Category: Whiskey Wednesday

Whiskey Wednesday: Overholt’s Bond

Bottled in Bond has jumped the shark. Before what’s sure to be Jack Daniel’s latest premium priced bottled in bond hits Duty Free shelves worldwide let’s look back to a much more innocent time when a BiB release truly excited me. A time known as six months ago…

Before we jump in the Short Way Back Machine what exactly does Bottled-In-Bond mean? Well, here’s a link to a video of some fools talking about it, but here’s a quick refresher. The Bottled in Bond Act of 1897 was spearheaded by a group of distillers, lead by Col. E.H. Taylor, to instate a form of quality control on products calling themselves whiskey, as well as to give consumers the confidence that whiskey sold in this new contraption known as a mass produced glass bottle was reliable and un-tampered with.

Working with the U.S. Government they came up with a list of regulations to be labeled as Bottled-In Bond.

  • The spirit must meet all the legal requirements for that spirit.
  • It must be the product of a single distillery in a single distilling season.
  • It must be aged for a minimum of 4 years in a government bonded warehouse.
  • It must be bottled at 100 Proof
  • Every bottle must list the DSP (the distillery identification number) for both the location of distillation and location of bottling.

Follow all these rules and you get a tax break and US government slaps its seal of approval on the bottle in the form of a tax stamp to show that the liquid has not been tampered with after it was bottled.

The bonded warehouse is an interesting thing to note. In the olden days this meant that the warehouse was physically locked and could only be accessed by a tax assessor (see the above tax breaks, to ensure that there was no “unauthorized removal.” This Tax Man had the keys to the warehouse and it could only be opened with their help, which is how we end up with such delightful stories as that of Old Fitzgerald.

Bottled in Bond began to thrive. It was a mark of quality, and a mark of the distiller’s skill. However, after prohibition when stocks and profits were low distillers looked for ways to stretch out the remaining supply and to reduce costs. See: blended whiskey and applejack. The required aging and proof of bottled in bond raised the quality but also the price, and being unable to blend across distilling seasons meant there was less ability to utilize backstock. Brands that were once proudly Bottled-in-Bond began reducing proof and age and slowly disappeared. Most of those that survived have been consolidated under the ownership of Heaven Hill but also lost their premium status and became your “Granddad’s Whiskey” which despite what the current whiskey boom will tell you used to be an incredibly uncool thing to say.

On the flip side, the current whiskey and cocktail boom has reinvigorated interest in Bottled In Bond as a mark of quality and in mixing. This has lead to a rash of reintroduction of Bottled In Bond products but often at a steep mark up, which I believe misses the point and utility of Bottled In Bond. They’re meant to be versatile and approachable. One of the rereleases that got this right was Old Overholt.

Old Overholt is owned by Beam Suntory, which is the parent company of the largest Bourbon producer in the world, Jim Beam. And while Overholt is truly an old brand it doesn’t usually stand out for me.

It’s a barely legal rye, meaning it’s 51% rye in the mashbill, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Rittenhouse Rye is also barely legal and is a bottle I can’t live without. But bottled at 80 proof I’ve often found the Overholt to be oily and incredibly earthy. However, this past January Beam Suntory added a Bottled In Bond version of the Overholt, so lets see how it stacks up.

On the nose it smells definitively like a Jim Beam product. I associate this smell with the Jim Beam yeast strains. There is a woodsy, yeasty, nutty quality that carries through almost everything in the Jim Beam lineup. There is also an oakiness and dark wood scent that lingers.

On the palette the oiliness is still very much present, but it’s cut through with a heavy alcohol burn that dries out a vanilla and caramel while complimenting the rye natural spiciness. The finish is surprisingly short, leaving an alcohol tingle and a touch of green apple.

This new Overholt is a vast improvement over the old Overholt. However, this new bottle is undeniably a whiskey drinker’s whiskey. It is mean and uncompromising and honestly tastes a lot like what I would get if I blended the 80 proof Overholt with a bottle of Rittenhouse. Its price point makes it incredibly versatile as well. The new proof boost lets it stand up in cocktails while offering a flavor profile the is unique enough to justify including it on the back bar. Bottled in Bond is clearly becoming a hip term and producing a bonded version of a known branded may help boost sales, but that boost doesn’t mean it has to come with an inflated price tag or loss of character.

Just remember, not every reboot is terrible. And while something may jump the shark it doesn’t negate the quality of everything that came before the leap.

Whiskey Wednesday: Willett Of The Past

Age adds value.

That doesn’t just mean a dollar value, I personally own dozens of books, papers, and social media accounts that only still exist because they’ve essentially become a time capsule. They’re important simply because they’ve survived.

Before NDP, Non-Distilling Producer, was short hand for overblown marketing these producers were some of the most celebrated.

