Old Weller Antique

Bourbon, , ,

Another suggestion from the folks at LeNell’s.  Old Weller is the classic wheated bourbon and comes from the stills at the Buffalo Trace distillery, whose product I’ve liked before.  I was told this would have a kick to it and a reasonable depth of flavor, along with the sweetness that comes with the wheat.

Presentation:

Old Weller Antique suffers from the all-too-common conception that bourbon, especially aged bourbon, needs to market itself as the product of the mid 19th century.  The faux-stained-parchment label, old-timey script, and wood-pattern upper label are all surefire signs of lazy design – if not total positioning strategy.  The appearance does not manage the charming awkwardness of Old Grand-Dad, nor does it attempt the craft-distiller look of Willett’s.

The elements of the presentation that I do enjoy are their measurement of age in summers on the label, and the shape of the bottle itself.  The bottle manages to be distinct and un-showy at the same time and eschews the increasingly common wooden-doorknob style cork for the unpretentious plastic screw-top.

Tasting:

Though Old Weller Antique is a hefty 107 proof, you couldn’t tell by its aroma.  Where some bourbons come out punching, sopping in alcohol, OWA is more subtle to the nose.  The aroma is constructed mostly of dried hay, oak, and warm, wet asphalt.  There’s also a slow sweetness to the whole thing that is not overly apparent.

OWA’s wheat pops up when it first hits the tongue, but doesn’t last too much longer.  The wheat-sweet is immediately overwhelmed by a dominant spiciness that defines the drink.  The spice lasts quite some time, but slowly fades into a nutty finish.  Amid the spice though, you can sense its time in the wood and a bit of fruit hidden away.

Over all:

Despite the lazy presentation, Old Weller Antique is actually quite a good drink.  I must admit to not liking it all that much after the first sip, but the lingering of the nutty spice and the flavors that reveal themselves as you spend more time with the drink are really quite nice.

This is definitely a bourbon to spend some time with.

Willett Single Barrel

Bourbon, , ,

This was the second of the two recommendations from LeNell’s last week: Willett’s single barrel expression.  According to what I was told at the shop, this is one of the first releases from the Willett distillery in a number of years.  That combined with the really interesting bottle shape are what drew me to this selection.

Presentation:

The first thing anyone will notice about the Willett Single Barrel Estate Reserve is the bottle, which seems to be shaped like one of their stills: a long, slender neck, a squat base, and a bulge between the two.  On the bottle is some spidery, gold lettering going on with the usual bourbon-fluff of craftsmanship, selectiveness, etc.  Thankfully this copy is barely readable so the focus remains on the bottle shape and the actually hand-labeled seal over the cork (mine is bottle 29 of 260 from barrel number 9706).

It’s difficult to find much information about this release online.  It seems all information about Willett online is woefully out of date by at least 5-8 years.  I suppose this backs up what I was told at LeNell’s – this is really a brand that has been quiet for some time.

Tasting:

To the nose, Willett’s is much more alcoholic than it truly is.  This 94 proofer comes across like a 100+.  Beyond that there are notes of honey, butterscotch, and some char – a very sweet impression.

Upon drinking however, I was quite surprised.  Willett’s develops in a way that I’ve never really experienced before, almost backwards.  It begins smooth and creamy, then bursts onto the back of the tongue with a sweet tartness before fading into a long, lingering, oaky finish.  Most bourbons have their burst in the beginning, whereas Willett’s delays for a bit longer.  The initial sensations are a mild butterscotch and char, but very smooth.  Next comes the burst of tart citrus and cherry-flavored candy in the back of the mouth.

Over all:

A very interesting bourbon.  It is not the most complex, but Willett’s manages to distinguish itself from the crows well.  I hope to see more releases from them like this one.

Wild Turkey Rare Breed

Bourbon, , , , , ,

Wild Turkey’s Rare Breed came to me recommended by the good folks at LeNell’s down in Red Hook.  I told them that I was looking for something more in the vein of Knob Creek and Booker’s than Four Roses Small Batch or Old Grand-Dad, something with more depth.  After reviewing a few options, I settled on Rare Breed since I’ve yet to write about a Wild Turkey product on the blog.

