Beer industry insiders say big breweries spend hundreds of thousands of dollars each year trying to influence what your bartender decides to put in the fridge.

Photo by The Nexus, from the Torontoist Flickr Pool.

You may think, when you go to a bar, that your choice of beer is entirely yours. But that decision may have been made well before you even put on your drinking pants—and not by the bar owners. According to industry insiders, it’s often the brewers who dictate what’s on tap.

In fact, insiders say, sometimes it’s brewers, not bar owners, who cover the expense of putting in those very tap lines. Because in Toronto, and across Ontario, keg-fridge space is expensive real estate.

According to multiple bar owners and industry workers, breweries entice bars into promising them a spot on the lineup by providing anything from customized coasters to branded patio umbrellas, or by financing the installation of equipment and making cash payments. Sometimes, breweries even ask that rival brewers get denied a spot on tap. Since Toronto’s craft brewers aren’t typically the beer sellers with the most money to spend on “marketing,” this would amount to yet another advantage for the province’s big brewers, who already have a virtual monopoly on Ontario’s beer business.

Craig, an east-end bartender who has worked in the industry for years, admits that virtually all brewers provide some sort of incentive to improve relationships with the bars—but especially the big brewers. (Craig is not his real name: like many others interviewed for this article, he fears reprisal for talking critically about industry marketing tactics.)

“The big guys have cash to do it on another level,” he said. “The craft guys will throw a free keg to a bar, but with them, it doesn’t feel like tied selling. They’ll give you something free for an event or festival but there’s no implicit demand to sell their products.”

But even that, it seems, is changing.

Jason Fisher, owner and operator of the newly-opened Indie Alehouse in the Junction, said the practice is catching on among larger craft brewers. “We’re not talking about a few coasters and some keychains for prizes, or a keg of beer for a once-a-year festival in exchange for marketing space, but tens of thousands of dollars in fridges, glasses, umbrellas, patio furniture, chalk boards, signage, advertising space, et cetera. Things bar owners would otherwise have to spend real money on.”

“It’s understood,” Fisher explained, “that, in exchange for these items, the brewery wants dedicated lines or, in the case of big breweries, all the taps and bottle selections at that location excluding any competition.”

Even a cursory look at the province’s liquor legislation would suggest this practice is problematic. From the Liquor License Act:

A manufacturer of liquor or an agent or employee of a manufacturer shall not directly or indirectly offer or give a financial or material inducement to a person who holds a licence or permit under the Act or to an agent or employee of the person for the purpose of increasing the sale or distribution of a brand of liquor.

The Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario (AGCO) is responsible for regulating beer and liquor distribution in the province, and so they would be the ones to find and pursue violations of the Act. But they largely only investigate violations they learn about through complaints, police investigations, or spot checks. When they do find a breach, there are no hard and fast rules for punishment.

Penalties (ranging from a fine to a flat-out revocation of a bar owner’s ability to sell alcohol) are decided on a case-by-case basis. The agency takes into account the licensee’s past behaviour, the likelihood that they will commit another breach, the severity of the breach, and so on.

The AGCO was hesitant even to confirm whether or not the practice of gifting alcohol or providing discounts in exchange for keg-fridge space is, in fact, illegal. A spokesperson said only that she couldn’t interpret the Liquor License Act for me.

According to some of those working in the industry, this approach to enforcement doesn’t always ensure that breweries play fair.

Photo by staceymccool, from the Torontoist Flickr Pool.

“Guys find loopholes with the AGCO,” says David (someone who—disclosure—is a personal acquaintance of mine, and whose name has been changed). He’s a former sales rep who worked for almost a decade with one of the big brewers. According to him, reps from big brewers find creative ways of “gifting” their accounts, sometimes simply paying off bar owners to keep their business. “[Beer reps] will just walk into a bar and tell them to swipe their corporate credit card for like 16 pitchers.” he said. “It’s like, ‘Tell them I had a party here.’” Other sales reps and business owners told me similar stories about bar owners drawing up phony catering receipts for lunches and events that never actually happened.

The practice, David and others say, has become so widespread that freebies, incentives, and kickbacks are now simply expected. New breweries and the city’s smaller craft brewers don’t have the budgets to compete.

“I have never purchased a line,” said Tim (not his real name), a sales rep for a local craft brewer. “But I’ve been asked a lot. I was recently told by a bar that we could get our beer on their taps if we paid them $1200 cash and did a seven and one keg deal with them [that is, allow them to buy seven kegs and get one free]. I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s a struggle,” Tim said, “when you go into a bar and before you can even talk about the merits of your beer the owner or GM is asking about kickbacks like rebates on kegs sold. I honestly think some bar owners are only in the business to get free shit.”

This is a sentiment that David, the big-brewery rep—who worked with a much greater ability to provide freebies—echoed. “Half the shit I gave to bars for giveaways just ended up in the basements and rec rooms of bar managers. I literally once had a guy tell me, ‘There’s a used pick-up truck for sale down the street from me for $4000. Buy it for me and I’ll give you all my business.’ Another guy said, ‘I want to see Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden, or I’m going with the other guys.’ I didn’t get him tickets, his bar went with the other guys, and I’d be willing to bet he got to see that concert.”

And while Billy Joel tickets and cars are outside of the realm of incentives that Toronto’s craft brewers can provide, it’s clear they feel the pressure to pay up, or risk getting squeezed out of the market.

“You have to start playing the game or you lose out,” said Daren (not his real name), a representative from one of Toronto’s newer craft breweries. “Even smaller places that claim to support craft beer these days want one or two free kegs up front when they buy the first keg.”

