Archive for the ‘Beer’ category

Wild about wild yeast

December 23, 2017

I retired from Niagara College exactly one year ago today, and other than two short posts last winter, there has been radio silence on this channel ever since. There were some compelling reasons: The first three months of 2017 were spent fixing up our house so we could sell it. The next three months were spent selling the house, packing up our stuff and moving out to Vancouver Island on the West Coast of Canada. Since then, we have been unpacking and getting used to our new surroundings.

Well, the vacation’s over, it’s time to do some writing!

First up, I’d like to address the subject of “wild yeast”, specifically the yeast known as Brettanomyces (pronounced bret-TAN-oh-MY-sees, and often shortened to “Brett”, much to the eternal chagrin of brewers actually named Brett).

I was at a beer tasting at a local liquor store where we were served a beer fermented with Brett. The store employee leading the tasting assured us that Brettanomyces was a wild yeast existing in the air that brewers used to spontaneously ferment their beer in order to make it sour. There were so many errors in that single statement that I decided I needed to spend some time clearing up a few misconceptions about Brett.

Firs, let’s talk about ordinary domestic brewers’ yeast. The role of yeast in fermentation was actually a big mystery until relatively recently. As late as the 1830s, respected scientists insisted that yeast was an inorganic substance that was somehow spontaneously created during fermentation — in other words, fermentation created yeast. It wasn’t until the 1860s that Louis Pasteur studied the issue and irrefutably established that yeast was a single-celled critter that ate sugar and produced CO2 and alcohol as a result.

Eight years later, Emile Christian Hansen, the head of Carlsberg’s laboratories, successfully isolated the two main types of domestic brewers yeast.

The first one, which could ferment at room temperatures, he named Saccharomyces cerevisiae (“sugar-eating fungus of beer”). This is the “top-fermenting” ale yeast that has been making beer for humanity for thousands of years.

He was also able to isolate a different strain of yeast from his own Carlsberg lager, a “bottom-fermenting” strain that could ferment at much lower temperatures. This yeast strain, which produced lagers, had actually been donated to Carlsberg by Spaten Brewery of Munich forty years previously, and had already been named Saccharomyces pastorianus (“sugar-eating fungus of Pasteur”) in 1870 by German scientist Max Reess. However, Hansen declared the Carlsberg yeast to be a new strain, which he emphasized by calling it Saccharomyces Carlbergensis. Hansen’s name persisted for almost a century until genetic testing proved that S. pastorianus and S. Carlbergensis were in fact the same yeast. Since Reess had named the yeast first, “pastorianus” had precedence and is used today.

Both S. cerevisiae and S. pastorianus are very domesticated. After centuries of eating only very simple sugars, that’s pretty much all they can digest: single molecules of glucose, or maltose (a pairing of two glucose molecules) or maltotriose (a short strong of three molecules of glucose). Once all these simple sugars have been digested, only more complex sugars are left — these “non-fermentable” sugars give the beer body and some sweetness.

Hansen declared these domesticated yeasts to be the only “true” brewers’ yeasts. Every other type of yeast found in beer was an undesirable accident that Hansen called “wild yeast”.

In 1904, another Carlsberg scientist, Hjelte Claussen, isolated a strain of “wild yeast” that was spoiling British beers, and named it Brettanomyces (“British fungus”). Claussen noted several characteristics about this strain: it produced acetic acid (vinegar) and other “off flavours”; and it was able to digest very complex molecules. As a matter of fact, it was able to live inside the cells of wood, digesting the complex sugar molecules found there. This meant that once Brett had infested a wooden vessel at the cellular level, there was no practical way to disinfect the wood — the vessel had to be thrown out, lest the infection spread throughout the brewery. For this reason, 20th-century brewers regarded Brettanomyces the same way that doctors regarded measles: a communicable disease that was difficult to eradicate.

