Best and Worst Ginger Ale

An assortment of ginger ale bottles.

When news recently broke that an Ottawa hospital had pulled ginger ale from its menu options due to high sugar content, there was public outcry. Ginger ale, unhealthy? Wasn’t ginger ale required medicine for colds, alongside Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup and two nostrils smeared with Vicks VapoRub?

Healthy or not, ginger ale has been around since Canadian chemist and pharmacist John J. McLaughlin invented Canada Dry in 1904. And here you thought Vachon Flakies were our greatest culinary achievement. Personally, I consider ginger ale the well-intentioned, but yawn-inducing, Great Aunt Eleanor of the carbonated beverage world. But does ginger ale deserve a second look – and sip?

I rounded up 7 brands of ginger ale to determine the best and the worst. I was looking for a ginger ale that delivered a good kick of ginger spice and heat. The brands ranged from generic to gourmet, and I didn’t know which brand I was tasting. I also polished up my 1988 Petro-Canada Calgary Olympic champagne flute for the tastings. Say what you want about me, but I always keep it classy.

Which brand did I (ginger) root for? And which brand was ginger stale? Here are my rankings, worst to best.

8) Great Value, $1.48 for 2 litres

A bottle of Great Value ginger ale.

Walmart’s generic brand is sometimes hit or miss. It’s ranked fairly well in some of my other taste tests. But to get Great Value, you have to deal with the chaos, aggravation and despair of going to Walmart. I don’t think that’s ever worth saving 30 cents.

A glass of Great Value ginger ale.

Tasting notes: I got no discernable ginger taste from Great Value, and the overall experience was like sipping sweet fizzy water. Sure, Great Value was the cheapest brand, but life is short – you deserve better.

Verdict: No Great Expectations.

7) President’s Choice, $3.75 for a 6-pack mini

A can of President's Choice ginger ale.

At this point, I realized all ginger ale brands have green packaging. What’s up with that? I mean, what’s green about ginger? If anyone has any insight, please advise. This is going to keep me up at night.

A glass of President's Choice ginger ale.

Tasting notes: Like Great Value, PC tanked. It offered nothing remarkable, not even a whisper of ginger. Who would drink this and be satisfied? Maybe it’s meant to be mixed with rye. That would be the only way to make it tolerable.

Verdict: Not my choice.

6) Schweppes $3.69 for 355 mL

A bottle of Schweppes Ginger Ale.

Founded in Switzerland in 1785 by Jacobe Schweppe (proof that people have been belching for centuries), Schweppes is fun to pronounce. Take your time and let the word leak out with a slow “ssscccchhhhhh.” Or, if you want to sound European, pronounce it as “Sch-wep-pee-pees.”

A glass of Schweppes ginger ale

Tasting notes: Another ginger slap of disappointment. I found Schweppes to be very bland. What I need in a ginger ale is kick, but Schweppes was more of a limp. It’s not that there wasn’t any flavour; there just wasn’t enough of it.

Verdict: Ssscccchhhhhitty.

5) Vernors, $9.49 for 12 cans

A can of Vernors ginger ale.

Launched in Detroit, Michigan around 1866 by pharmacist James Vernor (what is it with pharmacists and ginger ale?), Vernors is a golden and vanilla-infused ginger ale. Growing up in a border city, I was routinely exposed to American brands. I was also exposed to the Michigan accent of my relatives. (“Oh my gad, Bannie! This pap is good.”)

A glass of Vernors ginger ale.

Tasting notes: Vernors had a unique, creamy, almost popsicle taste, not ginger ale. It reminded me of cream soda, but that’s not the focus of this taste test. Speaking of, I need to do a cream soda taste test.

Verdict: I had to stap drinking it.

4) Zevia, $7.99 for 6 cans

A can of Zevia ginger ale.

I included Zevia to find out what’s going on in the sugar-free soda world. As far as I’m concerned, everything went downhill when they stopped making Tab soft drink in the ‘80s. Sweetened with stevia leaf extract, Zevia was also crystal clear.

A glass of Zevia ginger ale.

Tasting notes: I knew this was Zevia right away. The sweetness was noticeably different and lingered on my tongue. It was distracting and competed with the ginger flavour. Not bad, but not a true ginger ale.

Verdict: Tab was better.

3) Selection $1.49 for 2 litres

A bottle of Selection ginger ale.

Selection is Metro’s house brand. Traditionally, they’ve been middle of the road, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Sometimes, being mediocre means you don’t feel pressure to be remarkable. That’s what my mom would tell me after reading my report cards.

A glass of Selection ginger ale.

Tasting notes: Selection had a mild ginger kick that hit a few seconds after my initial sip. By that point, it was the only brand that delivered the ginger heat I was looking for. It had a nice fizz, as well, but lacked the sizzle.

Verdict: Not a bad selection.

2) Canada Dry $3.69 for 355 mL

A bottle of Canada Dry ginger ale.

The brand most closely associated with ginger ale – at least here in Canada – Canada Dry is an icon alongside national brands like M&M Food Market and McCain Super Fries. Canada Dry’s tagline, “The Champagne of Ginger Ales” is as well-known as any lyric in an Anne Murray song.

A glass of Canada Dry ginger ale.

Tasting notes: While neither surprising nor outstanding, Canada Dry held its own, delivering a solid ginger ale experience. It would be the brand I’d reach for if I was home from work with the flu, wearing my Snuggie, and yelling at stupid contestants on “The Price is Right.”

Verdict: Icon for a reason.

And coming in at number 1…

1) Fever Tree, $8.99 for 4 bottles

A bottle of Fever Tree ginger ale.

I first discovered Fever Tree during COVID self-isolation. Those were the days of daily gin-and-tonics and binge-watching “Tiger King.” True, Fever Tree was an expensive treat back then, but I justified the cost by reminding myself I wasn’t paying for haircuts.

A glass of Fever Tree ginger ale.

Tasting notes: Fever Tree delivered depth. It wasn’t just a one-note ginger ale but served substantial snap and spiciness. It had a heat that wafted up my nose. Dang it! I hate when the most expensive brand wins. But sometimes, the cost is justified.

Verdict: Ginger snap.

And there you have it. What a roller coaster ride of carbonation!

Speaking of ginger ale, I have a book called, “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margarita.” It combines popular book titles and cocktail recipes, like The Hard Cider House Rules, She Stoops to Cointreau, and Portrait of the Artist as a Drunk Man. (In other words, my twenties.) I found a recipe for Caps for Ale (based on the 1940 classic, “Caps for Sale”), which calls for ginger ale, pineapple juice and frozen bananas. It was delicious. Although missing something. Namely rye.

A book titled Are You There God, It's Me Margarita, alongside a glass of containing ginger ale, pineapple juice and frozen banana.

Thank you for reading! Did I miss your favourite brand? Do you disagree with my rankings? Leave a comment and let the world know.

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