He has given out cash incentives to bar owners. “I mean, everyone does it, so you’re kind of forced to if you want to compete,” he said. “I recently paid a bar $500 in exchange for carrying my beer. Then, six months later they stopped selling my beer, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Photo by gardinergirl, from the Torontoist Flickr Pool.

Brewery reps say that because nothing is ever put in writing, the promise that a bar will actually continue selling the brewer’s beer in exchange for a pay-off comes with no real guarantee. Often, bars will accept a brewer’s money and free merchandise, then renege on the deal.

David recalls a time when he pushed to get his beer on tap at a busy downtown bar. “I did a huge Super Bowl party. I brought in promo girls, I did a giveaway of a leather couch, we raffled off a big-screen TV during the game, I outfitted the entire staff with shirts—all told I probably spent over $8000 on merchandise, then I spent over $1000 at the bar with my company credit card buying beer during the game. It was close to a $10,000 day and, after the game, the bar bought two kegs and that’s it.”

Luckily for David and other big beer reps, that’s not as devastating a loss as it seems, and it’s atypical of the usual returns they see on their investment. In fact, David tells me, while some of the reps worked with budgets of over $100,000 a year just to keep bar owners happy (with everything from tap handles and coasters to neon signs and hockey tickets), it’s not unusual for those reps to leverage that money to the tune of a million cases of beer in their respective regions, which translates to roughly $35,000,000 in sales—although most of that would consist of Beer Store sales.

When I reached them for comment, Molson Coors maintained that their sales practices are entirely above board. I spoke with Gavin Thompson, senior director of corporate affairs for Molson Coors Canada, who was unequivocal about their policy on the practice of buying tap lines or providing cash incentives. “We don’t do that,” he said. “And it’s unfortunate that that perception is out there.”

In fact, Thompson notes that Molson Coors has practices in place to ensure that those payments don’t occur. “I can assure you that our guys are 100 per cent compliant,” he says. “We have routine audits in place and a scorecard system to make sure our sales reps are compliant. We’ve actually received accolades within the industry for having some of the best practices in place related to this.”

As for promotional materials, Thompson said that the company’s intention is not to sway bar owners. “Our end goal with promotional material,” he told me when I asked about giveaways and swag, “is to ensure that the consumer has the best possible experience and that they enjoy drinking our product.”

Charlie Angelakos, vice president of corporate affairs for Labatt Breweries of Canada, offered a similar sentiment in a short, emailed statement: “Sales practices between alcohol manufacturers and licensees (bars and restaurants) are governed by regulations and guidelines established by the Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario (AGCO). Labatt has a strict code of conduct and regularly educates its employees on these guidelines.”

The argument can of course be made that this is all just business. Naturally, the salesperson who can do the most for his or her client usually wins the account in any industry—be it beer, copy paper, or real estate.

But with beer, what is the cost to the consumer?

When bar owners are willing to auction off their fridge space to the highest bidder, or the guy with the most freebies, it means fewer bar owners are choosing to stock products because you want them. And wouldn’t you like to know you’re the one deciding what’s in your pint glass?

August 8, 2012

Mr. James Wallace
Editor-in-Chief
Toronto Sun
c/o Sun Media Corporation
333 King Street East
Toronto, Ontario
M5A 3X5

Dear Mr. Wallace:

I am long-time, loyal reader of your great publication and the reasons behind my writing you today are two-fold: Firstly, I’d like to congratulate you on your tireless dedication to the sort of journalism that real Torontonians like me need and appreciate, and secondly, I’d like to ask you for a favour.

I read The Sun daily because I appreciate your devotion to unbiased coverage of those politicians currently bringing some much-needed straight talk to city council. Your refusal to join ranks with Toronto’s more liberal media outlets who continue to slander the likes of the brothers Ford and Councillor Mammoliti just because they frequently speak without thinking and don’t kowtow to the wishes of their own constituency is refreshing. Too often Toronto’s other papers lazily use facts and quotes just to paint an unflattering picture of those politicians with whom their beliefs don’t align. The Sun, on the other hand, never lets facts and quotes dictate the story.

Furthermore, you write the stories that matter to real Torontonians like me. Readers of The Sun have come to know and love the sort of tireless real-folk coverage of important issues presented by columnists like Sue-Ann Levy; for example her exposé on the limo drivers that wouldn’t allow her to bring her dog along with her on a trip from the airport, or the hard-hitting piece she did recently exposing the fact that city councillors dare to take summer vacations (which was fantastically supplemented by not only a two-page photo of the empty parking lot at city hall but also a video on The Sun’s website). This is the kind of news I expect from The Sun and it’s the kind of hard journalism that keeps people like me buying your great paper.

I could go on—notably in praise of your continued commitment to exposing both municipal and federal employees for snacking and napping in official vehicles—but in the interest of brevity, I’ll get to my second reason for writing today; namely, to ask for a favour.

You see like many Sun readers, I appreciate the “Coffee Break” section of the paper that affords us a little entertainment and an often much-needed break in the day. I love reading my horoscope and frequently do quite well on the word search; but you see I have a problem with the Sudoku.

About as often as I read The Sun, I try my hand at the Sudoku and, unfortunately, I’m never successful in completing any of the three versions The Sun offers. Try and try as I might, I can never complete the “Vintage,” “Classic” or even “Pacific” versions of this brain-teasing challenge. Normally I wouldn’t write about such a trivial matter, but it occurs to me that these difficult Sudokus are not in keeping with what seems to be The Sun’s overall philosophy.

