Tag: Spirits

Whiskey Wednesday: The Three Chamber Rye

Alright, let’s get this out of the way: I am a Leopold Brothers fan, I’ve been a fan of their work for years. They are one of the best examples of what a mid-sized distillery can offer to the larger spirits world. They’re not trying to grow beyond their capacity and that capacity is often defined by quality standards, not production goals. They once said that what they make is liquid food, and their products back it up.

But with all of those standards and expectations comes a pressure to deliver. Especially when it comes to the Three Chamber Rye.

The Three Chamber Rye journey is one that I have followed for years, for at least as long as I’ve been writing Bottled-In-Bond, LA. In fact it was something that I was able to taste right off the three-chambered still before it had ever been bottled. The pressure of those years since tasting the white dog on my expectations has been enormous but to truly understand why we need a history lesson.

The Three Chamber Rye takes its name from the still used to produce it. While many people these days are familiar with the difference between a pot still and a continuous still, chances are they’ve never heard of a three chamber still. That’s because the last one was decommissioned just after the end of Prohibition. 

But before Prohibition the three chambered still was the tool for making rye whiskey in the United States. We know this because of the Crampton and Tolman papers. These were two reports commissioned by the IRS after the passing of the Bottled In Bond Act of 1897. These papers would become the basis for the standards of identity for what would define a bourbon, a rye, or other spirits aged in wood in the US. Every distillery that was surveyed that produced rye whiskey, except one, used a chamber still.

The three chamber still works much like its name suggests, there are three chambers stacked on top of each other. Each chamber is separated by a valve to prevent wash from each chamber from flowing into the other. The best way to understand how it works though is to start at the end with the third chamber.

This is where the mash from the last run will have ended up as the last stop of the process. Stripped of almost all alcoholic content and essentially stillage, this spent mash is pumped out of the chamber. 

The valves on the other chambers are opened one by one and the mash from chamber two flows down into the third by gravity, the mash from chamber one flows into chamber 2 and the first chamber is refilled from the pre-heating chamber.

Once all of the chambers are filled the steam valve is opened. It rises through the bottom (third) chamber, extracting oils and flavors, passes up into the middle (second) chamber, extracts alcohol and more flavor, continues up into the first chamber continuing its extraction before passing into a heat exchange in the preheater charger to warm the waiting mash without interacting before the vapor passes into a thumper and condenser to become new make. 

Each of these chambers operates at its own temperature, pressure, time, and inefficiencies. Each extracts different flavors and compounds.

If you’re familiar with how a continuous still works this may sound like a more difficult, less efficient version of that. And for many years that’s how this still was considered: as a transitory technology between the pot still and the continuous still.

Todd Leopold’s research into this forgotten technology however, led him to an article about the Hiriam Walker distillery in the 30’s. At the time this distillery was the largest distillery in the world and rather than instill another continuous still the very deliberately had a three chamber still limiting their production numbers. This told Todd that this still must have been producing a whiskey of such a unique flavor that the average consumer would notice its absence. And this led the team at Leopold Bros to commissioning Vendome to make the first Three Chamber Still in 100 years.

I don’t think Vendome would have agreed to make this still for any other distiller, as it was the first still they ever made that they couldn’t guarantee would work, or even not explode. Yet once it was functional and paired with Todd Leopold’s skill as a distiller it became clear that the resulting whiskey, even before being aged, was incredibly unique. The Chamber still essentially worked as an oil extractor. 

By the time the mash hits the third, bottom chamber almost all of the alcohol has been stripped from it. This means that the steam is extracting oils, flavors, and other compounds that it carries into the other chambers that are then slowly mixed with the alcohol being pulled from those chambers before being passed into the condenser to be collected. This allows a lot of time for compounds to interact and to add in compounds that don’t usually have time to exist in more familiar distillations.

The production goes beyond just the technology though. When you look back at production in the late 1800’s you quickly realize that the grains grown then are drastically different from the grains grown now. Over the past 150 years we’ve bred grains to produce more yield, meaning more starch. This is efficiency at the cost of flavor.

To solve this, Leopold Brothers worked with local Colorado farmers to start growing essentially extinct Abruzzi Rye grain. This rye has a starch content of about 60-65% which is much lower than the 75-80% starch content of modern, comercial rye. This unlocked yet another key to the flavor of this bygone whiskey. Add this to the fact that it’s distilled to 100 proof, goes into the barrel at 100 proof, and five years later comes out at 100 proof and you have a whiskey that hasn’t been tasted in literal generations.

