Ace Hill Pilsner Reviewed, And Other Beers

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Ace Hill Pilsner

This is a new Ontario product, just out from Ace Hill Beer Co. Styled a pilsner, it is a medium-bodied, all-malt winner. It is clean yet with good complexity and a good aftertaste, and leans to Austrian or German helles, IMO.

The beer was tasted at the cool Boxcar Social in the Summerhill area of Yonge St. It comes in a white can of elegant design. Looking forward to the draft, so far it’s in cans only.

Jopen Hoppenbier

At the Wallace Gastropub further north on Yonge St., this saison-style Dutch import (draft) has a slightly fruity note and good bitterness while not going over the top. It apparently represents an old beer style of The Netherlands.

As the beer is excellent, one would wish the glass larger, as the brewery’s etched glass is used, which holds 9-10 oz I’d guess. I couldn’t place a slight vegetal note, then noted from the brewery’s website that oats are used in the mash, plus barley malt and wheat. The oats must explain the “different” quality I noted.

The draft survived the journey from the other side remarkably well.

Muskoka Winter Weiss

Tried this at the Dominion Pub and Kitchen, the venerable bar on Queen Street East which had a makeover recently under new ownership (same group which owns Murphy’s Law and Against The Grain in town). This was good but not at the level of the great German dark wheat beers, IMO. The “dark” element reminded me of something more like you’d find in a porter or stout, a black patent malt taste or that type.

It did have some of the wheat banana notes of the style. Certainly good, but not really what I look for in the style.

Blue Point Brewing Toasted Lager

Draft, tasted also at the Dominion on Queen Street. A good solid lager, not German-leaning, more an American interpretation but all-malt, clearly. Well-made, and I’d guess brought in quickly from Long Island, NY due to the distribution network of the owner, AB InBev.

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The Ontario Butter Tart, Considered

Not_So_Gooey_Butter_Tarts_IMG_8938-thumb-960x541-264571The Canadian chef, Anna Olson, gives a good recipe for the classic Ontario butter tart in this posting.

The image shown in her recipe is similar to that shown in the first image here.

The butter tart often has an irregular or crenelated edge of firm but flaky pastry, but otherwise there are numerous variations. Some people use currants, some dark raisins, some no fruit at all. Some favour maple or corn syrup for the filling, or molasses, or a mixture. But plain brown sugar is hard to beat.

In my view, the filling should be slightly runny, but there are different views on that as well. You can add rum, or (why not?) strong ale, and a variety of spices although a plain Jane butter tart is perhaps best.

Chocolate versions are known, but they don’t work well, in my experience.

To be sure, butter figures in all butter tarts save debased commercial versions, but no more than in many pastry and pie dishes. So why the “butter” in the name?

The butter tart is more than an Ontario thing, as some parts of the Maritimes lay claim to it as well, and elsewhere outside Ontario. But it is less than national Canadian.

_44257439_fechantart203It seems the butter tart is not documented in Canada before 1900. It was initially called simply, “filling for tart”. Only in the first and second decades of the 1900s do recipes appear in Canada for the butter tart proper. See this Wikipedia entry for good general background.

So where does it come from? Did Ontario invent it? Alas, this is doubtful. One theory says the name is a corruption of border tart, a rather similar bakery specialty of Britain’s Borders country, which straddles England and Scotland. In fact, in Ecclefechan, Scotland they have the butter tart itself (that spelling), an example is shown just above. It is similar to the border tart, meaning a smallish pastry with a soft or liquid sweet filling in which ground almond, walnuts, glacé cherry, or raisins and other dried fruit appear.

The Canadian version is basically the same except simpler: no cherry, no almonds, although sometimes chips of walnut are used.

This U.K. blog entry describes the Ecclefechan butter tart. It is sometimes called simply Ecclefechan tart, or border tart. One of the comments states that the writer’s family mostly used currants in the filling; many Ontario butter tarts are exactly the same.

Given the strong Scottish element in Ontario, the Ontario butter tart probably derives from the part of the Borders where the confection was called butter tart, as in Ecclefechan. Either butter is a corruption of border, or the other way around, but that Canada’s is not original seems undoubted.

Consider further these sources.

A 19th century book, the Dictionary of Obsolete and Provincial English, states that a”butter tart” was a sweet, spiced mixture of butter, citrus, eggs, and almonds (macaroons) spread on a thin pastry. It was then covered with another layer of pastry, baked and served with sugar and orange flowers. It cites as source a cookery book, The Queen’s Royal Cookery, first published in 1709. The nature of the dish though shows it is much older than c. 1700 – probably Middle Ages if not medieval in origin. This butter tart is not like the modern, compact, semi-deep British/Canadian one, but elements are similar: almonds, butter, pastry, a fruit element.

I think today’s border and butter tarts, wherever they be, have their ultimate origin in this baked dish of pastry with Middle Ages, or older, origins.

Ultimately the butter tart may be Norman – have come in with 1066 – as the French frangipane is very similar.

cq5dam.web.1280.1280I will offer an original theory. Perhaps The Queen’s Royal Cookery butter tart was originally called “barded tart”. In the 1709 recipe, a direction states to “bard” a layer of pastry on the filling which is placed on a first layer of pastry. To bard means to layer a food on another one, e.g., bacon or salt pork on a roast. The term bard also meant armour in older English, so a protective layer. The French have a similar word for the culinary meaning, the verb barder.

In different local accents and over time, “barded tart” may have been corrupted into both butter and border tart.

Alternatively, since the dish in Britain does seem characteristic of the Borders country, the name was originally border tart and was corrupted to butter tart in some places.

It has been proposed that the Ontario butter tart is connected to pecan pie down south, or the Quebec tarte au sucre, but I don’t think so. The shape and taste of these other delicacies, albeit similar ingredients often appear, are rather different. Perhaps though the predecessor of pecan pie comes from the Scots-Irish, who were composed partly of the Borders people. Quebec’s sugar pie comes from France, IMO, as there are pies called tarte au sucre in different French provinces which bear a clear resemblance to the Quebec sweet specialty.

What is the connection of all this to beer? Well, we have a Maple Butter Tart Ale in Ontario, see the description here at the LCBO listing. The conjoining of two favourite Ontario things, beer and butter tart, in fact three if we include the maple, shows the high regard they enjoy among Ontarians even in today’s deracinated (relentlessly international) food culture.

We even have a butter tart festival! It’s discussed in this Toronto Star report from not long ago.

Any other ideas out there on the provenance of our butter tart?

Note re images shown: the images were respectively sourced here (CBC website), here (BBC site) and here (LCBO site) and are believed available for educational and historical purposes. All intellectual property therein belongs solely to their lawful owner. All feedback welcomed.

 

 

 

Canadian Beer Until WW I And Albion’s Shadow

6419926811_55eeb22168_bJOHN BULL FORMED CANADA’S BREWING HERITAGE UNTIL THE GREAT WAR

A look through sources in the last decade of the 1800s shows that Canadian brewers, certainly in the east, continued a remarkable adherence to English beer types. A typical list, I give examples below, looks like something you might see on the blackboard of a modern craft beer pub more than anything one thinks of as Canadian beer of the pre-craft era.

Numerous Canadian breweries were represented at the landmark, 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition aka the Chicago World’s Fair. The beers exhibited which won awards can be noted in this Canadian government publication of the period. John Labatt’s beers were:

Bottled extra-stock ale, winter brewed; bottled extra-stock ale, autumn brewed; bottled extra pale ale, summer brewed; bottled India Pale Ale; porter in wood; India Pale Ale in wood; extra-stock ale in wood; XXX bottled stout.

All these types were well-known to English brewing, a good example is extra-stock ale. It was probably a strong ale of 8-9% abv, something Labatt still put a focus on as it offered two vintages in bottles, and if that wasn’t enough, it did a draft (“in wood”) version, too. The listing from Dominion Breweries in Toronto –  the saloon adjacent to the old brewery still functions as a bar – also offered a draft stock ale. Dominion Breweries forebore from marketing a bottled stock ale, but as consolation perhaps, seems to have had available two versions of its India Pale Ale in the bottle.

A glance through the full list shows it replete with these old-fashioned beer types. Only two breweries, Carling in London, ON and a brewery in Winnipeg, offered lager. One or two “export ales” were offered, which was probably the progenitor of the lighter, “sparkling” Canadian ale style which, by WW I, had pushed out the old strong heavy ales. What a difference 20 years made.

IMG_20160211_213351“Amber ale” appears numerous times in the list, and it is well-known to brewing history sleuths that northeastern American breweries also did a turn in amber ale in the mid-to-later 1800s. What was this beer? I would argue it was the amber ale, sometimes called twopenny, brewing author Friedrich Accum described in this 1821 text. Different accounts of amber ale are scattered in British Victorian brewing literature. Accum’s account rings true to me due to its length and anecdotal detail included. Amber ale seems to have been sold mild, or new, and technically was an ale, i.e., hopped less than a beer. Its best use was for purl, a heated, compound drink of amber ale, bitters, gin and sometimes orange flavouring.

When Accum likened amber ale to porter, I think he was referring to their somewhat comparable dark colours, and perhaps a lightly smoky taste, since porter was always a beer (well-hopped), not an ale, technically again.

Accum notes that amber ale was out of date by the time of writing (1821), but the style lived on in the colonies or former colonies to the dawn of Edward’s age. In this 1897 Canadian government listing of beers, assessed by the Inland Revenue Department to determine strength and other attributes, one amber appears, from B&M Co. in Toronto. The “pc” of alcohol shown in this table appears clearly to be by weight, not volume. B&M’s amber was a strong ale, therefore, about 7% abv which accords with the strength of the staple mild ale in England into the mid-1800s – before gravities started to fall, that is.

Frequently, when an article of commerce takes root in an outpost or export market, it lasts much longer there than in the home country. This is why, say, goat’s head soup is still a well-known dish in parts of the Caribbean, when it had largely been excised from the British diet by 1900. Countless examples can be given, possibly Ontario’s famous butter tart qualifies. Despite what you read, the best explanation for its name, or so Beer Et Seq is persuaded, is that it is a corruption of border tart, a similar item of baking or confectionary in the Scottish-English borders.

Amber ale, and strong old stock ale – at least its prevalence in 1890s Canadian brewing – were examples of such distant survivals. They had taken root early in Colonial days. They lived on to about 1900 in reasonable flower despite that Britain’s beer preference had long turned to other styles, well-represented in Canada too until WW I such as porter, stout, pale ale, IPA and mild ale.

By the mid-1920s, temperance rules passed during or in the immediate wake of WW I had been repealed or relaxed. The surviving Canadian brewers, certainly the large ones, modernized their production and fizzy ales of 5% strength or, increasingly, blonde lager beer, became the norm. The strong old English beers were largely a memory.

Craft brewers have brought back these venerable tastes and Molson Coors has just done so from its own archive, to its credit, see the 1908 pale ale pictured above.

Note re first image above: this image is from the Thomas Fisher Library of the University of Toronto, and was sourced here. It is believed available for educational and historical purposes. All feedback welcomed.

 

 

 

 

Two Countries Divided By A Common Beer Style (IPA)

Edouard_Manet,_A_Bar_at_the_Folies-BergèreIndia Pale Ale, or IPA, is a blonde-to-amber beer which tends to stress the hops.

It comes from England. In the later 1700s a London brewer called Hodgson sent some pale beer to India, then a British province. It took off and was “the” beer of the Raj until knocked down a peg or two by competition from Burton-on-Trent in the form of Bass Pale Ale and similar beers from the Trent Valley. Pale Ale is the same as India Pale Ale. So is bitter, of “pint o’ bitter” fame. Terminology was never precise and all that can be said is, the exported form of pale ale was often called India Pale Ale, IPA or East India Pale Ale. Ultimately, some domestic pale ale was called that too.

Hodgson’s beer seems to have been inspired by cellared (aged) country pale ale, a drink of the better-off. Hodgson pale ale was not unusually strong although a couple of vague early accounts suggest it was. By the mid-1800s, the strength of IPA in general was about 6% abv. This was not as strong as the staple mild ale of the period but stronger than most porter was in the 1800s. Strong enough, let’s say.

More than its relative strength, what distinguished IPA was its dry character. In a time when most beers were relatively sweet, pale ale was fermented more thoroughly and had dry, clean character on the palate. To be sure it had some malty quality, but not a thick heavy one. The reason for the dryness was that in a time before refrigeration and pasteurization, if the beer had more than traces of fermentable sugar, it might “fret” or spoil on the trip to India or other distant markets. Wild yeasts and bacteria can easily consume available sugars with the risk of making the drink sour. When beer has few or no fermentable sugars, it will remain relatively stable especially as IPA was made very bitter from a massive infusion of hops: hop resins are a natural preservative.

