Tuesday, January 08, 2008

THE FINAL BEERNADA - Molson Canadian

A BEER OF CERTAIN DISTINCTION
by Zach Aromyces

Okay, I may have exaggerated on the headline to get your attention, but it is the final Beernada column for two months. It seems Beernada is embarking on a journey up the Amazon to try and find a rogue brewer by the name of Kurtz who's hording the world's hops supply.

Beernada seems especially angry at Canada this time around. Perhaps he's a little bitter about his poor
showing in the 2007 Canadian Hero of the Year Election. I don't think this column is going to win over voters for '08. Anyway, enjoy this one kids, it's going to be a while. And to Dr. Aromyces (aka Beernada), Godspeed!

On the eve of my two-month hiatus in South America, I chose this, the most Canadian named of all beers, to hail in the New Year. Besides being an icon of the Great White North, Molson is Canada’s oldest brewery, no doubt providing unnatural hangovers and chemical-induced diarrhea to all Canadians for over 200 years. It was only a matter of time before the drink that started it all got reviewed. But, it might not have happened so soon if it weren’t for a serendipitous encounter with a used Molson container in the subway…

Let me explain. Upon returning to Toronto after a long holiday in Minnesota (oh, how I yearn for my dear home!), I took public transportation back to Paradise City. Besides being a ridiculously inefficient and inconvenient form of transportation to and from the Pearson Airport (what is this, 1980?), the bus ride between the airport terminals and the subway station has some important tourist sight-seeing to take in along the way: most notably a Molson Brewery, besides the Cloverdale Mall. Then when I finally arrived at the Kipling subway station, I was warmly greeted by a patriotic sight: an empty beer bottle in the subway car (just like when I take the two-day ride home from Johnada’s pad late at night). But this was no ordinary beer bottle…this was Molson Canadian (MC), with True Canadian® Taste. At the precise moment that I saw the spectacularly marketed Molson label (no, they didn’t use Helvetica!), I knew that this week had to be dedicated to Molson.

Canned MC seemed the only appropriate version to taste, once decanted. Here are my notes on MC’s profile in the sequence that I experienced them:
1. When it comes to brandishing that red maple leaf, Molson could really use some fashion advice from Rectangle Designs, or perhaps Steam Whistle.
2. Smells like a wet dog, eh? (I’m not too familiar with soggy Canadian beaver, but this might be reinterpreted in the future.)
3. Looks like moose urine. No doot aboot it.
4. Taste is predictably very mild, but surprisingly sweet and honeyish. (NOTE FOR CANADIANS: honey is kind of like maple syrup, but is made by bees and is lighter in colour and flavour and you don’t have to boil it down for 12 hours)
5. Aftertaste is kind of like rancid butter.
6. I never thought I’d say this, but crappy Canadian beer is actually better than crappy American beer! Still, I’m not going to call 1-800-MOLSON 1 to congratulate them.
7. Maybe I’ll get a t-shirt for this review.
8. God, I really hope this doesn’t give me cancer.

RATING: Molson Canadian gets 0.5 Molsons for not tasting like the Molson Ice that I was holding when I got arrested for underage drinking in high school.

Questions? Comments? Hatemail? Email Zach at beernada@gmail.com. We promise we'll find some way to get the word to him somehow.

4 comments:

Aiglee said...

Hey! you are going to South America! Where in the Amazon? By any chance Venezuela?

And I just read about the super surprise bag, have you found anything fun before in those?

SMB said...

did beernada REALLY get arrested in high school while drinking molston ice?! Whoa!

beaverboosh said...

Beavers smell their best when wet, their natural habitat. You don't want a wiff of an old dried out beaver though...phew!
BB

mrs. aromyces said...

as wife of beernada, i can tell you that he is somewhere in the andes mountains right now and heading later to the amazon. my instructions are to keep his location a mystery.

i can confirm the high school arrest story, but the version i've heard is even more disturbing, involving a large jug of Carlo Rossi's Paisano. all red-blooded american children learn the special technique used to drink from the Rossi jug early in their youth.
yuck.

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