In fact, Brett has likely been in our beer just as long as the traditional brewers’ yeasts. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, when British brewers aged their porter in giant vats for up to a year, it was undoubtedly Brett that helped to give aged porter a complex, viniferous character (likely similar to Rodenbach’s red Flanders ale).

In the 21st century, with the rise of the craft beer revolution and the search for new flavours, the thinking about Brettanomyces began to change. It is true that Brett produces some acetic acid, but not terribly efficiently. If a craft brewer wants to produce a sour-tasting beer, he or she would be better off using either lactobacillus, the lactic-acid producing bacterium responsible for spoiled milk, or pediococcus, a bacterium that produces acetic acid in far greater quantities than Brett. Brewers using Brett are mainly interested in the other flavours produced: phenolic, funky, musty, spicy, barnyard, horse blanket and cloves are just a few of the flavour compounds that Brett can produce. As Nate Ferguson, co-founder of Escarpment Labs, told me, “I wouldn’t use Brett primarily for souring a beer. But if I was souring a beer with pediococcus or lactobacillus, I would use Brett afterwards. In addition to acid, those bacteria produce diacetyl [gives beer a buttered popcorn taste], which Brett can clean up. But my primary reason for using Brett would be for the flavours it produces.”

Brett‘s insatiable appetite for complex molecules can also have another effect on beer. Since Brett will convert ALL the sugar molecules in the wort into alcohol and CO2 — even those “non-fermentable” sugars left behind by traditional brewers’ yeast — Brett will produce a stronger, drier beer with a thinner mouthfeel. As Nate Ferguson pointed out, “Brett dries out the beer, which helps to emphasize sourness.”

This search for new beer flavours has led to something of a “yeast revolution”. Far from being considered “wild”, hundreds of strains of Brett with various flavour profiles have been isolated by yeast labs, and can be ordered by a brewer and pitched into beer in exactly the same way as S. cerevisiae and S. pastorianus.

Brett can be used in one of two ways:

  • Use a traditional yeast for a primary fermentation. Once fermentation has ended, Brett is then added as a seconday fermentation, and goes to work on the residual sugars.
  • More rarely, Brett is used as the primary yeast — this is called an “all-Brett beer”.

For brewers that use Brett, opinion varies as to which method produces a more “Brett-y” beer.

One thing is clear, though: even in the age of stainless steel vessels, if the brewer does not practice the strictest protocols in isolating vessels, valves pipes and hoses used in making a Brett beer and then sanitizing and testing for residual yeast, Brett still has the ability to survive and cross-contaminate. This recently happened at one BC brewery — Brett had been used in a seasonal one-off, a hose was not sanitized properly, and a batch of one of their regular beers was subsequently contaminated with Brett.

So, in conclusion:

  • Brettanomyces isn’t a wild yeast that spontaneously ferments beer by falling into it from the air — it is pitched into a beer exactly the same way as traditional yeasts. It was given the label “wild” by an uptight Danish scientist.
  • Although Brett can have a slight souring effect on beer due to the acetic acid it produces, brewers are much more excited by the other flavours that it produces, and its ability to dry out a beer by reducing residual sweetness.
  • However, unless a brewer wants all his or her beers to taste like Brett, extreme care has to be used in cleaning and sanitation.
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Ben Johnson asks the question we all should have: Why does sexist marketing still exist?

February 2, 2017

Ben Johnson is a beer writer who twice (2014 and 2015) was voted “Best Beer Writer in Ontario” at the Golden Tap Awards. His blog, the aptly named Ben’s Beer Blog, should be required reading for anyone who makes or drinks Ontario craft beer.

Ben has posted a significant piece about the ever-present sexism in our craft beer industry, Let’s Talk About Sexist Beer Marketing in which he beards the lion in its den by contacting offending brewers and asking them why they have taken the low road.

Read his blog. Contact the breweries mentioned and tell them they are creatively sterile and lazy. Drink someone else’s beer.

