Category: Whiskey Wednesday

Whiskey Wednesday: Four Roses Al Young’s 50th

Almost every shift I get asked what has to be one of my least favorite questions, “What’s your favorite whiskey?” My response is usually, “That’s like asking a mother to pick her favorite child.” We all know mommy had a favorite but it’s a lot more complicated than it looks at first glance.

Is it a special occasion? What kind of bar am I at? What’s the price of a pour? These are all things that I take into consideration when it comes to what I drink but increasingly when I’m out I find myself ordering Four Roses Single Barrel. Part of this is that the whiskey is damn good, but it’s also the fact that it’s become almost ubiquitous and it’s cost effective. That wasn’t always the case though.

There are a few conflicting stories about the origin of the brand but the one that Four Roses currently promotes is that they were founded by Paul Jones, Jr. who trademarked the name Four Roses in 1888 with a claim of production and sales back to the 1860’s. The name supposedly comes from Jones, Jr. being smitten by an unnamed Southern Belle. He sent her a proposal and she replied that if her answer was “yes” she would arrive at the ball with a corsage of roses on her gown. When she arrived she was wearing not one but four red roses. This legend of romance lead to a romance in a bottle.

After prohibition Four Roses thrived. In the 30’s and 40’s it was the number one selling Bourbon in the United States. In 1943 the brand was purchased be Seagrams who, despite the brands popularity, discontinued the brand in the United States to focus on overseas markets. It quickly became the number one American bourbon in Europe and Asia while at home it became rotgut, blended whiskey, despite Seagrams creating new Bourbon brands in the following decades.

While the Seagrams company might not have been putting out the highest quality brands, they were training some amazing distillers. After Seagrams collapsed in 2000 we began to see the quality that was going on behind the scenes. Because a large part of Seagram’s business was contract distilling and blended whiskey there were a massive amount of recipes being produced at their distilleries that turned out to be absolutely phenomenal drinks on their own. Like Bulliet? That 95% rye mashbill is all made at MGP, the former Seagrams distillery in Indiana. And that Bulliet Bourbon? It was all originally made at the Four Roses.

After the Seagrams collapse Four Roses was purchased by Japanese beer giant Kirin, and while contract distilling remained part of the business this change also allowed Master Distiller Jim Rutledge to win his battle to revive the Four Roses label as an actual Bourbon whiskey.

Rutledge had been with the company since 1966 and had taken over as Master Distiller in 1995. And in 2004 he saw his dream realized as Four Roses was once again sold in the U.S and has quickly reclaimed its reputation of excellence.

Part of that quality again comes from the variety of distillation. Four Roses utilizes two different Bourbon mashbills, both of them high rye recipes, and five different strains of yeast. This allows them to create ten different reciepes each with their own unique characteristics. All ten of these mecipes are blended together for the Four Roses Yellow Label, four of them are used for the small batch, and only a single recipe, the OBSV, is used for my personal favorite Single Barrel.

These bottles have such an ever day, soft spoken elegance that its easy to see why it’s become such a ubiquitous bottle. But these recipe have also allowed some legendary special releases. The latest of which is the Al Young 50th Anniversary Edition.

While Jim Rutledge was the heart of the brand until his retirement in 2015 Al Young has been its face. Al started with the company  only a few years after Rutledge in 1967 and this bottle celebrates his 50 years with the company. Working with current Master Distiller Brent Ellis the bottle is a blend of four recipes: 23 year old OBSV, 15 year old OBSK, 13 year old OESV, and 12 year old OBSF.

The result is a Bourbon that has a lot of fruit, the expected fig and cherry but also a touch of peach and raspberry. The oak is deep, but mellow with a toasted nougat and cinnamon. The bottle is also a throwback design. One of Young’s many hats at Four Roses is as archivist and looking through old ads and press clippings they settled on a bottle design from the year he started.

The end result is a prime example of what has given Four Roses such growth and recognition since it reemerged on the U.S. market. It combines the history, talent, and skill of the company and the people who make it up. Four Roses may still be making blends but this ain’t your granddad’s blend.

Whiskey Wednesday: The Darkest (Bowmore) Timeline

Remember when the regions of Scotland were a thing?  Highlands, Lowlands, Islands, Campbelltown, Speyside, and Islay? For years brand ambassadors and whisky makers preached the golden gospel of the distinct styles of the six regions of Scotland.

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The first problem a lot of people see with this list is that three of the regions are technically just small regions of the other three. Speyside is part of the Highlands, Campbelltown is part of the Lowlands, and Islay is very much an Island. If these three places can have their own unique style why can’t the plot of land down the road have its own style? The truth of the matter is that style is more about the distiller and blender than anything to do with the arbitrary geographical location.

Let’s look at Islay, quite possibly the most distinct and memorable Scotch style. The mere mention of the word Islay causes people’s tastes buds to shiver at the onslaught of peat, smoke, and saltiness of the most famously peated Scotch’s in the world. Yet many of the whiskies coming off the island are completely unpeated. Bunnahabhin is very famously unpeated. Everything coming out of the Bruichladdich distillery that is bottled as “Bruichladdich” is currently unpeated. They have to save up all that smoke for the Octomore. Even amongst the “peat bombs” there is a massive variety of style for such a tiny island.

Lagavulin is like a misty, damp marshland while Laphroig is like a dusty campfire and The Octomore is like smoke gently resting on the briny salt air. And then somewhere in the middle of all this is Bowmore.

