Susannah Oland: Brewmistress

This week, we are spotlighting one of Canada’s formidable female brewers: Susannah Oland. Today, you might recognize her beer under the name Moosehead!

Susannah Oland. Image from Moosehead.ca

But let’s go back: way back. In 1865, Susannah emigrated from England to Canada with her husband John and their nine children. Upon arriving in Nova Scotia, John worked for the railway, while Susannah minded their children and brewed her signature Brown October Ale in the backyard. Impressed by her brew, friends encouraged the Olands to go into business, and by 1867, John and Susannah had established The Army and Navy Brewery. Situated on twelve acres in Turtle Cove, on the east side of the Halifax harbour, they ran a brisk business – local soldiers and sailors proved dependable customers, with a definite taste for Susannah’s ale!

However, tragedy struck just three years later. In 1870, John died in a riding accident, leaving Susannah to raise their children alone. Financial difficulties left her no choice but to sell the majority of shares in The Army and Navy Brewery, thus losing control temporarily. However, Susannah possessed both determination and solid business sense. Upon receiving an inheritance from a family member in 1877, she returned to the beer world by forming a brewery of her own: S. Oland, Sons and Co. (the use of her initial was another canny business move – she wanted to hide the fact that a woman ran the brewery!).

1871 census. Notice that Susannah is listed as “Widowed,” and it’s her sons who are “Brewers.”

 

1881 census: much the same story.

 

As a complete sidebar, it looks like her son John got into a spot of trouble: he voted in his deceased father’s place during a local (and hotly contested) election…but he was, unfortunately, underage at the time of voting (check out the 1871 census: he wouldn’t have been 21 at the time). However, it seems that nothing came of it.

A close local election was held in Halifax (“The Globe,” Nov 11, 1870).

 

Uh-oh… (“The Globe,” Feb 22, 1871).

 

You don’t HAVE to divulge your vote (revolutionary, I know), unless there’s an ethical question surrounding it. Young Oland’s standing firm (“The Globe,” Mar 8, 1871).

 

Yep, they’re letting it slide. From my wide-ranging perusals of “The Globe,” the sanctimonious tone is typical (“The Globe,” Mar 8, 1871).

Besides John’s voting issues, the Olands’ brewery survived two fires, and by the time Susannah died in 1886, her sons had become proficient brewers in their own right. After her death, her sons John Jr., Conrad, and George took over the brewery, renaming it the Maritime Malting and Brewing Co. It was not the last time the name would be changed, nor the last tragedy. The brewery survived the Halifax Explosion in 1917, Prohibition, and two World Wars, adopting several new monikers along the way. It finally became Moosehead Breweries Ltd in 1947, after the popularity of its Moosehead Pale Ale.

Through it all, the Oland family remained; they’re currently on their sixth generation! Where Sleeman, Molson, Labatt, and the others have passed into international partnership, Moosehead alone remains wholly Canadian. A fitting legacy for a fine brewmistress!

To Queen and Country!

Katie

A Beer for All Seasons

While chatting about people’s beer preferences, I would often hear visitors to the brewery describe themselves as “seasonal beer drinkers.” Fair enough, I am too. Even the most fervent lover of stouts and porters finds them a bit much on a day when the Humidex hits 40. Likewise, a light lager doesn’t always do it on a cold, rainy night.

But then I thought a little more about it, and I realized: the weather isn’t the only factor influencing the beers towards which I gravitate. When you’re selecting a beer to drink, there’s a whole range of things to think about: the setting, the list of available beers, the food, your cravings/mood on that particular day…

And so, I have compiled this list of alternate beer categories. Enjoy!

“The Go-To”

This is the beer that you can find on tap in nearly any pub. Easy-drinking, it’s the sort of beer you can drink throughout the night—and feel pretty pleased about.

For me? Beau’s Lugtread Ale.

“The Back-Up”

Okay, so you’re scanning the beer list…and you’re not seeing anything that grabs your interest. In fact, you’re contemplating getting water instead. Then you see it­—that beer that really isn’t your favourite, but you will still drink it!

For me? Guinness

“That Beer That’s Harder To Find, But You Love It, so When You See It, It’s Yours”

It’s not a common beer, but you fell in love with it long ago. When you spy it on a beer list, there’s no question. It’s yours, right now.

