Memorable Pours of 2019 - Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Heritage Barrel (2018 Release)

This is not the Old No. 7 that I remember from my occasionally foggy college nights. Truth is, this bottle would have never come into my life had it not been for another leap of faith I took on Jack Daniel's Single Barrel Barrel Proof. So impressed was I with that bottle that when I saw a brand new Jack Daniel's Single Barrel variant adorned in a fetching indigo blue label appear on a local retailer's shelf, I immediately grabbed one without hesitation.

So what is the Heritage Barrel release? From a distillate point of view, the Heritage Barrel is identical to Old No. 7 - a 80% corn, 8% rye, and 12% malted barley mash that is column distilled and run through a vat of charcoal (the Lincoln County Process) before being placed in new charred oak barrels for aging. It's here that the Heritage Barrel takes a detour from standard Old No. 7 in both barrel type as well as barrel entry proof. As explained by the distillery:

Unique Barrel Toasting You Won't Find In Any Other Single Barrel

This release celebrates the early craftsmanship of the Jack Daniel Distillery. The whiskey is from uniquely crafted heavy-toast barrels and 100 proof barrel entry proof.

The "Heritage Barrel" expression of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel was crafted with a low temperature, heavy toasted barrel which created a light but rich char full of deep flavor. A lower 100 proof entry proof allows our grain bill to assert itself creating a special Tennessee whiskey with notes of light baking spices, vanilla, and toasted oak with a long, lingering finish, aged to perfection at the top of one of the highest elevated barrelhouses, 1-09, on Coy Hill. What emerges is a flavorful and rich Tennessee Whiskey.

Nose - Honey, gingerbread, mulled fruit/spices, gentle cinnamon and baking spices. The longer in the glass, the more prolific and nostril filling it becomes. What.An.Aroma.

Taste - a bit more spice than sweet. Very gentle oak, zero char here. Warming hug as the sip descends. Proofed perfectly. Lovely alcohol tingle, like a soothing TENS unit for your tongue.

Finish - long, slightly drying, spice first, then some sweetness, then a very mild tannic drying.

Speaking bluntly, not only is Jack Daniel's Heritage Barrel a memorable pour of 2019, but it has easily remained near the top of my ever-changing list of all-time favorite pours. Each pour dazzles and delights and I am hard-pressed to name a single fault in regard to the actual whiskey ... and there's the rub because while the whiskey is sensational, there is a dark reality lurking in the shadows: availability.

Never intended to be an annual release, the folks at Jack Daniel's only produced a finite amount of Heritage Barrel barrels. In the first year of availability, the Fall of 2018, Brown-Forman claimed 200 Heritage Barrels were bottled. While no specific bottle count was given, one can do a little informal analysis - a Jack Daniel's whiskey barrel holds 53.3 gallons of distillate which equates to 201.7624 liters that will produce 269 750ml bottles. That number however assumes no loss to leakage or evaporation. It's estimated that barrels stored on the top floor of maturation warehouses, just as the Heritage Barrels are, lose ~30% of their liquid during the average maturation time of 5-6 years. Applying that correction yields ~188 750 ml bottles from each barrel and a grand total of ~37,600 bottles for the release. Back in 2018, Brown-Forman insinuated those 200 barrels were the entirety of their Heritage Barrel stocks, but refused to confirm or deny when directly asked if that was indeed all there was.

That refusal became moot in the Fall of 2019 when Brown-Forman announced they were bottling another 200 barrels of Heritage Barrel, but that these 200 barrels were indeed the last of the Heritage Barrel program. Jeff Arnett, master distiller at Jack Daniel's, claimed in an interview that originally 400 total Heritage Barrel barrels were filled and it was decided to split the batch across two years to see how one additional year of maturation affected the whiskey.

In my personal experience, I did not encounter a whole lot of Heritage Barrel bottles in either 2018 or 2019. In fact, I never saw a bottle from either year in any major chain liquor store like Total Wine or ABC Fine Wine & Spirits. Every bottle I encountered was in a mom-and-pop liquor store. All of this is to say finding a bottle of Heritage Barrel will almost certainly prove difficult at retail by the time you are reading this. This is a very bittersweet thing. On one hand, I am beyond grateful to have this whiskey on my shelf to enjoy, but on the other, I can never freely enjoy this whiskey. Each potential pour will be carefully scrutinized and debated; I am forever Elaine wondering if I am indeed sponge worthy of the indulgence.