Founded in 1779 the Bowmore distillery has been in continual operation except for a brief pause in the World War II to host the RAF Costal Command. It’s never risen to the same height of fame as say, a Laphroig, but they consistently put out great whiskey that seems to walk the line between the styles and practices other distilleries are doing with more flash.

They’re sourcing a good portion of their barley from Islay, similar to Bruichladdich, and they’re giving a the whisky a healthy dose of peat, just like the island island is known for, but they’re also throwing in a fair amount of Sherry barrel aging which is more commonly associated with those Speyside malts on the other side of the country. The Bowmore 15 “The Darkest” hits all these notes perfectly.

It is a 15 year old single malt aged in ex-Bourbon and Sherry barrels for 12 years. The malt is then married together for three years in Olorosso sherry cask that imparts a deep color and melds a gentle smoke together with raisins, dried cherry, and stone fruit with a touch of saltiness and a note of bitter chocolate on the finish. It’s a bottle that can be enjoyed by lovers of peat and lovers of Sherry. Or by lover of Islay or lovers of Speyside malts.

We like easy boxes and categories to help define what we like and don’t like. But just like any complex creation style isn’t about where you come from. It’s about what you make of yourself.

Whiskey Wednesday: Tyrconnell’s Long Odds

Every now and then I like to remind myself that Irish Whiskey isn’t spelt “Jameson’s.” I’ve talked about the explosive growth of Irish Whiskey before but here are some quick facts.

While everyone is gaga for Japanese whiskey as a luxury product Irish whiskey is expecting to double its sales by 2020. In 2014 Jameson’s sold 18 million liters in the US alone. The Scots and the Irish will fight until the Sun goes cold over who first created whiskey but there’s no debating the fact that it was Irish monks that tought most of the Western World how to distill. Hell, even the word “whiskey” is an Anglicization of “uisge beatha” which is Gaelic for water of life. The Irish are indelibly linked to whiskey so what’s the problem? It’s a monoculture.

Need proof? In 2014 Jameson’s closest competitor, Bushmill’s, sold a whopping 1.3 million cases. Jameson’s currently accounts for 63% of the global Irish whiskey market. Monocultures are great for business but are incredibly susceptible to full scale collapse. Look at what’s happening to the Chiquita bananas or how the agave industry is actively working to reinvigorate the gene pool with the Bat project.

Irish whiskey has traditionally lived and died with the American market and like so many other things it was ruined by Prohibition. On top of that throw in the Irish War for independence, a civil war, trade disputes with Great Britain, and you end up with an industry made up of over 160 distilleries and 400 brands reduced to a mere two distilleries in the mid-70’s.

The remains of the Irish whiskey industry banded together to form Irish Distillers which was then purchased by Pernod Ricard in the late 80’s. They then began the massive push to get people to drink Irish. It worked and since 1990 Irish whiskey has been the fastest growing spirit in the world. It’s ballooned the industry with 32 new or proposed distilleries across Ireland. Not bad for an industry long sustained by only four distilleries and of those four only one has been in operation longer that 1975.

It’s a old industry with new blood and the near death of the industry left many historic brands and styles in the grave. Irish Single Malts and Tyrconnell are great examples. Tyrconnell was the flagship brand of the Old Watts Distillery, It takes it name from a racehorse who won the National Produce Stakes in 1876 at literally  at 100 to 1 odds. It was incredibly popular in the US, there are photos of Yankee Stadium at the turn of the century with Tyrconnell ads on the billboards. But prohibition shuttered the brand and the distillery in 1925. The Brand was revived by the Cooley distillery in the 80’s.

It’s made in traditional Single Malt Style, 100% malted barley and double copper pot still distillation with no peat, and then aged in ex-Bourbon Barrels. The 10 Year Old Madeira Cask Finish is my real jam though. A light, fruit forward whiskey with bitter chocolate, green, tropical fruit, and a incredibly creamy finish. It’s one of those whiskies that slips below the radar while being incredibly excellent. And they’ve gotten to the place where they are now planning on a limited release of a 16-year old Single Malt. And maybe that’s the silver lining to the Jameson’s problem.

All of this growth in the Irish whiskey world is being fueled and often literally paid for by sales of Jameson’s. For many people that’s all Irish whiskey will ever be which leaves a lot of hidden gems to be found flowing from the Emerald Isle. The world has caught on to Bourbon, its caught on the Japanese whisky, hell its even caught on to Taiwanese whiskey, but not Irish. Not yet anyway…

The days of Yamazaki and Weller Antique being undervalued have faded and instead of being sipped and shared it’s now being hoarded and auctioned. And i miss sipping and sharing. And at least with Tyrconnell I still can.

Whiskey Wednesday: Unicorns, Whales, and Narwhales

Unicorns are all around. You can see them prancing through the Instagram forest, taunting you with delicious rivulets running down the sides of a glistening Glencairn glass yet the moment you emerge into the fields of the liquor stores they become a distant fable. What happened to these legendary bottles?

The short answer is: they became legendary. As humans we often seem driven to obtain the unobtainable. We strive to climb the highest mountain, to put a man on Mars, and to score a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle for our home bar. Pappy might not be as lofty a goal as the first manned mission to Mars but the spirit is the same. This mentality to obtain the best doesn’t just drive the whiskey market either.

In the world of craft beer the legendary brews are known as ‘whales’ and if you ever wanted to see a brewmaster roll their eyes and grit their teeth ask them

When everyone wants a unicorn what happens to all the workhorses?

about the notorious ‘Whale Hunters.’ These Sudsy Ahabs sail the special event scene, spear the rarest beer on tap, drain the keg and disappear, often without supporting the breweries core beer and usually never to be seen again. They don’t add value to the bar, or even necessarily to the brand, they’re just looking to score something that they feel only they can appreciate before anyone else can be exposed to it.

While the Unicorn and Whale market have certainly spurred growth, especially in the craft scenes, and have been some of the biggest drivers of the infamous Booze Black Market they have an unseen downside. When everyone wants a unicorn what happens to all the workhorses?

Unicorn bottles like the Pappy’s, or the Parker’s Heritage, or the Old Forester

The current whiskey boom has created a feedback loop where what were once reliable bottles are becoming, maybe not unicorns but certainly narwhales.

Birthday Bourbons are great special occasion bottles but they can’t support a distillery on their own. You need good product, at a good price, that people want to drink frequently yet responsibly. The current whiskey boom has created a feedback loop where what were once reliable bottles are becoming, maybe not unicorns but certainly narwhales.

Take the W.L. Weller line up. Created by William Larue Weller the brand has existed since the 1840’s and enjoyed great popularity at the time. Julian ‘Pappy’ Van Winkle joined the Weller Company as a salesman in 1893 and after W.L. Weller passed away in 1899 Pappy and Alex T. Farnsley purchased the company in 1908. A. Ph. Stitzel had been under contract to produce whisky for the Weller Company and after a merger in 1933 the infamous Stitzel-Weller Distillery opened in 1935. The distillery made W.L. Weller, Old Fitzgerald and many other whiskies (but no Pappy Van Winkle) until it shut down in 1992. The Weller brand was than purchased by Buffalo Trace in 1999 where it is currently made along side it more famous Van Winkle cousins.

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A.H. Hirsch 16 Year Special Reserve

At face value this story is similar to many other whiskey brands that existed before and after Prohibition. It enjoyed early success, sluggish sales in the middle of the century and has been enjoying rising tides with the rest of the Bourbon industry. But between Stitzel-Weller’s closing in 1992 and today we’ve been struck full force with the Bourbon Boom and Pappy Mania. And once the word got out that Weller was just “young, cheaper Pappy” stocks began to get bought up, and people saw a chance to raise prices.

What was once a great everyday workhorse is slowly becoming something pricy and privileged rather than welcoming and friendly. And I say this as a spoiled man who just received a House Single Barrel of Weller Antique 107. This is going to be an everyday whiskey for myself and for the bar at Faith and Flower but we almost didn’t end up with it because of its Narwhale reputation.

Due to a snafu in the warehouses people who were not myself, or my bar, were able to order cases of our current barrel. And the entire barrel blew out of stock in less than 24 hours. And I first found out about this situation by being linked to a post of someone selling bottles of it on the Secondary Market for $70!

While all the one hand it’s flattering that someone would want to pay so much for a barrel I’ve picked out, it’s also infuriating not only because it feels like someone stole one of my favorite toys but because that’s highway robbery on the price. They weren’t just stealing from me, they’re stealing from the people they’re selling it to as well.

Thankfully we were able to retrieve all of the cases (minus a few missing bottles) and I can continue to wage my war against it becoming a true unicorn by making Old Fashioned Cocktails with it. But where does this unicorn hunt leave us?

Let’s look at the craft beer world again. For the first time in nearly two decades beer growth and consumption is down, not slowing. A gentle decline has emerged. Many analysts point to breweries being bought out by massive conglomerates and to choice fatigue, there are just so many damn options that its exhausting. But they also point out that people aren’t drinking less they’re just moving to other drinks. Like whiskey.

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What if these craft beer drinkers became exhausted not by choice but by the hassle and work needed to get they’re favorite brew, or were so discouraged by never being able to get a thimble of Pliny the Younger that they tried something else, say a workhorse Bourbon. Turns out they liked it and moved into a new category of drinking. What happens when these same problems invade the Whiskey World? How long can we maintain growth in an industry when the goalposts keep moving?

On the other hand, while my philosophy has always been education and approachability, I have felt the sting of working an entire year to craft a bar program that delivers everyday excellence, to then earn that one shinning Unicorn of a bottle and priced it in a way to reward thirsty travelers in their search only to have that one Unicorn Hunter swoop in an annihilate the bottle. It’s a balancing act that we’re all going to have to get better at if we want to keep this Whiskey Boom from going belly up.

Drinking Poetic (on a Wednesday): Highballs

I’m a whiskey purist. Bourbon, Scotch, Japanese, Barrel Strength, it doesn’t matter, I drink it neat. For years I was determined that not even a drop of water would come between myself and my sweet, sweet barrel aged nectar. What’s changed me? The highball.

Highball_Signal_Jun_12      The highball is nothing new. It’s a simple class of drinks: a shot of spirit diluted with several ounces of a carbonated beverage on ice. My favorite rationale for where the term “highball” originated from comes from the old railroad days. Along the rail tracks there were “highball” signals where a ball would be hoisted out of a barrel signaling that the track ahead was clear and the trains could travel full speed ahead. A “highball” drink was at the time served in a highball glass with a single lump of ice. As the soda was added to the glass the ice would rise just like the highball signal telling drinkers they could dive in at full speed as well as quickly down the remainder of the drink when their train pulled in.

Like most classic it was simple, easy, and was much abused during the 70s, 80s and 90s becoming barely recognizable but it’s still a class of drinks that people still know the name for.  But the highball that interests me, the undiluted purist, is a straight whiskey soda.

My first highball in Japan was out of a can.

Ask for a Whiskey Highball in the U.S.A and there’s a good chance you’re going to end up with a whiskey and ginger and even this combo wasn’t enough for the sugar loving American palette and has been vastly over shadowed by its cousin the Jack and Coke. But in Japan the Whisky Highball has been elevated to an art form. I had heard the hype but it wasn’t until I visited Tokyo this year that I finally understood.

My first highball in Japan was out of a can.  I would never even consider getting a canned mixed drink from a 7/11 in the States but when you cross the international date line and land in the future and your hotel room isn’t ready for another 7 hours what else are you supposed to do while walking through the city?

From the moment that can touched my lips all I drank for the rest of that trip was highballs. And what struck me everywhere was the balance and the quality.

It was expected in Ginza. It was a random bar that we didn’t know the name of. The bartender knew maybe a handful of English words but when we ordered Suntory Highballs he enthusiastically pulled every Suntory whisky he had from the back bar to try and walk us through which one we actually wanted, and then thoughtfully poured the whisky over hand carved ice, stirred, and topped with soda before continuing on to casually brulee half of a passion fruit for the garnish of another customers drink. But when the highball at the chain ramen shop where you have lunch is just as elegant you know there’s something special happening.

It’s an attention to detail and a respect for the process. Each person who poured me a highball had respect for the process in their own way. Its easy to see, and taste, why highballs are a cultural force in Japan. And with the rise of Japanese Whisky across the world the Japanese are trying to export their highball ethos as well.

Suntory and Nikka have both made moves to position themselves in the highball world. Suntory has even released the Suntory Toki in the states, a blend specifically designed for the taste profile, and price point, of a highball. But the problem for me with the Highball in the States is the soda. Doesn’t matter how good or finally designed your whisky is the moment it is smothered by carbonated water from the gun, or drowned with a bottle of Canada Dry it’s lost it’s edge. There’s just simply a difference in the quality of bubbles.

Its odd to call a machine thoughtful but all good bartending has a certain degree of prep that happens behind closed doors.

Enter the Toki Highball machine. My first thought on hearing about this highball machine was why the hell would I need a machine to make the simplest drink on the planet?! But after my eyes were opened in the Land of The Rising Sun I approached the machine in a new light.

The design and execution of this machine are thoughtful. Suntory was aware of the problems of trying to export their highball style and worked to eliminate as many roadblocks as possible. Not only does the machine have the necessary refillable whisky tank, but also a separate water cooling system. It then carbonates with amazing specificity and will dispense the sparkling water independent of the whisky. My bubbles problem was solved.

It also adds a measure of thoughtfulness back into the process. Its odd to call a machine thoughtful but all good bartending has a certain degree of prep that happens behind closed doors. Whether it’s batching, technique training, or infusion,s a good portion of our job is doing the work out of sight so that the customer can sit at the bar and enjoy a seamless, delightful night out on the town. And the behind the scenes work has definitely been done to bring these highballs from Tokyo to LA.

So rejoice! Tonight is the unveiling of the Toki Highball machine at Faith and Flower. Come see exactly what I mean.

Whiskey Wednesday: Islay Barley

When you think of whisky and what gives it it’s flavor what springs to mind? Is it the mashbill, the barrel type, the aging location and length? Chances are good terrior didn’t spring to mind but the team at Bruichladdich would like to change that.

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Bruichladdich is a distillery that blends history and modernity. Founded in 1881 the distillery was, at the time, the most modern distillery on the island of Islay. It wafted in and out of popularity until the distillery was mothballed in 1994 for being “surplus to requirements.” It gained new life in 2000 when it was purchased by a group of private investors who dismantled and revamped the entire distillery once again making it one of the most modern distilleries on the island. They also brought with them a lot of experience in the wine world including a deep reverence for terrior, a reverence that has survived the distilleries sale to Remy Cointreau.. They also made two great decisions in their early days 1) hiring the legend Jim McEwan to be their master distiller and 2) deciding to actually grow barley on the island of Islay.

Scotch does not require the barley to be Scotch. To be Scotch that barley needs be distilled in Scotland not grown there. This is very reflective of the mentality that terrior doesn’t matter in whiskey. It’s not that distillers don’t care about the quality of the barley but rather that with so many other factors effecting the final product the terrior was way down the scale of importance, especially once the economics of scale set in.         download-1.jpg

The early days of whisky making were a local affair. A farmer had excess crops, they distilled them to preserve the grain, and sometimes managed to sell some of the spirit for extra profit. Many of these farm distilleries were successful enough to grow into commercial affairs but most did not survive the true industrialization of the spirit industry in the early 19th century. This was when improvements in technology and more interconnected trade allowed whisky making to become a large scale, commercial endeavor.

While there is some evidence that there was barley being grown on Islay before this time the advent of these large distilleries made in commercially unviable. These new distilleries were also all on the coast where they had their own piers or shallows where a flat-bottomed boat could dock. This made it more economic for these distilleries to import cheap grain from the mainland and export whisky.

As these distilleries continued to grow they also out grew the ability of the island to grow enough barley for them. There just simply isn’t enough land to supply all the barley these industrial distilleries need, so the farmers stopped growing the barley and turned to more economically advantageous pursuits.

Bruichladdich changed all of this in 2004 when they partnered with a local farmer named Raymond Stewart at Kentraw Farm on Richard Macaeire’s Foreland Estate on the Rhines. Raymond grew barley and Bruichladdich distilled it. The first release of the Bruichladdich Islay Barley was released in 2010. Each release is dated with the year of the barley’s harvest and labeled with which farm it called home.

Some of these releases have been stunners, the 2007 Rockside Farm is something I wish I’d squirreled away a few bottles of, but growing barley on the island of Islay is extremely finicky. The 2009 and 2010 releases of Islay Barley were blends of several farms. Still distinctly labeled but you can’t help but feel that the strong idea of terrior is running into the old problem of supply.

This blend of farms may be a temporary hiccup as the Islay Barley series has expanded. Bruichladdich divides its products into three core lines: Bruichladdich (unpeated whiskey), Port Charlotte (heavily peated whisky), and the Octomore (experimental, cask strength, super heavily peated whisky). The Port Charlotte is also utilizing a blend of farms but the Octomore is not. But then again the Octomore has always been a unique case with all of its barley coming from the farm of Octomore a mere 2 miles from the distillery.

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In the end, these are whiskies that are still evolving. Not just with different bottlings from year to year but also in terms of the process of making the whisky. And they are hit or miss. Barring the previously mentioned Rock Hill Farm the Bruichladdich Islay Barley releases have been interesting at least but the Port Charlotte’s have always fallen flat for me. I’m inclined to think that it’s because of the peat adding one more layer of obfuscation between the original barley and the finished whisky. The Octomore Islay barley however is a stunning beauty of a whisky with a layered elegance and subtle floral quality the belies its status as a cask strength monster and is one of the most heavily peated whiskies in the world.

Bruichladdich is the first Scottish distillery to put such a laser sharp focus on the terrior. They are experimenting and finding new boundaries inside of one of the most heavily defined spirits in the world and for that they should be applauded. Whether this experiment continues to grow and leave its own terrior on the whisky world or if it succumbs to the economics of industrial scale production has yet to be seen.

 

Whiskey Wednesday: The Art of Kavalan

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If the Scots are the craftsman of the whisky world, passing down tradition and technique year after year because it works, then the Japanese are the engineers, dissecting and reassembling each component part. The Taiwanese are the artists, free willing and experimental; it’s insane that we can even make that analogy because there is only one distillery in Taiwan and it’s barely into its Tween years.

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After Taiwan joined the WTO in 2002 Mr. Tien-Tsai Lee, founder of the KingCarbeverage conglomerate, was finally able to enter the whisky world and established the Kavalan distillery in 2005. The distillery takes it’s name from the Taiwanesse aboriginal ethnic group that originally inhabited Yilan county where the distillery is located in northeastern Taiwan. The distillery is built with classic Scottish pot stills and massive technological steps were taken to protect the fermentation and the distillation from the Taiwanese heat. Rather than adhere to how things are done traditionally they have worked to embrace the natural elements of Taiwan, most notably climate, to create something unique in the increasingly crowded whisky landscape.

The distilleries first new make flowed from the stills in early 2006 and the distilleries first whisky, the Kavalan Classic Single Malt, was released in December of 2008. That is a massively fast turn around for a new single malt. For the Scotch and the Japanese you can’t even legally call a product whisky until its aged for a minimum of three years and most distillers in those countries would call a three year old far too immature and unripe for release. This brings us back to the climate.

download.jpg            Almost every year, as reliable as new iPhone releases, someone touts a new aging process that’s a breakthrough that allows for rapid aging, creating the equivalent of a 12-year old scotch in a fraction of the time. In every case the whisky produced by these methods either never materializes or falls vastly short of it’s lofty goals. I’d be just as skeptical of the claims that once the team at Kavalan stopped resisting the humidity and heat of the sub-Tropical Taiwanese environment they were able to rapidly age their product if the whisky in the bottle wasn’t so damn good. As their Master Blender Ian Chang says, “We think of our heat as a sandpaper and our newly made spirit as a rock with edges,”

But it’s not just the unique climate. Kavalan is also exceptionally good at cask management. This cask management truly shines in their Soloist series.

The Soloist series is a lineup of Single Cask, Cask Strength, and Single Malt whiskies and it is these releases that made drinkers sit up and take notice. It is called the Soloist line because every release is like a soloist in a concert where their classic series is the whole orchestra. These releases quickly gained notoriety until in 2015, a mere ten years after breaking ground on the distillery, one of these releases, the Vinho Barrique, won “World’s Best Single Malt” in the World Whiskies Awards.

The Vinho Barrique harnesses the climate and marries it with excellent cask IMG_4520selection. The casks use a shave, toast, and re-char process on old Portuguese wine casks that creates a heavy oak influenced whisky. But rather than produce the heavily tannic, overly woody notes we often see in American quarter casks, instead it’s a finely tuned balance with rich dark berries, plum, and tropical fruit dancing along the edges of the oak’s vanilla and tannin while swimming in the traditional malt backbone of a well aged whisky. Being bottled at cask strength cuts through what could have been a cloying sweetness to instead add a spice note that allows the finish to linger long into the night.