For me? Black Creek’s Ginger Beer, Péché Mortel (Dieu du Ciel).

“The Thirst-Quenching Beer”

You’ve been outside for hours. The sun is beating down. Probably, you’ve been doing physical work or exercise, and you are parched. Sometimes, you just need a beer, and this hits the spot.

For me? Sidelaunch Wheat, Beat the Heat (Black Oak)

The Half Way House Inn: home of the Black Creek Historic Brewery.

“The Sitting By the Fire on a Midwinter’s Night”

It’s the middle of winter. The wind chill is somewhere in the negative-20s. A gale is howling around your house, darkness has fallen, and if you don’t have a blazing fire, you should. It’s just you, a good book, and a beer in a very fancy glass.

For me? Midvinterblot (Sigtuna Brygghus)

“That Beer You’ve Heard Everyone Rave About and then You Randomly Spy it in the LCBO One Day”

Pretty self-explanatory, and it also just happened to me!

For me? Founders Kentucky Breakfast Bourbon Barrel Aged Stout

(Old Bust Head, a craft brewery in Warrenton, VA)

“The Local Brew in a Strange City”

Travelling as often as I do, I’ve made friends with beers and breweries in many different cities. It’s always fun to see what’s on tap elsewhere, and you start to find a few reliable favourites.

For me? Old Bust Head’s Mocha Macchiato Stout, Alewerks’ Old Stitch

“The What IS That, I MUST Try It!”

Every so often, you come across a beer that you just have to try. Maybe the description is particularly intriguing. Maybe it boasts your exact favourite flavours. Or maybe your favourite brewmaster is trying a new recipe. 😉

For me? Black Creek’s Gingerbread Stout, Hypnopompa (Omnipollo), Earl Grey Porter (Royal City Brewing)

*

What about you? What are your beers for all seasons? Maybe you’ll find your next one down at the Black Creek Historic Brewery!

To Queen and Country!

Katie

 

“They Drank Beer Because the Water Wasn’t Safe” …OR DID THEY?!

Beer-Lovers, let’s have a chat.

When I was in the Black Creek Brewery, I often received the question, “Did Victorians drink beer because the water was unsafe?” I’d like to spend some time answering that question.

The short answer is, “In Toronto, the water was often unsafe, but that didn’t actually link to beer consumption very much.”

Let’s start at the beginning.

Toronto, 1850s-1860s. Yes, indeed, the water is not terribly safe to drink. Until the 1870s, the drinking water supply was handled by private companies. As you can imagine, they were mostly concerned with profits, and so sometimes let matters of safety slide. Most drinking water came from private wells, which was fine unless they got contaminated. Animals were slaughtered throughout the city streets, and their offal tossed in the sewers. Animals’ manure ended up in the sewers as well. So did untreated human waste. And where did these sewers empty?

Into the bay.

Toronto, 1851. Courtesy Toronto Public Library.

An article from The Globe, simply entitled, “The Cholera,” describes Toronto’s water situation thusly:

“The water used in Toronto is a byword through the Province. Thick and cloudy with feculence, it is unfit for human use until purified. No one who can possibly afford it should be without a filter to strain the impurities they are compelled to drink. Crystal clearness instead of yellow decoction of dead plants and animals, must be a blessing to any one”

The Globe, November 2, 1857.

Well, then.

So, yes. In 1860s Toronto, the water was not always safe to drink.

However.

Remember that germ theory was still developing at this time. In England, Dr. John Snow had established a connection between cholera and contaminated water in 1848, but his work wasn’t entirely accepted until later in the century. Louis Pasteur’s experiments in killing bacteria through heat (i.e. pasteurization) didn’t get rolling until the early 1860s. Obviously, Victorians linked filth and sickness. They knew the water wasn’t safe. They likely didn’t entirely realize the mechanism of why.

In fact, The Globe provides helpful tips on cholera prevention:

“Make a city clean; purge it from every foul smell, bury its reeking corruption, cleanse its drains permit no stagnant cess-pools; make it in fact what decency and common comfort demand, and cholera will pass along our streets harmless…”

The Globe, November 2, 1857.

Get rid of the ick; you won’t get sick!

