Black Oak at Volo and beyond – Toronto Beer Week

After making my farewells at The Monk’s Table, I hopped the subway down to Wellesley and the short walk to Volo. Upon approaching, I was hailed from the patio by Ken Woods, Ralph and a crew of happy beer drinkers. After a chat, abbreviated only by my desire for more beer, I headed into the bar, where I bumped into yet more beer-minded friends. After discovering that pretty much everything I really wanted (hopbomb, Oktoberfest, saison) was gone, I opted for a Cheshire Valley ESB (which Paul Dickey brews at Black Oak). I then settled in for some of the usual Volo chat, traded a bottle of DDC Rigor Mortis for a Half-Pints Burley Wine with Andrew Bartle, met Kevin Snow, who gave me (what he tells me is) the best gluten-free beer ever, and had a generally great time. I next got a nutcracker porter (as good as ever) and kept up the social good vibes. After a few hours, I decided to make my way to Ceili Cottage, as it was Arthur Guinness day, and I did want to try to pay my respects. After saying goodbye to everyone, and running into TBW revelers on both the subway and streetcar, I got to Ceili just as they were closing up. Oh well, thought I, on to Castro’s, my own personal Bull and Finch.

I arrived to find the usual assortment of post-live music crew; musicians strumming acoustic guitars, locals who like a spot of live music, youngsters out for a bit of fun, regulars who are just there, and Davey who’s still in the navy, and probably will be for life.

As I drank excellent beer (Flying Monkey’s Hoptical Illusion) and enjoyed the company of good friends it occurred to me: I couldn’t have ended my Toronto Beer Week in a better place. Castro’s is where I first cut my teeth on Trappist ales, where I first changed a keg, where I first considered how food and beer work together, and where I first lead other people in beer appreciation. I have been a student of one of the best managers in the city, who acts more the landlord, than paid staff. I have been developed to a place where I get to take part in beer selection and purchases. And I have met more beer-minded people then anywhere else. All tucked into this little “bohemian” bar at the long-end of the 301 street car in the east. So I duly ordered ales until the clock ran out and I wandered home, to begin making beer-week amends to my wife.

Here’s to Volo and Castro’s, my two loves in this beer-drenched city.

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