I started collecting whiskey when I got back into bartending in 2011. I suddenly found myself with income surplus for the first time in years and set about recreating the back bar I had at work in my tiny Venice apartment. I ended up with more whiskey then I conceivably drink on my own, which leads directly to the fact that I have dozens of bottles in my overblown collection that are there because anytime I pick them up I think to myself, “I can’t drink that! I’ve had it forever.”

This is directly antithetical to my belief that all whiskey is for drinking, not hoarding. So I thought it was high time to revive that spirit and open some “old” spirits.

Before NDP, Non-Distilling Producer, was short hand for overblown marketing these producers were some of the most celebrated. And none have reached the cult status of the Willet Distillery.

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Officially know as the Kentucky Bourbon Distillers the distillery is most closely associated with it’s Willet Family Reserve line of premium whiskies. And that’s not marketing. The distillery was founded in 1935 by the Willet family as the Old Bardstown Distillery, which produced its first bourbon in March of 1936. Flash forward to 2016 and the old distillery is still family owned and some of the first whiskey distilled on site rolled down the line all over again.

How do you do something for the first time twice? You stop producing whiskey in the 70’s to make ethanol during the fuel shortage. Then the fuel prices drop, the bottom falls out from under the market, and you’re left flat footed.

From the 1980’s until about 2012 the “distillery” was just in fact an independent bottler, a NDP. They began by relying on the back stock of their own product that was still aging and began to source excess whiskey from neighbor distilleries. Most notably they were sourcing from Heaven Hill, which is so close you could roll a Bourbon barrel down the hill and hit a rickhouse. During this time Willet/KBD continued to produce award winning whiskies like Noah’s Mill, Rowan’s Creek, the formerly eponymous Old Bardstown, and turned the Willet brand into a coveted line of old, premium, single barrel whiskies.

While they may not have been producing liquid in-house the team at Willet showed

The Willet Pot Still…was incidentally also how I thought anyone who sat in front of my bar for years about what a “Pot Still” looked like.

remarkable skill in aging. The single barrels and older expressions of whiskey that they put together have long stood out as some of the best bottlings of the past two decades. But as the Bourbon boom ramped up the writing was on the wall for people trying to source whiskey. More was going to the in house brands and in 2012 KBD fired up its own set of stills and now 6 years later we are seeing bottles of old brands with new juice.

But lets get back in the way back machine to right before these stills started producing to when I bought this bottle of Willet Pot Still Bourbon.

The Willet line was already well established as a premium category but they were also pricey. The Willet Pot Still, introduced in 2008, was a non-age statement variation that could introduce people to the line with out breaking the bank. It was incidentally also how I thought anyone who sat in front of my bar for years about what a “Pot Still” looked like.

This bottle is a Single Barrel versus its modern counterpart, which is simple a “small batch.” Bottled at 94 proof, 47% alcohol, this whiskey has nearly as many awards for its packaging as it does for the Bourbon itself. So, after 7 years how does it taste?

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On the nose is a sweet corn, yet dusty oak presence. The alcohol burn is larger than I would expect for something bottle at 94 proof, and for something that’s been in the bottle for three quarters of a decade. But under that burn is a touch of coffee and toffee.

On the palette the alcohol is much les noticeable. A large oak, vanilla, and slight char carry all the way through the dram with some darker fruit, a touch of cherry and almost blackberry, before giving sway to a musty, earthy, barn house sense.

The finish is light fades quickly leaving the oak on the tongue and the alcohol on the sides of the mouth.

It’s a good whiskey, something I wouldn’t be upset picking up off the shelf and drinking today but it’s not transcendent on its own. What is transcendent is the act of opening the bottle, pouring, and reminiscing as I sip on where I was at in my life when I bought this bottle and on all the events that have transpired since.

Nothing is precious on its own, the spirit we imbue it with verifies that value. And for something to have value it must have some use. So let’s raise a glass and reminisce.

Whiskey Wednesday: Nikka From The Barrel and to the US

 One of the best things about traveling is seeing what is out there in the world that can’t be seen from home.

When it comes to spirits traveling abroad often means encountering ex-pat style spirits; bottlings like Blanton’s Straight From The Barrel, an Early Times bottled at 37.1 Proof, or the Wild Turkey 13 Year. These are intriguing because they’re both familiar yet unattainable but they don’t fill a void or represent something new. Their appeal is mostly just that they can’t be had at home.

Despite what the name might imply, the whisky itself is not a single barrel expression.

More frustrating to me are those spirits that I discover but have no recourse to obtain at home. These are products that are fundamentally different from the familiar yet still incredibly appealing and often made by companies that already have products in the States. Products like the Giffard Melon, the Etter Apricot Eau-de Vie, and, until this past month, the Nikka From The Barrel Japanese Whisky numbered among them.

At this point it should be very apparent that Japanese whisky is the soup du jour of the whisky world, but instead of talking about the loss of an age statement or product line being discontinued for once we’re actually seeing an expansion of a product. And not a wholly new formulation specifically designed for a market, just an honest to god expansion of availability.