Bottles_of_Bass_beerIPA became famous around the world. It was in Paris in the 1880s when Edouard Manet painted his renowned scene of the bar of the Follies-Bergères. IPA was manufactured in Canada and the U.S. by British incomers who were following the ways of the old country. Even by 1900 some of the North American IPA was around 7% abv, attesting in my view to the character of the earliest British examples (1770-1820). A living time capsule of this 1900-era pale ale, at 6.8% abv, can be tasted in the form of Molson Coors’ recent recreation of a 1908 recipe. I discussed this beer here recently.

Of course, time moved on and by the 1990s, pale ale, initially a bottled specialty, was largely in Britain a draft beer, better known by its pub name, “bitter”. Classic English bitter was sometimes dry but not always – once again pale ale was never a matter for the statute books, its boundaries are naturally elastic. This bitter did remain fairly astringent from the hop resins released in the boil, or flowery/herbal from the hop’s aroma. In the U.S., the last old-established IPA, Ballantine India Pale Ale, was withdrawn from the market in 1996. That beer, although reduced from what it had been, was similar to modern English bitters but stronger, more in line with IPA’s origins. A couple of beers in Canada were still called India Pale Ale and pale ale but these were lager-like in character by then.

The craft brewing movement returned quality pale ale and IPA to the brewing scene. The beers called IPA as such on the label tended to be drier and stronger than pale ale tout court, but again there is no statutory lineThe first commercial IPA to be revived so-called was in the early 1990s and made by Yakima Brewing And Malting, in Washington State. It was owned by the late Bert Grant, who had worked for decades in the Canadian brewing and hop industries. I remember it well and it was a lean beer with a huge hop presence which spoke of American hop fields, understandable given Washington State is a hop heartland. There was lots of grapefruit, citrus pith and pine in the nose and taste.

It is not too much to state that IPA became the star of North American and international craft brewing. The American form – often stronger than contemporary bitter and always redolent of American hop varieties – has become popular in the U.K. It sits next to the older English bitter ales as the brash upstart on the scene. (And yes, for various reasons, modern English bitter isn’t identical to the pale ale and bitter of 1880, say. But it is close enough).

IMG_20160222_130137Recently I tried one of the latest IPAs on the U.S. market, from Tired Hands Brewery in the Philadelphia area.  It’s called, in the jazzy idiom of today’s beer scene, Kick Phone iFlip. It’s got some wheat in it and that, plus the way it’s brewed, and the four American hops used potently for aroma, give it a light and very refreshing quality. In this modern form of IPA, post-modern shall we say, the beer is not really bitter, it’s more the hop flavour you are getting. This is the hyper-cool, contemporary style of IPA, it looked in the glass like cloudy limeade and tasted a bit like it too if you left out most of the sugar. The Ratebeer website, with some 17 reviews in, gives it an astonishing 99 out of 100.

There are lots of IPAs still sold from an earlier time in the craft revival, Stone IPA is an avatar of this type. They tend to have a similar hop taste to Kick Phone but are more bitter and richer in malt taste. But whether new school or older, U.S. IPA always has a different taste to original English bitter. English hops were used for generations to flavour English pale ale and bitter. The English hop taste tends to be much less citric than the American flavour, and often flowery and arbor-like. Also, English pale ale usually has a caramel note lacking in American IPAs. I am excluding here newer English styles such as golden ale and session IPA, both of which have a marked American influence.

Bass Ale, progenitor of the world vogue for IPA which commenced about 1825,  is still available. It is owned by a large group, and nothing wrong with that, Bass was a big boy itself in its classic era. We used to get it in bottles and kegs as an import. I never really enjoyed the taste, which was kind of “old toffee apple”, sometimes with banana or sulphur notes. But I always felt that pasteurization and long transport altered the “brewery-fresh” profile.

In Canada today, or rather Ontario, we get now a draft Bass brewed by Labatt in Toronto. It is very good, you see it in the image above of the amber pint. While somewhat reminiscent of the import formerly available, it is much fresher and has a pleasing, complex aftertaste particularly when left to warm. It is somewhat malty with a fruity quality of some kind and good racy hop edge. It is nothing remotely like the fragrant, citric American IPAs.

I like both types, although the English style of pale ale is hard to beat. I know people always lauded the cask (unfiltered, real ale) version of Bass Ale, which you can still find in England. But this Toronto-made, brewery-conditioned version is plenty good. Any admirer of the brewing arts would have to give it kudos, if he or she is being honest.

Note re images used: The first two images above are believed in the public domain and were sourced via Wikipedia in this entry on Bass Brewery, here. All feedback welcomed.

 

 

Whisky Straight Up

IMG_20160220_164712There has been much press recently about an iteration of Crown Royal being the best whisky in the world. As far as I know, that is a blended whisky. I’m going to be frank and say, in my best whisky pantheon, first and foremost, the candidate has to be a straight whisky. If it is blended, meaning straight whisky combined with one or more  “grain whiskies” –  distilled at a high proof – it doesn’t qualify. It can be very good, but in my experience, blends just don’t have the full complexity and mouth-feel of an all-straight.

By straight I mean, a whisky which more or less complies with the American rules for a straight whiskey. Those rules are, whiskey from a mash of malted or raw cereals, distilled out at under 160 U.S. proof which is 80% alcohol by volume. For reasons I won’t explore here, whiskies (or brandies, rums, tequilas) distilled at 80% abv or less tend to have full, distinctive flavours which age under wood influence into something complex and very drinkable. Whiskies distilled over 80% abv, and the typical grain whisky comes off the final still at 94% abv or even more, tend to be more neutral in taste and a little sharp on the tongue.

Grain whisky starts, essentially, as vodka. Vodka is not grain whisky because it isn’t aged in wood. The grain whisky component of a Canadian or Scotch whisky blend is barrel-aged though, so in that sense is considered whisky, but to my mind, the flavour is never the same as a traditional straight spirit aged for the same period.

In American whiskey standards, there are other markers of a straight, notably the new spirit must be barrelled at not greater than 125 proof or 62.5% abv – this is to ensure sufficient wood influence on the spirit when diluted for bottling – and aged in new charred barrels.

These last two criteria are not vital though to international straight character. The Scots and Irish don’t use (generally) new barrels to age their single malt and single pot still whiskies. And distillers there and in Canada might be barreling whisky for aging at over 62.5% abv, of that I’m not sure. (But if they are, they aren’t going too high over).

