Restaurants
What Makes A Great Vancouver Pub?
By John Lee published Nov 1, 2012
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An opinionated British expat assesses our scene and nominates his favourites
It's 9.45 p.m. and I’m at the tiny, brass-trimmed bar of a dark, creaky-floored old pub. A roaring hearth crackles in the corner, baking the winter-frozen flanks of nearby patrons and projecting shadows across the ceiling. Perusing the shiny taps and chatting with a barrel-bellied barman, I settle on a pint of chestnut-brown Chiswick Bitter then decamp to a candlelit corner.
Within minutes, I’m debating the merits—or otherwise—of pear cider, utopian socialism, and last night’s Queen Park Rangers soccer game with two well-oiled friends I’ve been drinking with since high school. It’s one of several similarly animated conversations playing out across the glowing room, a laughter-studded babble that’s as warming to the regulars as the fireplace.
Not surprisingly, this isn’t Vancouver. I’m back in the UK for a fleeting visit to my birthplace, dipping into a centuries-old neighbourhood pub scene that was the sociable foundation of my formative years. I’ve missed it ever since.
I like to believe that my giddy and abiding pub love is about more than just nostalgia. These multigenerational gathering places are the community halls of many UK towns. Serving the same regulars (and their children) for decades, their regional ales predate our hipster-driven craft beers, while their ever-welcoming vibe facilitates face-to-face “likes” without the need for Facebook, which still lacks a button to buy a round for your friends.
The absence of a pub culture like this was the cloud hanging over my 1990s move from England. Vancouverites, it seemed, preferred winding down with seawall runs and spa treatments, while I pined for murky rooms enlivened by conversation and the clink of dimpled pint glasses. Canada’s “pubs” were less community halls than restaurants, where dining was the key activity and hanging out all evening over a few brews was discouraged by the lame beer selection and tip-hungry servers.
But after a few years, something started brewing here. B.C.’s craft beer revolution kicked off, making ale a focus rather than a sidebar to eating. Bars that used to serve factory-made dross began pouring local heroes like Driftwood and Central City. And new venues emerged that echoed my ideal of chilled-out neighbourhood taverns. The required features? Fine beer and grub that gives grease a good name; dialling down the music and TVs to foster banter; and—most importantly—making everyone from plaid-shirted coolsters to red-nosed CAMRA members feel equally welcome. Bars that follow these rules are the antidote to Vancouver’s infamous cliqueyness and that’s guaranteed. (Okay, that’s the drink talking.)
Here, then, are my meticulously researched recommendations for great Vancouver locals. These neighbourhood joints best recall my favoured UK watering holes and, in some cases, surpass them. If you disagree, drop by and debate the point. I’ll almost certainly be sipping an Extra Special Bitter in a shady corner and talking a little too loudly about utopian socialism.
