When you are in Kentucky, Canada, you will instruct what you do to do to do. Even if you prefer bourbon for your foot.
MONTREAL – Down a short flight of underground stairs, the Grumpys Bar is packed with vodka, scotch, gin and many other spirits. Next to a bottle of liquor, a sign command with typical Canadian politeness: “Whiskey please.”
Old fashion is the first drink on this dark panel neighborhood dive menu, allowing patrons to listen to live music and test their proficiency on trivia nights.
“Make me old fashioned,” I direct the bartender with an accent that has been softened over the years, yet still points to my Kentucky roots.
After a minute or two he slides my drink across the long wooden counter. The taste is familiar, but slightly different. Simple syrup, bitterness, twisted orange peel and whiskey. Canadian whiskey.
It’s just bluegrass picking. Old fashioned one without Kentucky bourbon?
Ah, Canada.
Starting in February, Canadian bars and liquor stores have removed bourbon and other US-made spirits and wine from the shelves to protest President Donald Trump’s tariff policies and unwelcome proposals for Northern neighbours to become the 51st US.
Trump’s overtures have not been successful in French-speaking Quebec and other Canadian provinces. The Canadians have found all sorts of ways to let the US president know what he can do Scandalous proposition. Some people proudly fly the country’s red and white maple leaf flag. Others wear t-shirts declaring “Canada is not for sale.”
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The bartender offers nationalist pride with a splash of liquor made in Canada. Canadian rye is the preferred alternative to Kentucky bourbon in an old-fashioned whiskey-based drink.
Confession Time: I’m a sucker from the good old days. There’s something about the complex balance between the complexity of sweetness and the slightly bitter aftertaste. Back in Kentucky, cocktails are often served on outdoor barbecues. in front – and sometimes rear – Drink at a dinner party.
When you are in Canada, good Southern manners tell you what you do as Canadians do. Even if you prefer bourbon for your foot.
So, using nudges from the editor, I made a plan. Of course, I’m all serving journalism through Montreal, but sample old fashioned fashion made from various brands of Canadian rye.
Does the taste change with every time I pour Canadian rye? Does the Canadian version still remind me of my old Kentucky home? After a few drinks, do you care too?
“What you need to do”
Ram Krishnan, bearded, intense, tattooed and friendly, wipes off the bar at Grumpys and greets customers roaming the streets. Krishnan is the managing partner of Bar. He believes that 60% to 70% of customers know by their name on any night.
It’s not that Americans are banned at Grumpies.
A recent Thursday afternoon, a wall-mounted television was tuned to American baseball (Minnesota Twins vs. Miami Marlins).
According to Kirshnan, Americans are always welcome, and American tourists in busy Vilmarie neighborhoods often stop by for drinks.
Krishnan emptied the American alcohol shelves in early March. Quebec’s Liquor Commission, Societe du Arcours du Quebec, or SAQ, has announced that bars and liquor stores can no longer get us wine or spirit.
“It felt like the right thing to do,” Krishnan said.
Before Trump’s tariff war, Kentucky exported $42 million worth of bourbon to Canada each year. However, American liquor was not a staple of Grumpies. When he decided to stop selling our spirit, Krishnan was all in stock.
“I know that removing (deleting) five bottles of liquor from my small shelf is not going to make a big difference,” he said. “But that’s an important principle for us.”
Change had no real impact on the business. All the beers he sells are local and there are always plenty of Canadian and Irish whiskeys.
Krishnan had to make some minor adjustments to his cocktail menu.
He renamed one classic drink made in whiskey, vermouth and Campari to give it Canadian talent. In Grumpys, Boulevardier is currently being called Boulevardi-eh.
It is uncertain how Bourbon acquired the name. However, according to Carla Harris Carlton, a blogger and friend of the author, known as Bourbon Baby, one legend suggests that New Orleans merchants came from Bourbon County, Kentucky, where it appears to have produced the tastiest whiskey.
Whatever the name, Krishnan began sinking Canadian rye instead of bourbon every time someone ordered something old-fashioned. The basic recipe is the same. The only difference is whiskey. Krishnan’s go-to is JP Wiser’s, a classic Canadian rye packed with spices and sweetness.
Another confession: I’ve always been a bourbon lover. I didn’t mind bourbon mixed with coke. Then, a few years ago, a friend gave a bottle of Woodford Reserve in double oak, and suggested that each pour be poured with water droplets and drink it at room temperature.
That’s when I began to really appreciate the complex aroma and taste of bourbon. In the end, I introduced the old ones.
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Even in the US, traditional things are sometimes made from rye. However, the bourbon version is much more popular, especially in Kentucky.
With a Krishnan drink made for me, Canadian whiskey pours hints of oak, toffee and cinnamon into the cocktail. Overall, the results are significantly sweeter than the bourbon version. Krishnan attributes it to a simple syrup. He uses generous doses of sweet ingredients.