Iron Brewer 2015 – The results

October 8, 2015

The Iron Brewer competition has come and gone and alas, the trophy which so proudly adorned my family room mantel for twelve months has gone to a new home. Here’s how it went down.

After examining the bag of ingredients, I decided to make two beers, which would give me a choice of which one to bring to the competition. The batches I wanted to make were too small for the Teaching Bewery’s pilot systems, so Nate Ferguson, the college’s Brewmaster Program Coordinator, again offered to let me use his home system.

Mashing in

Mashing in the Vienna lager

First off, I decided to make a Vienna lager — a basic amber lager style noted for its bready, full-bodied flavour. There was only enough Vienna malt to make up about 65% of the grain bill, so I used pilsner malt and a bit of the double roasted crystal to supplement. Alas, while mashing in (and posing for photos), I knocked the lauter plate out of position. The plate is essentially a false bottom in the mash tun — it has holes or slits that allow the wort to drain away while holding the grain back. Of course I didn’t realize that I had knocked the plate out of position until I tried to drain the wort — and nothing came out. It was the dreaded “stuck mash”. Sometimes this occurs if the grains form a mushy impenetrable layer — this often happens with wheat or with barley that has a high protein content. Or it happens if the lauter plate is not in position, allowing the mash to block the discharge tube. When I realized what had happened, Nate helped me to reach in (with protective gloves — that mash is HOT) and reposition the plate. Then we cleared the discharge tube by pushing water into it from the outside. The rest of the brew and fermentation went without a hitch.

My second beer was a sarsaparilla mild. Mild was very popular in Britain between the wars but is now difficult to find. It is a low gravity style (often only 3.0%-3.5% abv) but with a round body and full flavour profile usually associated with bigger beers. The colour is dark brown to black, and it tends to the sweet side, with notes of chocolate. In my previous two Iron Brewer competitions, I stayed away from the specialty flavourings — I was concerned that if everyone else used the same flavouring, my beer wouldn’t stand out from the crowd. However, the aroma of the sarsaparilla seduced me, and besides, my main beer and probable entry was going to be the Vienna lager.

This time the brewing process went without incident. Rather than adding the sarsaprilla root during the boil — I felt that would extract astringent tannins — I hung a bag of it in the fermentor once fermentation was complete.

Two days before the competition, I bottled both beers, and it turns out that the Vienna lager was rather meh. Whether that was due to the mash problems or my recipe, I’m not sure, but it wasn’t a stand-out. I decided to go with the sarsaparilla mild, even though my chances would hinge on not too many other of the brewers choosing that same flavouring. It was a very good beer, with a nose of dark cherries and vanilla, and flavours of cherry, vanilla, chocolate and caramel. I felt fairly confident in my chances… until I arrived at the competition. Of the fifteen brewers, seven of us had used sarsaparilla. Dang.

In the past, the Iron Brewer trophy was awarded to the most popular beer as voted on by attendees. This year the trophy was awarded by a panel of three judges. (Attendees still voted on a “People’s Choice”). In the end, the winner and new Iron Brewer was Ian Johnston, an avid homebrewer and last year’s third-place brewer, who made an excellent smoked porter. The People’s Choice was Mick Muzzin’s Imperial Pilsner.

And the seven sarsaparilla beers? It seems sarsaparilla was not anyone’s favourite flavour — none of us were in the top three either as a judges’ choice or people’s choice.

(The judging scoresheets, which were returned to us at the end of the competition, were a bit of a headscratcher for me — none of the judges mentioned sarsaparilla, cherry, vanilla or chocolate, but they did comment on “smoky flavours”, as well as “raisins” and “cloves”. Hmm.)

Next year I hope to be back in the competition, but since I didn’t place in the top three, my name goes back in the hat for the random draw next May. Got my fingers crossed already.

Iron Brewer: The planning begins

July 23, 2015

Yes, it’s that time again. The Master Brewers’ Association of Canada (MBAC) has just released the list of ingredients for the 2015 edition of the Iron Brewer competition.

