It’s sorta preposterous the lengths I will go to, favors I will call in, international customs regulations I will break, etc. just to maintain the scantiest sense of personal tradition. Surely someone qualified could draw some sort of insightful conclusions from this.

But while we wait: SPRUCE BEER FLOATS.

{^three bottles}

{^no more}

I’ve carried ^this in my wallet – all around the world – since 2005 (?). Every so often I reshuffle my permanent collection of obsolete/bootless business cards, as I did today.

Barbara Strudensky (RIP) was half the reason I would trek down to Émile Bertrand‘s (RIP). Other half being, of course, the spruce beer:

Thankfully, the ‘concoction’ lives on in Point St-Charles. I’m so grateful it didn’t disappear altogether.

…However, I’m sure many would admit that it’s “just not the same” without that murderous three-packs-a-day of cigarette smoke hanging in the air as you drank more bière d’ épinette than you could reasonably hold. Sadly – but not unexpectedly – Ms. Strudensky died of lung cancer in 2006.

I’ve talked about both of these drinks previously, so I won’t belabor it – but if you live in/around (or visit) Montreal, please support Resto Émile Bertrand.
They have, as far as I know, the only fresh spruce beer in the city.

As for Mukuzani… well, it is the standard by which I judge all other red wines. This bottle had to be specially imported; the local Georgian community has failed me.

Spruce beer is what I drink for New Year’s.
I just finished my second bottle of the evening.
(Despite the name, it is only very, very mildly alcoholic – if at all.)

With a history that goes back to the early 18th century and at one time ranged the Eastern Seaboard (from the Mid-Atlantic and up) I’m surprised that the tradition of making spruce beer seems to be limited, now, to rural Quebec. However, in Montreal, there is still one place where you can get fresh spruce beer: Émile Bertrand’s. They serve the best fresh-cut french fries in town, too.

Look, I rarely choose favorites, but in case you are wondering –
this is my favorite (fizzy) drink.
Yes – it tastes like delicious, delicious pine trees, a very dry finish – with more than a touch of yeast.
But this brief description does not do the beverage justice – and neither do the pre-fab, from-concentrate varieties of spruce beer that one can occasionally find on store shelves.
And don’t even touch the two-litre “soda-pop” stuff.
Real spruce beer, bière d’épinette, must be freshly-made – and must be tasted to be believed.

Here is the recipe which is found on the wall of the establishment.
This recipe is 250 years old, and – as a result – is likely not the one used by the resto today.
It is, however, similar – I’m sure. Find a tent peg and try it at home:

“Take seven pounds of good spruce and boil until the bark peels off, then take the spruce out. Put three gallons of molasses with the remaining liquid and boil again. Scum it well as it boils, then take it out of the kettle and put it in a cooler. When it’s milkwarm, put in a pint of yeast and mix well. Then put it into a barrel and let it work for two or three days. When it’s done, bung it with a tent peg and vent it now and again. It can be used two or three days after.”

So I don’t have much to say except that I am eternally indebted to someone for bringing me my absolute favorite beverage ever. You value my opinion on these matters, don’t you? Then, all I have to say is that champagne on New Years Eve is old, old hat and a bad idea to boot. Instead, I had SPRUCE BEER.

Imported for me all the way from Emile Bertrand’s in Montréal, Quebec – spruce beer is most definitely the finest drink money can buy. Can only be appropriately accompanied by a large plate of patates frites. Not cooked in chicken fat! No!

I intend to spend my next New Year’s at the actual resto.
Whether they’re open or not.

For those unfamiliar, this is a spruce tree: