It’s always hard to know when it is acceptable to review a new brewery. There are a number of schools of thought here.
For the Ontario Craft Beer Guide, we included everyone who was open whether we had tried their beers or not, denoting untried products with the designation “NR”. That was a tourism guide, so alerting people to the existence of a brewery was paramount.
In this blogging context, I have heard different takes. You could argue that as soon as you are charging people for product, that product is fair game for evaluation. Imagine suggesting you were going to give a manufacturer of paper towels six months to “get it right.” I have never received PR materials suggesting a visit to a restaurant six months in. They want hype immediately.
Brewing is more iterative than that, so some time probably needs to elapse before reviews can be seen as legitimate. In the case of Avling, I put their opening at Canada Day weekend and this is therefore three months. Questions and concerns over timeline may be inserted in the comments below.
Google translate tells me Avling translates directly from Norwegian as “crop” and searching the hashtag on instagram seems to bear that out; Scandinavian children squatting proudly next to barrows of marrows, backlit apple orchards, and rutabagas still covered with clinging soil.
The concept for Avling Kitchen and Brewery is farm to table, and includes a rooftop garden that allows the kitchen fresh herbs when the weather permits. There’s a pleasing conceptual continuation from the previous business in the space, which operated as a bean sprout production plant. That the portion of the building in which that happened now contains a brewery is a small mercy in that we’re unlikely to end up with a Bean Sprout Lager.
The most striking thing about Avling is the colour scheme. It leans into its Nordic inspiration, and the exterior of the building might as well be an unoccupied seascape with its twin tones of pastel blue. The interior expresses the familiar communal tables of the last decade or so of service, but with a significant skin swap. This could easily be reclaimed wood tables and edison lightbulbs, but the update to grey steel, light wooden frame, and bright pastel toned murals painted by Madison Van Rijn is a welcome departure. It’s a bright, joyful, space that smacks slightly of the montessori playroom.
The large oval bar features drop fluorescent lighting and a central draught system in brass, providing a sole visual contrast to the rest of the metal in the space. Visiting on a Sunday night, the majority of the guests were seated around that section. Perching at a table with Robin LeBlanc, we were able to take in the room.
Service, it must be said, seems to be a highlight of the experience, and that is no surprise. Max Meighen, the owner, has experience with Joe Beef and some of that fine dining hospitality has clearly rubbed off on Avling’s main room. One family with children was taken very good care of, practically doted on, which is what you like to see in what is likely to become a neighbourhood fixture.
Perhaps the cleverest part of Avling’s setup is the subterranean brewery, which pokes up from the basement floor on either side of a stationary gantry. The brewing system seems to be modular in the sense that the tanks can hold different multiples of the brewhouse’s batch size. Brewer Brandon Judd (Indie Alehouse, Laylow, Godspeed), has been involved in the project for some time and holds a brewmaster certification from VLB in Berlin.
Attention has been paid here, but as we sit down to taste beer and sample some dishes there is a detail that I continue to focus on and I do not know quite why: The water glasses. In front of each diner is a carafe of water and water glasses, as you would expect from an establishment of quality. The individual water glasses might be slightly less than three inches high and are a wide cylinder. It is not unlike the glassware that might come with an in-flight or on-train meal; something designed for a tray that will go in a rolling cabinet. They are extremely light and feel delicate and breakable, vaguely awkward in the hand. Sitting on the vibrant pop-art coaster, it seems to me like affect for affect’s sake.
It should be said that Suzanne Barr seems no longer to be executive chef, and that may explain some of the experience, as I do not know how recently that change happened. What I do know is that, having popped in on the first day, I was curious to know exactly what a Savory Turnip Cake ($13) might be. Judging by the plate that arrived on this visit, about six rectangular slices of deep fried turnip, albeit nicely seasoned. The homemade ranch dressing, while flavourful, overwhelmed plating. The daily special, turbot fish cakes, did slightly better, but still fairly swam in tartar sauce.
To the beer on offer, it is worth pointing out that you can try anything in three ounce sample sizes although the price point on that seems to work out to about a twenty dollar pint, possibly as a dissuasive tactic. You’re better off going with full size servings, which, to the credit of the bar manager and brewing team, show up in correct branded glassware. Pilsner flutes, snifters, and IPA glasses all made an appearance during the tasting.
Pilsner has a pleasant spicy character that seems to develop in the mid palate and carry through to the finish, but sip to sip, the overwhelming note here is a white grape ester that creates a perception of sweetness that the hops continue to have to battle against. Foxtail, essentially a dunkel but not described as such exaggerates the nutty quality of the specialty malt in the grist creating an impression of nothing so much as a Peanut M&M. The Avling IPA similarly exaggerates the honey/biscuit malt range to the extent that the aroma of the hops fades away into that reach of something not entirely unlike baklava. Avling Saison is so light in texture that it may well be the most successful of this initial range of beers in the long term, perhaps enjoying a cult following as a summer crusher, albeit with a hint of sweet tart powdery pixy stix, a commonality it seems to share with Kinsman, a light Bohemian Lager that has totally eschewed hallmark diacetyl for lightly acidic confection.
It’s a confusing experience: I find myself asking whether this is what’s intended. Given the airy, spacious, playroom feel, are the beers intentionally harkening back to childhood sweets, or is the balance simply off? The unidimensionality of flavour seems to work against the concept of a farm to table menu, and at least from my point of view the elements of the whole don’t jibe. If you were to order the market price 16oz ribeye prepared by the in-house Butcher, would you want to pair it with a dark lager that reminiscent of candy?
My feeling, then, is that Avling has perhaps over-reached in terms of concept and presentation, and is less polished in terms of content. It is an upbeat, vibrant space, and that gives it a significant edge on some of its local competition, but the garden needs tending. The intention is seasonality, so I imagine your mileage will vary if you go a month from now.