I’ve now been fortunate enough to taste this whiskey as a new make straight off the still in the first year of its operation, to be able to taste the first bottled release, and now the first single barrel release. It has a unique character worthy of the wait; floral, fruity, bready, unctious, and heavy.

That term heavy is important because it leads us to the next stage of the conversation. That’s right, we aren’t done yet! While doing more research, and examining the blueprints laid out by the Crampton and Tulman papers, as well as the flow charts of the Hiram Walker Distillery it became clear that this Three Chamber whiskey, this “heavy” whiskey, was a component. Just a part of the standard bottle of rye. It would be blended with “light” whiskey to create a completely separate flavor.

This “light” whiskey would now be what we consider rye whiskey distilled on a continuous still. To truly recreate pre-Prohibition Rye the Three Chamber Rye would have to be blended with a continuous still rye.

Without a Continuous Still of his own, Todd reached out to Nicole Austin of Cascade hollow, formerly George Dickel. If you haven’t heard of Nicole or her work at Cascade Hollow go Google her now. She deserves her own full breakdown for her innovation and creativity as she’s doing for a macro distillery what Todd has done for an independent distillery. (Which is why she happened to have a four year old, experimental, column distilled rye already on hand.)

The two were able to collaborate. Not just as individual distillers, but as a mid-sized distillery working with the largest liquor company in the world. They produced a collaboration bottling that equally featured the work of both distillers while recreating a historic flavor profile.

The result is one of the best, most versatile rye whiskeys I’ve ever tasted. It is bright, spicy, weighty, fruity, delicate, and slightly floral. While this is a whiskey to sip it is probably one of the best cocktail Ryes I’ve ever worked with. A Manhattan or Sazerac with the Collaboration Rye is stellar. 

*If only the price were.

As you can imagine recreating a century old style of whiskey, and doing it right, doesn’t come cheap. Getting a bottle of the single barrel Three Chamber Rye is a couple hundred dollars. And depending on where you live getting a bottle of the Collaboration is 100+.

I absolutely believe that the price is worth it for experienced whiskey drinkers. They both explore something new, unexpected, and delicious. I want to open that door to appreciate the complexity of this whiskey to more people. And the easiest way for that is with cocktails. But the price point, for now, is aspirational rather than available.

Leopold Bros might think they’re making liquid food, but with the Three Chamber Rye they’ve made a whole meal.

TASTING NOTES:

Leopold Brothers Three Chamber Single Barrel Rye
NOSE: Malt, Baking Spice, Light Oak, Herbs
PALETTE: Stone fruit, oily, lavender, bright spice, bready
FINISH: Long, floral, roasted peach, tobacco, oak

Dickel and Leopold Bros. Collaboration Rye
NOSE: Dried fruit, citrus zest, rye spice, vanilla
PALETTE: oak, caramelized pear, floral, stone fruit, dill, baking spice
FINISH: Long, honied, spiced apple

Whiskey Wednesday: Dry(ish) January

On January 16th, 1919 Nebraska became the 36th of the 48 states that composed these United States of America at the time to ratify the 18th Amendment thus beginning the “noble experiment” that was Prohibition. While Congress didn’t ratify the Amendment until January 29th, and the sale of alcohol wasn’t made fully illegal until January 20th, 1920, it was this date and this vote that set us inexorably down the dry path. And every “Dry January” I’m reminded why I so fundamentally disagree with that decision.

This year over 4 million Americans, including myself, are participating in Dry January, a self inflicted month long Prohibition. After the often booze soaked holiday parties, family visits, and New Year’s parties it makes sense that many people would be feeling the hangover and want to start the New Year with a clean slate. Advocates of Dry January point to increased energy and better sleep, as well as claims that a month long absence of drinking can help reverse some of the damage done by long term drinking. Yet despite these benefits I find myself nearly every day saying “Dry January is dumb.”

I grew up Catholic. Once a year, during Lent, everyone I knew would give up one “vice.” It was usually something absurdly innocuous like candy or soda, but there were a fair amount of people in my community that would go sober for the season. However what I noticed about myself and the people around me, was that this was less of a sacrifice or abstinence but more of an obligation. We weren’t giving up these habits because we were looking for change but rather the illusion of self gratification.

It is self reflection, rather than self prohibition that I would argue for.

As the days ticked down the forbidden substance became more alluring until finally on Easter there was an explosion of indulgence. Children who had been starved of sugar for a month were given literal baskets of candy, those on diets were treated with a feast at Easter Brunch, bottles of wine were cracked, beers were popped, and the spirits did flow.

Now don’t misunderstand, I fully support the idea of self improvement and of examining one’s own personal relationship with their vices and habits, especially when it comes to alcohol, but the self reflection needed for true understanding and growth always seemed lacking from these yearly rituals. People were controlled by the absence of their vices nearly as much as they were beholden to those vices.

I’ve noticed this in my own experimentation with Dry January, which if I’m being honest is really just more of a “Drier” January. This isn’t from lack of will power either, it simply because life is complex, which has always been: a much needed long weekend in Palm Springs with the girlfriend called for a few martinis over a steak dinner, a celebratory dinner at a cocktail competition deserves a communal toast, a complimentary upgrade to first class on a flight cross country nearly demands a glass of wine, and that’s just the first two weeks of the year.

I’ve found myself in these situations actively denying myself from participating in moments of community because of a hardline rule about that is ostensibly about improving my life. And I have learned from my time sober. Particularly, I enjoy realizing how much casual drinking I participate in, and noticing how much even a single drink effects my body. It’s also thrown into focus those times where a drink feels warranted and I’ve deliberately made decision to partake in those communal experiences without feeling like I’m betraying the ideals of my time sober. Yet I have remained dry on more days than I’ve been wet, and it’s a choice I want to make every day.

It is this self reflection, rather than self prohibition that I would argue for.

Instead of “Dry January” might I suggest the “Deliberate Year”

The proponents of Prohibition argued that it would reduce violence, organized crime, promote public health, and generally improve the morals of the country. History proved them pretty drastically wrong primarily I believe because people had no choice. People were not choosing to reduce their consumption to increase their “overall moral character” but were being forced into it, in the same way my family and friends felt obligated during Lent, and over 4 million American’s feel locked into a New Year’s resolution.

I’ve always argued that going dry is untenable because there’s this dinner coming up, or this trip happening, or a myriad of other excuses but that paints a picture to starkly in black and white. It’s what happens in the grey spaces between where change can happen, because there is nothing wrong with raising a glass for a thoughtful reason. So, instead of “Dry January” might I suggest the “Deliberate Year” where we take the time to examine why we want something, why we derive pleasure from it, and adjust our relationship with ourselves rather than our vices.

Sounds exhausting doesn’t it? I think I need a drink…

Whiskey Wednesday: Elijah Craig: NoMad Edition

I sat down and did this almost exactly a year ago and it’s time again for the annual arrival of a privately selected Elijah Craig Barrel. This one, like all of them, is special because it is a 100% unique bottling but it’s also the culmination of an insane year.

Elijah Craig is the whiskey I’ve probably written about the most so I’ll skip the folklore and brand history, you can read about those here. Instead I want to get personal and talk about the time since the last barrel rolled into my hands.

I started buying single barrels of whiskey years ago.  Elijah Craig was the first barrel I bought and it lit a fever in me. It was pretty easy to track where I had been working using this as a metric. As time went on as the list of “House Single Barrels” would balloon seemingly overnight. Last year was full of first for me. This year has been about constant change.

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Training Tome

When the last barrel of Elijah Craig showed up to Faith & Flower I already new that in a few months I would be leaving it behind and traveling blocks away to the corner of 7th and Olive as one of the opening bar managers for NoMad Los Angeles. What I didn’t know was what that really meant.

I knew that I was joining a well-established,well-regarded, restaurant and bar team. I knew Leo Robitschek mostly by reputation and I knew the program; Pietro Collina, Nathan O’Neil and the rest of the team in NYC had built one of the most impressive bar programs not just in the country but the world. I knew it was going to be a lot of pressure and an immeasurable amount of work. What I didn’t know was how I fit into the equation.

My partner-in-bar Dave Purcell had already been a part of the team for months before I was brought on and given my crash course in everything NoMad. Three weeks after I started training I had pivoted learning to teaching. We were now training a barstaff that was 55 people large on an opening cocktail menu that was nearly 60+ drinks (not counting house specs on classic drinks) spread across four bars and not enough back bar space.

Every single member of that opening team was a goddamn rockstar and every member of our team, nearly a year later, is a member of that opening squad. It speaks to their professionalism and skill that they have risen above and beyond as the restaurant has constantly changed around them. Constant Reinvention is one of our guiding principles after all.

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A lot of late night exits.

Our Head Bartenders, who moved across the country from to be a part of this project, are some of the hardest working, most dedicated hospitality professionals I have ever met and I couldn’t imagine a better crew to get this beast off the ground with.

But even after opening I still didn’t know where I fit in. I wasn’t behind the bar and the Head Bartenders embodied the program and the culture so much more deeply than I felt that I did. They had simply been living with it for longer then I had. As far as I could tell I was here to herd a pack of wild bartenders and to help make the NoMad more LA. The first inkling of what that might actually mean happened when the team at Heaven Hill approached me about buying another barrel this year.

I immediately leapt at the idea and pitched it to Dave and Leo. After some debate, and extended tasting sessions, we settled on this bottle that now sits before me. An Eight Year Old Elijah Craig Single Barrel aged on the 6th Floor of Rickhouse “S” outside the Heaven Hill bottling plant in Bardstown, KY.

It has a heavy caramel nose and an upfront sweetness yet also a delightful earthiness and tannic finish that allows it to be sipped on it’s own but also to be built into cocktails which are surely the lifeblood of any NoMad bar.

Elijah Craig has been an integral part of the history of NoMad. The only drink to have never left the menu at NoMad is the Start Me Up, a Whiskey Sour variation with ginger, honey, Strega, rum and of course Elijah Craig. Using this barrel really drives home those whiskey notes in this drink. Here was something that I could contribute to the NoMad lexicon that was still wholly the NoMad and also intrinsically me.

This year also had it’s fair amount of travel, back to Pennsylvania for my Grandmother’s 90th birthday, a trip to the Cook Island’s (look it up it’s a real place) and a chance to return to France with my always more intelligent than me girlfriend.

There were less competitions, opening four bars in less than three months eats up a lot of free time, but I now have a rotovap as part of my tool set and know more about working with sherry than I could have ever imagined. As I sit here sipping this whiskey I am incredibly proud to see the NoMad symbol on its label.

Last year I declared I hate change and this year I find myself wondering if the new norm is constant change. I don’t have an answer to the question but I do look forward to what next year’s barrel of Elijah Craig brings.

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NoMad Los Angeles

Drinking Poetic: The Old Fashioned

“I prefer things the Old Fashioned Way!” said every generation ever as things changed around them.

The Old Fashioned is my favorite cocktail. It appeals to me on such a deeply intellectual level that it rivals the psychic imprint that Lord of the Rings had on me in the third grade. And the imprint this simple drink has had on the world of cocktails is just as deep. But what exactly is an Old Fashioned?

Due to the past 15 years of the Cocktail Resurgence and the dissemination of information on the Internet, most bartenders outside of Wisconsin will tell you that an Old Fashioned is a basic cocktail comprised of Spirit, sugar, bitters, and water/dilution. If they’re particularly good they might ask if you have a preference on Bourbon or Rye but most would balk at the idea of making it with a different spirit or, god forbid!, serving it up instead of on the rocks. Yet all of these are part of the innumerable variables that are a part of the drink’s history.

Over the past 200 years the drink has survived, thrived, been basterdized, been reinvented, reimagined and misunderstood. But why does it work?

An Old Fashioned is quite simply the Ur-Cocktail. The original, OG, never to be replicated, cocktail. Once upon a time, when words and facts still meant something, a cocktail was just one of many mixed drinks families that each had their own rules and regulations for entrance to the family retreats.

The original definition of “cocktail” first appears in a newspaper in Hudson, New York on May 13th, 1806. In answer to the question, “What is a cocktail?” editor Harry Croswell responds, “Cock-tail is a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters—it is vulgarly called bittered sling, and is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion, in as much as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said, also to be of great use to a democratic candidate: because a person, having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow any thing else.” Sounds familiar doesn’t it?

While later generations of bartenders would claim the drink was invented at The Pendennis Club in the 1880s the etymological roots of the drink have always been more believable to me. As you may imagine drinks were made very differently in the early 1800s from how they are now, no matter how “pre-Prohibition” a place claims to be deep down we know it’s not the same. Now imagine that you actually did know what it used to be like and all these new changes, changes like plentiful ice and clean water for making simple syrup, are ruining your favorite drink. So instead of getting it done with all these new age techniques you would ask for your cocktail “the old fashioned way.”