I first came across the Nikka From The Barrel when traveling to France a couple years ago. Not only was I struck but how incredibly flavorful it was but by how ubiquitous it was. I erroneously assumed it was a specialty release only to hear from the bartenders that it was their mixing Japanese whisky.  Keep in mind that this was pre-Toki when the prices were rising and stock plummeting and the ability to make cocktails with Japanese whisky was dwindling. Yet here was an over-proof, affordable, mixable Japanese whisky.  And I couldn’t have it.

Despite what the name might imply, the whisky itself is not a single barrel expression. It is instead a blend, remember the Japanese whisky makers consider themselves more blenders then distillers. This is Single Malts from Nikka’s Yoichi and Miyagikyo Distilleries, as well as grain whisky from Miyagikyo that has been rested and married in an oak barrel for 3-6 months. It is coming from the blending  barrel not a single barrel.

The extra aging allows the whiskies to marry and evolve together before being bottled at near cask strength, a powerful 102.8 proof. This power of proof and flavor is what made the whisky such an amazing value. There is just so much packed into its little bottle. And the bottle is little. Designed to be reminiscent of a “small lump of whisky” to visualize the concentrated power inside the bottle it is packed as 500ml. This is a bottle size so far outside the allowable norms for US production that I think this more than anything is what kept it from our shores for so long.

With its Stateside release, Nikka kept the same bottle design but simply scaled it to a 750ml size. Not quite as elegant and evocative but it’s always been what’s inside the bottle that counts.

So, what’s inside the bottle? The same blend of malt and grain married for 3-6

It’s also proof that global expansion and demand can be gracious and bring you new experiences and treasures, instead of putting up artificial boundaries.

months in oak casks. Still bottled at 51.4% alcohol this is a big hitter.

The Nose carries a hint of fresh, green fruit, with a baking spice overlay and of course a discernable oak note. The alcohol vapors can accidently overpower some of the more subtle notes if you inhale too deeply on the first sniff.

On the palate is a big, full bodied whiskey. The dark baking spice notes leap to the front. Brown sugar, caramel, and the fruit stays fresh and a touch more citrusy than expected from the nose. The distillate is incredibly clean and dry.

The finish is long, drawn out, and the oak lingers after the alcohol has burned off. A few drops of water really does help mellow this whisky and expand the range of flavor.

What’s truly great about this whisky to me is that it’s simultaneously an entry level whisky and yet not. It’s something the evolves over time, much like the person drinking it.

It’s also proof that global expansion and demand can be gracious and bring you new experiences and treasures, instead of putting up artificial boundaries.

Whiskey Wednesday: The Declaration of Jim Beam’s 200th Anniversary.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

There are some words, some achievements, that are worth celebrating, even if their modern iteration doesn’t live up to its ideals in the popular imagination. It’s hard to find a more iconic American brand than Jim Beam. It’s the #1 selling Bourbon in the world and in many ways the Beam story, both that of the family and of the whiskey, parallels the story of America.

download-3.jpgThe story begins with members of the Böhm family, German immigrants who would latter change the spelling of their name to “Beam,” settled in the Kentucky territory in the late 18th century. The family patriarch, Johannes “Reginald” Beam, was a farmer. And like many farmers of the time he started producing corn whiskey as a way of preserving crops. This side venture lead to the first Beam whiskey to start flowing from the Old Tub Distillery in 1795.

Known as Old Jake Beam Sour Mash, this whiskey proved successful enough that when David Beam took over the family business not only was he able to expand the distribution he was also able to construct a new distillery in Nelson County in 1854. This move came amidst an industrial boom in the country which allowed for modernization of production, and the move to Nelson County allowed for greater use of the massively expanding rail system in the States.

The eponymous James Beauregard Beam over saw the family business both before and after the Great Failed American Experiment of Prohibition. Prohibition interrupted the family production but James was able to rebuild the distillery in 1933 in Clermont, Kentucky in a mere 120 days. It was at this point where “Jim Beam” entered the international lexicon and a member of the Beam family has been at the still, and half the other whiskey stills in the country, ever since.

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The Beam family has spearheaded this spirit for over 220 years now. However, the actual company hasn’t been owned by a Beam since 1945 when it was purchased by Harry Blum, a Chicago Spirits Merchant. It’s changed hands several times throughout the decades but currently it is a subsidiary of Suntory Holdings known as Beam Suntory. The most American of products is now owned by the second largest international beverage corporation in the world.

Flash back to the mid 90’s. Bourbon wasn’t the hip, award winning, auction breaking behemoth that its turned into today, yet it was still worth celebrating. In 1995 Beam released a 200th anniversary edition decanter and it’s like a little time capsule of Bourbon Past crossed with where Bourbon Future.

Decanters used to be the industry gimmick. When no one wanted to drink Bourbon you made the bottle so irresistible that you had to snatch it up. Compare that to the specialty releases of today where a warehouse surviving a tornado is cause for an award winning bottling.