For those of you who have joined this channel since last summer, the MBAC provides 15 brewers with identical bags of ingredients. Each competitor must make at least 10L of beer using only the ingredients provided plus brewing water. (Just like Iron Chef competitors don’t have to use every ingredient on the pantry table, Iron Brewers don’t have to use every ingredient in the bag.) The beers are judged, the scores are toted up, and one brewer is crowned the Iron Brewer.

Since there are always more than 15 brewers interested, names are drawn from a hat, with the exception of last year’s 1st, 2nd and 3rd place finishers, who are given a bye into the next competition.

Here are the ingredients in the bag this year:

Base Malts:
Czech Pils, OIO 2-row, Weyermann Vienna, Simpsons Pale Ale Golden Promise

Specialty malts:
Briess Smoked Cherry Wood Malt, Bairds Carastan 30/37, Chocolate, Simpsons Light Crystal, Simpsons Double Roasted Crystal, OIO Toasted barley, Weyermann Carabelge, Crisp Clear Choice, Harvest Malt & Hops

Hops:
Admiral (13.6% AA), Celeia (4.3), Pilgram (9.0), Jarrylo (14.8), Pekko (15.4) + whole leaf from Harvest Malt & Hops & possibly Winterbrook Farms

Yeast:
Belle Saison, Munich Classic wheat, Abbaye belgian, S23 Lager, US05 Ale, Fermentis Abbaye

Special Ingredients:
Oak Chips, Sarsaparilla, Whirlfloc

There may be some additional ingredients added by the end of next week. I have until the end of September to brew at least 10L of beer with only the above ingredients + brewing water.

Does anyone have suggestions on what type of beer I should make?

Travelling global, drinking local

March 23, 2015

Although Elaine & I are usually pretty stoic about winter, this past season had an especially vicious bite — week after week of record-cold temperatures, dark overcast skies and seemingly endless snow. Although we do not regularly flee south, this winter proved to be too much for us.

Old San Juan

The narrow but colourful streets of Old San Juan.

Which is why, a few weeks ago, we found ourselves having breakfast on the rooftop of the Hotel Milano in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico. The modern city of San Juan is a bustling urban centre of over two million people. But right in the middle of the city, on a narrow peninsula lying between the busy commercial harbour and the Atlantic Ocean, lies historic Old San Juan. It’s tiny by any standards, covering an area of only seven blocks by seven blocks. Anyone, at a slow stroll, can cross from one side of OSJ to the other in under thirty minutes. But there’s five centuries of history packed into that small area, including the oldest fortifications and the oldest churches in the New World. Even the ground has a historic overlay — the narrow streets are covered with blue-glazed cobblestones from Spain, a relic of the ballast stones left behind by Spanish galleons to make room for Aztec gold and Incan silver.

Blue-glazed cobblestones

Blue-glazed cobblestones

So there we were at breakfast, chatting with our server about things to do when somehow — and this seems to happen a lot with me — the conversation turned to beer.

Now I confess that my expectations of beer in the Caribbean are not high. If you overlook St. John Brewers, a craft brewery in the U.S. Virgin Islands that makes a killer mango pale ale, the predominant style throughout the Caribbean is yellow American lager, served icy cold.

Almost every island takes pride in creating their own brand of this style:

  • Jamaica: Red Stripe
  • Barbados: Banks
  • Antigua: Wadadli
  • St. Lucia: Piton
  • Dominica: Kubuli
  • Turks & Caicos: Island Lager
  • Puerto Rico: Magna, and the lite version, Medalla

(Yes, on some of the islands with British history, strong stout is still brewed, notably Jamaica’s Dragon Stout, a curiously heavy drink for such a hot climate.)

On a previous visit to San Juan, we had stopped in at the Old Harbour Brewery, a brewpub featuring several ho-hum beers that I found to be, well, okay, I guess. By coincidence, it turned out that our breakfast server had actually worked at Old Harbour for a time. “However,” she confided in us, “if you are looking for really good beer, there is a new a bar in Old San Juan called La Taberna Lúpulo. It has over a hundred beers imported from United States and Europe.”

