The first time I ordered a non-alcoholic drink at a bar in west Toronto, I felt eyes on me. The gaze of the bartender seemed to say, “You sure? Look at this long line of cool beers we have on tap.” The guy sitting on a stool at a bar looked at me with a glance that said, “How many months sober?”
When I brought the booze-free beer back to my table, I endured a few smirky jokes from friends who couldn’t help but rib me with lines to the effect of: “Hey Dave, don’t sit too close to us, you might get a second-hand buzz from our breaths, full of that dreaded alcohol.” After all, they knew me as a drinker who enjoyed downing pints with them as we watched Raptors games, or indulged in a Dark and Stormy on a cold winter night checking out a live band.
That was two years ago, and it’s safe to say “sober-curious” isn’t a term loaded with stigma anymore. Non-alcoholic drinks – now ubiquitous – are having their avocado toast moment. These days, no one looks twice when I break out a Partake at a BBQ.
A friend professed their similar fondness for the non-alcoholic beer at one such outing when I began to swig from my can. He then dipped into his knapsack to take out his zero-booze beer of choice, and we spent the next 20 minutes discussing the finer points of what makes a tasty alcohol-free brew. And our exchange felt so typical I forgot we were chatting about something that might’ve made eyes roll around beer aficionados years ago.
After all, our numbers are surging in Canada. Much research has established that Gen Z drinks less. What’s more notable is that similar trends are reported in the 35-54 age group, where I fall. Data from NielsenIQ found that in the U.S. in 2023, non-alcoholic beer, wine, and spirits reached US$565-million in sales, a 35 per cent surge compared with the year before.
Supply is growing to meet this demand in the form of de-alcoholized spirits, wines and beer, which, up against the products of yesteryear, actually taste great. Sure, I felt something was missing when I sipped that first zero-alcohol beer but I got used to it, much like I got accustomed to almond milk when I transitioned away from dairy milk.
I contend that if the industry didn’t meet this demand with better-flavoured drinks and deeper variety, the sober-curious wouldn’t be so open-minded and may even turn back to alcohol. The refreshing range of options available makes me feel like I’m being noticed by a sector that used to see my ilk as too niche a market to cater to regularly.
I’ve also noticed how this trend is winning favour with major brands. In July, A&W announced it was partnering with Labatt to pilot serving non-alcoholic beer in its Ontario restaurants. Courting Gen X, Heineken tapped Paul Rudd to front their non-alcoholic beer commercials during the Super Bowl in 2023 Sports fans are also treated to superstar athlete-dads joining the party: Soccer giant Lionel Messi has teamed up with White Claw to promote a new non-alcoholic beverage brand to be released later this year.
The millennial mom who used to sip pinot grigio is finding refreshing comfort in booze-free wine (actress Blake Lively has her own line of non-alcoholic sparkling mixers, Betty Buzz), while the young metalheads are trading vodka shots for cans of Liquid Death, an edgy water and carbonated beverage brand. I’ve seen non-alcoholic drinks sprinkled across comedy shows, outdoor festivals, poetry slams, technology conferences.
I’d estimate around a third of my friends and family have tried non-alcoholic drinks, up from zero five years ago.
When I first made the transition, I expected questions about why I bothered to drink beer without the alcohol. The answer is simple: We former boozy drinkers still revel in the flavour and vibe of the beverage, but want to abstain from the accompanying buzz. I like to be present and in control, not slurring my words and falling asleep two hours before they do, waking up with a migraine and an insatiable hunger to eat every greasy food imaginable.
I never struggled with alcohol, but I’ve long been at odds with how others think of me. It might seem silly, but it’s a tough hang-up to shake. At first, reducing alcohol was a strange source of anxiety, leaving me feeling like friends and strangers were casting judgement on me for going this route. But that’s long behind me, as I raise booze-free cans with friends in a raucous chorus of “cheers!” during these hazy summer months, the familiar taste of comradery on our lips.
