Halifax Beer Weekend

Why does beer taste so much better when we go on our holidays?  Is it the taste of a beer that you wouldn't normally drink in the domestic comfort of your normal routine?  Or perhaps it is the surroundings that make the beer taste better.  That first sip of a cold beer while the sun beams down on you in a pool bar in an exotic spot like the Dominican or somewhere like that, and an air of some Calypso or Reggae channels through your soul and into your bottle of beer may feel different to normal everyday surroundings.

As I write this I am flying at 25,000 feet on a Porter flight headed to Halifax for a long weekend holiday.  I am enjoying my complementary can of Toronto-brewed beer, Steamwhistle.  Thank you Porter for calming my ever-present flying nerves.  I'm also listening to Bob Marley's Exodus album.  What is it about Bob Marley that can take us to another place?  In just a few verses and choruses, he can make my holiday to the cold east coast of Canada feel like I'm headed for the tropics.

I have Keith Richards' autobiography 'Life' sitting patiently on my mini plane desk, but I can't find the motivation to continue from where I left off, which is page 123.  I think it's the mix of beer/Bob Marley/turbulence.  As we descend for a quick pit stop in Montreal, my Steamwhistle has being converted from a glass to a plastic cup, which I'll tell you right now was a challenge to hold and drink out of while hitting the runway, even for a bartender.  Two old French-Canadian ladies across the isle from me got a good chuckle as we landed and jerked (a porter flight trait of landing), and I managed to not spill a drop from my plastic cup, which i had raised up in the air trying to preempt the Canada's Wonderland-style flight landing.

For anyone that is unfamiliar with Halifax, it is the largest city in the province of Nova Scotia, which is located in Atlantic Canada.  It is a beautiful spot that easily reminds me of Ireland - the hospitable nature of the locals, the wet climate and the coastal surroundings.  Halifax has a vast selection of pubs, and I attempted to frequent as many as possible while there for four days.  One of the best spots I tried for a pint or two was the 'Hart and Thistle'.  This brewpub is located right on the water and has some great house-made beers, as well as local brews such as Garrison and Propeller.  My choice, a house-made IPA eloquently named Tiny Dancer, was recommended to me by the owner.  It was excellent and packed a perfect punch of citrus, spices and honey flavours, as well as 6.4% abv.  Definitely recommended.  Other pubs worth a visit include The Old Triangle, Durty Nelly's, and The Celtic Corner.

Halfway through my weekend I wanted to do something touristy, so my Halifax-local friend, Rae, took me to
the Alexander Keith's Brewery.  Now, for anyone who knows Alexander Keith's, these days it has become less east-coast-authentic and more mass-produced-InBev-marketed-blockbuster-premium-but-really-domestic (shhh) beer.  However, with that said, the Halifax brewery is still the sole producer for Nova Scotian Keith's products.  The brewery tour was a surprising success.  At a rate of one tour per hour, it is definitely on a smaller scale than other brewery tours.  Also, a tour guide crew of three brings a 'shut up and listen, will ya!' approach.  This is all good in my eyes, however, the tour began on the corny side of things.  They attempted to reenact the time of Alexander Keith (mid-1800's) being in charge, alive and well. Unfortunately, it felt more like a performing arts audition for Pioneer Village.  The second half of the tour was excellent. We were led to Alexander Keith's 'personal' pub underground, which was a beautiful cave of stone, old wooden benches and tables that perfected the art of authenticity.  While pouring us our steins of beer (2 of them), the crew broke into song, story and dance.  It was feckin fantastic.  It was what Alexander Keith's should evoke, and better represents how InBev should be marketing their east-coast product.  Old sailor jokes were yelled, Barrett's Privateers was sung, a jig was danced and the craic was had.  Just a brilliant ending to the tour.

Slainte
Conor