All this to say, my favourite Canadian whisky right now is Canadian Club Chairman’s Select 100% Rye. It is distilled, according to information online which sounds reliable, at Alberta Distillers Ltd. in Alberta. It is a straight whisky in that it is distilled under 160 proof and is aged in that case in new charred oak barrels, something like 6-8 years. That distillery is part of the same corporate group to which the Canadian Club label belongs today, Beam Suntory.

The more traditional CC-brand whiskies, all made in Windsor, ON, are, to my knowledge, all blends: they incorporate a small amount of straight whisky with an almost-neutral grain whisky, except in that case, both spirits are married for aging when they come off the still, in other words, aged together. Some Canadian distillers distill the straight and grain whisky elements separately and blend them at maturity. Seagram does this, and indeed Alberta Distillers does for its various blends.

I reiterate: blends are not bad. Grain whisky lightens and, in whisky-industry parlance, “broadens” or “displays” the character of the straight whiskies they are blended with, but again a blend and a straight are just different things.

There may be one or two other all-straight whiskies made in Canada today, I think Lot 40 may qualify, a Corby brand. Excellent product too, but CC Chairman’s Select 100% Rye has a more approachable palate in my eyes, while still offering rich taste.

The CC Chairman’s Select is (or seems) all-straight, essentially like a U.S. straight rye or bourbon except made in Canada. Forget the all-rye moniker even though it is a selling point I know. The important thing is being distilled at a low proof, in the territory for the traditional spirits. If it was all-rye and distilled out to a grain whisky proof, the fact that it came from from rye would be neither here nor there because all the “rye” taste would be stripped out. Compare a vodka distilled from rye, a good Polish brand, say, with vodka distilled from wheat. Can you tell which used either grain? Not likely…

 

 

Anchor Steam Beer – Same As It Always Was?

STEAM BEER TODAY AND OF THE PRE-MAYTAG ERA

Something always struck me about Anchor Brewery of San Francisco: it never made huge efforts to associate its star brand with Anchor’s pre-Fritz Maytag era or California steam beer in general. Maytag, indeed of the famous washing machine family, is a legend in the beer business. He rescued Anchor from the edge of bankruptcy in 1965 and thereafter placed it on a solid quality and financial footing. This helped in the process to kick-start the craft brewing movement on the West Coast and ultimately everywhere.

Craft breweries usually go to great lengths to stress reliance on tradition. They like to say they make things the historical way and are channeling “the good old days” rather than relying on the latest advances of beverage chemistry and science. Of course, the reality is more complicated, but vaunting the old ways is still a mainstay of the business. Even when novelty is offered, e.g., an unusual spice is used, people often say, well in the old days they used everything under the sun to flavour beer, so…

02-old-brewery

Anchor has an unquestioned status as craft brewing avatar. Still, I feel the company has been somewhat equivocal about steam beer history and the extent to which it continues that tradition. To be sure, Anchor explains its history and heritage proudly, e.g. on this website. It notes the brewery has functioned under its present name since 1896 and has made steam beer since then, and some information is given on historical steam beer practices. Anchor’s labeling and advertising have always stressed an against-the-grain, even anti-“corporate” approach: small, hands-on, artisan have been the general themes for Anchor. At the same time, this extract from an Anchor coaster is instructive, and one can read similar things on bottle neck labels or from interviews with company representatives:

“The word ‘steam’ may have referred to the pressure of natural carbonation developing in the beers. Today the brewing methods of those days are a mystery, and for many decades Anchor alone has used the quaint name ‘steam’ for its unique beer. Today Anchor is one of the smallest and most traditional breweries in the world. San Francisco’s famous Anchor Steam beer is unique, for our brewing process has evolved over many decades and is like no other in the world”.

As one sees, Anchor considers the brewing methods of steam beer’s salad days, approximately 1850-1919, mysterious. It offers an explanation for the name steam but doesn’t commit itself to the story. Indeed, the website suggests another possible origin for the name, steam coming off wort fermented on the rooftops of old Bay Area breweries. (I find this persuasive, myself). By saying Anchor Steam is “unique” – twice – and like no other in the world, the brewery is marking off the beer from all others, but also to an extent from steam beer history. I offer some ideas below why Anchor has taken this approach.

But first, what was steam beer in the heyday mentioned? We have a fairly good idea from a number of articles or passages in books written around 1900. This article, from the December, 1903 American Brewers Review, gives a detailed account of California steam beer production. Some of its highlights are: use of lager yeast to ferment in the temperature range for ale or top-fermentation brewing; generally an all-malt character but with some brewers opting to include grain adjunct or some sugar; use of black malt or caramel to lend an amber cast to the beer; fermentation in shallow pans with an initial fermentation in “starting tubs”; hopping at about 3/4 lb per barrel; use of hops from the West Coast; and use of local malting barley as well.

The account states that for brewers without refrigeration equipment, before being fermented the wort was cooled in cooling equipment which was, as earlier accounts of steam beer breweries make clear, located on the top floors of the building. These were often provided with shutters to control in a primitive way air flow and temperature. These louvers can be seen in the image of Anchor Brewery above, from 1896.

IMG_20160218_182528Malting barley often used in California then was a particularly prized 6-row type called Bay Barley, it was said to have plump kernels and be similar to fine, European-raised 2-row barley. Hops then, as California still had active fields, was a Cluster type, originally a cross-breeding of wild American hops and a variety(ies) brought from Europe by British or Dutch settlers. While Cluster is still available, other hybrids have been developed since, one is called Northern Brewer.

In 1903, much steam beer was krausened as well, meaning some freshly fermenting beer was added to clarified, fully-fermented beer to add a final, strong carbonation and a fresh note.

How is Anchor Steam brewed today? The company uses 2-row pale malt as the base, and some caramel (darkish brown) malt to ensure a medium amber colour and a little sweetness. The hops used are the Northern Brewer variety, at about 1 lb per barrel, which offer a combination of old and new world hop tastes, as Cluster did. A classic, shallow fermenter and a deeper, square tank are used in a two-step process to ferment Anchor Steam Beer. Open coolers to cool the wort are no longer used as they had a potential to infect the beer – one of the quality issues Fritz Maytag addressed early on. The wort is mechanically cooled in a way similar to what other breweries do. The company krausens the beer, too.*

Also, all Anchor Steam Beer is pasteurized, by a flash process which however is felt less impactful on the beer (from a taste standpoint) than a more intensive tunnel pasteurization process.

Cooling the wort the modern way and even flash pasteurizing are simply ways to better ensure a beer’s stability. They don’t alter the character of the beer in any meaningful way.