I’m particularly looking forward to tasting how the barrel-strength nature of WTRB influences its character.  The fact that this barrel proof expression is a mere 108.2 proof speaks to the low proof distillation.

Presentation:

Rare Breed comes in a short, wide bottle with a short neck, one that is quite different from the rest of the bottles in my collection.  The shape manages to communicate the idea that this is a premium product, yet it does so in an understated manner, without Booker’s heavily waxed wine bottle, or Four Roses Small Batch’s inward-sloping cut.

The labeling and text are rather simple, they highlight the fact that Rare Breed is barrel proof but little more.  The small pamphlet that comes attached to the bottle invites the buyer to join the “Rare Breed Society” which, while clearly a direct marketing pitch, still manages to be somewhat effective in convincing the buyer that he is somehow distinguished in his purchase.

Tasting:

To the nose, WTRB at first gives an impression of rubbing alcohol, but after backing up a bit notes of hay, corn, red berries, and toffee develop.  One of the more impressive characteristics is the color which is a rich reddish-amber, perhaps this is a result of not having to cut it with water, but whatever the reason this is a fine-looking bourbon.

On the palate, the red berry sensation reappears right off the bat, followed by a familiar corn and caramel body, finally there is strong note of black peppercorn.  The finish is very clean and the drink itself quite smooth, which was a bit of a surprise.

Over all:

I was expecting something intense and raw, yet I found a drink of interesting flavors, but managed to remain quite smooth.  There wasn’t the depth I was hoping for either, especially from a barrel proof expression.  WTRB is a quite good bourbon, with a good balance of character and smoothness, but don’t reach for it expecting something to ponder over for a while.   I’d say this is a drink best suited for cold winter nights.

Old Grand-Dad, Bonded

Bourbon, , , , , ,

After last week’s extravagance in the form of Booker’s, I’m toning things down this week with a bottle of Old Grand-Dad.

Presentation:

OGD is an interesting case and charming in its peculiar qualities – or lack thereof.  The first thing one notices when looking at a bottle of OGD is the jarringly orange label with green and gold type.  Perhaps it’s meant to blend with the orange-hued spirit, perhaps there is some long held brand tradition, or perhaps it’s the simple fact that it’s a hell of a lot easier to pick out an orange label among the almost uniformly earth-toned bourbon shelf.

There are a few elements of the OGD packaging that distinguish it beyond the color scheme.  First to note is the fact that the company makes sure their drinker knows that this is a bonded whiskey.  While this is surely not the only bottled-in-bond variety of bourbon available, OGD seems to be the proudest of this point.  For a bourbon to be “bottled in bond” it means that the whiskey must be the product of one distillation season, one distiller, and one distillery, while being sold at 100 proof and having aged at least four years.

OGD’s proclamation of their bonded status makes sense when looking at the other details of the bottle.  At the bottom of the label is the sentence, “Bottled in bond under supervision of U.S. gov’t,” and surrounding the central portrait (presumably of Basil Hayden?) are the words “Registered U.S. Pat. Off.”  Both these details are oddly prominent on a modern bourbon bottle – and very likely not necessary, despite their official tone.  Instead, they likely are placed as they are to hark back to an age when they were necessary to verify the authenticity of the product.

It is this type of bureaucratic nostalgia, combined with the garish orange, which gives OGD its awkward charm.

Tasting:

Old Grand-Dad is nothing if not straight-forward, through and through.  To the nose it is quite medicinal with notes of oak and vanilla.  You can tell that this is 100 proof right away.

On the palate OGD is simply a classic bourbon: corn sweetness, caramel, and oak are the dominant sensations with a lingering finish of charred oak.  It’s tough to find too many more ways to describe it, but that seems to be the point of OGD, it is simply bourbon as it should be – no frills but no cut corners.

Over all:

At $18/bottle, Old Grand-Dad is a good choice for an every-day bourbon.  You can certainly do better than it, but there’s definitely a lot worse out there and probably for more dough.

