Last time it was spring and by the time we locked down people had been wearing masks on the subway for a month. Ontario was shaking off winter, brushing the snow from its shoulders and the salt from its boots. Rumours began to circulate that parts of the George Brown campus had closed classes even as I stood teaching people about hops and yeast strains. I am not much given to panic, but I’ll confess to a few moments of mania and a higher pitched voice than usual as I segued into my material on hefeweizen phenolics. “Will I get to do this again?” I thought as I detailed the characteristics of 4-vinyl guaiacol. The next day we shuttered until there was a plan for online instruction. 

The spring and summer months proved a challenge for pubs and restaurants and breweries. Many people lost their jobs, and Covid-19 has proved generally to be a scourge to the tourism, service, and hospitality industries. Events moved online where possible, and the majority of beer festivals have been outright cancelled. Some of them may never come back.

Breweries shuttered their taprooms and shifted to online sales. Chefs drove delivery vehicles. Other people are forced to deal with the profound absurdity of having their livelihoods and identities deconstructed by a virus whose total biomass registers as slightly less than a teaspoon. You would use more vanilla extract in a chocolate chip cookie recipe than there is Covid-19. The blamelessness of it, the fundamental unfairness of it has had profound effects on people’s psyches and will for years to come. Everyone had to learn their new roles and quickly in order to avoid destruction.

That’s the right word for it: destruction. 

There are something like 4600 people employed by craft breweries in the province of Ontario and tens of thousands dependent on the trade for their livings. This is created. This is value that people have created in our corner of society. I do not mean this in a monetary sense, although craft beer is the only growth manufacturing industry in the province of Ontario. I mean that it has been invested with worth. 

It has been invested with worth by the lives of the owners and brewers and employees. It represents the collective effort and struggle and love of people with vision enough and faith enough to try their hand at something they believe in. The results vary, but the spirit is to be admired. The willingness to build something from nothing; indomitable and constant. Showing up daily with aches and pains, caustic burns and wort scalds. How determined are they? Something like 25 breweries have opened since the beginning of the first lockdown.

Craft beer has added value to society, and not just in terms of employment. If the least you’ve gotten out of it is a tasty beverage, then it’s still a step up. But you’ve spent time in taprooms, and at events. You’ve made friends and acquaintances. You’ve had a better time than you would have otherwise. 

The spring and summer months have afforded cautious optimism, but realistically the summer months are always the peak months for beer sales. The lack of licensees and draught sales have proved damaging to the largest brewers and craft brewers in the province. This time it will be winter, and there is no boom in volume coming. The winter months are historically the low ebb for beer sales. The lockdown means that there will be no licensees and there will be no draught sales. The beer industry will emerge in the spring fundamentally changed.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. Vaccines will begin to roll out early next year and will continue to do so across 2021. This winter, however, threatens destruction. The value people have spent their lives creating for your enjoyment is in jeopardy. 

I am a beer writer and not a Parson, but I am here today to preach to you the virtue of constancy. You must support the things you believe in and not merely with lip service, although social media posts will help. If you believe that local business is important, if it has had a demonstrable effect on your quality of life, it’s your duty to live up to that to the extent that it is possible for you. If you’ve made all or just parts of your living off this industry and you intend to again, it’s time to get behind the mule. Make no mistake: push has come to shove and this is a fight for the soul of the thing the next few months.

Times are hard. You may not have money you can throw at beer. It is a luxury product. But you can tell your friends about a beer that they might like. You can recommend things to others. And if you have money? You can stand a round for your friends that don’t. Hell, buy a branded sweatshirt or toque. It’s cold out. All I’m asking you to do is share something you enjoy with people.

We can’t say where the hospitality industry will be months from now, but we can attempt to mitigate loss and destruction. When it’s possible to rebuild, they will be able to do it from a higher level if they have constant support. If we are very lucky, we may, to paraphrase Albert Camus, learn in a time of pestilence that there are more things to admire in us than to despise. 

Be careful. Be safe. Dress warm. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Support your local brewery.