 

This award and bottling blew the roof off of Kavalan and their prices soon followed. In fact, many of the Soloist series had to be turned into standard issue, non-cask strength releases for the U.S. to keep up with demand even with the distillery expanding in 2015 to become the 9th largest single malt distillery in the world. They’re still experimenting and utilizing that climate and those casks with a new series of single barrel, cask strength, sherry and port cask releases that you’ll probably never casually encounter without a starting price tag of $400+ per bottle.

So what are you likely to encounter? Well, with the Soloists taking a quick intermission the concert continues with the Kavalan Classic that we mentioned before. Keep in mind this is a young distillery, no matter what accolades they’ve accrued, and they’re still playing with their formula. Point in fact, the Classic is an 80 proof bottling for most of the world but to appeal to American palates and American fans of the overproof work, here it’s bottled at a slightly bigger 86 proof.

A blend of ex-Bourbon, ex-sherry, and ex-wine casks all about 4-4.5 years old it doesn’t drink like a young whisky and has a lighter complexion. Stone fruit, a touch of floral sherry, and vanilla with a distinctive toasted malt are all present. But it doesn’t hold a candle to the bonfire that is the Vinho Barrique or really any of the Soloist single barrels. Which is a shame because those bottles are quickly becoming unicorns.

In the end it comes back to our craftsman vs. engineers vs. artists. The artists at Kavalan have produced a few shining masterpieces but they haven’t quite mastered the skill that sets the craftsmen and the engineers apart: blending. The Japanese have been able to set themselves apart by truly understanding and controlling every drop of whisky to blend it together to create art and the Scots have years of tradition that makes it seem a natural talent. Kavalan is just dipping its brush into the wider world of consistency.

Just as the Taiwanese heat seems to speed their whisky more swiftly to maturity, Kavalan itself has sped right into all the major touch stones of the modern whisky world: craft distilling, underdog appeal, rapid growth and awards, price hikes and shortages. No matter where it goes from here there is no denying that Kavalan is true global player.

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Whiskey Wednesday: Knob Creek 25th Anniversary

Bourbon is an old tradition, dating back hundreds of years to our rugged frontier forefathers and foremothers who proved their American spirit by making a distinct product using brilliant recipes and methods that they would pass down unchanged to us to be poured into a glass for our drinking pleasure today. At least according to the marketing materials  it is… the truth is a bit more complicated.

Although the term “Bourbon” is associated with whiskey as early as the 1820s, “Bourbon” was only declared the native spirit of the United States by Congress 53 years ago with the passing of a 1964 resolution. And the definition of “Whiskey” as a spirit distilled from grain, and Bourbon as a spirit distilled from 51% corn is only 108 years old. President William Howard Taft put the definition in place in 1909 as part of the Safe Food and Drug Administration Act of 1906. Yes, it took him three years to come up with the definition of “Bourbon whiskey.” But with the start of Prohibition a mere 11 years away its questionable how many people would have enjoyed whiskey that lived up to these new regulations. Think about that the next time someone tells you their whiskey is “Pre-Prohibition Style.”

All of this is to say that tradition is long and constantly changing and in the adjusted timeline some landmarks are bigger than they appear at first. Like, for instance, Knob Creek’s 25th Anniversary.

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Knob Creek was the whiskey child of Booker Noe, grandson of Jim Beam who tookover as Head Distiller of his grandfather’s distillery in 1965. Booker, along with Elmer T. Lee and Jimmy Russell, is credited with the revitalization of the Bourbon market at the end of the 80s with the introduction of now iconic brands of Bourbon. Booker first released Booker’s Bourbon in 1988 to much acclaim, and this was quickly followed up with Baker’s, then Basil Hayden’s and Knob Creek in 1992. These are the heart and soul of the Jim Beam Small Batch collection, which led the way in many respects for the premiumization of Bourbon.  None of these have survived to their 25th year with out some alteration.

Knob Creek is named after the stream that ran alongside Abraham Lincoln’s childhood home in Kentucky and is Booker’s take on  “Pre-Prohibition Style” whiskey. A term that we can now see is as nebulous as those early definitions of whiskey.

In this case it meant a Bourbon whiskey bottled at 100 proof and carrying an age statement of 9 years. Traditional Knob Creek is a deep caramel color, with a nose that carries a lot of oak, along with a touch of maple and baking spice, a super vanilla, white pepper, and dark cherry palette with a earthiness and dustiness that I can only associate with Jim Beam yeast, and a gripping, dry finish that is a bit bracing at 100 proof. It’s iconic. Immutable.

Except it wasn’t. In 2001 Booker, who had continued to oversee the brand well into his 70’s, passed the torch to his son Fred. And shortly after the Bourbon boom that Booker had helped create hit full force.

Knob Creek expanded. In 2010 Knob Creek Single Barrel hit the market. It was a natural expansion, still 9 years old but bottled at 120 proof from a single barrel. Then they began releasing a non age statement Knob Creek Rye in 2012, followed in 2013 by ae008e3717aca1adfe229d4d561643efthe Knob Creek Smoked Maple, a bourbon flavored liquor bottled at 90 proof. Then camethe inevitable. In 2016, just shy of 25 years, Beam Suntory announced that Knob Creek would be dropping its age statement. That same year the Knob Creek 2001 was released; a 13 year, Cask Strength release comprised of the last barrel that Booker Noe laid down before passing the torch to his son.