That is, whereas the majority of the parts of your paper speak to real Torontonians like me (eg, the bubbly, loves-to-shop Sunshine Girl, the attention-grabbing headlines); this difficult Sudoku smacks of the sort of liberal elitism that loyal Sun readers like me detest. It seems almost as if some “intellectual” lefty has seen fit to show-off by putting these near-impossible Sudokus in your paper.

And so I write today to encourage you to think of your readership when you formulate the next “Coffee Break” section of the paper. Consider the kind of loyal reader like me that appreciates the frank talk of Michael Coren, and the faithful Sun reader like me who gets my political commentary from the likes of Salim Mansur and, please, think twice about putting a challenging puzzle in the middle of your otherwise perfectly consistent publication.

Real Torontonians like me don’t read The Sun to challenge ourselves (what is this, homework?); we read it for your no-nonsense presentation of the news as you see it. And so, on behalf of The Sun’s readership, I encourage you to remove the Sudoku at once and replace it with something more in keeping with your publication’s reputation—perhaps just an image of Dalton McGuinty with a mustache drawn on it or, alternatively, an old Marmaduke might suffice.

I’m sure we can all enjoy that.

Thanks for your consideration.

Ben T. Johnson

Because so many students in my class actually lasted through the entire program (nine of us in total) we’ll each have just 7 minutes of showtime in August dedicated to our individual scenes. Accordingly, a large amount of the scenes we’ve written likely won’t see the light of day–which is a shame since I think some of them were at least mildly amusing.

Some of the other writers and I are considering how to give life to a few of our scenes in the future but in the meantime, to serve as a break from all the beer writing on here, here’s a scene I wrote in March which I think has some merit. 

Pyramid
by Ben Johnson
Draft #1
March 13, 2012

BABU m
AKIL m
GUARD m
JAFARI m

BABU and AKIL are pushing a massive rectangular block.

BABU
This isn’t so bad then is it?

AKIL
Eh?

BABU
This. Not as bad as all that, is it?

AKIL
This is hell.

BABU
Ah, come on now. Working outdoors, getting exercise, the sun on our faces. Could be a lot worse.

AKIL
I sleep in a cage.
I haven’t seen my wife in four years. How could this possibly be worse?

BABU
You gotta see the big picture, Akil. How long have we been building this pyramid?

AKIL
Seven years.

BABU
Seven years! That’s job security is what that is. Look at the rest of the people in Egypt. The soldiers that defend the river– they never know what they’re going to get. They might be killed by desert Nomads. The carpet weavers, they don’t know if anyone wants to buy a carpet that day. The jeweler might not find a customer for his stones, either. But what about you and me, Akil? What do we get to do every day?

AKIL
Push a rock.

BABU
That’s right! We push the rock.
Every day, we get up and we know this rock is waiting here for us. We’ll push this rock all the way to the top of the pyramid and when we do, guess what’s in store for us?

AKIL
Another rock.

BABU
Another rock!
Guaranteed!
Some people would kill for that kind of certainty.
I tell you it’s grand, Akil.

Noticing he stopped pushing to talk, a GUARD appears on stage and cracks a whip across BABU’s back.

GUARD
Get back to work!

GUARD leaves.

BABU
Ah! Stings!
OK. Don’t have to tell me twice boss! Back to work! Thanks!

AKIL
Why are you so nice to the guard, he just cut your back open with a whip. He’s a fucking sadist.

BABU
Who, Steve?
Nah. Steve’s a good guy. We played softball last week. He’s just doing his job.

AKIL
His job is to help enslave tens of thousands and to work them to death.

BABU
Yeah, but that’s just what he does that’s not who he is. Being a guard doesn’t make him a bad person.
Would it be fair if someone called you a “rock pusher?”

AKIL
Yes. It’s literally the only thing I do.

BABU
Ah, come on Akil. You have to see the big picture.
Like us, Steve’s just serving the Pharoah Khufu, and what could be more fulfilling than that at the end of the day?

AKIL
Bread, cool water, the touch of a woman, seeing my children’s faces-

BABU
Come on. I’m serious. Look at this thing we’re building! For the king! This is exciting!

AKIL
He’s a cruel and horrible king! He enslaved his people to build this monument on the first day of his reign!

BABU
You’ve got to appreciate that kind of foresight, Akil. I mean you don’t see a lot of politicians with such an ability to think long-term.

AKIL
This is true.
But still, how you can justify imprisoning so many people just to build a pyramid at the whim of some 20 year old king?

BABU
Don’t think of it as building a pyramid. Think of it as building history!
I tell you it’s inspiring.

JAFARI
Whatever.
I just put my head down, push the stone, and try not to think about the fact that I’m building a tomb.

BABU
Oh, Akil. You’ll never-
Wait, what do you mean, a tomb?

AKIL
We’re building Pharoah Khufu’s tomb.

BABU
What? No we’re not. This is a magnificent structure. It’s going to at least take 20 years to build. Surely we’re building this for the people of Egypt to enjoy. It’s gotta be like a community centre or a mall or something.
Surely it’s not just a tomb.

AKIL
It’s a tomb, man.

BABU
Are you fucking kidding me?

BABU stops pushing the stone.

GUARD appears and lashes BABU’s back.

GUARD
Get back to work!

BABU
Ah fuck, Steve! Give me a minute would you?
Akil, are you shitting me? We’re building this thing for the Pharoah’s corpse?

AKIL
Yes.

BABU
One dude?! Why is it so big, then?

GUARD lashes BABU’s back

GUARD
Back to work!

BABU
Damn it, Steve! I get it!

AKIL
It’s big because they fill it with riches for the after life.