My view is that in every important respect, Anchor Steam Beer reflects a classic steam beer tradition. It has the expected, slight aleish quality (fruity note) from a warm ferment but the roundness and clean quality of a lager beer. It is all-malt and uses a hybrid hop, as much steam beer around 1900 was, and did. Etc.

Anchor Steam is probably quite similar to much of the steam beer available before WW I. Since most breweries then used wooden vessels, which are hard to clean, some steam beer had unusual tastes.  One surviving report, reprinted on Jess Kidden’s historical beer pages, called the taste “wild and gamy”. This may have meant some steam beer had a brettanomyces, “animal” note, or possibly a lactic edge from lactic acid bacteria. The 1903 article mentioned above likens the taste of steam beer to “weissbier”, of which some styles are sharp and lactic in taste. Anchor Steam Beer (fortunately!) does not have those tastes, but I’d think the best of the original steam beers were similar including, perhaps, the Anchor Steam of that era.

IMG_20160218_192804

Why then would Anchor partly distance itself from the steam beer made by the brewery when Maytag bought a stake in 1965 (he obtained full ownership in 1969)? One answer is very clear and understandable, which Fritz Maytag has discussed many times in interviews. When he bought the brewery, the beer was inconsistent. Often it would go sour and bar owners were hesitant to stock a beer which was not reliably stable when sold. Also, due to straightened finances of the previous owner, sometimes sugar was used in the mash to reduce cost. Whether hop content from historical levels (see the 1903 article mentioned) was also cut back is unknown to me, but in any case today, Anchor Steam beer uses the aforementioned 1 lb hops per barrel, well within the historical range. Maytag commendably has ensured all-malt since the 60s.

The brewery back in ’65 was so small and faltering it had almost no fan base, certainly no cachet. Quality needed to be addressed to make the beer saleable and Maytag addressed it  very effectively, not just in the changes noted above, but by buying new equipment, improving sanitation, and finally moving the brewery to a new, purpose-built location. So far so good, but after a few years went by, I think many breweries would have tied their product more directly to the earlier history of the brewery. Anchor didn’t though, for example, brewery representatives would be non-committal when asked what steam beer was. They might say, well, no one really knows today what steam beer was, and as only we sell a beer called steam beer, a beer evolved in our particular way, steam beer is what we make.

The name Anchor Steam Beer was registered in 1981 as a trademark as no other brewery had used the name steam beer since the 1930s, so indeed it is the only steam beer in the world in that sense.

Apart from the point that the beer was improved after Maytag took over, I think other reasons probably explain why the company has viewed its iconic brand as it has. One is that in the late 1960s, the small-is-good mantra was just beginning. Technology still had a powerful hold on the public imagination. After all, the first moon landing occurred in 1969. The Bay Area was the emerging birthplace, too, of the semi-conductor and computer industries. Arguing for technological savvy made sense even in a small-scale environment, then. (Of course it still does, but the recognition is less patent).

One can ponder, too, whether product uniqueness and non-specific historical character made the argument for a registered trademark more acceptable. Anchor wasn’t replicating an old, fuzzy beer style; it had by 1981 come up with something unique and distinctive. What was once a descriptive term – a term Anchor alone had used since the 1930s – became distinctive in its hands. It’s a good argument. At the same time, viewed more broadly, to me the beer is well within the historical frame of California steam brewing.

A final note: how does Anchor Steam Beer taste today? It tastes great particularly when consumed on draft in California or from a fresh bottle. Current bottles at the Liquor Control Board of Ontario are vibrant with sweet malt, a light estery (fruity) quality, and flowery hop taste. I’ve been drinking it off and on since the 70s and it has never been better. Truth to tell, it does seem to change somewhat from time to time. The current version seems more, or better-, hopped than I recall, but this may be more a question of how the beer is handled before being purchased.

Note re first image above: The image shown of the Anchor Brewery, from 1896, was sourced from this website (www.thehoppyhour.com) and is believed available for educational and historical purposes.

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*Additional reading confirms that Anchor pitches its yeast at 60 F, similar to the range c. 1900 sources specify for steam beer. This is important as much of the steam beer character derives from lager yeast being used atypically at warm temperatures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welsh Country Eating

A BIG FEED FROM THE MISTY WELSH VALLEYS

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In Jehane Benoit’s Cooking With Dow, a beer cookery book I discussed a few days ago, she has a Welsh recipe called Sausage Bake.

You split some pork sausages in the length, spread them with mustard and place in a pan with slices of cooked beet. Add cup of beer, sprinkle with pepper and nutmeg. Bake 30 minutes at 400 F. Nothing could be easier.

Mme Benoit advises toasted French bread on the side with buttered green beans. As usual with this most experienced of chefs, this simple but toothsome country meal proves that a region’s typical products often go well together. Terroir, some people call it.

Is Mme Benoit’s attribution of the recipe as Welsh correct? I have no doubt because first, beets are well-appreciated in Wales as we see e.g., from the website of Bodnant Welsh Food. That red is famously emblematic of Wales can only have encouraged this association, to be sure. Wales has always raised a variety of livestock including pigs, and beer is an old drink there.

David-Cameron-visits-Welsh-SA-Brain-Co-LtdIn former times, beer vied with mead (honey wine) as favoured drink of Wales. Indeed, a fusion of these from the Celtic mists, braggot, has been brewed for hundreds of years in Wales and some craft brewers have revived it. The Toronto-area brewery Trafalgar makes a potent version. This was par excellence a spiced drink, and when nutmeg therefore is added under Mme Benoit’s recipe, it fits perfectly into the historical picture.

Any sausage could be used for the dish, lamb or beef or why not vegetarian? For vegans who eat dairy, the perfect choice is sausage made the old Glamorganshire County way: with cheese. In this historic county of Wales, the Glamorgan breed of cattle produced a unique cheese which was blended with leek – another symbol of Wales – and bread crumbs to make a meatless sausage. One sees a picture of it in this link from The Guardian in England, with a recipe. Today, any dryish, British hard cheese works well in the dish.

Let’s sing out for Wales and its rustic cuisine, one you can recreate wherever you live.

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Note re images above: the first image, a representation of the national flag of Wales, is in the public domain, and was sourced here. The second image, of Prime Minister David Cameron and his wife visiting Brains Brewery in Cardiff, Wales, is from CLH (Caterer, Licensee, Hotelier) News, sourced here. The last image, of the Welsh countryside, believed in public domain, was obtained here.  Used for educational and historical purposes. All feedback welcomed.