It was a unique bottling. Bottled at 95 Proof and aged for 75 months, also known as 6.25 years. A higher than standard proof and emphasize on aging, albeit in an archaic ,confusing way. Yet ,the most interesting difference is that there is almost no information about this bottle online. No mashbill info, no tasting notes, and only a smattering of secondary market offerings.

We can assume this was the standard Beam mashbill, which puts us at something like a 76% Corn, 12% Rye, 10% Malted Barley with a #4 Barrel Char.

On the nose there is a farm house quality, along with a dusty oak and touch of sweet caramel. The palette gives way to a familiar barrel char, dark stone fruit, and a lively backbone. The liquid is still very much alive even after 20 years in the bottle. The finish is clean and lingers for just an extra moment and leaves the yeasty, dusty feel that, to me at least, is an indelible part of the Beam DNA. In the end this is a bottle that simply, and eloquently, celebrates the style of whiskey that Jim Beam made, makes, and continues to make.

The Declaration of Independence was a larger enough summer blockbuster that it will inevitably get a sequel. And I hope that this time we truly do mean all humankind are created equal, and that the casting is colorblind.

This is a whiskey made by a family of immigrants, who traveled to a new country, set down roots and became synonymous with one of the most iconic, and living, pieces of Americana to ever exist. A hometown hero on the international stage. I just returned from a trip to the Cook Islands which is in the middle of nowhere South Pacific and they had one bourbon: Jim Beam. Yet, this All American Bourbon isn’t even American owned. To me this doesn’t take away from it’s Americanness, in fact in just speaks to how tightly we are tied to the rest of the world. No matter how much we fight it, there is no “Us” and “Them” any more. We’re all in this together.

As I sit sipping this whiskey musing on the fireworks, hot dogs, and pool side celebrations I can’t help but think that the Declaration of Independence was a larger enough summer blockbuster that it will inevitably get a sequel. And I hope that this time we truly do mean all humankind are created equal, and that the casting is colorblind.

Whiskey Wednesday: Decanting Old Fitzgerald Bottled In Bond

Growing old is an interesting proposition.

It’s right there in our language. We GET older, we GROW up whether we like it or not. But these phrases imply a gift. The imply that it is a privilege to age and that we are constantly changing and growing.

Contrast that with the utter fear of aging that our culture exhibits. It’s also right there in our language. We don’t just develop. We deteriorate, mellow, and mature. And at every point along the journey we can’t help but express disbelief at how many chronological ticker marks we’ve accrued. Our own experience is that we are always the oldest that we have ever been, so exclamations like, “I can’t believe 90’s kids can legally drink!” or “Holy Shit, it’s been nearly five years since Old Fitzgerald Bottled-In-Bond was discontinued!” make us feel old and make those older than us roll their eyes at the young ‘uns.

Even in whiskey we want our spirits older, but not too old. Age at a certain point becomes a novelty act, reacting to a new release almost as if to your great-great aunts 97th Birthday, “A 27 Year old Bourbon you say? That’s adorable.” Yet we bemoan the loss of every single age statement, and doubly so when it’s a rocksteady brand that’s stood the test of time yet is still dropped in favor of something new, young, and millennial.

The loss of the Old Fitzgerald Bottled-In-Bond was a loss I felt personally and deeply. While never technically discontinued the Old Fitz was removed from most markets over the past five years in favor of it’s cousin Larceny. Same liquid inside, even still has the Fitzgerald name on the bottle still. It’s technically John E. Fitzgerald’s Larceny, referring to the legend that the original brand was named for.

In short, this tastes like Old Fitzgerald, which is a blessing and a curse

John E. Fitzgerald was a tax bondsman for the U.S. government, which meant that he was one of two people on site at the Old Judge Distillery to have keys to the bonded warehouse. This ensured that there was no theft, since no one could enter the warehouse with out him, and that the government was properly collecting it’s taxes on the whiskey production. However, the workers kept noticing certain honey barrels, the especially tasty ones, were coming up short and that Old Fitz always seemed to have some extra tasty liquid on hand. These barrels became known as “Fitzgeralds” and a brand of whiskey was eventually named after the man and his harmless acts of larceny.

The brand went on to become a working class hero. Bourbon Legend says that the brand was originally sold only to steamships, rail workers, and private clubs. After Prohibition the brand was purchased by Stitzel-Weller, the famed distillery owned by the notorious Pappy Van Winkle. In fact, during his tenure at the Stizel-Weller Distillery Pappy didn’t sell any Pappy. He sold Old Fitzgerald and it was by far their most successful brand. Like all the whiskies made at Stitzel-Weller Old Fitz had that “whisper of wheat” in the mashbill that made their whiskey so unique at the time.

