O O Ø O O O O
A Pint Of Bitter, Please.
On small beer, civilization, and Keats.
What is with Halifax’s predisposition toward small beer?
This city has the worst habit of serving me a 12 ounce glass of beer whenever I order a pint. In more civilized countries, there are laws to protect against this kind of thing. I’d almost go so far as to say I’d support meddlesome bureaucrats regulating serving sizes, if it meant I’d be served an actual pint in Halifax.
Of course, the government would muck it up (probably by standardizing on the wrong sized glass), but before it should ever come to such a dumb solution, shouldn’t bars be trying to sell me more of their product at every serving?
In retail marketing lingo it’s called upselling. When I go to buy a new pair of bluejeans (Size 32-32, for those of you filling out Christmas lists: I’ve dropped a full waist size since moving here, partly due to miniscule beer portions), you as the cashier are supposed to ask if I need socks. Presumably I’m supposed to realize I do need socks ( Marks & Spencer men’s three-packs, brown or grey, cotton), so I decide to pick up a few at the counter. Socks, of course, are high markup items for your store, so the more of these you can sell as impulse items, the better. You want to maximize the sale potential of the customer not just while he’s in the store, but particularly when he has his debit card in his hand. (That’s a cheque check card for our American friends who aren’t accustomed to Canada’s Interac system.) The customer has told you he wants to buy. Sell to him!
Rampant consumerism aside, that’s the principle. (Do try to remember that the dark side will ultimately destroy you.)
Why don’t Halifax bars want to serve me full beer? While part of my complaint is the portions, another serious problem is the constant misrepresentation: when I ask, as I always do, for a pint of Propeller Bitter, and the waitress brings me a glass instead, I feel seriously cheated. Rather than this deception, her proper response is to say they don’t serve pints, then ask if a 12 ounce glass is okay. 12 ounces of beer is always better than no beer, so I can promise her the sale regardless of the size of the serving vessel. Telling me beforehand mitigates the disappointment when that tiny, pathetic glass is placed in front of me. I said mitigates, because it still sucks, regardless of whether or not I know it’s coming.
The third component of my complaint is related to the size of the beer, but it incorporates sufficient material to almost require an entirely separate rant: price. I could overlook the lack of real-world serving vessels, and simply order beer with greater frequency, if it weren’t for the bizarrely outrageous prices Halifax bars normally charge for their inadequately-scaled brews. With few exceptions, which I’ll get to later, you can expect to shell out around CDN$4.50 (US$2.94, e3.12) for 12 ounces of local schlock beer: Alexander Keith’s, Oland’s, Schooner or Moosehead. If you want good beer, expect to break the $5 ceiling. For 12 ounces!
Sometimes it’s worth it, such as when you’re drinking at the Granite Brewery’s Henry House on Barrington. A full 18 ounce pint is a steep $5.50, and a nine ounce half pint is $2.75, but you’ll be buying hand-pulled real ale. (Try the Best Bitter Special. You’ll thank me when the hops subside.)
Over $5 for less than a pint? Outrageous! I’d expect that in Hogtown, but in little provincial Halifax? How could Barrett’s privateer actually afford to get drunk on that Halifax Pier?
I spoke of exceptions. Here’s two:
- The previously mentioned Granite Brewery. Also, their new Ginger’s Tavern further down Barrington, closer to downtown, is now open for business.
- Maxwell’s Plum. The sleep-deprived architecture students’ bar of choice serves cheaper 12 ounce glasses. But you have to ask for the cheap stuff. We think it’s Keith’s.
And as one more item, we offer a public service warning in the vein of this rant:
Avoid Bearly’s on Barrington, right across from the Waverly Hotel. Smoky, dark and ugly, you will be over charged for bad beer (Oland’s or Keith’s). Wednesdays, however, are karaoke.
Evan Spence
Tuesday, June 11,
2002
PD
DLI
Afterword: In Defence Of Keith’s
(Pronounced “Keats”)
I’m pretty hard on Keith’s in this article, so I feel I need to say a few words in its defence. Alexander Keith’s India Pale Ale is the beer of record for Nova Scotia, and it’s what I consider to be a situational beer: when given a limited set of options, it’s the beer I prefer to drink, and enjoy, when my favourites can’t be found.
To paraphrase Rory McLeod, my favourite beer is my next one, so while I spend a lot of time and countless lines of text worrying about such vital matters, I’m really quite content to drink whatever is put in front of me. Not only does that include Keith’s, but the list also extends to OV, Club, Lucky, Wildcat, Big Bear, Schlitz, Miller Genuine Draught Draft, and even Molson and Labatt beers, if they’re cold enough. (You taste them less if they’re well chilled.)
Keith’s in particular, is a beer that just tastes better in Nova Scotia. This is its situational nature: it sort of belongs here. Those generic “beer” units you flag down at the Lower Deck? Keith’s. Tastes great then, doesn’t it? And there’s really no other beer for Cape Breton.
At the Dal Architecture Liquid Lounges, Keith’s is preferred over both Canadian and Blue by a ratio of 3:1 Why? Because it’s important to drink the local beer, and it doesn’t get much more local than Keith’s which is brewed all of three blocks from the school, on Hollis Street. (Do you hear that Edmonton? Local beer. The next time I’m there, please don’t boast about having Big Rock on tap. It’s unbecoming, promoting another city’s beer. And no, Alley Kat doesn’t count.)
Enough said. Cheers.