Editor’s note: Just going and reviewing a brewery is seemingly an old fashioned idea. When was the last time you saw someone do it? That’s a legitimate question, by the way. If you can picture a Maslow’s hierarchy of beer journalism, reviewing a brewery is somewhere towards the bottom of the pyramid. It’s fundamental, but who goes places anymore? Ah, well. Some idiot has to do it. 

I had been at the Loblaws at the bottom of Leslie for the CBC as a correspondent in 2015 when grocery stores were legalized and I stood there for half an hour in the aisle watching as people tentatively grasped at six packs on shelves, trying to figure out whether they were being pranked. Just five years ago, if you had told me that Eastern Avenue would have two breweries and they’d be high quality, I wouldn’t have believed you. That said, the entire neighbourhood has changed significantly. Walking down Queen, some of the rattier storefronts have given way to organic food shops and boutiques, bistros full of locals on a Friday night in January, happy to be back in their routine after the holidays.

Black Lab, at the corner of Eastern and Leslie, has the distinction of being the favorite new brewery in Ontario according to the Golden Tap Awards. Also, winner of favorite new beer in the form of Snoopy’s Revenge. The fact that it has taken me this long to have a look at it is certainly an oversight on my part. In my defense, there’s so much happening.

It may be dry January in some circles, but Black Lab is full up, with an approximately equal number of dogs and babies. Through the front door is a bottle shop and retail space with a reclaimed wooden table and board games. The interior, down a few steps, holds the taproom. The large space is pristine white except for the floor which features the odd muddy paw print. The decorative sparseness of the room strikes me as I’m sitting at the bar. 

As in any reclaimed industrial space that houses a brewery, design choices are sometimes a series of compromises. You need a cold room. You need space for additional fermenters should the need for expansion arise. In the case of Black Lab, as I’m sitting at the bar considering my options, it strikes me that the bar has a view of the side of the cold room; that is, a blank white space punctuated by a tap list in kindergarten black lettering. It oddly reduces the appeal of sitting at the bar, but then, I am the only one doing that. It’s a reasonable sign that I’m occupying the space incorrectly. 

The single doorway that functions as an entrance from the bottle shop is the focus. You never know who is going to come through that doorway next, and it seems to function dually as a communal space for family enjoyment and a singles bar for dogs. You can practically envision it as a Gary Larson cartoon with two anthropomorphized schnauzers in the foreground looking at a dog entering the room with the caption, “Check out that Borzoi.” 

I tell tourists, of the dog fountain in Berczy Park, that people are basically the dogs they choose to live with and to my left is a blonde man in a Roots cabin sweater who is ferrying beer back to his table. Under the table is a nine month old Golden Retriever puppy (named Roo) in a Toronto Vs. Everybody sweater. It’s good to know my hypothesis continues to bear up under scrutiny. Over the course of my visit, there are a whippet, a boston terrier, a bernese mountain dog, a portugese water dog, and a large cumulo-nimbic samoyed, who it turns out has approximately 9000 more instagram followers than I do. It is my own fault for never doing a zoom. 

It’s also my own fault for not considering the sensory aspects of reviewing Black Lab on a Friday night. The gentle buzz of conversation in the room is punctuated every so often by yips and yipes and yowls from dogs who have trod too close to each other or by the jenga tower falling over. Organoleptically, there’s the mild corn-chippy waft of pads, paws, and claws and of the fryer from The Better Vegan pop-up over in the corner. While the vegan chicken sandwiches are a hit, concentration suffers somewhat. 

I’m on five ounce samples and there’s a commonality in the first three beers I’m tasting through. The Dry Hopped Altbier is light bodied and while there is a certain amount of spicy, herbal hop interest, it doesn’t scream Alt. I’m likely prejudiced somewhat by the current presence of Uerige in the LCBO, but I expect Altbier to have more body than this and more malt character as well. The trend continues through the Sitting Pretty American Pale Ale, which has so little texture that it may as well be Orange Juice. While I appreciate that this is the current fashion, the lack of balance decreases the desire to revisit the glass for a second sip. 

The Underdog Oat Pale Ale is an improvement from a textural standpoint and aromatically speaking, the oats give the hops something to balance upon and the dank resinous bitterness persists through to a cooling eucalyptic finish. It would be interesting to try it up against Left Field’s Wrigley, a similarly dog themed Oat Pale Ale. 

I will say this: Black Lab is doing one thing excellently. Selling beer is largely about expectation management; letting people know what to expect and then delivering it. The menu for the taps is nominally style based, but the descriptors below each beer allow you to know exactly what is going to happen. The Sitting Pretty, for example is described: “Hazy/Citrus Forward/Assertive With A Light Body/Dry Finish.” If you absent any stylistic understanding on the part of the customer (and honestly, the majority of the customers will not even have a layperson’s understanding), then this is truth in advertising in a savvy, customer focused way. Whether I like the beers they’re making or not, it displays a remarkable level of self awareness.

Cheap Flight Tropical Stout is an Export Stout with Sabro hops, which I think is a reasonable choice given the connotation of that Carribean milieu. While I’m not sure that any traditional Export Stout has coconut flavour, that’s what the Sabro hops impart. I’m always happy to see people play around with hop varieties in styles where the ingredient is taken for granted. Connor Deuchars, the brewer, has an experimental bent due to his homebrewing experience as well as his time at Louis Cifer, and this is serving him pretty well in this instance. The flavour is subtle, but present and compelling.

Next is Cornerstone Black Lager, which pours black with a cola coloured tinge around the edge. The aroma is light, not dominated by any single dark malt character; there’s chocolate, coffee, and roast, but the balance leans sweet rather than roasted or astringent. While there’s a drying finish, that’s not all there is. I’d put it in a conversation with Hop City 8th Sin and Muddy York’s Black Opal. I don’t know if it’d win, but it’d compete.

Finally, though, I can tell you the highlight is Exploding Kittens Double IPA. The indicator on the menu is Navel Orange, but that’s not quite what I’m getting off the glass. I’m getting massively perfumed Orange Blossom Water. An immense myrcene floral character which may or may not have been intentional, but which is a clear standout of the current lineup and which allows you to mentally reconstruct the orange from rind and pith and oil and flesh spinning that sensory roulette wheel in your mind that comes up with the nubbled divot where the stem once connected to the branch. Evocative. 

I would put the beer on offer at Black Lab anywhere from good to very good, so the place that they occupy as Favorite New Brewery must have to do with the other aspect of the business, and the context is something to take into account. As we’ve gone from craft breweries with province spanning ambition to craft breweries with neighbourhood spanning ambition, it’s more important than ever to reach the specific demographic that’s available to you. In this case, people with dogs and babies looking for a night out that does not require much in the way of planning. For people in that stage of life, Black Lab would be an absolute godsend, and if you are, like me, a man who enjoys dogs and babies, you can see the appeal. 

Absent that biographical detail, it’s still a welcome addition to the east end, albeit one that faces stiff competition locally from some of the best breweries in Canada.