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During the whiskey dark ages of the 70’s and 80’s the brand was purchased by United Distillers, which through several mergers and acquisitions eventually became the behemoth that is Diageo. United Distillers/Diageo closed the Sitzel-Weller distillery in 1994, moved production of Old Fitzgerald to the Bernheim Distillery. Then in 1999 they sold the Bernheim Distillery, and the Old Fitzgerald brand, to Heaven Hill. Heaven Hill continues to make wheated bourbon and releases it under the Old Fitzgerald name to this day.

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The story hasn’t changed. The whiskey hasn’t changed. But the age, the label, and the price certainly have. While Larceny is still a very reasonably priced bottle of whiskey it doesn’t carry the massive bang for your buck that the old Bottled-In-Bond did. And by freeing up the Fitzgerald name from a bargain priced Bottled-In-Bond the team at Heaven Hill have been able to make attempts to push the premiumization of the brand. Some of them more successful than others.

They tested the waters with the one off release of John E. Fitzgerald’s 20 Year Old Bourbon which was some of the last whiskey actually distilled at Stizel-Weller which was released to mixed reviews. And now comes the release of the long awaited Fitzgerald Bottled-In-Bond Decanter Series.

The series will be a limited release each Spring and Fall for the next few years. The throw back to the old label name also comes with a throw back to another old Bourbon tradition: fancy decanters. More important than the glassware though is that this is a Bottled-In-Bond whiskey, it’s 11 years old, and it’s got the price tag to prove it with a suggested retail price of $110.

So how does it stack up?

20180602_164023The packaging and labeling are fantastic. It’s like seeing an old friend after the divorce now that they’ve started working out and gotten a haircut. It still looks like them but a cleaner, fitter, more attractive version of them.

The nose has all the oak you’d expect from an 11-year old, but also a touch of apricot and butter. On the mid palette is black pepper, stone fruit, a hint of nuttiness and a slightly thin caramel which leads into an aggressively woody finish that lingers hot and with a slight exhalation of cherry.

In short, this tastes like Old Fitzgerald, which is a blessing and a curse.

On the one hand I’m incredibly happy to have something that tastes like my old timey Bottled-In-Bond back but at the rarity prices it’s not something I would necessarily pick up off the shelf, and it’s certainly not an every day drinker like it used to be. The extra aging has made the product deeper and mellower but it’s also made it richer and pricier. Much like your recently divorced friend it doesn’t seem interested with hanging out with the same crowd it used to.

In the end I’m happy to see the return of Old Fitzgerald in a semi regular release but it does feel like the difference between hanging out with your college buddies and your great-great aunt. The one you want to see every weekend, the other you’ll drop in on at the holidays. Maybe. If the plane tickets aren’t too expensive.

Whiskey Wednesday: Hibiki’s Resonant Disappearance

Despite being a self avowed fanatic of American whiskey the thing I’ve
found myself writing about and drinking the most recently has been
Japanese whisky.  The last time we spoke way back in December I was
drinking poetic about the Hakushu malts and the fact that though they often seem
to be in the shadow of their Yamazaki counterparts the excellence
of their design meant that it wouldn’t be long before they too
disappeared into a puff of Unicorn smoke.

That opinion seems to have be prophetic with the recent announcement
by Beam Suntory of the “partial” discontinuation of both the Hakushu
12 year and the Hibiki 17 year expressions. While the products will
only be officially discontinued in Japan they will only have “limited
availability in the next few years.” This announcement came as a bit
of a surprise to me with the Hakushu because I haven’t seen it have
the same name recognition and brand power as the Yamazaki does in the
States. But when your distillery is only 45 years old its easy to see
how your supply of 12 year old single malt could be tight.

But the real surprise to me was the Hibiki 17.

The house of Suntory have always considered themselves to be blenders
above all else. While the Single Malts may be the high priced auction
house darling the Hibiki line has always been the jewel in Suntory’s
eye.

Meaning “resonance,” the Hibiki line was first released in 1989, 5
years after the first release of Yamazaki 12 year. Originally
comprised of just the 17-year and the 21-year, a 30-year expression
was released in 1997 and the much missed 12-year was introduced in
2009 before being announced as discontinued in 2015.

Think about that for a moment. The Hibiki 12-year appeared on the
market, soared in popularity, became a staple of the bar world, and
then completely vanished all in the space of 6 years. That’s an insane
trajectory for any brand and is perfect evidence that Japanese whisky
is a truly global product at this point.

The Non-Age Statement Hibiki Harmony hit the market slightly before
the disappearance of the 12-year and despite everyone crying, “Foul!”
many of us were willing to give Beam Suntory the benefit of the doubt
for two reasons: 1) the Hibiki 12-year was the only expression to
utilize whisky that was aged in plum wine casks. They hadn’t
projected for the popularity of the expression, so they discontinued it
because 2) the Harmony wasn’t a replacement for the 12-year. It is
meant to be a more accessible version of the 17-year.

