Kavalan Solist Virgin Oak TeaMCanR 56.3%

$311.99

One of a pair of Kavalan Virgin Oak casks selected by Truth Malters given the TeaM Canada moniker. This one shoots Right and has a cask strength of 56.3%

Cask Details

Canada Solist Virgin Oak TeaM Canada R
Cask Number:  N161020024C
Distilled: 2016.10.20
Bottled: 2026.01.20
Age: 9 years 3 Months
Bottles: 151 Total
ABV: 56.3%

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From the Distillery

"Tastes like plump, velvet berries plucked fresh from the farmers' field.

Our Raspberry Gin is a 40% abv expression of our much-celebrated flavour pioneer. Fashioned using locally sourced raspberries from the soft fruit capital of the UK, Perthshire.

Taking advantage of the best of seasonal Perthshire raspberries, directly sourced from the farmers door, we distil a sweet and delicious gin with real depth of flavour, very much reminiscent of raspberry jam.

Best served with tonic, a twist of lemon, garnish with raspberries, and plenty of ice."

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From the Producer

"Rich espresso coffee liqueur meets exquisitely smooth Tres Generaciones® Tequila, made from hand-selected agave in Jalisco, Mexico, for a bold and delightfully complex take on our popular Espresso Martini. Available in select regions in the USA for a limited time; pour over ice and enjoy!"

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Good Cheer 1959 Irish Dry Stout

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From the Brewery

"Dublin in the 1950s was a city of coal smoke, rain-soaked brick, and dim pub windows glowing amber against the dark.

Ireland had emerged from the Second World War poor and isolated. Though officially neutral during the war, the country had endured economic hardship, rationing, and decades of emigration. Young people left for England and America in enormous numbers, chasing work and opportunity abroad. Many homes were still heated by coal, and horse-drawn carriages rattled down cobble streets they now shared with cars. Laundry hung between brick rowhouses. Turf smoke and sea air mixed over the River Liffey.

For much of Europe, massive post-war reconstruction funding and foreign investment pulled a continent out of a depression and into a mini industrial revolution. But not Ireland. Tariffs, protectionist government policies, and controls on foreign investment isolated its economy. High unemployment created a labour oversupply. Wages and investment stayed low and forced Dublin to move at an older rhythm.  

But Dublin carried its poverty with grace. Children played in the streets, neighbours supported one another, and in the pubs, stout flowed. As in centuries past, pubs were still the beating heart of many communities. They were a place to do business, collect a paycheque, discuss politics, and meet friends. And the stout of 1950s Dublin was something special. 

Irish stout was not originally a distinct style of beer. It began as part of the great porter tradition born in London during the Industrial Revolution. In the 1700s, porter became the first truly mass-produced beer in history, brewed in enormous quantities to satisfy the growing urban working class. “Stout” originally meant only that the beer was stronger. A “stout porter” was simply a stronger version of porter.

But over time, Irish brewers transformed the style into something distinctly their own.

The most famous of them all was Guinness. Founded in 1759 at St. James’s Gate in Dublin, the brewery evolved from producing traditional porters into the dry, dark, roasty stout that would come to define Irish beer around the world. By the early 20th century, Irish stout had become less sweet, less heavy, and more drinkable than many of its English relatives. It was bitter, crisp, modest in strength, and built for conversation rather than intoxication.

This was not luxury beer. It was everyday beer. A working person’s pint. Dry stout belonged to labourers, longshoremen, musicians, clerks, pensioners, and men standing shoulder-to-shoulder at crowded bars beneath yellowed nicotine ceilings. It was a beer for long conversations, slow evenings, and familiar faces.

And despite its dark appearance, Irish stout is surprisingly delicate. Roasted barley gives flavours of coffee, toast, dark bread crust, and bitterness, but traditional examples were often low in alcohol and remarkably light-bodied. A proper Irish stout was designed to be consumed by the pint, not sampled in tiny glasses or treated as a dessert.

By 1959, another transformation was underway.

That year, Guinness introduced the nitrogen dispensing system that would permanently change how Irish stout was served. Traditional beer carbonation uses carbon dioxide, which creates sharp, lively bubbles. Nitrogen behaves differently. It produces a softer texture, smaller bubbles, and the dense cascading head now associated with Irish stout around the world.

The introduction of nitrogen was an important innovation for the modern pub. Longer taplines meant more pressure was needed to push the beer from keg to glass. More pressure from CO2 meant higher carbonation, something that would ruin the velvety texture of traditional cask ales. Since nitrogen isn't water soluble pressurising kegs with a blend of nitrogen and CO2 allowed the right pressure to be balanced with the correct carbonation. 

At the time, though, this technology was new and unusual. Most stout consumed in Ireland still existed in a transitional world between old and new. Some pubs poured cask-conditioned stout little changed from the 19th century. Others experimented with modern draft technology. Irish stout, served on a nitrogen tap,  stood between eras: horse carts and electricity, tradition and modernity, hand-pumped casks and pressurised taplines. It was an innovative blend of the old and the new and an early hint of a changing nation.

Ireland finally abandoned protectionism in 1958, opened up to foreign investment, and began the rapid modernisation that eventually integrated cities like Dublin into the modern European economy. The stout itself reflected that changing world. By the time children born in the 1950s reached middle age the Irish economy would be known as the Celtic Tiger, Guinness would become a dominant global brand, and a traditional working-class beer style would have claimed its place in brewing history. 

Our 1959 Irish Stout captures this transitional moment in both Irish and brewing history. Before modern craft beer turned stout into something massive and sweet, Irish stout was restrained, balanced, and deeply drinkable. We serve ours on nitrogen in the tradition that was just beginning to spread through Dublin pubs at the end of the 1950s.

The result is a stout with a dense tan head, soft velvet texture, and gentle roasted bitterness balanced by surprising dryness. It's a beer from a city of rain, smoke, music, and conversation, where somewhere beneath the low light and the murmur of voices, the future was quietly arriving one pint at a time.

First Produced: 2026

Abv 3.8%"

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