When a Canadian is Not a Canadian

Ahhh, Canadian beers. They were my favorite before I even moved to Canada. I particularly like Moosehead. I remember the days when I could buy a six pack of Moosehead in Michigan for under $6 plus deposit.

Once I moved to Canada, I discovered many other Canadian beers that are not available in the USA and were just as good as Moosehead. I am particularly enamored with Sleeman Draught, Alexander Keith’s Red, and St. Ambroise Apricot Wheat Ale.

One of the biggest surprises to me when I arrived in Canada was the apparent insignificance of Labatt Blue as a popular brew. In the US, Labatt markets itself as the beer of Canada, representing all things Canadian. But, at least in Southern Ontario, the standard Canadian beer that epitomizes all things Canadian is Molson.

Molson is fairly popular in Michigan, but Labatt was definitely the most prevalent Canadian beer there, both in advertising and in shelf space. I really don’t think any of my friends here regularly drink or buy Labatt.

Because my Canadian beer consumption in the US was limited to Labatt and Moosehead, I had never really tried Molson. In Canada, that’s sometimes the only option you have depending on the bar/restaurant/party, and I have to be honest, I find that it’s a good beer. But, in Canada, Molson is not “Molson”—it’s “Canadian.” I had a few issues trying to order beer here when I would ask for a Molson. The waiter or waitress would look at me with a furrowed brow and then, after a long pause say, “Oh, you mean Canadian?”

Ordering a beer I knew as “Molson” by calling it “Canadian” felt as unnatural as ordering sliced turkey in grams rather than pounds. To avoid embarrassment and confusion, I eventually started to adjust.

There was one rather humorous episode where I was at a soccer tournament with some friends. In our hotel room we had a case of Molson Canadian and Molson 67. Before leaving for our game, I asked one of my friends to put the Molson in the refrigerator. When we got back later in the afternoon, I was set for a cold one. However, none of the Molson Canadian was in the fridge. I said to my friend, “Hey, I thought you put the Molson in the fridge.” She insisted, “I did!” I looked again, but all that was in the fridge was the Molson 67. I replied, “No, I mean the regular Molson.” She looked confused, so I gestured at the case of Molson Canadian, and she said, “Ooooh, you wanted the Canadian in the fridge. I put the Molson in like you asked.” Still pointing at the case, I said, “This IS Molson!” She argued, “No, that’s not Molson--that’s CANADIAN!” In the end, I actually had to show her the labelling on the case to prove that “Canadian” was made by Molson!

I have recently come to a point where I can order a Canadian at the bar without feeling awkward and know I’m getting a Molson. I think that means that I’m getting to the point where I AM CANADIAN???

Then I visited my family in Michigan for US Thanksgiving. For dinner on Friday night, we went, of all places, to a French-Canadian themed restaurant. Sure enough, the only beer on draft was Canadian. As I had spent most of the day battling Black Friday crowds, I felt in the mood for a beer, so when the waitress came over, I asked for a Canadian. She gave me a confused look and began stammering. I realized what was happening and said, “Uh, I mean a Molson.” And you know what? That felt very awkward to me!