My ears perked up — lúpulo is the Spanish word for hops. How could any self-respecting bar call itself “The Tavern of Hops” and not have interesting beers?

Of course, there was one small obstacle to overcome: the server couldn’t remember exactly where it was, and there are A LOT of bars in Old San Juan. However solving problems like these only adds to the sense of accomplishment, right?

So it was that a few hours later, at noon, we were standing on Calle San Sebastiano, outside Taberna Lúpulo. The reason we were standing outside was because it was closed. In retrospect, the chances of the bar being open by noon were slight — Old San Juan is a late night party place that rocks on until just before dawn. Most shops don’t open until after 10 am, and bars only get going at sunset.

So it was back out into the narrow streets of OSJ for a few more hours of sight-seeing.

Taberna Lupulo

Five minutes after opening, the locals are already arriving. Ten minutes later, there is not a seat to be had.

But at 6 pm, as the sun was meandering down to the horizon, we found ourselves back at Taberna Lúpulo, and this time, the doors and windows were wide open. And it’s a good thing we got there just as it opened, because not only did we get a nice table by one of the open windows, but ten minutes later, there was not a seat to be had — it’s clearly a favourite with locals.

Taps

Up to 48 beers on tap, including a few I didn’t recognize

As promised, there were a lot of beers available, up to 48 on tap and another 100 in bottles. The taps were mainly imports from the States (Smuttynose, Victory, Harpoon, Stone, Abita, Founders) as well as a few European imports like La Chouffe and Moretti. The bottle menu also featured a mix of well-known American names and some prominent Belgian breweries.

Barlovento IPA

Blue cobblestones, open window, Barlovento Golden Ale

However, I didn’t recognize some of the names. “Hopera?” Over the noise, the barmaid shouted a name at me several times. I finally made out what she was saying: “Hopera Golden Ale by Barlovento. Puerto Rican craft brewery” she yelled.

It took me a moment to comprehend that phrase — “Puerto Rico” and “craft brewery” are not normally two phrases that you hear in the same sentence.

Turns out Barlovento is brewing beer in the Puerto Rican town of Manati, (30 mi) west of San Juan. This was good news to me — I didn’t even realize there were craft breweries in Puerto Rico.

Seconds later, I was sitting by our open window, contemplating a pint the colour of aged amber, with a wonderful grapefruity citrus nose. The body was light, but firmed up by a good assertive bitterness. Dang, Barlovento hit this one out of the park.

Dacay Chocolate Blueberry Stout

Dacay Chocolate Blueberry Stout

Hopera unfortunately had an extremely High Evaporation Rate, and before I knew it, my glass was empty. I wandered over to the bar to look at the list of taps, this time deliberately looking for tap names I didn’t recognize.

Dacay Blueberry Chocolate Stout? My life score of Puerto Rico craft beer sightings immediately doubled from one to two. Yep, turns out that Dacay is another Puerto Rican craft brewery, this one in a San Juan suburb.

And this stout, a seasonal from Dacay, really was very excellent — light in body, but with a rich smooth fruity chocolate flavour — perfectly in tune with the rapidly darkening streets of San Juan. I was really getting to like the craft beer scene in Puerto Rico.

Taberna Lupulo

Outside Taberna Lúpulo, sadly contemplating an evening without Old Rasputin

However, all too soon, my glass was again empty, and it was time to go. My only regret was, that as we were leaving, I noticed the name the barmaid was writing over a new tap: North Coast Old Rasputin.

Old Rasputin on tap?? Seriously?? Dang!!

Alas, the tropical night — and dinner — called.

But I’ll be back, Taberna Lúpulo, looking for more Puerto Rican craft beer. And keep a keg of Old Rasputin ready too.

Iron Brewer Throw-down

December 2, 2014

Yes, it’s been over two months since I last blogged. Here’s what happened: a BIG project. Back in the summer, I was given responsibility for creating an on-line version of our History of Brewing course. So that’s what I’ve been doing ever since. It started off as a normal project. But, like Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors, the project began to grow and take on a life of its own. By the end of the summer, I was working on it seven days a week. By October I was working on it seven days a week, often from 8 am until 1 or 2 in the morning. It’s done and dusted now, doubtless a real achievement in the annals of on-line education. I’ll blog about the whole thing later, once the nightmares and flashbacks have calmed down.

However, now that I have a life again, let’s return to the matter at hand — the Iron Brewer competition some eight weeks ago.

In case you need a reminder, the Iron Brewer is an annual competition held by the Master Brewers Association of Canada (MBAC), where all the entrants get an identical bag of ingredients, and have to make at least 10 litres of beer using only what’s in the bag plus brewing water. I had chosen to make a strong Scotch ale.

View from my table. Nice place.

View from my table. Nice place.

This year, competition judging happened at Amsterdam Brewhouse,  a brewpub down on Queen’s Quay at the Toronto waterfront. It’s a very nice location, right beside a marina, if you can get there — for the past two or three years, Queen’s Quay has been a construction zone, raising the challenge of Toronto traffic from impossible to nigh impassable. But finally I and my cooler of Scotch ale arrived.

My wife’s coworkers had suggested possible names for my beer, and I was particularly taken with “Highland Gale Highland Ale”. (I came soooo close to using “Big Jimmy”.) I didn’t print labels this year, but I did have a graphic on the table of a highland warrior laying about with a claymore.

Last year, my table was pretty Spartan compared to some of the other displays of grain and hops brought forth by competitors. I had every intention of creating a better display this year, but… well… anyways.

table

My table, as Spartan as last year

So my table was a bit barren again.

This year, Elaine wasn’t able to make it, so I didn’t have anyone bringing me beer samples from the other competitors. I did manage to slip away a couple of times, and man, the other beers I was able to taste were fantastic this year! Andy Preston, who came in second last year, was at the table next to me, and had concocted a delicious brown ale. (That’s actually a pun, because he had used a double decoction method to make the beer. “Concocted”. “Double decoction”. Get it?)

<crickets>

Never mind then.

The special ingredient in the bag this year was heather tips, and many took advantage of this. Victor North, who with his wife Sonja has started up Garden Brewers in Hamilton, had made something incredible with the heather tips, although the exact style escapes me right now. (It WAS eight weeks and a lot of beers ago.) Siobhan McPherson also used the heather tips — again, I can’t remember what the style was, but it was good. A fellow Brewmaster graduate, Chris Freeman, now brewmaster at Collingwood Brewery, brought a delicate heather-spiced English mild. Current third-semester Brewmaster student Caleb Gilgan eschewed the heather tips in favour of the oak-smoked wheat malt, brewing up a crisp and lip-smacking smoked Oktoberfestbier.

crowds

This was early on. It got way more crowded.

While the judging was going on, I tried to describe my beer to each drinker: a nose of wild honey, a full rounded palate, with soft notes of caramel leading to a lushly sweet finish. Or words to that effect. However, it got quite crowded, and noisy, making erudite and witty commentary impossible By the end of the afternoon, I was pretty much reduced to pushing beer into people’s hands and screaming, “Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaar!”

trophy

Organizer Paul Dickey hands me the trophy. No, I don’t know what the object on top of the trophy is.

After a couple of hours of judging, it was time for the winners to be announced. Third place went to Ian Johnston — unfortunately I didn’t get a chance to sample his beer. Second place went to Victor North for a beer I hope Garden Brewers produces commercially. And for first place: me.

“Gobsmacked” is not a word I commonly use, but for the first time, it was perfect: I felt gobsmacked. There was some fantastic beer there, far more complex than my simple Scotch ale, but apparently Highland Gale Highland Ale had achieved some sort of zeitgeist. Huh.

