What’s behind Warehouse ‘C’? E.H. Taylor

One of my favorite surprises from last year was the E.H. Taylor Bottled-in-Bond Rye.  Not a new brand by any means but revisiting it last year the whiskey stars had aligned and a spice bomb full of deep apple, cherry and a crackling white pepper leapt out of the liquid.  I wasn’t the only one to notice, people drank it up. Literally. And the whiskey devils of supply and demand meant that this years release was in even smaller supply. So, lets go back and revisit again. But first, the history lesson!

Col. E.H. Taylor is an actual whiskey making legend. The descendent of two different l107.jpgpresidents, Taylor purchased a small distillery that he named O.F.C. He modernized the facility with copper stills and climate controlled aging warehouses that are still in use today. Not content there, Taylor was also pushing through one of my favorite pieces of government legislation: the Bottled-In-Bond Act of 1897. It was like the Pure Food and Drug act, but a decade earlier and for booze. The government would guarantee the whiskey met certain minimum quality controls and in return the distillers agreed to a new tax structure. It’s still in effect today but what it mostly means for us now is that the spirit meets all the legal requirements for that type of whiskey, is a minimum of four years old, and bottled at 100 proof. Quality control.

Taylor sold the distillery to George T. Stagg in 1904 and the whiskey brand named after him bounced around in the decades after prohibition until in 2009 it was brought home to O.F.C., now known as Buffalo Trace. They repacked the whole line up as Bottled-In-Bond whiskies in homage to its namesake and it’s all aged in Warehouse C, one of the Warehouses built by Taylor in the 1890s. The rye goes even further and is made from a different mashbill than the regular Buffalo Trace rye. It drops the corn completely and is made from 65% rye and 35% barley  which is why it was such a major spice bomb.

imagesBack to the present. How does the new release match up? The spice is still there, laced with cinnamon, clove and baking spices. The apple is less predominate and it seems to lack the deeper, warmer through line that made it such a surprise last year.  It’s a subtle thing and it’s hard to tell if it’s an actual difference or just a trick of the mind influenced by expectations. Either way it’s still a delightful dram. And when your competition is yourself how can you lose?

The Medley of Time

The laws of physics and time’s arrow mean we all inevitably get older. But if you’re a bourbon brand then your age is more like the aging Beverly Hills socialite: deliberately obscure.

The conversation about age statements is a touchy one. Producers swear up and down that they’re only taking off the age statement to allow more flexibility to ensure consistent quality and flavor, while the consumers are saying that age is the flavor they want. You can’t blame them, the whiskey world has spent decades convincing drinkers that the number on the bottle was a mark of quality only to sing a different tune as the numbers fade. And to be fair the high numbers don’t equal high quality. And the laws doesn’t care about high numbers either. American whiskey is only required to have an age statement if it’s less than 4 years old, and Irish/Scotch have a 3-year minimum but after that the only requirement is that the age is the youngest whiskey in the bottle. So a changing age statement doesn’t technically mean a change in quality, but listing or not listing it does signal a change.

Look at the post-Prohibition whiskey world. Stocks were low and production high with everyone rushing to refill the thirsty nations barrels.

But as the years ticked on the age statement on bonded whiskey slowly followed. Whiskey that only had a 4 year requirement was 5,6 or 7 years old. Now we would look at those with joy but producers were rightfully dismayed. old_fitzgerald_bonded_1917-1930_strip1-250x250.jpgThe whiskey was only getting older because no one was drinking it, which means no one was buying it, which means they weren’t making money. So, corners were cut, quality went down, even less whiskey was bought and what was just kept getting older. To keep the whiskey that was ‘past its prime’ from going to waste in was blended into younger stock, creating better whiskey and, as the young barrels caught up, added up to the big fat number on your bottle. Better whiskey means more people start drinking it until the young-uns aren’t keeping pace and we’re right back where we started.

Make no mistake, we’re in a brilliant age for whiskey. The quality of distillation, aging, mash, everything overshadows the source 821F2F9D-A274-4F36-A826-43CAFA79EE87.JPGthese “pre-prohibition’ spirits are so proud of. Quality that’s clearly being appreciated, which means more production and more quality in the future. We’re in a mix up the old and the new which is always a difficult time. But don’t let the past, and the age blind you to the present.

