This morning I got off a plane in LAX coming back from Louisville,Kentucky where I was on a trip to Maker’s Mark helping design the next single barrel for Faith and Flower. At this point I’ve picked out over 30+ house single barrels of whiskey in the past five years and I was feeling a little jaded about the whole trip this time around if I’m honest. Well, not jaded, perhaps overly familiar is more accurate. But as I was walking of the plane and my phone regained its omnipresent internet access it promptly exploded in my hand.
Areal, the bar I had run for 4.5 years, that had been on the verge of closing when I was first hired, that I had helped grow into a million dollar a year liquor operation, that I
had spent more hours than I know how to count stressing over, had closed its doors over night. No warning. Just an email to the staff over their scheduling system.
I left Areal about 6 months ago to take over the bar at Faith and Flower but this news still hit me hard. That place had been my home for years. To say I cut my teeth there would be disingenuous but I definitely developed and turned into the bartender, and person I am today in that building.
When I first started there in the long, long ago of 2013 the place was dying. The owners had taken a beloved main street Santa Monica party location called the World Café and turned it into a fine dining cocktail bar called Areal. The locals didn’t take kindly to it. The drinks were good, the program was put together by two Harvard and Stone vets, but resistance to change is strong on Main Street. I, of course, knew none of this walking in the door. I was young, cocky and was convinced I knew what I was doing despite this being only the second bar I had ever managed.
I set to work and was miraculously given free reign from my GM Mark Becker to do whatever the hell I wanted. He liked that the bar was striving towards something different. It also became clear to me that despite knowing a lot and being good with numbers there was still a lot I had left to learn. (Not the least of which was how to deal with people.) How do you win over someone who just wants a bud light to drink a craft pilsner, and how do you convince someone who wants a Jack and Coke that they might really like this Old Fashioned cocktail that’s on your Happy Hour? Whiskey Wednesday, and this blog, were born out of my struggles to learn that.
I love whiskey. I don’t think anyone would ever argue with me about that but what I really love is the ability to share it with people. To me it’s not just an intoxicant. Whiskey at its best is a bottled story. Whether that’s the story of the brand or the story that you’re telling your drinking partner there is something to be shared in every pour, in every cocktail, and in every spilt shot.
I made a lot of mistakes in those early days, expecting everyone to fall in line
simply because I knew a lot and could make a drink. But I found that the more I shared stories, whether with regulars that sat alone at the bar because there were no other customers or with staff at 3:00 in the morning after the weekend warriors had swamped us, the more people were interested. So I started telling stories, and history through a bottle of whiskey and three featured drinks a week.
Eventually the stories grew, along with the back bar. When I handed back the keys to Areal’s liquor room the back bar had grown into arguably one of the best whiskey collections in the city of LA. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t planned, it just grew. And so did I. I remember once being asked by a sales rep how we came up with the concept for the bar at Areal and I remember responding, “What concept? This is just me.” Hell, I even managed to seduce my badass girlfriend with the cocktail menu and back bar before she ever met me.
That bar, and the people in it, allowed me to become a wordy, confident, whiskey barrel buying nerd and in turn I hope I helped support them and shared a few stories.
While it certainly wasn’t my bar anymore I’m very sorry to see Areal shutter its doors. It was a building made up of stories, and people, and whiskey and I cherish all of those things deeply. So tonight, I’m pouring one out for another door closing on the past.
L’Chiam.