BABU
Oh this is just fucking rich! So we bust our balls building a 48-story high gravestone for this king, and the son of a bitch isn’t even going to leave anything behind for us? What a fucking waste!

GUARD
This is your last warning.

AKIL
Babu…

BABU
No, no, Akil. This is bullshit. I want to talk to somebody. Steve-

BABU marches over to the GUARD who promptly snaps BABU’s neck and kills him.

GUARD
Send another slave to the front of the line!

JAFARI enters and begins pushing the stone with AKIL

JAFARI
Hi, how are you? Name’s Jafari! Beautiful day to be building a pyramid, isn’t it?

AKIL
Son of a bitch.

The history of Toronto is closely tied to beer, and while there are varying stories about the exact date and location of the city’s first brewery (and a requisite bit of mystery), virtually all are in agreement that there was a brewery very early in the city’s history.

As the population in Ontario began to spread from early settlements such as the one in Kingston, beer was initially brought over with other supplies like pork and butter on ships from Kingston, the Bay of Quinte, and Niagara.

A letter dated 1801 from a Reverend John Stuart to the Bishop of Nova Scotia, however, makes reference to a brewer from Kingston “removed to York lately” who had obtained a vessel to “transport wheat and other Grain from Kingston and the Bay of Quinte, before beer could be made.”

Who that brewer may have been, and where he may have been plying his trade, however, is not clear.

The earliest hard evidence of a brewery in Toronto dates back to 1805 and suggests that the first brewery in the city belonged to Robert Henderson (founded in 1800), whose original outfit was outfit was located at the northeast corner of Caroline (now Sherbourne), Duchess (now Richmond) streets. A notice from 1809 signed by Henderson advertised “a milling plant, brewhouse, working tubs, coolers, two kilns for drying malt, two good wells or water, a stable, two stills, a townhouse, slaughterhouse and three acres of land.”

According to other documents, production came in at about 30 barrels a week in 1809. The brewery moved across the street in 1811 onto land owned by George and Joseph Shaw, who also became involved in the operation. The operation eventually burned to the ground in 1856. As such, no photographic evidence of its existence remains.

This early brewing in Toronto (then York) was meant to provide beer for the soldiers stationed at Fort York. When Lt. Gov. John Graves Simcoe decided to make York the new capital of Upper Canada, he authorized a garrison to be made and in 1794, Fort York was established to defend against potential American hostilities.

Early brewing thus came out of necessity to provide beer to British soldiers, since, at the time, beer was actually part of their pay and troops were allotted a daily allowance of six pints a day.

Six. Pints. Times sure have changed.

Additional information supplied by Stephen Otto

Barry Stein and Barry Bernstein, co-founders of Still Waters Distillery, are playing a waiting game. Because Canadian liquor laws require that Canadian whisky is aged at least three years before it can be sold, the duo, operating a small micro-distillery in Concord, Ontario, are patiently waiting for the day that their single malt, rye, and corn whiskies will be ready for sale.

Their oldest whiskies, casked in late 2009, won’t be ready until the end of this year, so until then, they wait. In the meantime, however, the duo has hardly been sitting around twiddling their thumbs.

While they’ve been waiting on their whiskies, they’ve distilled an award-winning single malt vodka. Unique in that it’s essentially distilled from the same spirits they use to make their whisky (then put through the still once more and filtered), Still Waters’ malt vodka is incredibly smooth and retains a semi-sweet malt flavour. I had no problem sampling the product early in the afternoon on an empty stomach, but you don’t have to take my word for it: Still Waters Single Malt Vodka was awarded a gold medal at the 2011 Spirits International Prestige (SIP) Awards competition in San Diego, California — a blind tasting judged by consumers.

Like their whisky, Still Waters’ vodka is hand-made in small batches using a custom-made copper still that they ordered from Germany, which was then shipped over in pieces and assembled in their distillery “like a massive IKEA project,” quips Stein.

In addition to their vodka, Stein and Bernstein have also released a blended whisky they created using a little of their own product and whiskies sourced from other Canadian distillers. The result, Still Waters Special 1+11 Blend Canadian Whisky, has also been well-received and was awarded a 91 at the Ultimate Spirits Challenge in New York this past March, which roughly translates to “this stuff is good.”

And while the distillery’s founders are happy that their early products have received critical attention, they admit that their healthy sales — mainly south of the border thus far — have also been encouraging. “We are trying to run a business, after all,” says Stein, noting that the creation of both their current products was largely motivated by the inherent difficulty of investing considerable capital into a product they can’t sell for three years.

As for what may happen when their whiskies are ready, only time will tell but they’re both optimistic, noting that their regular testing has been encouraging. I sampled their single malt whisky as well as their rye and corn whiskies as they taste coming directly out of the still, a step in the process known as “new make” before the substance takes on any of the colour, smoothness, or subtlety it’ll get from cask-aging.

While the product at this stage is quite harsh and strong (this is essentially moonshine), even at this early stage and even with my inexperienced palate, it’s easy to tell there are some interesting things happening here and that these will be well worth the wait.

Thanks to the success of their first two products, the guys from Still Waters have created a considerable buzz as they wait to release their primary products. “The interest has been astronomical” says Bernstein. Still Waters has the distinction of being the only micro-distillery currently operating in Ontario, and the allure of hand-made, small-batch, craft booze already has aficionados and fellow alcohol-enthusiasts talking about the impending release of their whiskies.

Until then, interested drinkers can pick up the blended whisky at select LCBOs for $34.95 a bottle and, as of Monday April 30th, you’ll also be able to pick up a bottle of their malt vodka for the same price.