An 1866 article is still preoccupied with the water quality—it suggests that allowing a more abundant supply might help flush the city’s pipes and keep everything cleaner. However, it also has good advice for disinfecting water.

Namely, these include solutions of hypochlorite of soda, lime, and “Condy’s fluid” (solution of alkaline manganates and permanganates—you could drink it, or use it like Windex!). These solutions could be poured into cess-pools and chamber-pots. Cooking/drinking water ought to be filtered through charcoal; you could burn a little wood in your hearth at night to encourage air flow.

Still sick? Placing iodine in a box or “in the ornamental cases on the mantle or shelf of a room” was thought to disinfect it. They suggest taking 8-10 grains of sulphite of magnesia when cholera is rampant. And most importantly, protecting one’s self from waterborne diseases by practicing “perfect sobriety” and avoiding all employments which “exhaust nervous energy.”

In other words…no one is suggesting an alternative to water. They’re trying to find ways to make it as safe as possible. In fact, the exhortation for sobriety (immorality = disease, obviously) directly contradicts any notion of drinking beer in place of water.

Indeed, there are calls from this time period for more drinking water. See these letters to the Editor talking about the joys of public drinking fountains—so people can have an alternative to beer.

The Globe, July 6, 1863

 

The Globe, October 24, 1862

 

Look, beer tastes nice. It has calories. Small beer gives a mild buzz (which Victorians assumed was a stimulant effect). Given the choice—without my modern knowledge of health and the effects of alcohol—I’d probably choose the beer too.

So the water in mid-Victorian Toronto wasn’t always safe. But the response does not seem to have been, “Break out the beer.” Rather, the city seems to have reacted by trying to make the water supply safer. Their beer consumptions seems driven by reasons other than health concerns. As they say in the sciences, “Correlation does not equal causation.”

To Queen and Country!

Katie

QUIZ: What Beer Time Period Are You?

Hello Beer-Lovers,

As some may recall, I took a number of online beer knowledge tests a while back. While that was thoroughly enjoyable, I wanted to try my hand at making a beer test of my own. But this one is more about testing personality. And it’s entirely for fun.

So, without further ado:

What Beer Time Period Are You?

1. Who do you expect to brew your beer?

a) Priestesses

b) Monks or alewives

c) Plucky tradesmen

d) Macrobreweries or hip entrepreneurs

2. What are the dominant flavours in your beer?

a) Figs, dates, honey…

b) Smoky malt, supplemented with herbs like bog myrtle, rosemary, and sweet yarrow

c) Richly roasted malts: caramels, coffees, burnt grain

d) Depends. Sometimes intensely vibrant pine/citrus (Pacific Northwest hops, natch); sometimes Thai basil; sometimes boozy bourbon and vanilla. My palate cannot be constrained.

3. What do you drink your beer from?

a) Clay vessels, with a straw for getting past the floating grain husks

b) Probably a shallow wooden bowl or cup.

c) Pewter/stoneware mugs, though those brown glass bottles are pretty fancy.

d) A bottle, a can, or a clear glass appropriate to the style.

4. Who drinks beer?

a) Everyone.

b) Everyone.

c) Almost everyone (small beer for women and children)

d) A wide-cross section of society, assuming they’ve reached legal drinking age.

5. What is your view on hops?

a) What?

b) Why use hops when you can use gruit??

c) They’re great for shipping beer to the colonies!

d) Used appropriately, they’re great, but over-hopped beers are getting a little passé, IMHO.

6. What’s your biggest pet peeve when it comes to beer?

a) Choking on a barley husk.

b) When you’re trying to roast your malt over an open fire, and it heats unevenly so half is burnt and half is barely singed.

c) When Temperance advocates try to guilt you about it—beer isn’t whisky, you know?

d) When your favourite microbrewery gets acquired by a huge conglomerate and the quality tanks.

7. And finally, your favourite thing about beer?

a) It’s a divine gift from the gods, forming the basis of our civilization.

b) When you’re doing a bread-and-water fast, beer totally counts (grains, water, yeast, amirite?)

c) It’s a fortifying, nutritious drink with pleasurable side-effects.

d) There is endless opportunity for creativity and fine craft, and it’s fun to try new styles with friends.