Doesn’t mean I don’t covet the flavor of 12 year whiskey. So I’m going to drink it up whenever I can. I am definitely part of the problem.

Rittenhouse Square’s Hometown Rye

I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately. I’m not much of a vagabond but I’ve also never put down deep roots. I’m from Pennsylvania, but despite my family still living there it’s not a place that inspires excessive nostalgia. I’ve been in LA for 7 years but I’d but up a healthy fight with anyone who called me an ‘Angelino. When I think of home I don’t think of places. I think of moments. Walking through the grape vines in the fall back in Pennsylvania. The marathon parties at Syracuse in college. And of course, drinking whiskey with friends. Rittenhouse has been along for the ride for many of those nights, and its home is also a collection of its experiences.

In many ways Rittenhouse is the quintessential Pennsylvania style rye. Hell, it takes its name from Rittenhouse Square in Philadelphia and was originally introduced after il_570xN.607407696_7clx.jpgProhibition as Rittenhouse Square Rye. Over the years it evolved. The whiskey got older and was eventually released as Bottled-In-Bond in the 40’s putting the governments quality control stamp on every drop you drank. But the decades were not kind and a World War, the collapse of the American Whiskey industry, and the rise of Vodka tried to push the brand down. It was kept alive by leaving it’s Pennsylvania birthplace and started rolling of the production lines at Heaven Hill in the heart of Bourbon country Kentucky.

But even there it had trouble finding its place in the world. Rye was not the hot commodity it is now and a massive fire at the Heaven Hill distillery meant that they no longer had the production capability to produce the white dog spirit on their own stills. So, they reached an agreement with friends from Brown-Forman to contract time on the stills at the Early Times distillery to distill rye. Just like the rest of us transplants this spirit was given life and character from one home but mellowed and gained maturity at another.

This is where most of us met and fell in love with Rittenhouse. But about 6 years ago Heaven Hill had recovered from the fire and moved production back to their own stills and once that juice reached the proper age the slapped an updated label, interestingly meant to evoke the label from the long gone Rittenhouse Square bottles, and another change in home and flavor rolled along.

To me Rittenhouse feels like home. It’s changed even in the short time that it’s been a part of my story but then again so have I. It’s never going to blow my mind the way it did when I was young and inexperienced but it is warm and spicy, and carries enough heat to console me when I’m down, to celebrate the victories, or just sit with me at night and watch the world go by. But just because something is familiar doesn’t mean it’s bad. It’s so easy to overlook, because who misses home while you can still go back?imgres.jpg

Barrell Bourbon’s Barrel Strength Bourbon

Sourced whiskey has developed a bad reputation in the American Whiskey World. It’s often associated with fanciful marketing stories of the far off past, but scarce on any details about where and how the actual stuff inside the bottle is made. Almost the opposite of the independent bottlers you see in Scotland, which often have as large of a reputation as the powerhouse distilleries.

Enter Joe Beatrice and Barell Bourbon. Transparency is the name of the game here. He is completely open about the fact that he is just a blender and bottler. The goal is to create a unique product that stands on its own, just like those Independent Bottlers. And in a world where age statements are dropping dramatically from labels left and right, the age statement is front and center and keeps climbing. And he keeps winning awards.

No sense in bottling it if the whiskey isn’t any good.

Though each batch varies there are two constants. Each bottle is Barrel Strength. This is whiskey straight out of the Barrel uncut by water. High Proof Spirits. The second is the quality. No sense in bottling it if the whiskey isn’t any good. Everything else they can tell you they will.

Batch 6 is 8-year-old Bourbon distilled in Tennessee and aged in Kentucky, which already makes it unique. Joe can’t legally tell you where it’s distilled but with only two large scale distilleries in the state and a mashbill of 70% corn, 25% Rye and 5% barley it’s probably being made at George Dickel. And He recently moved all of their aging to the warehouses at the Old Taylor Distillery, which is different from the old Taylor brand which the distillery doesn’t own the right to. The Bourbon world is weird.