There is one remote hope however - the Heritage Barrel releases were so well received by the whiskey public that perhaps the good folks at Brown-Forman will green-light another run of the program at some point in the future. One can hope. In the meantime, this whiskey serves as a reminder that just as with the amount of time we have on this planet to love, the amount of this whiskey that I have to enjoy is finite. Is it better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? (Sniffs the glass, sips the pour) Yeah, I suspect it is.

The Hemingway Daiquiri

It's always curious when myth, nostalgia, and marketing collide. Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway was hoofing it down Calle Obispo in Havana, Cuba looking for a restroom when he popped in to the Floridita to use their facilities. Before departing, Hemingway spotted the bartenders pouring a line of the same cocktail and asked to sample one. Upon sipping, Ernest proclaimed 'not bad, but make one without the sugar and double the rum'. And with this, the Papa Doble was born ... or so folklore would have us believe.

What is known is that Ernest Hemingway did indeed live in Cuba and he was indeed a prolific consumer of alcohol. Legend has it that Hemingway 'discovered' (more likely popularized) two cocktails from Cuba - the Mojito (from Bodeguita del Medio) and the Daiquiri (from Floridita).

Both establishments are still in business today, but by most accounts have become more tourist trap than proper cocktail destination. Happily though the recipes are available for all to make at home and enjoy.

The Hemingway Daiquiri has become a staple in our cocktail rotation, particularly in winter when Florida's citrus season produces its citrusy bounty. While it is unknown if Mr. Hemingway ever actually consumed his namesake daiquiri, it is a very nice balance of sweet and tart that is dangerously easy to consume.

I'd suggest using the best quality silver rum you can find - what you are looking for is a silver rum that can be sipped neat without fear of harsh, prickly edges. The next suggestion is to squeeze your own citrus - fresh lime and grapefruit really push this cocktail into the stratosphere.

The Hemingway Daiquiri

Ingredients

• 2 ounces good quality silver rum
• 3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
• 1/2 ounce fresh grapefruit juice
• 1/2 ounce Luxardo Maraschino Liqueur
• Simple Syrup (Optional, added to taste)

Composition
Combine the rum, lime, grapefruit, and Luxardo liqueur in a cocktail shaker. Stir and taste. If too bitter add a teaspoon of simple syrup, stir and re-taste. You are looking for a mixture that is just sweet enough to mask the cutting tartness of the fresh citrus without becoming excessively sweet.

Once satisfied with the tart/sweet balance, add ice to the shaker, plop the top on the shaker and shake well. Strain and serve in your preferred glass of choice.

“No, that is the great fallacy: the wisdom of old men. They do not grow wise. They grow careful.”
Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

Memorable Pours of 2019 - Nikka Coffey Grain Whisky

Holy moly, it seems like just a moment ago that I was typing up my favorite pours of 2018 and yet here we are at the conclusion of another year ... and decade for that matter. I've decided to mildly change things for 2019 and go with 'memorable' rather than 'favorite' pours. The truth is, I find some enjoyable aspect of nearly every whiskey I have tried and/or purchased through the years which results in my 'favorites' list being in a state of constant flux. Memorable whiskies however are those that come out of nowhere and totally blow my socks off or punch way above their weight. Essentially, these are whiskies whose purchase was a leap of faith or one that I had no great expectations for yet they dazzled and delighted.

First up, we head to Japan and one of Nikka's two distilleries, the Miyagikyo Distillery. Opened in 1969 and featuring eight pot stills, it's Miyagikyo's other still type, of which they have two examples, that is the focus today - Coffey column stills. Purchased by Nikka's founder Masataka Taketsuru in 1963 from the James Calder & Co. distillery in Bo'ness, Scotland, a Coffey still is an early variant of a column still, named after its inventor Irishman Aeneas Coffey in 1830. Column still manufacturers improved on Coffey's design through the years and today, column stills are used all over the world to produce almost every type of distilled spirit. What makes Nikka's two Coffey stills special however is that they are effectively distillation time capsules - woefully inefficient and primitive when compared to their modern-day counterparts, Nikka's Coffey stills produce a distillate entirely unique and only possible in those nearly sixty year old stills.