If you find yourself in Concord, Still Waters’ on-site retail space is open Monday to Friday and the distillery is available for private events and tastings upon request.

Additional Photos:

Photographs by Paul Aihoshi

Wednesday morning, once again citing an obligation to attend his family’s own annual gathering at his cottage in Muskoka, mayor Rob Ford stated he will not be attending Toronto’s Pride Parade.

While much has already been said this and last year about the mayor’s obligation to attend given that the event is a huge financial boost to the city and celebrates the city’s considerable gay population, there are in fact considerable benefits to having RoFo skip the festivities.

I can think of at least seven.

1. He clearly doesn’t do parades very well.

About a week ago the mayor threw out his back throwing candy to children at an Easter parade. Indeed his injury was so substantial that he needed to duck out of a city council meeting early and abandoned his weekly weigh-in for his “Cut The Waist” challenge.

If children’s candy can do such a number on the mayor’s back, we wouldn’t want him risking serious injury by attempting the same stunt with something as substantial as condoms or beads.

2. If he hadn’t declined, angry lefty city politics bloggers would have nothing to talk about today.

Enough said.

3. Going might send a mixed message to the city’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender community.

If Rob Ford were to attend the parade, the city’s LGBT community might think that Rob Ford is suddenly concerned with the issues that effect them, which would be a departure from 10 years avoiding the parade as councillor, statements saying the city shouldn’t fund “sexuality”, his gaffe stating that only gay people and junkies get AIDS, and various suggestions from Ford allies during the mayor’s term that funding for Pride might get cut. By not going, Ford’s at least being consistent in his lack of support for the city’s queer community. Suddenly changing streams might just be confusing to everyone.

And no one wants to be confused. It’s a parade!

4. He could probably use the time off.

Let’s be honest. Rob Ford doesn’t have the easiest job in the world. Toronto Life just ran a cover story that calls him “the lonliest man in the city” and details the “weirdest mayorality in the history of Toronto,” and The Wall Street Journal wrote up a story about Ford that likens his first year to “some weird reality show.”

He’s largely regarded as an ultra-divisive politician, his allies in city council seem to be abandoning him, his approval ratings are down following that whole transit debacle and all this is to say nothing of his looming conflict of interest trial and his losing battle to lose a few pounds.

In short, it’s probably not too easy to be Rob Ford these days.

Maybe it’s best for everyone if he can just sit on a dock and crush a few beers for the Canada Day long weekend.

5. Potential for Gravy.

I don’t know that any floats in this year’s parade necessarily plan on using gravy as part of their celebrations — and let’s be honest, it’s totally possible — but it’s nice to have the option. If RoFO was there, it could be potentially awkward if his nemesis brown liquid makes any sort of appearence.

6. Mammo’s got it covered.

Last year, city council ally Giorgio Mammoliti famously showed up with a camcorder to dig the scene at Pride’s Dyke Parade. If anything happens this year worthy of Mayor Ford’s attention, I’m sure Mammoliti can make him a copy of his recording.

7. And finally, Rob Ford won’t be there.

The pride parade is a celebration — and a crazy fun one at that. Do you really want arguably the least happy person in the city in attendance at a big party against his will?

Can you say buzz kill?

It’s not like he’s going to show up with a super soaker and start dancing in a convertible.

Rob Ford’s attendance at Pride would be awkward, begrudging, and distracting.

And besides, with RoFo in Huntsville with the fam, there’s zero chance we have to see him on the cover of The Sun in a wet t-shirt.

And for that we can all be grateful.

The LCBO is about to increase its stock of Toronto craft beer. Coming soon to a liquor store shelves are cans of Kensington Brewing Company’s Augusta Ale and Double Trouble’s Hops and Robbers.

While Toronto beer fans should be excited that we’ll now have a chance to take home a little more local variety from the city’s burgeoning craft beer scene, the accomplishment is all the more admirable when one has a little knowledge of just how daunting the LCBO’s process can be.

The first thing a brewer needs to do if he or she is interested in selling his or her product at the LCBO is apply to the LCBO’s Trading Partner Access Request system (TPAR). Once your TPAR request is granted, you’ll have access to various LCBO web-based systems, including the New Item Submission System (NISS). Once a brewer has access to NISS…

OK, you know what? I haven’t even got to the official application part yet and the acronym count is already at three. Let me break it down for you: the process is about as tedious and process-driven as one might expect from the provincial government. Essentially, getting approval from the LCBO comprises six complicated steps, each of which can take a month or more.

First a brewer needs to submit to a product evaluation which includes, among other things, taste testings.

Then the approval process begins and the LCBO submits the product for chemical analysis and reviews the brewer’s marketing plan as well as his or her packaging and art.

At this point the LCBO may offer a preliminary decision to purchase, which can include a commitment letter outlining further stipulations the brewer needs to meet before they get the OK.

If these stipulations are met, the LCBO will issue a purchase order, which might further include terms and conditions. Depending on where the product is being imported from, this part might take up to 16 weeks.

Once the products are shipped, they sit in a warehouse while a second lab test is conducted, a final price is determined, and stores with suitable demographics are identified to start with an introductory offer.

It’s enough to make you need a drink, really.

Despite all this, Brock Shepherd, owner of the Kensington Brewing Company, isn’t discouraged. “My experience has been really positive,” he says, “albeit daunting.”

On meeting the requirements, Shepherd notes, “You need to navigate their system and learn their way. The beer and cider administrator Gisele [Renaud] has been amazingly helpful. They are very supportive of Ontario craft beer, so that helps a lot.”

