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| Stuffed beavers above the bar |
“Little darling, it’s been a long, cold, lonely winter.”
But here comes the sun: The masks are off, and the dam of social distancing has burst, giving way to a moist intimacy, like culture cells in a petri dish.
It looks to be a celebratory summer. On a recent Saturday night, Beaver’s Pub closed an hour early because it was so packed, according to one server, that “We couldn’t maintain our service and quality levels.” Service and quality key the culture at Beaver’s Pub, in everything from drinks, to food, to decor, as Harry, the G-Man and I discovered on a recent visit.
The beaver is an apt symbol of the pub on the southeast corner of Center and Saginaw in our historic city by the bay, founded, as it was, on the industry and the backs of lumbermen.
The flat-tailed rodent is also, of course, on the back of every nickel minted in our friendly neighbor to the north. Technically, though, the beaver is an “emblem,” not a symbol, of Canada, having received royal assent to that status March 24, 1975, under the National Symbol of Canada Act passed by Parliament.
Beaver pelts played a key economic role in the settlement of Canada, similar to that of lumber here on the banks of the Saginaw. Moreover, the beaver is thought to embody such Canadian virtues as industriousness, problem-solving and community.
Furthermore, it is the world’s second largest rodent, and Canada is the world’s second-largest country. (The largest country is Russia.)
The beaver-and-gnawed-wood motif figures prominently in the pub’s decor, everything from a wall of log ends to a stack of chopped logs for a fireplace, should one ever be installed. Mounted beavers are strategically placed around the interior, and the beaver logo adorns the shirts of the competent staff.
Lots of other wildlife on the walls: a wolf standing upright, the heads of various horned ruminants, game fish, a wild boar’s head, another boar but just the poor thing’s tusks. On a more animal-friendly note, a box of Milk-Bone dog biscuits are by the door for our tethered friends accompanying sidewalk diners.
We were delighted to spend time with the charming and knowledgeable Tiffany: “They order, I pour.” For the younger crowd, Tiffany’s been pouring mojitos, jalapeno margaritas and Moscow mules.
The appetizer menu features Beaver Bites (fish), Beaver Tails (shrimp and kielbasa), Woodchips (potatoes), etc. All are delicious, spicy and creatively presented. For example, the bacon bits and chive garnish on the French-fried potatoes (“Loaded Woodchips”) is familiar, but the bacon maple sauce condiment was not – and it works.
I couldn’t help thinking, though, to complement the decor and menu, that the pub’s beaver mascot needs a name. Readers: Any suggestions?
But what the pub really needs is a drink named after the beaver. Many drinks are named after animals: Moscow Mule, Pink Squirrel, Grasshopper, etc.
There’s a certain knack and marketing value to naming a drink, e.g., Sex on the Beach. For example, Harry’s go-to cocktail is the Manhattan. One sip, and he’s in Times Square.
On this visit, he had two Manhattans; the second one was smoked (The smoking is no charge, so it’s both a free-smoke and smoke-free environment.) -- “for context,” he said. (I assume the G-Man’s third Busch Light serves the same function. And that’s why I’ve been married three times: “context.”)
But you see what I mean about naming a drink.
A friend suggests a good drink for Beaver’s Pub would be called It’s Gnawed Unusual, made from familiar, local ingredients and festivals:
• Three ounces of corn whiskey (Auburn).
• Splash of Vernor’s (Detroit, down river, as it were).
• Traverse City cherry juice.
• Skewered garnish of pickle (Linwood), kielbasa (South End), and potato (Munger).
• Served in a hollowed-out sugar beet that looks like its edges were gnawed.
When drinking, the patrons would cry out “Timberrrr!” And when re-ordering, they’d say: “Leave it to Beaver.”
O.K. – You think you can do better? The “Comment” space is right down there, Bucky.
After all, the beavers and lumberjacks may be gone from our shores, but their roots, like the trees they fell, are deep, and their industry and ingenuity remain in the hearts of the citizenry.
Speaking of roots, there’s a nice black and white photo of Madonna outside the men’s room.
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See the hairy guy's report on Beaver's Pub: Bourbons, burgers, bites and tails. No live beavers, but free smoke (your choice) in a drink
The flat-tailed rodent is also, of course, on the back of every nickel minted in our friendly neighbor to the north. Technically, though, the beaver is an “emblem,” not a symbol, of Canada, having received royal assent to that status March 24, 1975, under the National Symbol of Canada Act passed by Parliament.
Beaver pelts played a key economic role in the settlement of Canada, similar to that of lumber here on the banks of the Saginaw. Moreover, the beaver is thought to embody such Canadian virtues as industriousness, problem-solving and community.
Furthermore, it is the world’s second largest rodent, and Canada is the world’s second-largest country. (The largest country is Russia.)
The beaver-and-gnawed-wood motif figures prominently in the pub’s decor, everything from a wall of log ends to a stack of chopped logs for a fireplace, should one ever be installed. Mounted beavers are strategically placed around the interior, and the beaver logo adorns the shirts of the competent staff.
Lots of other wildlife on the walls: a wolf standing upright, the heads of various horned ruminants, game fish, a wild boar’s head, another boar but just the poor thing’s tusks. On a more animal-friendly note, a box of Milk-Bone dog biscuits are by the door for our tethered friends accompanying sidewalk diners.
We were delighted to spend time with the charming and knowledgeable Tiffany: “They order, I pour.” For the younger crowd, Tiffany’s been pouring mojitos, jalapeno margaritas and Moscow mules.
The appetizer menu features Beaver Bites (fish), Beaver Tails (shrimp and kielbasa), Woodchips (potatoes), etc. All are delicious, spicy and creatively presented. For example, the bacon bits and chive garnish on the French-fried potatoes (“Loaded Woodchips”) is familiar, but the bacon maple sauce condiment was not – and it works.
I couldn’t help thinking, though, to complement the decor and menu, that the pub’s beaver mascot needs a name. Readers: Any suggestions?
But what the pub really needs is a drink named after the beaver. Many drinks are named after animals: Moscow Mule, Pink Squirrel, Grasshopper, etc.
There’s a certain knack and marketing value to naming a drink, e.g., Sex on the Beach. For example, Harry’s go-to cocktail is the Manhattan. One sip, and he’s in Times Square.
 |
| Madonna outside the men's room |
But you see what I mean about naming a drink.
A friend suggests a good drink for Beaver’s Pub would be called It’s Gnawed Unusual, made from familiar, local ingredients and festivals:
• Three ounces of corn whiskey (Auburn).
• Splash of Vernor’s (Detroit, down river, as it were).
• Traverse City cherry juice.
• Skewered garnish of pickle (Linwood), kielbasa (South End), and potato (Munger).
• Served in a hollowed-out sugar beet that looks like its edges were gnawed.
When drinking, the patrons would cry out “Timberrrr!” And when re-ordering, they’d say: “Leave it to Beaver.”
O.K. – You think you can do better? The “Comment” space is right down there, Bucky.
After all, the beavers and lumberjacks may be gone from our shores, but their roots, like the trees they fell, are deep, and their industry and ingenuity remain in the hearts of the citizenry.
Speaking of roots, there’s a nice black and white photo of Madonna outside the men’s room.
----------
See the hairy guy's report on Beaver's Pub: Bourbons, burgers, bites and tails. No live beavers, but free smoke (your choice) in a drink
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