The Hibiki line has always been a blend of whiskies from all three
of the Suntory distilleries: Yamazaki, Hakushu, and
Chita. To them it is the confluence of every unique facet of their
operation. It is meant to represent the ideal of the harmony between
people and nature. The 24 facets of the bottle represent the 24
seasons of the Japanese calendar and invoke the comparison of this
balance to the balance of the malt and grain whiskies in the Hibiki
blend that resides inside the bottle.

This attention to detail is part of what has always set the Hibiki
line apart from my disdain of other blends. And yes, you would have
had to be a real prophet 20 years ago to predict the explosive growth
of the segment, and yes, it’s a real shortage. Bars in Japan are
pouring the Harmony just like we are over here. And yes, the rise of
shochu and decrease in whisky drinking in the 80’s led to lower
production. But the line was introduced in the late 80’s when this
downturn was happening and while the 17-year is being officially
discontinued in Japan it’s “limited availability” will continue to
limp on in the United States. This speaks to the power and demand for
premium aged Japanese whisky in the US, but also can’t help but lend
a tinge of cynicism to the disappearance of the 17-year. Its as if stocks
are being pulled at a younger age to go into blends like the Harmony
to cash in on the popularity wave now versus risking a drop in demand
later.  And if that’s true who could blame them?

In Beam Suntory’s defense, the Harmony is still damn delicious and
their quality has not dropped. They have also consistently stated that
they are ramping up production and that this will be a temporary
hiccup, but how many temporary hiccups have we seen come with a flashy
return and a price hike? (I’m looking at you Old Fitz.)

None of this denies the fact that the Hibiki 17 Year is an amazingly
delicious dram. The nose is full and rich, distinct notes of honey,
with some roasted pear, a touch of smoke and ume plum.

The palette offers a touch of sweetness to go along with the initial
scents with the addition of raisin, oak, and a pithy citrus zest that
carries on to a long finish that turns into an darker
amontillado sherry note with a touch of cacao.

It’s easy to see why this blend is the crown jewel of the Hibiki line,
it’s easy to see how we drank it all out of stock, it’s easy to see
why they may have discontinued this expression to protect the more
award winning 21-year expression, and it’s easy to see why we should
all raise a glass and drink to this resonant whisky and to its equally
evocative moment in time.

Whiskey Wednesday: A Bitter-Sweet Hakushu

Life is a bittersweet balance. I’ve been hosting Whiskey Wednesday for going on six years now. It’s exposed me to more bottles and drams than I can count, constantly challenged me to stretch my creative muscles, and introduced me to some of the most delightful nerds/people that I’ve ever met.  I’ve grown as a person, a bartender, a writer and a insufferable know it all.

I never would have thought six years ago that these Wednesdays would be something that I would still be doing, let alone have my thoughts and notes for them become so expansive that they would undergo a biogenesis into a blog that people actually read. I also wouldn’t have survived all these years with some semblance of my sanity intact if things had stayed stagnant. Change, experimentation, and misplaced passion have kept me going.

And now it’s time for another change. After today, Whiskey Wednesday continues but it’ll become more abstract. Less about every scattered soul flocking to the bar once a week for a drink, and more about raising a glass from where ever we might be. So, for my last night behind the stick for the foreseeable future lets combine the past and the future and pour some Hakushu.

The Hakushu Distillery was found in 1973, 50 years after Yamazaki, it often seems to live in the shadow of its older sibling. It also lives in the shadow Mt. Kaikoma in the Japanese Southern Alps. This was a deliberate choice made by Keizo Saji, the company’s second Master Blender. He chose the site primarily because of the quality of the water. The naturally granite filtered water leant a subtlety and effervescence to the distillate but the site also offered a distinct microclimate with the surrounding forest and with it sitting at 700m above sea level its definitely one of the highest elevations for whisky distillation in the world. For comparison Scotland’s two highest distilleries, Dalwhinnie and Braeval, both sit around 355 meters above sea level.

All of this combines to create a spirit that is lighter, more delicate, and often more mellow than its Yamazaki counter points. Also, unlike Yamazaki, Hakushu utilizes peated malt. When combined with the distillery and terrior this peat takes on more of recently extinguished early morning, mountainside cooking fire than more maritime and often aggressive smokes of the Scots.

The distillery also takes to heart the Japanese respect for nature. It strives for harmony with its surroundings right down to its aging warehouses. Built into the mountain itself they utilize earthquake safe, single story tacks that are about 13 levels high. This kind of aging space, combined with the high elevation has allowed them to mature a spirit with relatively low barrel influence, especially for the age of the whiskey.