Nikka produces four types of spirits in their two Coffey stills - gin, vodka, malted barley whisky and the inspiration for this writeup - grain whisky. Of the four Coffey distilled spirits, only the malted barley and grain whiskies are exported to the United States. Speaking of grain, in Nikka's case, the grain consists of corn, 95% corn coupled with 5% malted barley. After distillation the grain whisky is sent to what is assumed to be a wildly diverse set of barrels for maturation - ex-bourbon and sherry all at various stages of 'freshness', hogsheads, butts, new oak, the list of possibilities really is staggering. Frustratingly, but understandably, Nikka remains mum on precisely how diverse their whiskey maturation barrel spread is. From here, Nikka's blenders take over, selecting and batching the final product from that deep and varied roster of barrels. Not for not, but here is where I personally feel the Japanese excel in whisky production - blending a myriad of different maturation styles into a final, composed whisky.

This bottle of Coffey Grain came into my life in precisely the same manner that the bottle of Nikka Pure Malt did - on clearance at my local grocery store. Marked down to $44.99, my curiosity peaked and the bottle came home with me. At the time of purchase, I had no knowledge of the whisky's tasting notes, production characteristics, or how it had fared on the various whiskey review sites across the Internet. I quite literally went into my first pour with zero idea what was in store for me. Imagine my genuine surprise when my first sniff of the glass reminded me immediately of corn whisky. Perhaps naively I had no expectation whatsoever that a Japanese distillery would choose to make a corn whisky; of all the grains I would have anticipated the Japanese using, corn was never in the realm of possibility for me. The aroma wafting up from the glass was seductively shocking - sweet corn, creamed corn, kettle corn, vanilla, some caramel are all at the forefront of the aroma. With time and patience, a gentle floral perfume emerges from the sugary shadows of the corn. Also lurking behind the corn sweetness is an unmistakable grassy grain/barley note. Really delicious stuff.

Moving on to the taste, I recall muttering my satisfaction such that my much better half's curiosity was peaked and asked to join along in the tasting. The sweetness from the nose continues on to the tongue but to a lesser degree. The whisky tastes sweet, but not a cloying sweetness; a controlled sweetness. The vanilla continues as does a subtle savory floral note. There is a dry grass/grain note on the palate as well as subtle fruit like apricot and nectarine. There is a creaminess, a velvety smoothness to the whisky that totally cloaks the respectable 45% ABV bottling strength. The finish, the weakest part of the experience for me, is medium-short and definitely left me wanting for more. The addition of water slightly tames the sweetness and exposes more of the floral/grassy notes, but to my tastes, the whisky is just about perfect exactly as it pours from the bottle.

It would be reasonable to think that Coffey Grain's 95% corn mashbill would make it an excellent and safe recommendation to anyone that enjoys bourbon, but I don't think that is the case at all. Nikka's Coffey Grain is far too gentle and restrained when compared to a typical bourbon's bold oak, caramel, and alcohol punch. I would however recommend this to fans of Scotch and Irish whisky, particularly if sweeter drams are enjoyed/preferred.

In a somewhat amusing (and frustrating) aside, I so enjoyed my initial pours of Coffey Grain that I swung by the same grocery store a few days later to pick up another bottle at their marked-down price but alas, the shelf space was empty; the clerk told me someone showed up and purchased the remaining three bottles claiming the price was too good to be true. And this brings me to the Debbie Downer aspect to this tale - the increasingly ludicrous (personal opinion) price Japanese Whisky commands at retail. Beginning in 2015(ish) and continuing through today, Japanese whisky prices have relentlessly climbed higher and higher. Today, the average asking price for Nikka's Coffey Grain whisky in my area is $70 - $80, nearly double what I paid for it. Personally, as much as I enjoy this whisky, I do not see myself willingly purchasing a bottle at today's asking price. At the end of the day, this is still a non-age stated grain whisky. Yes, it delivers an enjoyable experience, but that enjoyment is disproportionate to its current retail price in my opinion.

My recommendation is to seek out a reasonably priced pour of this whisky at a bar. Happily, the whisky is readily available and given the very posh reputation Japanese Whisky holds at the moment, the chances of finding a bottle at a watering hole is high. Give it a shot and if it twinkles the stars in your night sky, then seek out a bottle to call your very own.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and may your chestnuts be roasty while your angels be heralded and singy.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

It’s always refreshing to be reminded of just how good you actually have it in life. Of course such reminders usually come about when one ventures outside their tried and true comfort zone or rolls the dice on a completely unknown prospect. In the context of whiskey purchases, such a notion is far less daring than say investing in the latest startup that you read about on FaceTube or deciding now’s the time to finally start that Hootie & The Blowfish tribute band. I deviated from my established whiskey purchasing guidelines recently, twice in fact. One outcome was poor, the other quite good and in the end I was reminded of how reliable an old friend really is.