On top of starting Double Trouble with his longtime friend Nathan Dunsmoor, Claude Lefebvre is also the head of North American Craft, essentially a marketing agency that focuses on the needs of small craft brewers. Along with helping often new-to-marketing craft brewers with sales plans, North American Craft acts as the the agent of record for these brewers at the LCBO, so Lefebvre has some experience with the “jumping through hoops” that is required.

“You do have to go through a process, and it’s a timely one, but it makes a lot of sense,” he says. It’s also not always as cut-and-dried as the outline I’ve provided. Sometimes any number of these steps can take a lot longer than expected; however, ultimately, it’s worth the effort. Lefebvre notes that a large percentage of craft beer sales comes from the retail market and that’s where he and Dunsmoor plan to focus their efforts for the time being. He notes that this provides them an opportunity to can focus on making and marketing their beer, then essentially “hand over the distribution to the experts, the LCBO.”

Shepherd is likewise supportive of the process and notes that it could be worse. “I look at it this way, we could be like the U.S. with a wide open system, but then you have to deal with distributors, each individual store, etc. — more middle men. People may complain about the LCBO, but we’ve got it pretty good.”

Augusta Ale, the first of Shepherd’s beers in what is planned as a series of micro-brews from Kensington, seems poised to do well with the take-home market. It’s got just enough flavour to please fans of more complex beers without scaring off people who are intimidated by hops (i.e. that guy that keeps commenting on every thing I write about craft beer). It’s a clean, crisp, American-style pale ale with some malt and caramel flavour and should be a welcome addition to a beer enthusiast’s shopping list during the approaching patio season (What? I’m an optimist. It’s almost Spring isn’t it?)

Hops and Robbers, on the other hand, is a fairly complex golden IPA that brings a bit more bite to the table owing to the brewery’s dry hopping with cascade hops. Not only are they made by small, local companies with a passion for beer, they’re also both brewed under the experienced and watchful eye of brewmaster Paul Dickey at Black Oak’s facilities.

Dickey has been brewing beer since 1986 and is currently a Grand Master Level One Judge with the Beer Judge Certification Program. He has brewed beer at Denison’s Brewing Company, Pepperwood Bistro and Brewery in Burlington, and was the head brewer at the Black Oak Brewing Company in Oakville until he began his own venture, Cheshire Valley Brewing Company. Among others, Paul is responsible for the creation of the Black Oak Saison and Nutcracker, and Mill Street’s Coffee Porter.

If none of that makes any sense to you, I’ll summarize: This dude knows his beer.

And soon you’ll be able to take home some of that beer. Shepherd estimates Augusta Ale will finally be available in stores in a few months and the guys from Double Trouble are optimistic that Hops and Robbers will be in the LCBO by May 2-4 weekend.

With a little patience, these local options should keep coming.

Given that I went to the trouble of writing it and that the folks at Mill Street were good enough to cover the cost of my ticket, I thought I’d post it here so that at least someone might read it. 

The pictures were snapped by my friend, Leon. 

“And on my birthday, drink a ton of beer.”
~Robbie Burns

OK, I don’t have any real proof that Robbie Burns actually said that but he may as well have. Because, as any good Scot or alcohol enthusiast knows, each year on or around January 25th, people celebrate the birthday of Robbie Burns, Scotland’s favourite son, with a traditional meal that usually features haggis, Burns’ poetry, and, naturally, the consumption of alcohol. Thursday evening, the Burns dinner held at Mill Street Brew Pub was no exception.

The evening was hosted by Mill Street’s Brewmaster, Joel Manning, and featured a five course menu of Scottish delights, each course paired with a beer from Mill Street.

Manning had an obvious enthusiasm for the subject matter and there was a clear attempt by the event’s organizers to adhere to all the traditional aspects of the festivities: Participants were piped in to our seats by a bagpiper, we had a chairman’s welcome, The Selkirk Grace was told, and the Haggis was piped in and addressed — in fine form by an animated, kilt-wearing fellow named Rick Richter. The evening was likewise interspersed with earnest attempts to explain Robbie Burns’ historical significance, though an ill-timed lengthy reading of Burns’ poetry after the crowd had already consumed five pints and a filet-mignon seemed to be somewhat less than well-received given the crowd’s attention level by then. A poorly wired microphone didn’t seem to help matters. Nonetheless, the effort was admirable.

The fare, which featured a scotch egg, cock-a-leekie soup, and an ice cream dessert, in addition to the opening haggis and main course filet mignon, was fantastic and, again, attention to detail was obvious.

For me, however, where the evening (and Manning) shone, was when it came to the evening’s beer offerings. Manning, former president of the Canadian Brewing Association, a brewer for almost 25 years, and brewmaster at Mill Street since 2006, obviously knows his beer and while his enthusiasm for Robbie Burns may have fallen just short of infectious, it’s impossible not to get excited about the beer you’re drinking when Manningexplains its creation.

Participants were greeted with a welcoming pint of Mill Street’s Royal York Stinger Honey Beer, a beer brewed exclusively for the Royal York Hotel using honey produced in the hives on the hotel’s roof. The tasty cream ale was an appropriately light opener to the evening and the hint of honey was noticeable.

Owing to the evening’s banquet-style seating, the dinner was very social and, after our first course, it became clear to my tablemates that I was taking notes. And so, given the festive atmosphere and the spirit of beer appreciation, others were more than willing to offer their thoughts on the evening’s beverages, too, so I’ve included the thoughts of some fellow participants for each beer.