It all starts with that base spirit. Forevermore this drink will be linked to whiskey but it works with any base spirit, any at all.

Over the past 200 years the drink has survived, thrived, been basterdized, been reinvented, reimagined and misunderstood. But why does it work? Why has this drink lasted through the centuries why so many others have disappeared to never be drunk again? This is what triggers my intellectual arousal.

What this drink does is trick our brains. It takes basic tools, and basic culinary science, and polishes the rough edges off of a spirit allowing the heart and magic that is the core of it’s flavor. Unlike a sour or a daisy that seeks to fully incorporate a wide range of flavors into one cohesive whole, essentially masking the alcohol, this seeks to enhance the elements that are already there. It highlights the spirit.

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It all starts with that base spirit. Forevermore this drink will be linked to whiskey but it works with any base spirit, any at all. Into the glass goes a fiery, untamed, uncultured pour of pure unadulterated water of life in what ever form you please. The base is laid and everything that emerges from this drink is birthed from this primordial ethanol ocean.

Bitters.jpgNext is added a few short dashes of bitters. Bitter is an interesting flavor. Science still debates why exactly we taste bitter but the general consensus is that we evolved the capacity as a way to detect poisonous plants. This is also why a little bitter goes such a long way. Our brains are hardwired to recognize the bitter before anything else. It doesn’t matter how mouthwatering delicious something is if it’s going to ultimately kill you. Now couple this with the fact that pure alcohol is actually poison but doesn’t actually taste like anything. What we often recognize as “alcohol” is really just the upfront burn. This touch of bitter is a stage magician. We’re so focused on the bitter that we don’t notice the alcoholic burn that it just slipped past our taste buds.

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But bitter tastes are unpleasant and while it only takes a splash to fool our monkey brains the end drink shouldn’t taste bitter. This is where a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. A touch of sweetener rebalances the added bitter element. It should not be sweet, it should not be cloying, it should be just enough to balance the flavor scales.

Ice.jpgNext up is dilution. While alcohol itself has no flavor it acts as a great transport for flavor. Ethanol caries those flavors molecules in a magical solution but it keeps them locked up tightly. A little dilution opens those locks and lets the heart, the true flavor burst through.

Then the drink is finished the same way it’s started with a touch of aromatic, these days in the form of expressed citrus oils to enhance the newly awakened flavors but in the drinks proto-form nutmeg was also used. The idea is once again to sneak past that alcohol burn, except this time we’re pulling a fast one on our olfactory sense.

All of this combines for the perfect cocktail. All of the parts are interchangeable. Change the sugar for vermouth and you end up with a Manhattan or a martini. Swap the dash of bitters for a grand bitter like Campari, a bottled form of that bittersweet, and you end up with a negroni or a boulevardier. Or simply take the sugar, turn it into a simple syrup, fully dilute the cocktail and serve it up and you end up with a New Fashioned Cocktail. The very process and innovation that the first drinker shook their fist at and declared that they wanted an Old Fashioned with their muddled sugar cube and ice IN the glass.

So, after all that how do I drink my Old Fashioneds? Intellectually.

But also with a small brown sugar cube soaked with Angostura bitters, just enough to saturate the cube, then dropped into the bottom of a rocks glass. Add a splash of soda water, just enough to allow the bitters soaked sugar to be easily and fully muddled. Add two ounces of Bonded Rye whiskey, a large ice cube, stir, and then express the oil from a small slice of lemon and of orange over the top. Sip, drain, and repeat until the dawn comes.

Whiskey Wednesday: Early Times Proof of Concept

I’ve talked about it before but I’m really into traveling. Travel opens our eyes to new things, it also shines a new light on the familiar and common place. While most people filter this experience through art or culture being a bartender and a boozehound I end up seeing it through the glass at the bottom of a bottle.

Proof is often erroneously conflated with quality

Spirits nerds, especially us whiskey focused ones, love to talk about “the rules.” Your spirit can’t be a Scotch if it isn’t made in Scotland, your spirit can’t be whiskey unless it’s made from some type of grain, your corn whiskey can’t be Bourbon unless it uses a brand new, freshly charred barrel, etc., etc,. We love these rules because they help us clearly delineate the teams and offer an offer a definitive right vs. wrong answer in any debate.