Grumpys customers have supported this change. Even clients from the state said Krishnan. When American whiskey was said to be off the menu, only one person stinked. He was a Trump supporter. But he was not an American.
“That’s a peer from Australia, oddly.”
It has a vintage feel, but no bourbon
On the southwest side of town, Adrian’s “Carly” Mikolk pulls up the bar stool and recalls a recent trip across the Kentucky Bourbon Trail, a collection of distilleries scattered across central Bluegrass state.
Micholuk is the owner and operation manager of Bar de Courcelle, a funky dive in the once working-class industrial area of Saint-Henri, but after gentrification it will now become a hip spot where artists and musicians mix together with lawyers and technology developers.
The bar occupies a busy street corner, with floors and metal countertops and tables, giving it a vintage diner feel. The red glove lights, hung from the ceiling by long metal rods, are perched on the counter. The upright piano sits at the stage where local bands play regularly.
The small sign attached to the exterior wall reminds customers in English and French:
Micholuk was one of the talented bar owners last year when Campari Group, which owns the Wild Turkish brand, traveled to Bourbon Country.
Bourbon drinkers are willing to sample a variety of brands at home and abroad. A few years ago, my friend Derek Kryder and I decided to go to the bar hop across Washington, DC, where we both live, to find out which facilities are the best and old fashioned. We were a few weeks after our mission when the Covid Pandemic ended our research.
On a trip to Mikolk, “We went to Kentucky and saw the stills and everything,” he said. “Great people. It’s really a shame this hurts them.”
Whether great or not, we cannot find Kentucky bourbon on the glass shelf at Bar de Courcell. The only American-made spirit at the bar is a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels made in Tennessee who has been sitting for months.
Micholuk was not able to join immediately boycott American alcohol. He stocks around 150 bottles, mostly wild turkeys, and as a small business owner, he couldn’t afford to sit on the items that much. He continued to provide the American spirit until one day in April, when he ran off. (Jack Daniels isn’t that popular with customers, Mikolk said, which is why he still has a bit of it.) The March SAQ decision made him unable to supplement the supply of the American spirit.
With bourbon unavailable, Mikolk is forced to pivot more towards gin, scotch and other spirits he can get. He also had to find different ways to make whiskey-based drinks like the old fashioned.
What he traps in front of me is made in the wild North, a Canadian blend of 5-7 year old whiskey, produced in North Quebec spring water and oak barrels grown in North American forests.
I’ll take a sip. The taste is pleasant – not overly sweet, but not as harsh as some lights tend to do so. There are notes of caramel, vanilla and of course oak.
Customers noticed the shift from bourbon to rye. About half of them are naturally curious and want to try out the old-fashioned Canadian whiskey. “If they’re old fashioned fanatics, maybe 50% of the other, they’re ‘Ye, you’re using rye right now,” Mikolk said. “But we don’t have any options.”
His American clients often apologise on behalf of their country. On Canadian Day, a couple from Texas wandered into the bar and showed solidarity by testing all Canadian rye on the shelves.
“I have to stand in my country.”
Alain Ejeil steps into the back of the Bidon Taverne Culinaire bar and searches for the right Canadian rye. He settles in a bottle of a Canadian club, a classic whiskey that has been aged for 12 years. Then he goes to work.
He emptyes a small tube of brown sugar at the bottom of the crystal glass, adds water droplets, mashes it with wooden mud pieces, then mixes ice cubes, 2 ounces of whiskey and bitter. He covers the drink with cherry blossoms and stirs it. For the finishing touch, he burns a bit of orange peel with a bright flame, drops the peel into the glass, giving the liquid another stirring.
Ejayle and his wife, Joyce Takula, own a restaurant in Saint Lambert, a small residential city just across from downtown Montreal’s St. Lawrence River. Another restaurant owned by a bartender and couple from Biddon has been making Canadian rye and old fashioned lice instead of bourbon since February.
Ejail has nothing to Americans. He likes them. He likes Trump, especially his entrepreneurial instincts. But he knew that when Trump began threatening Canada with tariffs and state, he had to do something.
“I’m Canadian – I have to stand up to my country,” he said.
This change meant adjusting his menu, especially his cocktails. Vegetables taste basically the same no matter where they grow. However, another whiskey can change the overall taste of an old-fashioned cocktail.
Ejayle and his staff learned to compensate for Canadian rye. To achieve the right balance, they use brown sugar to reduce some of the bitterness and sourness.
The final result is an old-fashioned vanilla and honey hint and a butterscotch aftertaste. Even with brown sugar, the cocktails are a little bitter than those made with bourbon.
However, after a few drinks, the taste bud adapts, the harsher edges tender and you become a fun cocktail. Even Kentucky bourbon drinkers are grateful.
When there’s no bourbon.
Michael Collins is a national correspondent who writes about the intersection of politics and culture. He covers the White House and Congress and is a member of the Kentucky Journalism Hall of Fame. Follow him on X @mcollinsNews.