Jim Beam has followed up with a 25th Anniversary release appropriately named Knob Creek 25thAnniversary. It’s a limited release of 300 barrels, all between 12-13 years old and bottled between 120-125 proof that is exactly what it sounds like: bigger, more intense, Knob Creek.

Whether you’re going by the centuries old “traditional” definition or adhering  to a more modern practice twenty five years is still a milestone worth celebrating in the midst of so much change. Hell, maybe a few more milestones like this will help us truly appreciate that some change is as much a part of Bourbon heritage as all those pre-Prohibition style ways of making it are.

Whiskey Wednesday: Compass Box Directions

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There are things that I love and there are things that I intellectually love. There’s a Venn Diagram where these two worlds merge but the edges are blurry and unscientific. Compass Box falls squarely in the grey area of these circles.

Over the past 17 years Compass Box has certainly marketed themselves as the hip, bad boys of the Scotch world while simultaneously pushing for greater education, transparency, and innovation in the category. As in so many things these days, the nerds have become the cool kids.

Founded in 2000 by former Johnie Walker marketing director and fellow American, John Glasser, Compass Box labels themselves as ‘whiskymakers’ a term the fully admit they made up. To them a whiskymaker is someone who “feels a need and an obligation to make things better – to ask questions, to challenge, to experiment.” In a traditional sense what they are is a blending house, not dissimilar to Johnnie Walker. They source whisky, both grain and single malt, from various distilleries throughout Scotland and then blend them together to create something, hopefully, unique and larger than the sum of its parts. Where Compass Box excels though is putting their own spin on the process. However, this personal spin often causes friction with the Scotch powers that be.

In 2005 they were forced to discontinue one of their “Signature Range” blends, the Oak Cross because of the aging process used to create it. Compass box was aging the blend with flat, French Oak staves placed inside the barrel to produce a different flavor, not dissimilar to what Maker’s Mark is doing with Maker’s 46. The Scotch Whisky Association, the trade organization that functions as the defacto Scotch whisky government, felt that this aging process

violated the Scotch Whisky Regulations and in the face of legal action the Spice Tree was discontinued. It was later revived by aging the blend in barrels that had be recoopered to included French Oak barrel heads, instead of barrel inserts. This helped give them an early reputation for innovation, and for standing up to the traditional, closed of Scotch makers.

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This reputation was solidified in 2015 when they locked horns with the ScotchWhisky Association again, this time over transparency.  Compass Box had been shipping informational cards with their blends fully disclosing the source, style, age, and percentages of all of the component whiskies for their blends. The SWA felt that this violated both UK and EU laws, which state that a whisky may only list the age of the youngest whisky in the blend no matter the proportions. According to the SWA if you add a cupful of three year old whisky to a barrel of 50 year old whisky you now must label that as a three year old whisky. This is why blends like Johnnie Walker Blue will hint that there is 30 year old whisky in the bottle but you’ll never find that number actually on the packaging. Compass Box and John Glasser said, that fine will call it three year old whisky but drinkers want transparency and we want to be able to tell them exactly what makes up our bottle.

In another compromise, Compass Box has backed down from mailing out these images.jpginserts, but still makes them available online and they started the Scotch Whisky Transparency Campaign, which outlines their goals and what exactly they would like to see changed in the regulations.

None of this would be possible with out the whisky though. And John Glasser and Compass Box are excellent blenders. Take the Compass Box Asyla from their Signature Range. “Asyla” is plural for asylum and is a blended whisky, comprised of both grain and malt whiskey. Specifically, 50% Grain Whisky from Cameron bridge aged in first fill bourbon barrels, 5 % Malt whisky from Glen Elgin aged in refill hogshead, 23% malt from Teaninich aged in first fill American and 22% malt from Linkwood aged in First Fill American. Can you see how much the nerd it me loves having that information to pick apart?! The final product ends up leading with a light vanilla fruit from the predominant grain whisky with a floral, grassy, and stone fruit character added from the supporting malts. It’s an immensely approachable everyday whisky that I personally recommend for drinkers of Johnnie Walker almost every time I’m behind the bar and I have been for years. That’s part of the problem though, as I see it at least.

Despite years of bartenders recommending the product, and the whisky nerds geeking out I don’t know who’s actually drinking the whiskey. I can’t recall anyone ever calling for it by name. I often wonder if I’ve bought into what amounts to a marketing gimmick of transparency and rebel attitude. It comes into starker focus when you look at their limited releases. They’re clearly thumbing their noses at the SWA with their “Three Year Extravaganza” release which feature less than 1% of a three year old whisky blended into a malt whisky of “undisclosed age” and their recent “Double Single” flips the traditional blenders script of including only a single rain whisky and a single malt whisky blended together. They’re interesting experiments, and clearly push at limitations but it still feels like they’re exploiting the system.

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They get to be the white night. Championing for greater transparency and new regulations while a vat amount of the whiskies for their blends from Diageo, the largest liquor conglomerate in the world who has a vested interest in the status quo. Brag to your customers that you’re fighting for their interests, knowing that it’ll probably never happen, and then thumb your nose at the establishment with cheeky releases while charging establishment specialty prices.