These rules also offer consumer protection. Ever wonder why most spirits in the US are bottled at 80 proof (40% ABV)? It’s because that’s the legal minimum. In the EU that minimum is 37.5% so you will see products, even ones that are traditionally 40%, packaged at the lower threshold. Why? The answer as it so often is, is taxes.

Proof is often erroneously conflated with quality. While the higher the alcohol content the more intense the intrinsic flavors of the sprit will be this is not the sole indicator of quality. If it was Everclear would be the number one premium spirit in the world. But it is true that spirits used to be sold at much higher alcohol content. The old standard of “proof” used to be if gunpowder soaked in the spirit would still light on fire. This ensured that rum rations on ships wouldn’t interfere with the firing of it’s canons but also that the spirit hadn’t been watered down. This proof point is 57%.

All of these taxes, traditions, and experiences coalesced over the years until it was finally turned into law with the double whammy of the Bottled in Bond Act of 1897 and the Safe Food and Drug Act of 1906

57% being proof is slightly intellectually irritating though so for ease of use in the US the scale was reduced to 50%=100 proof for easier conversions for, you guessed it, tax purposes. And before you could simply buy a prepackaged bottle of booze from the store you used to take an empty bottle to the store and fill it up directly from the barrel. Diluting the spirit to 40% again made the math easier. A 26oz bottle filled with 40% alcohol will always contain 10oz of alcohol so you always know exactly how much to pay in taxes. But why settle on 40% instead of 50%? That’s the ABV strength where ethanol mixed with water lights on fire at room temperature.

All of these taxes, traditions, and experiences coalesced over the years until it was finally turned into law with the double whammy of the Bottled in Bond Act of 1897 and the Safe Food and Drug Act of 1906 which finally legally defined all of the nefarious white lightning, applejack, and whiskies floating around the American country side. And while this does a wonderful job of maintain a threshold of quality, and safety, it ends up excluding flavors and drinking traditions that fall outside these norms.

For instance, The EU ended up with a lower proof point to respect many of the Eastern European vodka makers, and it should be noted that most international councils, like Scotch and Cognac, have their own rules and minimums that have to be met. And in one of my favorite anecdotes Elmer T. Lee, one of the Father’s of Modern Bourbon, supposedly only drank his Bourbon at 60 proof because he felt that was the perfect point where the alcohol burn didn’t get in the way of the flavor. The guy knew a few things so lets take a look at something that falls outside of almost all of these rules.

On a recent trip to the Cook Islands (look it up) in the second Duty Free store in an airport with only two gates I came across this bottle of Early Times. Now Duty Free is often a testing grounds for new products, premium bottlings, and a place to dump large amounts of product that aren’t moving.

Despite what the label says this bottle of Early Times is not a Bourbon, at least not in the United States. And this is where confusion comes in, does it follow the rest of the Bourbon laws? I have no idea so let’s assume it’s produced exactly the way regular Early Times is.

Regular Early Times is also not a Bourbon. It is produced in Kentucky by the Brown-Forman Corporation at the same distillery that produces Old Forester, which is a Bourbon. What separates the two is the barrel. Early Times is aged in reused Bourbon barrels so already it’s legally “just” a whiskey. But it’s packaged below the EU threshold of spirits at 37.1%, which means that this bottle isn’t even legally a whiskey. For the sake of novelty and the equivalent of nine American dollars I brought this bad boy across the ocean, through customs, and back home to the United States.

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The reused barrels effect on the whiskey is immediately obvious as it’s color is lighter, more straw and hay than a full aged Bourbon that has those deep dark barrel influences.

On the nose there are all of those traditional whiskey aromas: vanilla, caramel, and a touch of stone fruit but they’re less intense due to the barrel. The spirits corn base is readily apparent even on the nose.

On the palette is sweet corn, a hint of spice, a touch of caramel, and not much else. It meats the flavor points of whiskey.

The finish is short but inoffensive. This isn’t terrible whiskey, but it is exactly the kind of whiskey an Old Fashioned cocktail was designed to enhance. Though it this case it would require a delicate touch because everything about this is so light that it would be easy to overwhelm the spirit with just a hair heavy dash of bitters.

I picked this bottle up because the proof point was amusing to me but in the end do those 2.9% points really make a difference? Yes, but there’s so much else going on with Early Times that they’re not going to make or break this spirit. It is putting in the minimum effort.