Early Brewery in Quebec Leaves a Recipe, c. 1800

EzekielHart

The Harts of Trois-Rivières, QC, or Three Rivers as it was often called, were a founding family of Quebec under the new British Regime. Three Rivers is a small city on the St. Lawrence River half-way between Montreal and Quebec City.

The Harts are notable in Canadian history for another reason: their Jewish faith. They were the first Jews to settle in Quebec. Under the French regime, Jews were not permitted entry as the territory was barred to non-Catholics. It’s not part of the story here, but their Judaism continually impacted the Harts in various areas of public affairs. In the wake of British rule and the Quebec Act (1774), many British incomers, or others speaking English associated with them, established businesses in Quebec. The first Hart, Aaron Hart, came to Quebec c. 1760 with Jeffery Amherst’s forces and was a commissary officer, or possibly a civilian sutler (purveyor of goods to the Army on expedition).

Aaron’s business affairs were very successful, he was a retail goods merchant (hardware and other staples) who also imported and exported goods. He ended by acquiring extensive landholdings, including some lands formerly belonging to the French colonial aristocracy.

One of his sons was Ezekiel Hart who was born in Three Rivers in 1770. The Harts were Ashkenazi Jews, not Sephardic ones. Typically in this period, Jewish merchants coming to the New World under British auspices were Sephards because most Jews residing in England were. Aaron Hart was born either in Germany, or England to a father from Bavaria, accounts vary. But being Ashkenazi, he came to Quebec as a minority within a minority within a minority, one might say.

In December, 1796, Ezekiel and two brothers set up a maltings and a brewery in Three Rivers called M & E Hart Company. There is a reasonably detailed account of the brewery in this biographical entry on Ezekiel Hart. (My account is indebted to that entry, and others in the same Dictionary of Canadian Biography, for some of the information here). Ezekiel left the partnership some years later to focus on other businesses and it seems the brewery went out of business by the mid-1800s: information on its fate is sparse.*

Rather improbably, a recipe for their beer survives. You can read it here, preserved in the archives of the Quebec government. (Click where it states “voir les image(s)“). Various sources attribute a c.1800 to it, although the exact year is not known. In the historiography of early Quebec breweries, very little is said of this brewery, leading me to think it did not last more than ten or 20 years.* That, and the way manuscript is written – it appears scribbled on the reverse side of an invoice or ledger document – suggests to me it was written very soon after the brewery was established.

While more a series of simple directions, the document may constitute the oldest surviving North American commercial recipe for beer. One recipe known to be older is George Washington’s for “small beer” from the 1770s, however, that recipe is a domestic one I believe. John Molson in Montreal had been brewing for 10 years or so, so perhaps recipes exist in the Molson family archive, but I am not aware of any that have been published.

Returning to the Harts’ beer, we can draw at least the following from the recipe:

– it was all-barley malt, no sugar was used or other grains

– the malt was steeped for 2-3 days and turned regularly before being dried

– malt was kilned like this: “for pale malt, slow fire, for porter, a high fire”

– the malt was mashed with water at 176-180 F for 30 minutes

– it was allowed to stand for two and a half hours

– it was boiled for 50 minutes

– 1/2-1 lb hops were added per minot. (A pre-metric French measure, a minot was about 39 liters. I calculate this as about two to four lbs hops per English barrel of finished beer, certainly in the range for common ale and porter of the day).

I’d infer the ale was “mild” – probably not long-stored and got the lesser amount of hops, while the porter was kept longer and got the larger amount, but this is speculative, and possibly the different additions depended on quality of the hops, or other factors.

There are directions for placing the beer in the “working tub” when cooled to 52 F, and then further directions for the cleansing which mention temperatures again.

The Hart Bros grew their own hops – quite successfully, it seems. Another source (see my recent entries) from later in the 1800s confirms that hops were grown in the Three Rivers area mid-century.

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What has happened to the Harts, I mean the descendants? I don’t know other than that some moved to New York City at some point. The family had long had connections in New York State and Ezekiel was partly educated there. A Henry Hart, brother of Aaron, was established at Albany, NY, for example. One source suggests some Harts who stayed in Quebec intermarried and became assimilated into French Canadian society. Yet, another says that most of the descendants retained their Jewish faith to this day.

Ezekiel helped found a historic Sephardic synagogue in Montreal, so I’d guess some people there might know what happened to the clan. (Sephardic is not a typo, most Jews in town were Sephards then, so he went with the flow, to use our vernacular).

The descendants didn’t continue the brewing side for very long – perhaps other businesses were more profitable, or the English tour de main with beer trumped the Harts’. Another Hart had notable success though with rum. Lehman Hart, another brother of Aaron, founded a rum business in Penzance, Cornwall which later moved to London. It is famous to this day under the more familiar name Lemon Hart. (No, I didn’t make it up, it’s true).

But points to Ezekiel and his brothers for trying their hand at the more temperate beer. Their recipe, rude and hastily written as it surely was, shows they made something of value, it was real beer, not some factitious knock-off.

Note re images used: The image of Ezekiel Hart is available from Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Québec, and was sourced here. The second image, of a handsome Victorian manse in Trois Rivières, QC, was sourced from this Quebec tourist site. Both are believed available for educational and historical purposes. All feedback welcomed.

                                                                                                                                                    

*Subsequent to writing the above, I noted that a 2012 book by Denis Vaugeois on the early history of the Hart family states that Dow Brewery of Montreal purchased the Hart Brewery from Moses Hart in the “1830s”. Moses was one of the brothers who had founded the business in 1796. The brewery lasted, therefore, at least a generation. It is possible hop culture was continued in the area after the sale, at least for a time. See this link for further details (in French) on the book mentioned and its author.

 

Gambrinus Dances in the Cookpot

“The Use of Beer in Cooking is a Very Ancient Custom…”

[From Cooking With Dow, Jehane Benoit, 1958]

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As I’ve mentioned earlier, beer cuisine can mean two things: beer as an ingredient in food, or pairing foods with beer whether or not beer is used in the cooking.

Both are legitimate areas to investigate although the pairing part can be contrived in modern writing. In the old days, beer usually went with a specific group of foods, generally salty ones like ham, herring, potato chips, oysters, cheese, hot dogs, sandwiches. It was also understood that beer featured in the cookery of some regional cuisines, generally from northern Europe.

Today, sophisticated suggestions are made to pair beer with food where styles or even brands of beer are suggested. These often make sense but my view really is, if you like the beers a lot and the food a lot, there is no reason not to pair them. Orval Trappist with mint ice cream, why not? Imperial stout with chicken tetrazzini – sure.

