According to most people who study these things, the early settlers of what is now Canada were engaged in distilling quite some time before Canada officially became a country. If anything, this proves they at least had their priorities straight. Hooch making first; nation building second.
While it’s tempting (and logical) to assume that the country’s nascent distillers were of Scottish or Irish descent, the majority were actually either English or from mainland Europe. The biggest names in the emergence of Canada’s distilling dynasty included Corby, Gooderham, Molson, Seagram, and Worts—all Englishmen. But even before these titans started shaping the Canadian distilling landscape, spirit making was a well-established practise.
Records of the first distillery operating in what was to be Canada as we now know it can be traced back to 1769 (and there were surely other operational stills prior to records being kept). For those who were preoccupied during Canadian history classes (though probably not because they were texting), the Dominion of Canada was founded in 1867. July 1st, if you want to get specific.
Today, Canada boasts more than 250 licensed distilleries, a number that will no doubt have been exceeded by the time you read this, spread from coast to coast. The story of Canadian distilling is one of intrigue and adventure as much as it is a story about businesses, big and small, and the creation of a range of spirited potables. “This is a story of Canada,” writes Davin de Kergommeaux in his introduction to Canadian Whisky: The New Portable Expert. “It is a story of craftsmanship, ingenuity, family feuds, fortunes made, and legacies lost.”
De Kergommeaux, also the co-author of The Definitive Guide to Canadian Distilleries, explains that, originally, whisky (the premier Canadian distillate) wasn’t primarily made as a drink to be savoured but as a practical solution to ensure excess grain and mill waste was converted into something consumable rather than being allowed to spoil. He noted that, for millers, “most often, whisky was itself a by-product left over when they distilled milling waste to make animal feed.”
Of course, the whole notion of Canada as a “whisky nation” based on grain distillation fails to take into account that distillers from the city of Montreal eastward primarily employed molasses imported from the Caribbean to produce rum (as was the case for that 1769 distillery mentioned earlier). Sure, whisky became, and is, the backbone of the country’s spirits industry, largely due the expansion of the population westward and further from the ports to where molasses was shipped—but it’s hardly the only spirit being crafted.
These days, Canadian still masters are pumping out everything from whisky, vodka, and gin to such esoteric items as grappa, moonshine, absinthe, rum, a plethora of fruit spirits, acerum (Quebec-made maple sap spirits), and of all things, baijiu. Not to mention coolers, hard seltzers, liqueurs, pre-mixed cocktails, bitters, industrial alcohol, and of course, hand sanitizer. (Should one door close, a pandemic opens another, right?)
Even the indigenous whiskies, gins, and vodkas are stepping into ingredient and flavour territories that at times seem to push beyond technical definitions. How about a “vodka” distilled from fermented milk-processing by-product?
So, in the early days, people set up family stills. The concept of producing spirits as a commercial venture didn’t really take hold until the 1800s and, overall, the practise didn’t really succeed until the fellows mentioned earlier set up shop and began producing large quantities of spirits for both the domestic and export markets.
At this time, there really were no stipulations as to how spirits could be produced—or even what they could be called. New make spirit (the clear spirit that comes off the still) could be flavoured with any number of ingredients and called whatever the distiller chose to call it—rum, gin, brandy, whisky…take your pick. However, in 1890, a regulation was introduced that required any Canadian spirit called “whisky” to be aged a minimum of three years in wood. This regulation had a major impact not only on the quality of Canadian whisky, but on the industry as a whole. Incidentally, the requirement that whisky be aged in wood originated in Canada. Scotland, Ireland, and the United States soon followed suit.
Though the practise of barrel aging significantly improved the quality of Canadian whisky, quality improvement was not the primary aim of those who put the law in place; tax collection was. Yep. Tax and booze had the same relationship with government then as it does now.
In any case, the by-product of this regulation was the elimination of all but the biggest commercial distillers. You had to have significant stock on hand to be able to sell and age at the same time, a challenge that faces new producers of wood-aged spirits around the world even today. Most of the “big boys” had already caught onto the benefits of barrel-ageing, but smaller distillers simply couldn’t comply.
Even today, almost all Canadian spirits are produced by the “big eight” distilleries. These include: Alberta Distillers Ltd. (ADL), Black Velvet, and Highwood in Alberta; Gimli, in Manitoba; Canadian Mist, Forty Creek, and Hiram Walker in Ontario; and Valleyfield in Quebec. All are currently in production, though some that were around at the time got perilously close to bankruptcy (though a few actually profited) thanks to a certain piece of legislation introduced in the United States in 1920.
Human beings are a creative lot—especially when it comes to procuring things they have been denied. By 1920, American imbibers had developed a rather substantial thirst for Canadian whisky. Such a thirst, as a matter of fact, that US distillers felt the pinch, and pressured the government to restrict the flow of whisky from the north. Nice try. Let’s just say, things kind of backfired, and Canadian whisky grew further in popularity south of the border.
The US distillers may have felt threatened by the popularity of Canadian whisky, but a far bigger threat came in 1919 with the ratification of the 18th Amendment to the United States Constitution, and the subsequent introduction of the Volstead Act. On January 17, 1920, prohibition in the United States became a reality and its domestic distilleries were forced to mothball.