As for the whiskey itself, both Hakushu and Yamazaki import their barley, both the peated and unpeated barley. However, they do grind, mash and ferment on site. They have six pairs of stills at Hakushu with at least 4 different shapes. They then utilize five different type of aging casks while primarily focusing on ex-Bourbon and hogsheads. All of this diversity in barley, stills and barrels allows them to create what they call a combination of 40 different styles of whisky. Keep in mind Suntory’s primary craft, as they see it, is blending. And unlike Scotland where even rivals will trade barrels back and forth to get unique flavors for blends, Suntory was essentially trying to build a category from scratch. If they wanted diversity they had to make it themselves. And 44 years later it feels like Hakushu is finally coming into its own.

It may seem odd to call a 44-year-old operation “young” but when your primary marks are a 12 year and 18 year old single malt a 44 year old distillery may not be an infant but its still most certainly a toddler.  Hell, the first release of Hakushu 12 wasn’t until 1994, a solid 10 years after the release of Yamazaki 12 year. And while the Yamazaki has the experience and the award that come with it the Hakushu is certainly flexing it’s muscle.

Both the 12 year and the 18 year are primarily composed of three styles of distillate: unpeated distillate aged in sherry buts, unpeated distillate aged in hogsheads, and peated distillate aged in ex-Bourbon. These truly show off the complexity and depth of the distillery creating a whiskey that is light, yet powerful. The aroma of smoked pears wafts over a palette that is green, with a touch of citrus and smoke. The 18 draws out more of the stone fruit qualities while adding a touch more sweetness from the extra oak.

In short, Hakushu also knows what they’re doing and while it may stay in the shadows of its mountain forest home it won’t be in the shadows of its Yamazaki brethren.

So, come share a glass with me because it won’t be long before Hakushu catches up to the Yamazaki awards and it disappears like a forest mist of rarity and also because who knows where we’ll both be the next time we can.

Whiskey Wednesday: Leopold Maryland Style Rye

Alright nerds, here’s a good one for you today. Maryland Style Rye.
Before the advent of the ‘Great Experiment’ that was Prohibition there were two dominant styles of American Rye Whiskey. The Pennsylvania Style (spicy, dry, and oaky) and Maryland Style, which was more floral, fruit forward and less aggressive. Among the many great things that Prohibition destroyed, Maryland Style Rye was one of them.

But the boys at Leopold Brothers are fighting the good fight and trying to recreate the style in the only way they know how: with exceptional quality and attention to detail. And boy are they fighting hard, you can read about the future here. But as for the pastWhile ye olden Maryland Ryes often achieved their more mellow nature and fruit flavors from additives and prune juice, the brothers are following their eco-distilling nature and recreating the flavors throughWight'sMarylandRye3.jpg careful distillation and selection of yeast strains to create a wholly unique product. They’ve even had an old time compound still made exclusively for them, and are working with local farmers to grow late 1800’s style rye, which has a completely different flavor and starch content than it’s modern descendant.

While we’re still waiting on the first batches off the new still, the current bottling shouldn’t be ignored. Young, but light and green. Green as in like biting into a huge green apple, apricot, and stone fruit. All supported by a rich chocolate malt rounding out to a juicy and more mellow finish than your more familiar ryes.

Whiskey Wednesday Adjacent: Pick Your Apple Poison

You can always tell what a bar manager’s secret passion is. You’ll look at the backbar and no matter how well curated it is there will always be a collection of bottles that are out of place, an odd amount of variety in an esoteric category. For me, that guilty pleasure is apple brandy.

Bourbon may have become the United States Native Spirit through Congressional Resolution in 1964 but Apple brandy, that New Jersey Lightning, is the real first spirit of the colonies. In the cold New England winters colonists would leave cider outside overnight allowing it to freeze. Since alcohol doesn’t freeze what was left over after this rudimentary distilling, or “jacking”, process was a more concentrated alcoholic apple beverage.

This proto-brandy became known as Applejack and had as large a reputation for causing blindness from poor ‘distilling’ as it did for getting the drinker drunk. But it wasn’t long before industrious businessmen started cleaning things up. Robert Laird was a Continental Soldier who served under George Washington during the Revolutionary War. There are records of Washington requesting Laird’s family recipe for “cyder spirits” which has lead to the claim that Laird supplied Applejack to the Continental Army. After the war Laird founded a distillery in Scobeyville, NJ and which is now the oldest licensed distillery in the United States, receiving License Number 1 from the U.S. Treasury in 1780. But the “cyder spirits” and their hard cider cousins did not fair well under prohibition.

Prior to Prohibition most of the apple orchards in the colonies were not the juicy, edible fruit that we think of today. They were in fact the hard, bitterly sour variety that make excellent cider. Apples are what are known as extreme heterozygotes. Essentially, the latent genetic diversity of the actual seeds means that a tree grown from a seed will bare almost no resemblance to the varietal of the parent tree and more often than not will be completely inedible. These types of apples are known as “spitters.” To create consistent apple varieties a process known as grafting, where a budding branch of the parent tree is implanted into existing rootstock essentially cloning the original tree. There were a few issues with getting active graft to the New World in those early Colonial days which meant that most attempts at growing apple trees were from seeds. And while these spitters were terrible for eating they were perfect for cider.