Booker’s

Bourbon, , , , ,

I went all-out with this week’s selection and tried Booker’s, which sits atop Jim Beam’s small batch bourbon series.  I quite enjoyed Knob Creek and was pleased with Jim Beam Black, so I figured I’d see what the best they have to offer is like.

Presentation:

To signify (or justify) the higher price tag and quality, Booker’s comes in a wine bottle.  Whether this is due to some naturally more graceful form or merely the association with the beverage of a pricier heritage, I’m not sure.  The top of the bottle is encased in black wax, covering a raised and tasseled ‘B’ at the base of the neck – a tasteful effect over all.

The marketing copy is short yet prominent.  The label is faux hand-written – one is to presume this is the posthumous hand of the titular Booker Noe himself.  Looks nice, but either hand label your bottles or don’t, splitting the difference just makes me think I’m not getting what you want me to think I’m paying for.

Additionally, there is a smaller label higher on the bottle with a specific age and proof statement (5 years, 5 months, 126.8 proof in my bottle’s case).  Seeing as this is a single-barrel expression, I’m fairly sure that this changes from bottle to bottle.

Despite my complaining about the fake hand-writing and wine associations, Booker’s does come across as appealingly simple over all.
Tasting:

To the nose, I could hardly tell that Booker’s was 126+ proof.  The nose was quite subtle and complex.  Mainly it was sweet in a molasses and maple sort of way, yet there were also intriguing elements of oak, vanilla, and buttercream.  Very appealing.

If I thought that Booker’s was easy on the nose, it was saving the full wallop of its proof for the palate.  It was very difficult to discern much of any flavor in the first sip as a result of the overwhelming alcohol.  The second sip revealed a bit more of what was behind the curtain, but it wasn’t until I added some water (which I rarely do) that the full flavor of Booker’s came through.

In it are notes of fresh baked bread, burnt sugar, the familiar Beam sweetness, buttercream and oak.  The finish begins spicy and fades into a grassy freshness.

Over all:

Booker’s is a very good bourbon.  There are flavors in it that I have never tasted in a bourbon before (buttercream mostly) that were a pleasant surprise.  I’m definitely glad that I own a bottle to bring out on special occasions, but ultimately the price tag makes this a prohibitive purchase for anyone who isn’t serious about their drink.

Jim Beam Black

Bourbon, , , , , , , , , ,

Surely, one of the first bourbons I ever tasted was Jim Beam – probably the white label variety and probably with more attention paid to the effects of the drink than its characteristics, sadly.  This is a classic brand that has maintained its status as the standard for Kentucky bourbon for many years.  As a result, it’s difficult to look at a bottle of Jim Beam Black with a fresh and critical set of eyes.

Presentation:

JBB is aged 8 years – twice that of the white label and one year short of Beam’s Knob Creek.  The packaging strays little from the design of the mainline variety, sporting the familiar signature, family tree, red seal, and typeface.  The marketing copy on the side is relatively understated in both its description of the product as well as in the coy humility inserted at the end: “…we know a little about making exceptional bourbon.”

All in all, the packaging is what you expect from Jim Beam, it is one of the standards against which other whiskeys judge their appearance.  The grabs at nostalgia here seem more genuine than fetish-object: the signature at the bottom was introduced decades ago as a hedge against trademark infringement (forgery carrying a higher penalty than the infringement itself).

What can one really say about this bottle?

Tasting:

There is nothing overpowering in the nose of Jim Beam Black, nor is there anything overly complex.  Notes of floral sweetness, oak, and fruit present themselves and quietly retreat.

On the palate Black is much more assertive.  Immediately the corn-driven sweetness is prominent at first, followed by something akin to berries, fresh legumes, and char.  The finish is largely clean with a hint of lingering spice.

Over all:

The similarity between Jim Beam Black and Knob Creek is certainly clear, yet it seems that Knob Creek’s extra year in the barrel made significant difference in the product.  Black is punchier than Four Roses, more interesting than Bulleit, but falls short of Knob Creek in terms of depth and complexity.  Regardless, with the lower price, this would be a good buy.