RESULTS

Mostly A’s:

You are Mesopotamian/Sumerian Brewing! Starting from around 3500 BCE, your beer is a gift from the gods. As such, most of your beer is brewed by priestesses—particularly of the goddess Ninkasi. Thick and porridge-like, your beer is flavoured with honey and fruits, and drunk through straws!

 

Mostly B’s:

You are Medieval Brewing! Your beer is still largely a cottage industry: for the most part, it’s made by women, though plenty of monasteries have gotten into the act, too. The spent grains get filtered out, so your beer isn’t nearly as thick as it was millennia ago. Some Germanic countries are using hops to flavour their beer, but gruit—a mix of different herbs—is your beer’s defining feature!

 

Mostly C’s:

You are Victorian Brewing! You’re quite content to use hops—you know that they help prevent beer spoiling, which is useful in the interconnected trade network developing across the globe. Some of your most popular styles include brown ales and porters, though pale ales are gaining traction. Beer is still an important part of people’s daily diet…though Temperance advocates are starting promoting abstinence from alcohol.

 

Mostly D’s:

You are Modern Brewing! You have so much variety in your beers! Proliferating craft breweries are keen to explore unique flavour profiles and take risks, focusing on quality ingredients and top-notch craft. People of all backgrounds enjoy your beers (assuming they’re of legal drinking age) and with new microbreweries opening constantly, it’s a safe bet they’ll never get bored.

Tasting at Pen Druid, in Sperryville, VA.

 

To Queen and Country!

Katie

 

Victorian Root Beer

In the past, I was occasionally asked if common drinks like “root beer” and “ginger ale” were ever alcoholic—this question usually arose when Ed rolled out our Ginger Beer in June. The short answer is…yes! Several popular modern sodas like root beer, ginger ale, and birch beer (okay, maybe that one’s less common) had their origins in Victorian beers!

Since we’ve talked about ginger ale a while back, I wanted to explore root beer a little.

Root beer is a beverage traditionally made with sassafras roots and/or sarsaparilla as its main flavouring agent. The Indigenous populations of North America were making sassafras-based beverages long before European contact, using it to treat various ailments from wounds to fevers. Unsurprisingly, then, when “root beer” began to be sold through the mid-nineteenth century, it was touted as a healthful drink.

The sassafras tree grows from southern Ontario right to the southern United States! (courtesy: Wikimedia Commons)

(Point of interest: sassafras does contain an oil called safrole that can lead to liver damage and cancer. It’s been banned by the US Food and Drug Administration since 1960—root beer today is sometimes made with sassafras extract that’s had the safrole removed, but more commonly with extracts from wintergreen and black birch bark.)

Pharmacist Charles Elmer Hires was the first person to make a commercial brand of root beer—though being a teetotaller, he really would’ve preferred to call it “root tea.” And he wouldn’t have been far off the mark, either—though root beer can be fermented, most traditional recipes barely get to 2% ABV. However, when he debuted his drink at the 1876 Philadelphia Centennial Exposition, he wanted to attract customers among the local coal miners.

Thus, with (I’m sure) some regret, he sold his product as “root beer.” But not to worry—I’m equally sure he would’ve been cheered by a proliferation of non-alcoholic root beers. Indeed, they were very popular during the United States’ Prohibition years.

Poking around, I did find a recipe for traditional root beer in a lovely book called A Thousand and One Receipts Useful to Families (1883).

Looking this over, it’s not surprising root beer had such a low alcohol content. Remember, alcohol is what happens when yeast metabolizes fermentable sugars. With only a little bran (hard to break down) and molasses, there’s just not much to work with in this recipe!

But I was intrigued by a) the lack of sassafras, and b) the mention of “Indigenous bitters.” A little more digging unearthed this advertisement in the May 2, 1890 edition of The Québec Daily Telegraph.

Given the description of “a combination…of a large number of roots and barks,” and the assertion that “INDIGENOUS BITTERS never fail to afford prompt relief, and most frequently a perfect cure,” I think we’ve found our star player! Clearly, this was another incarnation of root beer as a health drink.

(I was also delighted to see that—sure enough—these “Indigenous bitters” are sold in “25cts boxes only.” Just like the recipe says!)

Obviously, root beer today is very different—in ingredients, method, and purpose. But as you raise a frosty mug, you can contemplate its Victorian predecessors!

To Queen and Country!

Katie

New in the LCBO: Canada 150 Ale!