Cooking with beer is the more interesting area. It has an old history. It’s easy to find medieval recipes using ale, for example. The malty or herbal taste of beer adds flavour to foods just as wine adds its specific quality although both are different.

Cooking with beer breaks down into two ways to look at it: collecting recipes someone originated earlier and were felt worthy to record and pass down to the generations, and a purely personal, creative beer cookery where you come up with your own combinations and ideas. These interrelate too of course – e.g., say you find a Belgian carbonnades recipe (beef and beer stew) and decide to make it using lamb instead of beef.

18831164542_8401d3162a_zThe creative approach is perfectly valid, and after all that is how any cuisine got going, at one time. Not the best example, but someone somewhere stuck a can of beer in a chicken cavity once, probably as a joke in that case, and it became a classic.

My own interest is to read and sometimes cook recipes someone has written down and which belong to a national or regional tradition. These have at least some permanence, or acceptability, about them, which I find appealing.

When I read recently that Jehane Benoit, the great Canadian food authority of the 20th century, had written a book on beer cookery, I determined to get it and it now forms part of a collection I have of beer cookery books.

Mme Benoit (how she was always termed in her lifetime, so I will use the same honorific) was a superb chef, there wasn’t much about food she didn’t know and she was a rare example of both culinary master and trained food scientist. I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed in the book even though it is more a pamphlet, called Cooking With Dow, which dates from 1958.

Dow was a brewery in Quebec Province which had a crashing fall from grace about 10 years later, I have written about this recently on this blog. In 1958 though, years before cobalt salts were used in Canadian beer to assist its foaming, Dow was a full-flavoured, well-regarded sparkling ale. Thus, not the modern IPA-type beer, more like a full-flavoured blonde lager with (probably) some fruity notes from top-fermentation. Dow Brewery had hired Mme Benoit as a spokesperson, and Cooking With Dow was one result.

The book offers good interest and has recipes from many different countries, not all of which are typically associated with beer. Still, Mme Benoit in the introduction states the recipes are, “for the most part traditional and belong to the everyday cooking of many lands: Germany, Spain, China, England, France, Belgium, Italy and even America”.

Some may doubt this assertion, e.g., did people really add beer to the Spanish/Latin American punchero soup? (The name is usually spelled, puchero). Or to a Sicilian cabbage soup? I searched online for similar combinations and in fact found dishes similar to what Mme Benoit described. Beer has been known for 1000 years in parts of southern Europe albeit its commercial impact is of more recent note. Mme Benoit was too good and knowledgeable a food authority for me to doubt her on this. Also, by writing “for the most part”, she was clearly telling us just a few of the recipes were her own, probably the vegetarian group.

IMG_20160212_200023And so we find Quebec partridge with beer, a combination probably inherited from the Quebecois’ French ancestors since similar dishes are known in Picardy and elsewhere in the north; and Normandy pork chops, Austrian backhendl, kidneys Danish-style, Hungarian red cabbage, and ginger snaps, each made with beer. And on it went, over 100 recipes.

As for what beer to use, Mme Benoit had only one suggestion. Dow Ale! She has a short note on the brand at the back which shows the beer fancier she probably was as, when advising to keep the beer at 40-45 F, she states some prefer it “room temperature”. (That was called “tablette” in Quebec – off the shelf). It is easy to see that in the early 1900s, to which her memory extended, many liked beer that way, when it was all-malt and well-hopped. Quebec is cold too much of the year, so that fits in there also.

We have rich beers like that again today and you might try beer that way, or only half-chilled.

I’ve written about beer cookery off and on for a bit, but haven’t spoken as yet what the taste is like. It is hard to describe, something of the beer flavour endures in the dish but it is modified by the almost invariable use of spices, sugar, mustard or vinegar. Most people wouldn’t guess certainly beer is used, except perhaps in beer soup. It’s a unique flavour, and matches some meats well – beef best, in my view, and pork next to that. But its use extends well beyond that area and Madame has recipes for fish, desserts, eggs, vegetables, and beverages (compounded drinks).

As to what kind of beer to use, after many years’ experimentation, my feeling is, it almost doesn’t matter, somewhat as for wine. The beer cooks down and loses much of its individual quality, leaving something in common to all of them. Many years ago, a restaurant I knew on Mount Pleasant Avenue in Toronto was run by a chef from Roubaix, France. Roubaix, on the northern fringe of France, is in a classic beer area. I asked him to make me a coq à la bière his way, a well-known dish up in French beer country. It came in a white porcelain tureen, used tarragon and cream like I had read about and had piping hot french fries on the side, also as I had read about. (Which poet said the locomotives’ wheels in le Nord run on the oil for fried potatoes…).

This was the best chicken with beer dish I ever had. I asked what beer he used and he said, Labatt Blue. There you go.

Tram_Lille_place_du_Théatre_2

Image above is Tram Lille Place Du Théatre, February, 1982, by Smiley.toerist (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Note re first two images above: These old advertisements are believed in the public domain and were sourced here and here, respectively. Last image was sourced here.

 

 

Beer in Victorian French Canada

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Image Attribution: By Smudge 9000 (originally posted to Flickr as The City Wall) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.

Quebec’s John Bull Character in the 1800s

Saying “Victoria” and “Quebec City” in the same breath may sound contradictory. Quebec City, or Ville de Quebec, is the historic capital of Quebec Province, French Canada’s heartland. It was founded in 1608 and has always been predominantly French.

Yet, from many points of view, the city was indeed Victorian, at one time. Quebec was ceded to Britain by the 1763 Treaty of Paris. This followed the fateful defeat of General Montcalm’s forces on the Plains of Abraham by General Wolfe of the British Army. While the Quebec Act of 1774 enabled the survival of French civil and religious society by recognizing the French language, the Catholic faith and French civil law, British rule in Quebec was consequential, to say the least.

One result was that major areas of the economy became the preserve of incomers from Britain or the United States. A good example is brewing, via eg. John Molson who came to Montreal in the 1780s and established what is the oldest surviving brewery in North America, now called Molson Coors. Fortunes similar to Molson’s were created in many sectors of the economy including sugar refining, mining, furs, forestry, shipbuilding, insurance, banking.

Numerous English-speaking settlers came to Quebec City after the 1770s, not just the larger Montreal. Quebec City is about 150 miles down river from Montreal, east along the St. Lawrence River. Quebec City was and still is the spiritual centre of the St. Lawrence Valley, itself the historic destination of French settlement in Quebec. (One of the 1940s projects for Quebec independence envisaged the new country as “Laurentia”).