Ultimately, that’s why people look down on these bare minimum bottlings. It doesn’t feel special. They’re offering an experience that is just meeting a requirement. But sometimes all it takes is crossing an ocean for a requirement to transform into an unique, glass bottomed lens and let you see things in a new light.

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: 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: The Old Forester’s New Clothes

It’s time for the same old song and dance but with a brand new look. The first entry in a new chapter of house single barrels with the first Faith and Flower edition single barrel of Old Forester.

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Old forester is an old brand, introduced by Gavin Brown in 1870 as the first bourbon brand sold exclusively in sealed bottles. Being sealed gave consumers assurance that the product hadn’t been tampered with or adulterated which made it the fan favorite of pharmacists who stocked it for its “medicinal qualities”. This reputation probably helped with Old Forester being granted one of six legal licenses to produce medicinal whiskey throughout Prohibition.

Unfortunately, over the century and a half of its existence Old Forester has been over shadowed by the Brown-Forman corporations other whiskies, like Jack Daniels or Forester’s mashbill twin Woodford Reserve. But recently the company has been trying to inject some new life into the old horse.

To kick things off the new Old Forester distillery is slated to open in downtown Louisville this year, And a few years back Old Forester was made the official bourbon for mint juleps at the Kentucky Derby (replacing Brown-Forman’s Early Times whiskey which is not technically a Bourbon) and around the same time they started rolling out their Whiskey Row Collection. The Whiskey Row is a series of Old Forester Bourbons meant to highlight milestones in Old Foresters history and the style of whiskey being made at that point in time. The Whiskey Row series are hence named with a date and a style like the 1870 “Original Batch” or the 1920 “Prohibition Style” and they also came with fancy new bottles and labels that set them apart from the classic Old Forester bottlings. And now all that fancy bottle and label goodness has found its way to the single barrel.

The Old Forester Single Barrel has always been a bit of a rare breed and been at least marginally separated off from the main bottles so it makes sense to align it more closely with its Whiskey Row brethren. The bottle is sleek, black, and just a little sexy.

510BA05C-43B6-4957-BAD0-F3DB91AEA44B.JPG  The single barrel offerings are at a solid 90 proof, one of the things that set them apart from the standard bottles, but the color scheme on the new label is an almost complete palate swap. Where the normal Whiskey Row bottles harken back to the old white/cream style labels of the brands history the new single barrel is jet black with silver lettering. And clearly looking to scratch the whiskey intelligentsia’s need to know everything the rickhouse and floor where the barrel aged are large and center.

 

But packaging doesn’t improve the whiskey in the bottle. So what about the actual whiskey? This inaugural Faith and Flower barrel comes from the first floor of Warehouse K. It’s the classic Old Forester/Woodford

mashibill 78% corn, 12% Rye, 10% barley that can too easily come off as a sweet corn bomb, but here it’s taken on a darker tone. Deep, red, ripe cherry winds its way through the middle of the palette while cinnamon, nutmeg, and woody sweetness lingers on the nose. The finish is medium yet weighty leaving the rough edge of the barrel mingled with the caramel sweetness.

Seeing this single barrel dressed up and tasting like this is like seeing a old friend the you’ve long felt to be predictable suddenly dressed to the nines and just dripping with an heretofore unseen sex appeal. The bones are the same but it’s a reminder that everything, and everyone, has a unexpected side that can make you sit up and take notice.

Whiskey Wednesday: A’bunadh, Aberlour A’bunadh

Bigger is always better right? Just like the old fashioned way is the best way. Or at least that’s what Aberlour has been banking on the past two decades with their A’bunadh releases.

Despite a history stretching back nearly 140 years Aberlour still feels relatively unknown to the wider world. The distillery was founded in 1879 by James Fleming who built an extremely modern distillery for the time powered by a waterwheel driven by the Lour river . Aberlour literally means “the mouth of the chattering burn” and was supposedly named for the ancient Druids belief that the river actually spoke to them. The water for the distillery is drawn from St. Drostan’s Well, which only adds to the mythic nature of the Aberlour’s waters as the well is named after the 6th century Columbian Monk who supposedly used it as a baptismal site. So, like many Scotch distilleries there is a lot of history, myth, and legend involved.

James Fleming operated the distillery until his death 1895 and then the distillery changed hands over the years, being acquired by S. Campbell & Sons in 1945, before being sold to Pernod Ricard in 1974, who updated and expanded the distillery the following year, finally merging  the former Campbell Distilleries with the Chivas Brothers in 2001.

