Why Slow Pour?

It all begins with an idea.

Or, in this case a couple of years of beers and time to think during a pandemic.

After this fever dream started to become a reality, it became pretty clear that we needed a name that fit our grand design (apparently a series of numbers followed by “Alberta Inc.” just doesn’t roll off the tongue. Who knew). We pitched names to each other and friends - more ideas that we remember now. There were funny riffs, thoughtful tags, historic appellations, punny monikers, technical epithets… and then we realized we had gone too far. These just didn’t work. They were aggrandizing, they were limiting, they were everything that didn’t seem like us and what we wanted Slow Pour (name spoiler alert? I mean you’re already on this page…) to be. 

So, even though we had spent months narrowing down the options down to two names that we genuinely liked - truthfully, they weren’t bad, many just weren’t the golden-means of the concept floating in our mind - we holed ourselves up in our “home office” (post-2020 noun, meaning kitchen table). We were determined to come up with a name that met our checklist to the best we could. That and, it turns out, it's pretty difficult to get any official paperwork done when you don't even have a name. Oop. We poured over countless internet searches (i.e. Wiki rabbit holes. I know you know what I mean), song lyrics, favourite books, iterations of our pets names, favourite places we visited that have inspired this project… and felt like we were back at square one. 

Then, at some point during these 48 long hours, one of us began quietly pouring over material about the “Slow Movement”. We had each heard about it to different extents in the past: food and philosophy. The movement began “officially” in Rome in 1986, with one man’s protest against the opening of some Golden Arches. And of course to add to the drama it just so happened to be set in one of the greatest and revered food regions. This “fast” food was going to change the way that Romans had eaten for centuries. Could you imagine a new generation forgetting pizza al taglio in favour of a McPizza? He wasn’t having it. The movement has since morphed into a set of ideas that cross borders, industries, hobbies, and interests.

Carl Honoré, one of the most vocal advocates for the Slow Movement (who, interestingly enough, has an Edmonton connection) wrote in his book, In Praise of Slow, “It is a cultural revolution against the notion that faster is always better. The Slow philosophy is not about doing everything at a snail's pace. It's about seeking to do everything at the right speed. Savoring the hours and minutes rather than just counting them. Doing everything as well as possible, instead of as fast as possible. It’s about quality over quantity in everything from work to food to parenting.” Right speed hm? I think we’re on to something here. 

As Honoré says, the entire movement is so intrinsically tied together in the idea of slowing down generally: taking time out from our Global North collectively clichéd, workaday, always clocked-in, always “on”, hustle, sidegig, content-creating, available-24/7/365, learned behaviours, and remembering what it’s like to not. Not be bustling at every hour of every day. Not be tied to technology. Not feeling like the world will implode if Artie from the Accounting Dept doesn’t hear back from you after 5pm on a Friday. Going for a walk simply because it’s not -30C (or because it is - I don’t get it, but get it gurl). Enjoying the summer blooms because they only come around a few weeks every 365 days. Taking days (yes, days) to make the best bolognese, that will still never compare to your Italian grandmother’s, but damn the nostalgia mixes beautifully with the pasta and freshly torn basil leaves. 

While the term “slow pour” is not new (and has a whole beer connotation that we didn’t even dive into in this post), we hope to bring new perspectives and techniques to our humble Edmonton space. We appreciate that it builds on centuries of time, evolution, people, and a concept that stretches beyond beer. Not only does the name describe the type of technique we will highlight in your pint glass, but it also typifies the attitude and feeling we want to fill the space with.

— SP.