Hello, beer-lovers!

We’ve brewed up a surprise for you! To celebrate Canada’s 150th birthday, we are releasing a new beer for the LCBO! The Canada 150 Ale is a special edition of our beloved Best Bitter—a refreshing way to enjoy the sesquicentennial.

If you enjoyed the historic version of this beer down in the Black Creek brewery, you’ll probably be a fan of this ale, too. It pours deep, coppery amber; almost like an autumnal maple leaf. As with all our commercial beers, you can expect some moderate head, too.

The nose is fairly mild with sweet, biscuit-like and malty aromas. Those flavours continue through the first sip and mid-tastes as well. You’ll notice some caramel/toffee notes too, and an earthy hop presence on the finish. It’s a light-bodied, easy-drinking beer: perfect for a summer barbeque, patio session, or as a refresher after time in the sun.

Another cool thing! You’ll notice that we’ve got snazzy new cans. We’re kicking things off with a fantastic Canada 150-themed design—it may have caused some swooning down in the brewery. 😉

Our Canada 150 Best Bitter will be available in the LCBO starting in June. As always, I strongly recommend checking availability on the LCBO website before you head out! Here’s to another 150 years!

To Queen and Country!

Katie

Half Way House’s Doors: Doors Open Toronto 2017

Hello, Beer-Lovers! Guess what?

Doors Open Toronto is this weekend! In keeping with 2017’s sesquicentennial celebrations, this year’s theme is Fifteen Decades of Canadian Architecture, highlighting each decade of Canadian history since the 1860s…along with a few buildings from before Confederation!

That’s us! Yes, Black Creek Pioneer Village is once again participating in this annual cultural event, and most of our buildings date from the first half of the nineteenth century. The brewery was built in 2009, but it’s located in the Half Way House, which was originally built ca. 1847/48.

The idea of doors is an interesting one to apply to the Half Way House. Since our inn has seen many different owners and purposes, one can’t help but imagine how many people have walked through its doors…

There is the front door, of course—once used by travellers taking the stage coach route along Kingston Road. At the time of Confederation, those thirsty travellers would have been greeted by Mary and Alexander Thompson: the inn’s original owners.

F.F. Passmore did many sketches and surveys of Scarborough in the 1860s. The Half Way House is visible at right (north is down). Courtesy the City of Toronto Archives.

And let’s not forget the taproom’s side door, for patrons who may have accidentally had one too many.

The Half Way House, ca. 1918. (Courtesy: Toronto Public Library)

In 1872, the Thompson children—James and Delilah—left by that door for the final time. Following Alexander and Mary’s respective deaths in 1867 and 1872, the Half Way House was sold to a man named Ignatius Galloway.

By that point, the Grand Trunk Railway had mostly replaced travel along the Kingston Road. Thus, the people passing through its door likely would have been locals and boarders renting the upstairs rooms. However, Galloway did add an extension featuring a kitchen on the ground floor and a ballroom above—one hopes revellers came through the doors as well, eager for a night’s dancing!

A fine-looking group, ca. 1901 (Courtesy: Toronto Public Library)

In the early years of the twentieth century, the Half Way House was a popular rendezvous for a local bicycling club—invigorated friends, breathlessly chatting as they trooped through the front door for a break.

The Half Way House, ca. 1912. Can you spot the bicycles on the porch? (Courtesy: Toronto Public Library)

By mid-century, the Half Way House’s doors had changed greatly. It was subdivided into two stores, the doors constructed where our taproom and parlour are now. Still heavy traffic, I’d imagine, but customers rather than guests.

The Half Way House in 1952. (Courtesy: Toronto Public Library)

There was a time when no one passed through its doors…

Then in 1966, the Half Way House was moved to Black Creek! Its doors (and the rest of the building) were restored, once again ready to welcome travellers and guests—of history!

The Half Way House Inn: home of the Black Creek Historic Brewery.

And since 2009, a steady stream of beer-lovers has passed through the Half Way House’s front door to the brewery sheltered in its basement.

So there you have it: the history of the Half Way House, told through its front door. Come be part of the story this weekend as you enter the building for yourself. Last entry to the village will be at 4:30 pm both Saturday and Sunday, so come early to avoid disappointment!

To Queen and Country!

Katie