Aberlour is quintessentially Speyside in style and is double cask matured. Unlike the more well known Balvenie line, the Aberlour line isn’t finished in a second style of oak. Instead, the malt is fully matured in ex-bourbon or Olorosso Sherry barrels and once they are finished aging these different barrel styles are batched together. The proportion varies depending on the interation. The 12 Year is 75% Ex-Bourbon, the 16 year is 50/50, and the A’bunadh is 100% Sherry. And while the general line up of Aberlour might be less known the A’bunadh definitely has a cult following. Though it was first released in 2000 the A’bunadh story actually begins with that distillery expansion brought on by their purchase by Pernod Ricard in 1975.

During construction some workers stumbled upon some an 1898 newspaper with a story about the distillery fire that year, wrapped around a bottle of Aberlour from 1898. The workers who discovered the bottle finished off most of the bottle before guilt kicked in and they turned the bottle over to the master distiller, who immediately sent the remainder off to the laboratory for analysis. The A’bunadh is an attempt to recreate the whiskey in that bottle.

“A’bunadh” means “the original” in Gaelicand if the above story is to be believed this is the style of malt the distillery was making before it’s catastrophic fire in the late 1900s. There is no age statement, each batch is blended together from malts ranging from 5 – 25 years old, is non chill filtered, and bottled at cask strength. It is 100% Olorosso Sherry barrel aged and though there is no age statement , each batch is uniquely numbered allowing whiskey connoisseurs, otherwise known as nerds, to easily track the “best” batches.

2017 saw the release of Batch 58 but I’ve still got a few bottles of the 57 hanging around and it lives up to its predecessors. There is a massive amount of all spice and caramelized orange on the nose. There is a massive amount of that Sherry sweetness, melded with orange, dark fruit, a little bitter chocolate and heavy malt. The finish is long and sustained and with Batch 57 coming in at solid 11.42 proof the mouth is left dry and clean afterwards.

Whether or not the A’bunadh actually is like the original malt distilled at Aberlour is rather irrelevant at this point. It has certainly earned its place in the Single Malt hierarchy and deserves a little more love from those of us not constantly dreaming about our next dram.

Whiskey Wednesday: The Experiential Exceptionals

I’m told my generation, (I refuse to say ‘Millennial’) values experience over material possessions. That a memory formed, or an adventure had is more important than the shiny new car. My intense desire for a Tesla would be my argument to that hypothesis but this experiential mentality is appealing and you can see it leaking into almost everything, including booze. There is definitely a trend towards one off releases and in the scotch world more small producers are creating blends not with the idea of creating decades long consistency but of constantly evolving smaller bottlings, aiming for consistent quality if not consistent flavor.

In the scotch world more small producers are creating blends not with the idea of creating decades long consistency but of constantly evolving smaller bottlings, aiming for consistent quality not consistent flavor.

Don Sutcliffe, of Sutcliffe and Sons, along with Willie Phillips, the former managing director of The Macallan, created The Exceptional Whiskies with this experiential philosophy at the forefront of mind. They say it outright. They’re not looking to create year-in, year-out consistency. They want each edition to be ‘individual’, ‘distinct’ and ‘memorable’. Since 2013 they’ve released 2 editions of the blended grain and their blended malt, and now they’ve got the first edition of their own blended scotch to add to the line up.

It follows in the same philosophical vein and draws on decades of experience and relationships. It takes grain whiskies from North British, Strathclyde and a 33 year old Cameron Bridge and blends them with single malts from seemingly all of Speyside including: Glenfarclas, Ben Nevis, Balvenie, Kininvie, Glen ddich, Alt- a’Bhainne, Auchroisk, Glenallachie,Westport, Speyside and a splash of 30 year old Macallan. Then all of that is finished in first fill Olorosso Sherry barrels. The result is fruity, rich, very light up front, with a honeycomb sweetness and a definite herbal nose.
So what’s the result? It’s good whisky. But is it any more than that?

Exceptional.jpgThe cynic in me wants to say that the whole ‘unique experience’ is marketing talk for ‘we can’t get the ingredients to make this anymore.’ That it’s just another way to cash in on the whiskey boom. But looking at how long Don and Willie have been doing this it looks more like to men tired of doing the same thing day in and day out. It has the feel of wanting to find something new, to experience and share it. So what does the millennial in me say? That it’s not a generational thing. That it’s just a human thing.