The haggis course was paired with Cask-Conditioned Father John’s Ale, a Southern English ESB. As Manning noted, the beer was born out of an attempt to impress his father-in-law, John. It was a pale amber colour with considerable Czech aroma hops, making it a fairly floral beer with big flavour that somehow stays very drinkable and smooth. As the beer’s namesake noted on first trying a pint, “It’s a beer a man can take his coat off to.”
Tablemate Leon noted: ”I like the low carbonation. I feel like I can drink a lot of this while I eat a lot of food.” And that’s precisely what we did.

The scotch egg, what I’ve decided is the ultimate breakfast meal, was paired with Bob’s Bearded Red Ale. The beer, named after Manning’s friend, world-renowned Canadian opera singer Robert Pomakov (aka Opera Bob), is a traditional Irish Red Ale (not the North American version that’s generally a darker amber with caramel flavouring). This is a nitrogen-charged, creamy pub draught with a perfect balance of flavour. For me, this beer was the highlight of the night. It’s currently available only at Mill Street and at Opera Bob’s.
Tablemate Ali noted (in comparison to the Father John): “This one’s better.”

For the soup course, Mill Street’s IPA seemed to suffer somewhat from it’s place in the rotation. After the big taste and creaminess of the Red Ale, the IPA seemed to fall short in flavour. It was a good, floral, semi-hoppy IPA with some citrus notes, but in a Toronto market fairly flooded with craft IPAs right now, this one didn’t particularly stand out for me. The cock-a-leekie soup had plenty of flavour though.
Tablemate Katie noted: “Good, but not a full flavour.”

The Cask-Conditioned Black Watch Scotch Ale was a fragrant and floral ale with understated caramel, hops, and coffee flavours and was a good accompaniment to a filet mignon served with bashed neeps and campit tatties.
Tablemate Katie noted: “Nutty.”
(It’s probably important to note that at this point in the evening, wherein servers were sure to keep our glasses charged for toasting purposes, our beer consumption and large and tasty meal were beginning to take their toll. This is the point in the evening when an older female tablemate simply stood up, said “I’ve had too much to drink” and left).

Dessert for the evening was ice cream served with Mill Street’s Vanilla Porter. I was at first skeptical of the combination of sweet vanilla with a malty, smoky porter, but the addition of organic Mexican vanilla extract works surprisingly well with the porter’s roast barley flavours and caramel notes to make this a decidedly tasty beer, though not one I can imagine drinking more than one or two of. A number of people at our table simply added their ice cream directly to their vanilla porter, for an impromptu float of sorts. One diner noted that he felt the addition of ice cream contributed to a better mouthfeel, which he felt was lacking with this beer; others at the table were probably just getting sloppy at this point in the evening and thought it might be fun to drop ice cream in their beer.
Tablemate Blake noted: “Delicious. A true dessert beer.”

Following dessert, to close out an enjoyable evening, the Robbie Burns dinner participants treated the rest of the brew pub to a rousing rendition of Burn’s Auld Lang Syne before packing it in. The one notable oversight to Mill Street’s otherwise outstanding feast was the omission of Scotland’s eponymous beverage, thought that was easily rectified by a post-meal trip to Mill Street Brew Pub’s well stocked bar, just metres away.

I’ve been asked by a representative from the infamous one per cent to deliver this letter to the 99 per cent and the Occupy movement protesters.

Dear 99 per cent,

On behalf of the one per cent, we just wanted to send you a sincere and heartfelt thank you for your recent efforts at the “Occupy” protests.

We, the wealthiest people in the world, are extremely grateful you took to the streets to get the word out about the insane lack of parity in wealth distribution in the United States and Canada, and we are glad that you gave the issue of corruption in the world’s financial markets a global stage.

No really, we are.

The truth is, yes, of course it’s pretty awesome being this wealthy. I’m dictating this to my personal assistant right now, who is riding shotgun while I’m speeding down the highway in my Ferrari throwing caviar out the window — I’m not even eating it! I bought this caviar just to huck it at other, lesser cars. What’s more, this is the only thing for which I use this particular car.

Sure, I’m living the dream now, but to level with you, before you guys started the Occupy movement, we were all just a little bit uneasy with the situation.

What I mean to say is, being able to buy and sell most of the other humans on the planet is great, but can you consider the relative unease that comes with amassing so much wealth and power, so quickly, so easily?

Put yourself in our shoes made from Iberian Lynx for a minute. It’s estimated that today we, the one per cent, control 40 per cent of the world’s wealth and that just 25 years ago, the corresponding figures were 12 per cent and 33 per cent. Surely, we all thought in this meteoric rise to history’s worst balance of wealth, someone, somewhere, would take notice and do something soon.

It’s been nerve-racking waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Yes, we still routinely gathered to laugh at the poor as we drank the world’s best scotches out of the hollowed-out skulls of endangered species, but it was not without the odd shaking hand or niggling doubt.

Once in a while, lighting one of the world’s finest cigars with flaming copies of corporate tax legislation, one of us would look around the country club, wave a diamond-studded sceptre, and shout, “Surely, it can’t be this simple to dupe so many people?! Some day they’ll come for us!”

And it really killed our buzz.

But now, thanks to your “protests,” we know we’re safe.

What I mean to say is that, thanks to your efforts, we now know there is absolutely nothing to fear and that we are comfortably entrenched as the ruling class.

Watching both the left and right wing media relegate coverage of your protests to short interviews with weird, fringe characters and watching how easy it was for the general public to simply ignore your efforts while they continued sucking down our corporate coffee-chain beverages and downloading music for which we pay artists a mere pittance, we breathed a collective Courvoisier-scented sigh of relief.