Although the eau de vies are still a major part of the distillery, the portfolio has expanded to include such wide sprawling products as a California Agricole Rum, an Absinthe Verte (which became the first commercially available American Absinthe after the lifting of the 1912 ban), as well as numerous gins and the Hangar One vodkas which were sold to Proximo in 2010. St. George first entered the whiskey game in 1996 when Jorg hired Lance Winters, a former nuclear scientist and brewer, for a one-month trial. Twenty years later Lance is still experimenting and Jorg is delightfully retired.
Malt Whiskey.” Technically, according to the American government there is no legal definition of what constitutes an ”American Single Malt.” However, this lack of consensus didn’t stop drink giant Remy Cointreau from purchasing the American Malt makers at Westland Distillery in December of 2016. Whether that speaks to a growing awareness of the category, or to an international audience more familiar and accepting of products labeled “Single Malt” remains to be seen.
Where most of the master blenders and distillers in the Japanese whisky world are rather unassuming and reserved, every interview and Google search for Ichiro is required to use the word ‘rock star’ to describe him. The Akuto family had been making sake in Chichibu since 1626 and transitioned into the sochu and whisky world in 1941 when Ichiro’s grandfather opened the Hanyu distillery. The distillery ended up enjoying considerable success during Japan’s postwar whisky boom.
Nearly 10 years later there was a complete deck of 52 “Cards” complete with two Jokers. According to interviews Ichiro never meant to release a complete deck. The idea was to originally release four single casks and working with a friend of his, who was also a designer, they struck upon the idea that playing cards had four suits, and so a legend was born.(A legend that sold as a complete set at auction in 2015 for $400,000.) Not as impressive as the individual bottle price of the Yamazaki 50 but still amazing for a collection of whisky that was so unwanted a mere 15 before the sale that the distillery that produced it had shuttered its doors.
The first Chichibu whisky debuted in 2011, a mere three years after the distillery started operation. Adding to his ‘Whisky Rock God’ persona every bottle that rolls out of Chichibu is labeled as an “Ichiro’s Malt Chichibu” with a sub name describing the release. This first release is appropriately dubbed, “The First”, and the whisky was aged in a combination of ex-Bourbon and Japanese Mizunara oak. Only 2,040 bottles were made available and it cemented Ichiro, and Chichibu, as a major player not just in the history of Japanese Whisky but also in its future. I remember drinking this whisky and being blown away by the delicacy and elegance it presented at a mere three years and at 118 proof. There were nectarines, vanilla, a touch of cinnamon as well as an earthiness, and green apple that fed into the maltiness.
orange weaving through a light sweetness which leads into a large roasted nut, vanilla, white pepper feel, then a touch of tobacco and gingerbread on the tongue that leaves dried tropical fruit and vanilla as it disappears into a medium length finish.
Suntory founder and first master blender, Shinjiro Torii and Masataka Taketsuru, “The Father of Japanese Whisky”, founded the Yamazaki distillery in 1923. Taketsuru had studied organic chemistry in Glasgow and was found by Torii after he made inquiries to Scotland looking for a whisky expert. Torii was told there was already one fully qualified in his own country and the two worked closely to build the Yamazaki distillery. However, the first whisky produced by the new company, dubbed the Suntory Shirofuda was a resounding failure. The Japanese drinkers preference for lighter, blended whiskies was blamed as well as Taketsuru’s fixation on doing things the “Scottish way.” Taketsuru was shunted away from the distillery to a beer factory where he served out the remainder of his ten year contract before leaving to start the Nikka distilling company, Suntory’s biggest rival.
total to 12, which increased capacity about 40%. The added capacity didn’t prevent them from releasing the Non-Age Statement Yamazaki and Hakushu Distiller’s Reserve the following year just as talk of the worldwide whisky shortage began to surface. Also in 2014, Suntory purchased Beam, Inc. (home of the eponymous Jim Beam Bourbon) for $16 billion forming Beam Suntory, the third largest spirit producer in the world. This acquisition greatly expanded Suntory’s distribution lines spreading the already thin stocks of Yamazaki even thinner.
While the 12 year was once the perfect introduction to Japanese malt, before the price and the hype got in the way, it was the Yamazaki 18 year that always stirred my soul. This time roughly 80% Sherry casks with ex-Bourbon and Mizunara making up the other 20%. Here the promise of the 12 year has evolved into a stately elegance. The fruit dries out, turning to raison and apricot with dark chocolate and berries on the tongue with a touch of spice on the long march to the finish.

On a more approachable scale they’ve started producing the Chivas Regal Extra, a Non Age Statement blend designed to recreate the flavors of the original Chivas Regal 25 Year Blend that relies heavily on Olorosso Sherry aging. Then there is the new Mizunara.
reflected the nature of the whiskey with a mellow, retro 70’s design. Simple. Clean, but not terribly exiting. And that’s where the change is happening to Pig’s Nose. The packaging is being aggressively overhauled to turn a few more heads. Nothing inside the bottle is changing, but with new liter bottles and a label that still looks classic yet undeniably more hip. It may seem like a small change but it is one that will get people to look past the outside to actually try the whiskey on the inside and ends up being the first label change in a long time that I actually enjoy.
college not because it was phenomenal stuff, but because it was affordable. I moved on as a slight increase in disposable income allowed me to try other things yet here I am unabashedly keeping it in a decanter of honor on my back bar. And I’m not the only one, Ancient Age has a massive cult following for its affordability and quality, at least its quality in comparison to its price. But why?

25 years old and 100 proof this Bourbon carries serious weight. The nose is of dried oak, dark coffee, and just a touch of stone fruit. The finish is almost nonexistent but it doesn’t matter because the mid-palette travels for hours. White pepper, caramelized oranges, deep ripe cherry, of course a vanilla and caramel note but what’s interesting is how well this walks the line massive oak flavor without being over oaked. Right when I was expecting it to dive into wet wood and raisins it instead let the pepper burn for another moment before evaporating completely on the tongue. This whiskey is better aged than the standard 23, and I’d say it’s at least as lively as the 20 year old.

The single barrel offerings are at a solid 90 proof, one of the things that set them apart from the standard bottles, but the color scheme on the new label is an almost complete palate swap. Where the normal Whiskey Row bottles harken back to the old white/cream style labels of the brands history the new single barrel is jet black with silver lettering. And clearly looking to scratch the whiskey intelligentsia’s need to know everything the rickhouse and floor where the barrel aged are large and center.