But none of this takes away from the fact that I genuinely enjoy their blends. But I’m still not sure where they fall on the Venn Diagram. Because when there’s so much to be said about a whisky company and a mere 5% of it is about the actual liquid in the bottle maybe that’s why I don’t experience calls for specific Compass Box whiskies. Maybe we’re having the wrong conversation.

Whiskey Wednesday: Traditional Yoichi Changes

After taking a look at what could be classified as one of the old school classics of Japanese Whisky, the new kid on the block, and the Americans jumping on the bandwagon I wanted to take a look at how things change.

            While the Japanese Whisky world is less than 100 years old it is still deeply rooted download-1.jpgin tradition, both its own and the Scotch Whisky tradition that gave birth to it, so change comes slowly. And while whiskey history is littered with mythological founding fathers modern Japanese Whisky owes it’s life and it’s tradition, to one man: Masataka Taketsuru.

     Born in 1894 Taketsuru was born the third son of a family of sake brewers in Takehara, a mere 60km outside of Hiroshima. The Taketsuru family trace their roots as sake brewers back to at least 1733 and Masataka was expected to take over the family business after his older brothers showed no interest, but like many young men Masataka became enamored with the magic of whisky. Specifically Scotch whisky.

            In 1918 Masataka seized on an opportunity to study abroad in Scotland andenrolled in the University of Glasgow to study organic chemistry. It is one of the truths of the world that no matter how hip marketing makes the booze you drink look it’s always being made by a chemist.

            In April 1919 he apprenticed at the Longmorn distillery in Speyside and not long after met Jesse Roberta “Rita” Cowan, a red headed Scottish beauty that he loved even more than whisky, and who would remain his muse for the rest of his life. The two supposedly fell in love when they sang Auld Lang Syne together and  married in 1920 rita-masataka-1.jpg(over objections from both families) and in May of that same year Taketsuru began an apprentice at Hazelburn distillery where he gained a greater understanding of blending whiskey as well as distilling. He and Rita returned to Japan that November with plans to help the Settsu Shozo Company set up the first Japanese Whisky distillery. These plans never came to fruition.

In 1923 Taketsuru entered a 10-year contract with Kotobukiya Limited, what we now know as Suntory, and along with Suntory’s founder and first Master Blender Shinjiro Torii helped found and build the Yamizaki Distillery. Torii had originally made inquiries for a “whisky expert” in Scotland but was told he already had one back home. The pair worked closely together to construct the Yamazaki Distillery but when their first whisky hit the market the Suntory Shirofuda was a massive dud. At the time blame was placed on the Japanese drinkers preference for lighter, blended whiskies as wells as Takesuru’s refusal to budge on doing things the ‘Scottish way.” Taketsuru was shunted away from the distillery he helped build over to a beer factory where he served out the remainder of his 10-year contract.

In 1934, finding himself free to pursue his own goals again, Taketsuru formed the Dainnippon Kajuu, Co. which roughly translates to ‘Great Japan Fruit Juice Company’ and while everyone was expecting him to make apple juice he constructed the Yoichi Distillery in Hokkaido.

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Hokkaido was chosen because its climate reminded Takesuru so strongly of Scotland. It also gave him easy access to barley and peat and in 1940, despite the ensuing war, he released the first bottles of Nikka Whiskey. Unfortunately, the war caused all whisky to be labeled as a commodity critical to national defense and Taketsuru spent the rest of the war making cheap military ration whiskey for the troops. Another setback, but one that allowed the distillery to survive where many did not.

The company officially changed its name to the Nikka Whisky Distilling Co. in 1952 and quickly became the second largest producer of Japanese whisky, building a second distillery in Miyagikyo in 1969 and nipping at the heels of Taketsuru’s old employer’s and Suntory creating a lasting rivalry. That rivalry has in many ways led to the quality of product that is being seen in Japanese Whisky today.

But success has led to its own issues. Both Nikka and Suntory have been unable to keep up with global demand for whisky that was once merely the dream of a single man. Products that brought them to the international stage have lost their age statements or disappeared entirely.

It used to be said that if you truly wanted to get to the heart of the Suntory style you should drink Hibiki 17 and likewise if you wanted to get to the heart of Nikka pour yourself a dram of the Yoichi 15 Year single malt. Well, the former is now a unicorn of price and supply and the latter has been discontinued and replaced with a Non-Age Statement bottle simply called “Yoichi Single Malt.”

The pot stills at Yoichi are direct coal heated which are temperamental at best and the Yoichi style has always been at least slightly peated. The result is an aromatic nose that lets the smoke roll out of the glass. There’s a touch of sea salt and soot with citrus oils. On the palette the plum and apples lead, followed quickly by a salty, smoky tang reminiscent of a cold fire on a night time beach before being washed with a long, luxurious finish with the smoke becoming more savory.

It’s an elegant whisky but it doesn’t match up to the 15 year. There’s an element of time that can’t be replaced. This new Yoichi is aggressive where the old 15 year was confident and that’s a fine distinction at times.

This doesn’t mean it’s a bad whisky. It’s different. It’s a change. It’s another step in the evolution of an industry that is really just coming into its own, no matter how much tradition and expertise it draws on. And it’s a reminder that nothing, not even your 200 year old family whisky recipe, is permanent. So grab a glass, pour a dram, and contemplate the ephemeral nature of life while you can.

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