On the frontier, Cider was actually safer to drink than the water so settlers again turned to cider orchards. And many of these orchards were in fact planted by John Chapman, or as he’s better known, Johnny Appleseed. John Chapman was a real man who bares an actual resemblance to his folkhero self. He did wander the frontier planting apples from seeds, but Chapman was more a shrewd businessman than a carefree vagabond.

Starting in 1872, the Ohio Company of Associates promised potential settlers 100 acres of land if they could prove they had made a permanent homestead in the wilderness beyond Ohio’s first permanent settlement. To prove their homesteads were permanent the settlers were required to plant 50 apple trees and 20 peach trees in three years. This proved they were sticking around because an average apple tree took ten years to bear fruit.

Chapman realized that if he stayed just ahead of the settlers, doing the difficult orchard planting he could sell them for profit to the incoming frontiersmen. And being a member of the Swedenborgian Church his belief system explicitly forbade grafting because the thought it caused unnecessary suffering for the plants. Thus his orchards were grown from seeds and unfit for eating but perfect for cider.

Unfortunately, most of Chapman’s orchards were cut down during Prohibition when FBI officers were targeting cider productions and orchards helping hasten the downfall of America’s cider tradition. Meanwhile, the apple brandy world had consolidated with Laird’s being the only game in town. The drinking populace’s tastes also changed looking for lighter, less flavorful options like vodka and blended whiskey which transformed Applejack into a blend of apple brandy and grain neutral spirit. By 1970 Laird’s had shrunk from three distilleries to its single plant in New Jersey. They even ceased production for several years as the stocks on had were more than sufficient for demand.

Flash forward to 2017 and Apple Brandy and cider are riding a resurgent wave. Craft cider producers have expanded the category and given it respectability. Apple brandy got to come along for the ride and also got it’s own boost from the Cocktail Renaissance. Many classic drinks called for “applejack” and I know personally it helped be ease many drinkers off of drinks calling for “apple pucker.”

The variety of apple brandy these days is rather astounding. From classic French Calvados, to Laird’s New Jersey Bottled-In-Bond, to Germain Robin’s French style California apple brandy, to Copper and Kings new wave distinctly American Apple Brandy made right in the heart of Bourbon Country. They are all as unique as the seeds that they sprang from. Which is why I need so much shelf space for them.

Whiskey Wednesday: Elijah Craig Check In

Another year and another barrel of Elijah Craig. The very first single barrel I ever picked out for a bar was a barrel of Elijah Craig for Areal a good five years ago. I’ve been fortunate enough to select an Elijah Craig barrel every year since so its arrival is usually a great touchstone for me to reflect on the previous year. A Bourbon New Year as it were. And it’s been a hell of a year.

I left a bar that I ran for nearly five years that promptly closed six months later. I started a new job at Faith and Flower in Downtown LA, competed in the National finals of three major cocktail competitions, traveled to Tokyo, started this wordy blog, and picked out another barrel of Elijah Craig.

Elijah Craig is often the answer to the inevitable question, “What do you drink?’ I’ve talked about it at length here, and here, and during innumerable shifts behind the bar. The basic gist though is that Elijah Craig is one of the semi-mythical early Bourbon distillers that sometime after his death was decreed to be “the Father of bourbon” after he became the first person to char his barrels before aging his whiskey. It’s a completely unsubstantiated claim that makes a good story. So, we all tell the story and then acknowledge that it’s complete nonsense.

The current Elijah Craig brand was introduced by Heaven Hill in 1986 and has gone through multiple changes in its 30-year history but the past year was quite striking. The iconic 12-year old age statement was dropped from the label with the whiskey instead becoming a blend of 8-12 year old. The old school squat bottle was also replaced with a sleeker, taller, more streamlined bottle that I’m personally not a fan of but does actually fit a pour spout .

If you can’t tell, I don’t like change. And that’s not to say anything against the whiskey. It’s still an earthy, massively tanic, barrel forward whiskey that is one of the few bottles that I think works equally well in both mixed drinks and as a neat sipper. Most of these changes were made because there’s not enough whiskey to go around. Especially not old whiskey. Part of me feels like saying so what? Let there not be enough for everyone, don’t change this bottle that I love. Yet, that view is selfish.

Part of the joy of bartending, and indeed the joy of this very blog, is getting to share things that I love with other people. In the end, these changes aren’t for me. I clearly jumped on the train years ago. These changes are for the people seeing Elijah Craig for the first time on a billboard, or a sports arena, or even hearing about it on its recent NPR advertisements. The old Preacher is growing and hanging out with a younger crowd these days and I’m glad to see it.

In the end change isn’t good or bad. How we react to it, how we deal with it, that’s where the emotion comes in. Sometimes, change is just change. And I look forward to seeing what the Preacher and I have to talk about the next time we see each other.