Of course, I am never at a loss for words, so when I was handed the mic, I held forth: “Errr.. Ummm… Uhhh… Thanks.”

Since that time, my fame has known no bounds. People stop me on the street.

Okay, I’m lying about that part.

However, Jon Downing, the brewmaster at the Teaching Brewery, borrowed my recipe, and last week, I helped mash in what will become about 400 litres of the Highland Gale Highland Ale. It should be available later in December — perhaps in time for Christmas!

 

Missing out on some firsts (and seconds)

July 7, 2014

I’m usually pretty good at planning. My Google Calendar pages are littered with colour-coded blocks representing meetings, events and reminders. Upcoming birthdays and anniversaries? Heck, I plan for solar eclipses. (If you’re a solar eclipse chaser, check out August 21, 2017.) Thinking ahead is just something that I do. Yet somehow when we planned a return trip to the West Coast of Canada this year, I didn’t check my calendar. Only after the (non-refundable) plane tickets had been purchased did I glance at the calendar and realize with a sinking heart that I’d managed to choose the very same part of July when there are some pretty significant beer events happening right here in my own backyard.

1. Because Beer Festival, Friday, July 11, Hamilton

This is a brand-new craft beer festival happening on the Hamilton waterfront, about a 20-minute drive from my house. The organizers seem pretty serious, in a light-hearted way, about developing a craft beer scene in Hamilton. They even added a homebrew beer competition as part of the festival that attracted over 300 entries. (There were so many entries that I got a call earlier this week asking if I could help out with the judging. Haven’t judged a beer competition before? No worries, I will take you behind the scenes in a future post.)

I’m very sorry to be missing this one a) because it’s brand new, b) because I’d like to watch the the homebrew awards being handed out, and c) because the organizers sound so darned nice. Over 30 breweries. Food trucks. Bands playing. Admission only $25 and includes a sampling mug and 4 sampling tickets (or $40 for both days gets you the mug and 10 sampling tickets). Each 4-oz sample only costs 1 ticket, and you can buy more tickets for a buck a pop. They’re encouraging visitors to bring a lawn chair, chill out and enjoy the music. How am I missing this one? I shake my fist at the uncaring gods of travel schedules.

2. 2nd Annual York Region Craft Beer Festival, Thursday, July 17, Richmond Hill

This one is a bit further afield, but I really wanted to give it a look-see this year since I missed the inaugural event last year. (We were on to the road to Boston.) It’s just one evening long (6 pm-11 p.m.) but admission is only $20 at the door, and most samples are $1. The nice thing about this one is that it’s a Rotary event, so all profits go towards charities. There’s a dozen breweries attending and several local restaurants involved as well — sounds like a good time for a good cause. Next year, I promise!

3. Burlington Beer Fest, Friday, July 18–Sunday, July 20, Burlington

Like the Because Festival, this is also a brand-new craft beer festival, and it’s also happening on the waterfront, in Burlington this time, only about 10 minutes from my house.

However, I started out not as excited by this one, since the impression I got from their website is that it’s a wee bit less about promoting craft beer and a wee bit more about making money. Admission is $35 per day + a $3 service charge — that does not get you a mug, but you do get 8 tickets. However, the website is less than forthcoming about how many tickets each sample will cost, and how much more tickets will cost. About thirty brewers and cideries will be taking part, but be aware that a few of those will be “crafty” brewers (i.e. macros in sheep’s clothing) — Alexander Keith’s (AB Inbev), Hop City (Moosehead), Granville Island (Molson Coors) and Creemore (also Molson Coors).

On the other hand, when I started to read about the other breweries involved, I got excited again — this would have been my first oppoortunity to taste brews from newcomers Side Launch, Underdog’s, Turtle Island, and Longslice.

So I’m missing all three festivals. I’m sad. Or at least I will be until I taste my first B.C. beer.

 


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