Knob Creek

Bourbon, Marketing, , , , ,

After last week’s screed against nostalgia-based marketing, I chose a bourbon that relies less on grandfather-distillers of yore and focuses more on stuff their grandchildren are making today.

Presentation:

Knob Creek’s marketing material on the bottle is refreshingly contemporary, while not completely eschewing references to less mechanized times. They use sans-serif fonts, irregular angles, and intersecting text while making nod to the past with the wax-sealed top and the singular serrated label edge. The bottle text does not speak of ancient recipes or generations old practices, rather it focus on the care that goes into the product itself: 9-year aging, small batch, straight bourbon.

The one deceiving element, however, is the fact that this presentation would have you believe that Knob Creek is a small-time craft distiller, when in fact it’s an arm of Jim Beam and created on the same stills with similar methods.

Tasting:

Opening the bottle releases a sweet whiff of post-rain freshness, but the real fireworks start after it’s poured. The nose definitely tells you this is an assertive drink – definitely 100 proof: warm, wet asphalt, oak, hard candy.

Knob Creek is even less subtle on the palate. It comes in swinging with sweetness and and almost-citrusy tartness. This is followed by a fruity, meaty depth you can sink your teeth into. It finishes long and slow with spice mellowing into a lingering oak.

Over all:

This is a very assertive drink and equally enjoyable. The extra few years in the barrel seem to have done a lot of good. Knob Creek is perhaps the first bourbon I’ve tasted in the course of this blog that could go head-to-head with many single malt scotches as far as complexity and meatiness go.

Definitely my favorite so far.

American Whiskey’s Nostalgia Fetish (and Bulleit Bourbon)

Bourbon, Marketing, , , , , , ,

The American whiskey industry’s fetish for nostalgia marketing: it baffles me. It really does. It’s not as if Scottish whisky is branded too differently, but American brands have gone to great lengths to manufacture a – largely imagined – distilling past that involves rugged mountain men hewing a nation out of raw nature.

Sure, it’s romantic, and I’m just as susceptible to these narratives as the next guy, but ultimately this strikes me as a destructive practice. We are in the midst of an unprecedented moment: an explosion of variety, techniques, and interest combined with competitive pricing in comparison to Scottish product and a market hungry for innovation. In my mind, brands should be highlighting characteristics that feed this unique postion for American whiskey.

Look at Old Potrero and Buffalo Trace. Both are active in driving American liquor production to new territory, actively tweaking and expanding upon tradition to create exciting, new offerings. Yet, at the same time, both brands’ flagship products are painted with a thickly nostalgic brush. They should be coming out and trumpeting their innovation to the broader market, rather than the Malt Advocate crowd alone.

This leads me to this week’s tasting: Bulleit Bourbon.

Presentation:

At first glance, Bulleit leans heavily on nostalgia. From the serrated label, to the blocky font, to the medicine-flask bottle, they would have you believe that they dug this out of old Augustine Bulleit’s grave. In fact, none of the copy on the bottle speaks to what the product inside might be like – it is entirely devoted to convincing the consumer that this whiskey has a long history and has never changed.

The most telling indication of the nostalgic reliance is in the labeling of the product as “frontier whiskey” – as if this bottle was produced in the days of nascent American whiskey production.

Tasting:

Upon first opening the bottle is a gentle, sweet nose with a not-insignificant corn presence. Goes with their “frontier whiskey” claim, certainly.

The full nose is not too different from the initial impression: sweetness, corn, some latex. I was a little surprised by the lack of charcoal and post-rain freshness to it.

Upon drinking, Bulleit is largely unassuming. It begins and ends quietly, with a clean sweetness throughout. There is less corn on the tongue than in the nose and there is a noticeable flash of not-altogether unappealing must in the middle.

Over all:

This is certainly drinkable, but all in all is a little boring.

Clearly, Bulleit has focused all effort on making their product fit into the correct nostalgic category. They would be better served focusing on what they fill the bottle with, rather than what misleading narratives they print on it.

