEERS 2 BRAINS In this regular feature, we match up editor Stephen Beaumont with a guest taster to explore the aromas and flavours of five diverse beers. This issue’s guest is Greg Clow, publisher of the Canadian Beer News website (canadianbeernews.com).
Vs
STEPHEN BEAUMONT
GREG CLOW
Sierra Nevada
Henderson
Beau’s
Indie Alehouse
Iron Maiden
TRIP IN THE WOODS
UPPER CANADA REPATRIATION LAGER
CALI COMMON
ICONOCLAST IPA
TROOPER
[5%]
[5.5%]
[9.8%]
[4.7%]
[6%]
Stephen Beaumont Tasted with a fresh palate at midday, this bourbon barrelaged, maple syrup-accented ale tends to the overwhelming. But sampled later at night, when such beers are meant to be enjoyed, it offers a seductive olfactory mix of bourbon, charred wood, maple and dark fruit with a palate of first sweet maple, then burnt toffee and oak, followed by plum, grapes and vanilla, ending with cooked maple in a warming finish. Still slightly over-thetop, but soothing nonetheless.
This much-anticipated recreation of the storied Upper Canada Rebellion is deep gold, boasting an aroma that takes me back to the late 1980s with notes of cooked caramel and a hint of fireplace. As it warms from refrigerator temperature, however, there emerges a whiff of butterscotch that is echoed in the body, where it combines with rounded maltiness and a gentle leafy hop bitterness. Not quite as clean as the original was at its best, but a laudable project nonetheless.
Flipping their flagship LugTread Lagered Ale on its head, Beau’s tries its hand at a style traditionally fermented with a lager yeast but conditioned more like an ale. And for the most part it works, yielding a brilliantly golden beer with a soft aromatic fruitiness and a body that is rounder than Lug-Tread and hoppier, too, but still maintains that crisp, hybrid lager-ale refreshment and dry, slightly over-bitter finish. A tasty bookend to Lug-Tread in the brewery’s Summer Mix pack.
A properly matured Brettanomyces-fermented IPA, this light gold ale offers a perfumey rather than barnyardy funk, with notes of marigold and tobacco leaf and just a faint whiff of what polite society calls “horse blanket.” The body is likewise mild and marvellous, boasting some dried peach and fresh yellow plum notes up front, a round and perfumey bitterness in the mid-palate and a bone dry, hay and toasted nut bitterness finish. Testament to the beauty of what Brett can be.
Newly available in cans, this is no gimmick, but rather the Real Deal in terms of British best bitters. Deep medium gold, it has a fragrance of dry caramel, apple, walnut and gentle citrus that leaps from the glass, as well as a biscuity maltiness buoyed by tannic, faintly spicy, dried leaf bitterness. Maiden vocalist Bruce Dickinson was reportedly hands-on in the design of this beer, and the man apparently knows his ale as well as he does his metal.
The appearance of this beer — a lifeless light yellow body with greyish turbidity and minimal head — doesn’t inspire confidence. But it’s uphill from there once the tasting begins. Malt makes a fleeting appearance before Brett comes along, sitting on that lovely cusp between fruity and funky. Hops bring citrus peel bitterness that lasts from middle to finish, combining with the Brett to create a curious spiciness. Great as it is, but I expect some aging might have an interesting effect.
This golden-orange ale starts with somewhat expected notes of bread crust and caramel, along with dried apple, honey, and candied apricot. The hops are more citrus-leaning than typical of the style — not in an aggressive U.S. West Coast way, but more subdued while still sitting on the bitter end of the U.K. pub ale spectrum. It’s a pleasant ale to be sure, but the canned version probably doesn’t have as much character as a proper cask pint would exhibit.
Greg Clow Hitting the glass with a lovely caramel-mahogany colour, it quickly exudes a strong aroma of bourbon, maple, and wood, with some alcohol in evidence. The flavour isn’t as boozy as the aroma suggests and also not as sweet as feared. Maple and vanilla come on strong, with the maple developing an interesting earthy quality alongside a slightly tannic woodiness. Warm bourbon notes build in the finish, and hang around to remind you it’s a rather strong barrel-aged ale you’re drinking.
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It’s been 20 years since Upper Canada Rebellion Lager — the beer that Repatriation is intended to emulate — was last brewed, so it’s tough to say exactly how close the remake comes to the original. It does seem darker hued than I recall, and also sweeter – more caramel tones, to be specific. But the floral and grassy hops noted in contemporary reviews are still present and accounted for. Not a perfect recreation, but a respectable and reverential cover version.
The clear and bright copperamber pour gives a positive first impression, which continues through opening notes of light caramel and toast, followed by a fruity middle with hints of apricot and sweet orange. Herbal tones join in, becoming more pronounced as it warms up, leading to a clean and dry finish with a nice grassiness. It shows some definite similarities to Anchor Steam which is the modern benchmark of the style, so I reckon it hits the mark it’s aiming for.
YOUR ROUND
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