So we’ve got a big ballsy bourbon that has coated ripe dark cherries with a layer of dusty, earthy nuttiness reminiscent of some of the best stuff from Willet and Heaven Hill. It’s a massive flavor that drinks far more mellow than it’s 122.9 Proof would suggest. It’s a great reminder that there’s more to the magic of a spirit than marketing and who owns the still. Sometimes, there’s a magic that needs that outside touch. As long as you’re honest about it.

Buffalo Trace and Pants

Why do we leave the house? Between digital streaming and the sharing economy everything you could ever want is right there or can be delivered at the push of a button. Human socializing has been digitized and depersonalized. Entertainment can, and will, cater specifically to you, and the Internet will connect you to anyone in the world. So, why go out?

I personally like to believe it has to do with experiencing the world. That to bring back a true story to the digital marketplace enriches yourself and the people you’re sharing with. It still doesn’t explain why we gather to drink fermented beverages, laugh, talk, and be merry. Some things are just for fun. But they should still be an experience.

I like to call it the, “You Put On Pants” Philosophy. For whatever reason you decided to get up of the couch, put on pants, and come to the bar instead of watching Game of Thrones reruns. Let’s make it worth your while. Let’s get you something that can’t be delivered straight to your doorstep. In this case with a whiskey you can’t get anywhere else.

“You Put On Pants Damn It”

Buffalo Trace isn’t hard to come by. Even though the brand was only created in 1999 the Bourbon Boom and the fact that it is a quality whiskey has made it a nearly ubiquitous bottle. What makes this ‘pants worthy’ is its single barrel nature. After tasting through several samples we bought all of the whiskey inside of the barrel. The only way to taste this version of Buffalo Trace is right here with us. It has the familiar backbone but with a massive dollop of orange marmalade, a spicier pop and super rich vanilla.

It’s not an earth shattering difference but it’s enough to stay interesting. Both for you leaving the house and us coming into work. This isn’t our first barrel and it’s by no means our last. So, we’ll hopefully being seeing you through several pairs of pants.

Sazerac Straight Rye Whiskey

What’s in a name? A Sazerac by any other names is a…rye? A cocktail? A Coffee House? A long defunct cognac? Language is a funny thing.

When we say ‘cocktail’ these days it tends to be as a catchall for ‘mixed drink’ but that’s essentially the equivalent of calling all steaks fillets. A cocktail is a very specific type of drink made from spirit, sugar, bitters and water, usually in the form of ice. Or as it’s often called today: an Old Fashioned.sazerac.jpeg

And just like today where you may call for a Elijah Craig Old Fashioned, you would have called for a Sazerac Cocktail, made with cognac from Sazerac-du-Forge et Fils which was imported by the Sazerac House in New Orleans. Being very French the New Orleans drinkers loved to ‘improve’ up their cocktails with just a dash of absinthe and Bam! A Sazerac Cocktail.

But at the turn of the century the phylloxera plaque struck Europe wiping out old vineyards laying waste to innumerable wine and cognac house. As the supply of cognac dwindled, New Orleans drinkers turned to what was readily available to them: Rye Whiskey and gave birth to the Zazerac. Yes, Zazerac with a Z. Language is fun, and by distinguishing the proper names drinkers could quickly indicated whether they wanted the brandy or the whiskey version. Confused? You’re probably not the only one. In the Artistry of Mixing Drinks by Frank Meir published in 1934 he says, “Note. – there is much confusion between the ‘Sazerac’ brandy cocktail and the ‘Zazerac’ cocktail originally made in New Orleans.” So the ‘Zazerac’ name gathers dust while the actual drink gathers steam.

“Note. – there is much confusion between the ‘Sazerac’ brandy cocktail and the ‘Zazerac’ cocktail originally made in New Orleans.”

Time passes and a new Sazerac house rises, this time an American Liquor Company named that owns and distills Buffalo Trace and a myriad of other bourbons, but also an Eponymous Rye Whiskey named: Sazerac. And it’s damn good. Bright, crisp apple, dry rye spice, with a touch of that southern air on the nose. But is it Sazerac? In name only.

In honor of the spirit of the spirit, share a few Sazerac Zazeracs tonight