Now to backtrack a bit, Canada had dabbled with prohibition and temperance movements as far back as 1878 with the Canada Temperance Act (aka the Scott Act). What this did—in typically Canadian political fashion—was to leave the decision to sell beverage alcohol largely in the hands of the provincial, rather than federal, government, and each province responded somewhat differently. By the outset of WWI, all provinces had banned the sale of alcohol (though the practise didn’t last long in Quebec). Nobody seemed to really like the idea, and pretty well every province repealed such legislation by 1920. Prince Edward Island held out till 1948(!), which likely explains the proliferation of moonshine production in that jurisdiction. Today, PEI’s The Myriad View distillery offers a couple of (legal) “shines” that pay homage to the island’s past.
Anyway, by the time we were wrapping up the whole “noble experiment,” our southern neighbours were into it in a big way. Prohibition became a nationwide constitutional law, ratified by a huge majority of states. This meant beverage alcohol couldn’t be produced, imported, transported, or sold anywhere in the United States. For certain Canadian distilleries trying to get their businesses in the black again, the timing couldn’t have been better. Those on the east coast ran ‘shine down the eastern seaboard. Windsor, Ontario—home to the Hiram Walker Distillery (and the Canadian Club brand of whisky)—had a ready market not far from home.
“When the United States enacted the [prohibition] law in 1920, it was a different story for Canadian Club whisky,” Tish Harcus, Canadian Club brand ambassador, reveals, adding that the Hiram Walker and Sons Ltd. distillery had been shut down for several months as a result of prohibition in Ontario. “As the distillery sits approximately a mile and a half from the US border, thousands of cases of CC went across the water for 13 long years.”
I’m sure most readers are at least marginally aware of the chaos that prohibition in the United States created. The law may have technically made alcohol more of a pain to get, but it certainly didn’t curb people’s thirst for it. Gangs, bootlegging, and crime prospered to quench that thirst. Some even claim that the exact things prohibition set out to reduce (drinking, crime, health issues, class inequality, etc.) actually increased until prohibition was repealed in 1933 with the introduction of the 21st Amendment—the only time to date that a piece of legislation had been introduced specifically to repeal a previous one (yes, I got that from Wikipedia, but I thought you’d find it interesting).
Harcus notes that Canadian distilling remained mostly in the hands of a few large players until creative bartenders created a demand for more interesting, locally produced spirits. Of course, setting up a new distillery in Canada has never been the easiest thing to do. There have always been regulations that made it difficult for the smaller guys to break in, and these (of course) vary depending on the province or territory.
“You needed to have a larger than 5,000 litre pot still to be allowed to open an on-site distillery with a retail store in Ontario,” recalls Geoff Dillon of Dillon’s Distillery. “If we didn’t have that, we would have had only one channel to sell into.” “One channel” refers to the LCBO—the provincial liquor monopoly that has historically favoured the big producers over the small for a variety of practical and political reasons.
Dillon’s team came up with a pretty clever workaround. Having a 5,000 litre still in addition to separate mash tanks would have been a costly and space-hogging affair. So, in cooperation with the German company Carl GmbH, the world’s first 8,000 litre hybrid mash tank/pot still was developed to save space, money, and eliminate the need for separate components. The 5,000 litre regulation was eventually scrapped.
Other regulations have been introduced that certainly allow smaller distillers to flex their creative muscles. Case in point: those relating to vodka production. In 2019, the definition of “vodka” was modified for the first time since its inception in 1959. What this meant, in part, was that the raw material requirements for vodka production eased to allow basically any fermentable material to be the distillate base for vodka. This is why you can now find Canadian vodkas distilled from grapes … or from fermentable milk processing by-product.
However, this country’s distillers still face hurdles, and government “skimming” probably tops the list. While each province applies its own levies, taxes, and markups, it’s the federal excise that drives people like Tyler Dyck, of BC’s Okanagan Spirits crazy.
“It’s ridiculous,” groans Dyck with obvious frustration in his voice. As president of the Canadian Craft Distillers Alliance (CCDA), Dyck has trouble understanding why the feds continue to saddle Canadian distillers with an ever-increasing tax burden. “In 2017, when the United States first introduced measures to cut spirit taxes [a pilot project that became a permanent reality once its success was proven], our government introduced an elevator tax on alcohol.” The upshot of that decision means that every April 1st, federal excise tax automatically increases based on inflation. As it stands, about three quarters (if not more) of the cost of a bottle of spirits is tax. As this continues to increase, consumers pay more, distillers make less, exports suffer, and so does the economy as a whole due to what Dyck calls “value add” (essentially the industries also profiting from distilling—farmers, bottlers, packagers, etc.).
“What took place in the US, as well as in other G7 countries, essentially proved that supporting the distilling industry is good for the economy,” Dyck contends. “Sure, you might lose a dollar, but you end up making four more.”
Dyck recently reported that CCDA membership continues to grow across the country to rally all distillers to lobby for excise parity. “We are starting to re-engage with the feds again on the excise front, with a focus on economic development, and have received some word back that they are currently looking into our proposals; early days but at least it is definitely on the desks of multiple ministries. Fingers crossed that the federal government will allow Canadian distilleries to power Canada’s value added local economy in this post pandemic reality.”
That would certainly give a lift to Canadian spirits, and likely lift the spirits of Canadians as well.
Tod Stewart has been a beverage alcohol industry professional for close to 40 years. He is an award-winning journalist and published author who has worked as a consultant, trainer, and educator to the hospitality industry, the Ontario wine industry, and the beverage alcohol trade. He has traveled and written extensively about international food, drink, culture, and history. His book, Where The Spirits Moved Me is currently available on Amazon and Apple. His cocktail of choice is a classic martini and the best concert he ever attended was Jethro Tull in 1978.