By Adam McDowell | Photograph by Christopher Stevenson
In 1995, my friend Paul and I resolved to taste every beer in Ontario. We were underage but, miraculously, the Beer Store employees let us leave with our precious six-packs. Maybe because we looked harmless, like the kind of nerdy 17-year-olds who would rush home, taste the beers and write rudimentary reviews, complete with star ratings, which is precisely what we did.
I never did try all the beers, but I realized then that drunkenness is a shallow pleasure compared with the intoxication of discovering new flavours. And that alcohol—my obsession soon included fine spirits—tastes better when you have to work for it.
These same lessons are transforming Toronto’s drinking culture. The average consumer now shops for exotic bitters and is expected to know that IPA stands for India pale ale. Bartenders sniff at your vodka martini for its lack of flavour, directing you instead to one of their 97 kinds of bourbon.
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