Hudson Single Malt Whiskey

Single Malt, , , ,

After trying my hand with some well-buzzed Kentucky bourbons over the last two weeks, I’ve decided to venture out from the Bluegrass State and try something a little closer to home – both geographically and nominally. I’m a single malt Scotch drinker in New York and this week I tried Tuthilltown Spirits’ Hudson Single Malt Whiskey (HSMW).

Presentation:

HSMW comes in a short, stout little bottle with varying thickness of the glass, especially around the top. This, along with the hand numbering and un-machinic wax-sealed cork, gives off a very homemade, little guy impression. I have to say that this is not at all unwelcome, especially given the carefully crafted reflective nostalgia of Buffalo Trace’s flagship brand and (to a lesser extent) Four Roses’ Small Batch offering. Tuhilltown’s products come across as unpretentiously American, authentic, while still reviving an older style of liquor production.

My expectations for HSMW were mainly drawn from 1) the 100% barley mash and 2) the use of petite, new charred oak casks. I expected a higher complexity of flavor compared to the Kentucky bourbons I’d sampled the past two weeks, as well as heavy charred oak influence with a bit of vanilla. Basically, I imagined the influence of the smaller casks used in Laphroaig’s Quarter Cask translated to a less corn-driven whiskey.

It turns out I was a bit off.

Tasting:

To the nose, HSMW was wonderfully light and oaky with an every so slight hint of vanilla. This was more akin to the Four Roses Small Batch than it was to most Scotches or the Buffalo Trace.

Upon drinking the oakiness becomes very dominant. There is no doubt that the choice of casks had a strong influence. After the oak though, there were waves of freshly cut grass and an almost hidden twinge of nectar. The finish was very clean.

Over all:

HSMW was far less complex than I had expected or hoped. Still, this was a very enjoyable, drinkable whiskey that stands out from the crowd.

It seems that what they have here is a promising, but largely blank, canvas that could do with more aging and varied cask selection. Clearly the whiskey drew much of its character from the petite oak casks, so I’d be curious to sample a variation with either more time in that cask, or influence from sherry, zinfandel, or other casks along those lines.

That said, I can see myself coming back to HSMW more regularly than Four Roses or Buffalo Trace. I’m intrigued to find out more about the other Tuthilltown offerings.

Four Roses – Small Batch

Bourbon, ,

The bottle of Four Roses Small Batch was sold to me to contrast the Buffalo Trace I was purchasing at the same time. Supposedly the Four Roses would play the good cop to Buffalo Trace’s intense and bold bad cop.

Presentation:

Without even opening either bottle it’s pretty clear that Four Roses has something like this in mind. Small Batch comes in a distinctively feminine bottle (in shape) compared to Buffalo Trace’s prominent phallus – a bottle one would sooner expect of cognac than bourbon. This dissonance in comparison with other bourbons’ presentation is underscored by the wide-mouthed cork and raised-glass roses at the center of the face.

Overall, the presentation is quite attractive and succeeds in presenting the product as something deserving of both savor and a higher price tag. It pushes the drink away from a Buffalo Trace-style of Americana to an Americana more genteel and refined, and perhaps toward those who might otherwise shy away from bourbon.

There is at least one nod toward the manly-bourbon style: the faux-aged label that surrounds the raised-glass roses. What is it with bourbon that requires a faux-aged label? For all that Four Roses does with Small Batch to differentiate it, this is one irksome backtrack.

Tasting:

Upon opening a new bottle, the aromas take some time to sneak out as opposed to leaping from the mouth to our nose as a Talisker or Buffalo Trace might. When poured, the aromas manage to be both gentle and rich somehow. There is certainly a sweetness reminiscent of fruit juices and vanilla, but there’s also something resembling a distant barbecue on a summer evening. It wasn’t the easiest combination of scents to pin down, yet at the same time it has a steady presence to it.

On tasting, the sweetness certainly hits you first – the fruitiness and almost-citrus. Immediately after is a slight spiciness. These flavors are not intense but are self-assured. There’s very little wavering leading up to the very clean finish.

This would be a great bourbon to give to folks who have only experienced the Jack Daniels and Jim Beam end of things. Four Roses Small Batch is an interesting case. Simple, yet with enough depth to satisfy.