While modern Quebec is a huge territory and is settled well beyond this heartland, its Laurentian core has always expressed its French character most completely.  Still, the arrival of English commerce changed Quebec City, and Quebec province, considerably. At one point later in the 1800s, Quebec City’s population was 40% anglophone. The “English” side was in fact a mix of citizens of Scots, English, Irish and American background.

This large and influential anglophone group declined precipitously in the 1900s, and today is hardly noticeable although not quite forgotten. The Simons have been in Quebec City for hundreds of years and still run what must be Canada’s oldest department store controlled by the same family.

Brewing fit in well with the local scene because under the French regime, brewing had been conducted continuously since the earliest arrivals. Its first commercial manifestation was in 1668 when Intendant Jean Talon set up a brewery on the site of what was later the Intendant’s first palace. Finally (1852) the site was a brewery again, the Anchor Brewery of Joseph K. Boswell, a Dublin-born immigrant.

In Quebec City in the 1800s, the larger breweries belonged to Paul Lepper, James McCallum and not least, Joseph Boswell. Boswell’s sons continued to manage the business until (and even after) the brewery became part of the National Breweries group in 1909.

M930.51.1.206The breweries of the Anglo-Saxon incomers reflected an organisation and technology similar to what was occurring in elsewhere in the English-speaking world. This extended quite naturally to beer styles. The sorts of beer made by the early brewers of Quebec Province were very similar to those made in Britain at the time, namely porter, mild ale, pale ale, and Burton ale. Simply put, they were the beers familiar to the people who set up the breweries, by dint of their origins or as cultural inheritance.

Although it is another story, the domination of major parts of the Quebec economy by English-speakers always rankled in Quebec. French-speakers after WW II were about 80% of the Quebec population… This sentiment triggered a series of changes to Quebec society, some enforced by language or expropriation laws, which transferred parts of the economy to French hands.

But we are talking, in this post, of an earlier time, when Anglo-Saxons or others with English as mother-tongue tended to dominate the business scene. This was a time for example when a brewery in Quebec could use English in its advertising and signage without feeling obliged to include a French version. Today, that would be an anomaly, indeed impossible under the French language laws.

Our interest here may further be defined to know how residents of Quebec, who took more than an average interest in beer, viewed its palate and quality. Two sources, one in English and the other in French, will shed light on this question.

Willis Russell

Willis Russell was American-born. He came to Quebec from New England when he was about 30 and became the best known hotelier in the city. His career is well-summarized in this early Canadian biographical entry. Russell was active in numerous other businesses and investments, and also in civic government.

He wrote a history of Quebec City in 1857, no doubt to help promote his hotel interests, and took notice of the brewing businesses in town. He spent numerous pages lauding the plant and products of the Boswell brewery, in particular. (Whether Boswell paid him some coin for this lavish attention, we shall never know). Some of Russell’s comments reflect an imperfect knowledge of beer and brewing, but it is clear from his discussion that Boswell made India Pale Ale, porter, probably mild ale, and a strong, Burton-style ale.

Russell notes that the beers were never sour and were made without addition of – permit me the Victorianism – factitious ingredients. Russell noted that some hops were imported from Kent, England but some were sourced in Canada and barley malt was locally obtained as well. He considered local ingredients of excellent quality. While approving the beers made by other breweries in Quebec City, only Boswell’s came in for an extended encomium.

His connoisseur’s estimation, in his own words: “Indeed Quebec can produce the fine India Pale Ales of Edinburgh; the rich sparkling amber ale of Burton; the stingo of Dorchester; the entire or half and half of Barclay Perkins, London; and famous dark porters of Dublin”.

Hubert LaRue

Hubert LaRue was a French Canadian physician who was one of those protean 19th century figures. He was interested in literature, agriculture, politics and history. He mixed in the elite set of Victorian Quebec City, and had connections to the University of Laval of which he was the first medical graduate. Today, we would call him a public intellectual. This impressive figure – quite appropriately – took an interest in the topic of beer. In his 1881 Mélanges historiques: littéraires et d’économie politique, Volume II, he made many observations on the beer of his native city and “Canadian” beer in general.

These included that hops were being grown in Quebec province but generally without success due to early frosts or other problems; hops were also available from New York and Wisconsin but were variable in quality; none of these hops could equal the best from England and Bavaria; and imported hops were used for the finest beers. LaRue said that domestic hops reminded him of the nauseous quality of aloes. Aloe or aloes is a botanical often described as bitter, acidic, and bad-tasting in various ways (one source says baby vomit!). This poor opinion of North American hops at the time accorded with professional opinion in England, then.

Brewing took place in Quebec, he said, all year round, vs. malting, due to the availability and use of ice. (Beer et seq remembers wood shed storage of ice in the summer in Quebec in the 1950s, sheathed in sawdust). Analysis of Canadian beers by LaRue showed they contained 7-8% alcohol, he specifically states “Gay Lussac”, which means alcohol by volume. This alcohol level accords with much historical data on the bottled beers of the day; stout and various ales all easily inhabited this range.

4ec8fd7a52e8c3e6f09843b7347f23ea-2LaRue credits Montreal-based William Dow with bringing major improvements to Quebec brewing inspired by English practice, and says all Quebec beer improved considerably as a result of Dow’s influence.

Then, LaRue makes a very interesting statement: he says Canadian beers reminded him a lot of beer in Bavaria on trip he took there in 1856. This statement can be parsed in different ways, but I believe he was referring to the good stability of Canadian beer – it wasn’t sour or infected. In good part, this was probably the result of the liberal use, even prior to mechanical refrigeration, of ice in the brewing and storage process. England in this period, France too, simply didn’t have the ability to ensure long-keeping of beer without some acidification or wild yeast development. This was despite the use of heavy hopping for some styles of beer and the blending of beers to obtain a drinkable product.

Bavarian beer was, by the 1850s, lager beer. It benefitted from stability due to being being stored cold in deep cellars or Alpine caves (initially) and being kept cold until dispense to customers. This common climatic factor and availability of ice in large quantities was the key factor, I believe, despite that all Quebec beer in this period was top-fermented (ale or porter) and Bavarian beer was mostly lager.

Note re second and third images used: the McCallum’s Pale Ale label is from the collection of the McCord Museum in Montreal. All details on its full name and ownership can be found here. The third image was sourced from the Thomas Fisher Library of the University of Toronto, and similar details in its regard are here. These are believed available for use for educational and historical purposes. All feedback welcomed.