We dodged a real bullet.

Without a doubt your “movement” represented the largest potential threat to our ridiculously over-the-top well-being that we have ever had to face (sure, we had some anxiety when Obama was elected, but we’ve straightened all that out now).

I mean, the movement had real, scary potential. According to the communist information-sharing site Wikipedia, the Occupy movement started on September 17, 2011 and by October 9, protests had either taken place or were ongoing in over 95 cities across 82 countries, including over 600 communities in the United States. And yet…we’re still here, living large.

In fact, we’re hard pressed to find any unifying mission statements, any clear leaders within the movement, and, thankfully, any change in the situation you purport to be protesting at all.

Sure, the movement seemed like a big deal, but in reality, nobody really noticed.

Things are pretty much the way they were before.

So…thanks!

Before you guys, headlines like this one in the National Post revealing that Canada’s CEOs make an average worker’s salary in just three hours would have been met with shushes, attempts to oppress the news, and possibly even hostile takeovers of the news source just to raze the organization responsible.

But now, thanks to your impotent efforts, we know that no one really cares how wealthy we get. We’ve seen your efforts and have been reassured that our face-meltingly stupid levels of wealth — amassed in a time where an estimated 25,000 people die every day because of hunger — are safe.

Now we can read headlines like the one in the Post with open, public, and enthusiastic high fives (conducted of course by our butlers while we look on from comfortable seats atop our saddled albino elephants).

So we just wanted to say thanks. I mean we always knew we were virtually unstoppable, but it’s nice to be just a little more sure of ourselves.

Fight the power and so forth. We think it’s hilarious.

Sincerely,

The One Per Cent

These images are from The JoinBKLYN Holiday Guide to Good.

JoinBKLYN is an independent company based in Brooklyn, NY that curates and distributes  blogs about arts and culture. It was founded by two lovely ladies I know and they asked me to contribute to their holiday guide. I came up with the “Realistic Resolutions” content below and these images are what ended up in their guide.

Traditional New Year’s resolutions have never made a lot of sense to me.

I can never understand why, as the holiday season winds down, people are expected to commit to bettering themselves or being nicer to other people. What horrendous timing for self-improvement,really.

The holidays are stressful.

You spend the first part of them worrying about what to buy people, then fighting throngs of other shoppers just for the privilege of spending a ton of your money.

The last part of the holidays is spent surrounded by your extended family—which, sure, is nice in small doses—but in reality it’s a lot of time stressing about where you’re supposed to have the next artery-clogging meal, hearing about your aunt’s ailments, and, usually, watching a handful of screaming kids run around like maniacs smashing their new loud toys around.

It’s frigging exhausting.

The last thing I want to do after that is commit to healthy/generous lifestyle changes. In fact, I typically start each year off with a fresh pack of cigarettes and a good bottle of scotch and I spend a few weeks avoiding all social interaction in order to restore my shattered psyche.

But for whatever reason, I still feel the pressure to at least pretend I’m committing to making some changes in the new year. People are going to ask me, I figure, so I should at least have something to tell them.

That’s why this year I’ve created a list of “Realistic Resolutions”—a wholly attainable list of goals for myself in the new year. Call it a cop-out if you must, but I call it being pragmatic. I’m not going to set lofty goals I know I won’t stick to; I’ve made a list that I might actually accomplish.

So join me.

Aim low.

Take this list of Realistic Resolutions as your own and this year we can all work toward making the world a barely noticeable amount better.

It is literally the least we can do.

Happyish New Year.

~Ben T. Johnson

1. If a friend asks me to help him move, I won’t pretend I’ve already got plans that day; I’ll just say no.
2. I’m going to finish that novel I started. Or at least find the USB flash drive that I saved it on.
3. I’m going to read more than status updates today.
4. My effort to get in shape this year will extend further than just creating a hip hop playlist on my iPod.
5. In the interest of helping small businesses, I’ll limit myself to just one hot beverage from a franchise coffee shop today.
6. I’m going to stop referring to other people’s children as “little assholes.”
7. The next time I see that guy I took that one class with, I’m not going to call him “Bro” or “Man.” I’ll just admit I don’t remember his name.
8. I’m going to dance so hard that people ask what drugs I took.
9. I’m going to pay for an album this year.
10. I’m going to bring more beer than I can drink to a party and I’m not going to care when I have to leave a few behind.
11. The next time I tell my friend that I’ll go see his band, I’ll actually do it. Or, at the very least, I’ll try to be honest and just say I don’t want to go.
12. This year, I’ll stare into the fridge a little bit longer before I inevitably reach for the takeout menus.
13. This morning I’ll put in a solid one or two hours of actual work before I look at facebook.
14. I’m actually going to use that shoe protector stuff they always talk me into buying when I buy dress shoes.
15. OK, fine. Just shut up. I’ll go to your comedy show.
16. Once in a while–and not just after popcorn–I will floss.
17. Unless it is absolutely appropriate, I won’t refer to so many people as “douche bags” this year.
18. When my in-laws take me out to dinner, I’ll try to make my token gesture of reaching for the cheque seem more sincere.
19. I’ll stop calling people from the toilet. I’ve got an iPad now; I can Skype them instead.
20. I’m not going to pretend that I watch “Everyday Italian” just because I like Giada De Laurentiis’ cooking.
21. When someone tells me they haven’t seen a movie or TV show that I myself just watched for the first time, I won’t say “You’ve never seen it?” as if that person is an idiot.
22. I will ruin less pictures.
23. I will reassess my standards about when it is appropriate to bring a flask of whiskey to an event.