If you haven’t heard, American Whiskey is (has been) booming. As with most boom-town stories, the influx of interest brings an influx of cash which in turn brings a complete spectrum of options to the new legions of consumers. The options range from hidden gems offered by truly passionate small-scale producers to vastly overpriced and over-hyped snake oil products offered by hucksters. Sadly, the common readily available options are all too often brushed aside and forgotten, perceived as too pedestrian when compared to the new shiny offerings twinkling on store shelves. Every now again I succumb to this very failing, enticed by the prospect of discovering a gem yet unknown to the masses.

The first purchase, a ‘boutique’ bourbon from Finger Lakes Distilling in Burdett, New York came with a disproportionately high price tag that was, on the surface at least, justified by lofty and transparent production characteristics - barrel proof bottling strength, non-chill filtered, low (though not disclosed) distillation proof and low barreling proof (50% ABV vs the common 62.5% ABV). More influential however was the disclaimer that the whiskey spent the entirety of its six-year maturation in a barrel constructed of a variant of oak, Chinkapin, I’d never personally encountered. There is precedent for trying to discover exotic woods in which to mature whiskey; the Japanese whiskey world is enamored with Mizunara Oak and Buffalo Trace has launched an entire (and very difficult to find) series of releases featuring exotic wood varieties from around the world in which they age their bourbon. Whiskey nerds love to dissect minute aspects of whiskey production, but barrel characteristics has got to be a top-three topic. All this explains why a mysterious and exotic sounding oak variety led the charge in inspiring the purchase of an unknown and expensive whiskey.

The bourbon’s specifics:
McKenzie Single Barrel Bourbon (Bourbonr 6th Anniversary)
Region: New York
Mash Bill: 70% Corn, 20% Rye, and 10% Malted Barley
Strength: 52.8% ABV (105.6° Proof)
Color: Natural Color
Filtration: Non-Chill Filtered
Maturation: 6 Years in 100% Chinkapin Oak
Price: $75.00 (Seelbach’s)

The Good: The smell and initial taste are entirely unique to any other bourbon I have enjoyed - a green wood nuttiness but minimal resin and non-existent oak char. Controlled sweetness, far more corn sweetness than say brown sugar/caramel sweetness. I’d say this bourbon straddles nicely between sweet and savory.
The Bad: There is a musty, bitter nuttiness that appears towards the tail end of the sip and lingers throughout the finish. This bitterness is reminiscent of a roasted walnut that's started to go a bit rancid. The bitterness lingers for quite some time, hours in fact in the mouth, analogous to the lingering smokiness of a peated Islay Single Malt. Personally, I am not a fan of this impression, but others might be.
The Ugly: The price, by a long shot. There are just far too many bottles that retail for far less that I enjoy more than this bourbon. I can officially say that I regret making this purchase.

The second purchase, another ‘boutique’ bourbon (albeit to a lesser degree), from Newport, Kentucky, came at a price lower than its New York companion, but higher than the average bourbon of a similar age and strength. New Riff is a new kid on the block but has sent shockwaves through the whiskey world with their remarkably well rounded bourbons that totally betray their short maturation periods. Typically aged around four years, New Riff’s bourbons should be a fiery handful with plenty of alcohol prickle, but miraculously, New Riff’s bourbons are nothing of the sort. Like Finger Lakes Distillery, New Riff also distills and barrels at lower proofs than virtually all major producers, though no specifics are disclosed. One specific detail worth mentioning is this bourbon’s astonishing rye content. Most bourbons feature a rye content measured in teens, rarely cracking the 20% mark, but New Riff opted for a lofty 30%!

The bourbon’s specifics:
New Riff Single Barrel
Region: Kentucky
Mash Bill: 65% Corn, 30% Rye, and 5% Malted Barley
Strength: 56.2% ABV (112.4° Proof)
Color: Natural Color
Filtration: Non-Chill Filtered
Maturation: Four Years and One Month
Price: $49.99 (Total Wine)

The Good: Smell, taste, and finish all shine in this bourbon. It is astonishing to me that such a young bourbon can exude such well rounded composure. There is a sweet candy sugar nose and a huge punch of rye in the taste. There is not one ‘rough’ or unenjoyable aspect to this bourbon.
The Bad: Okay, this is a stretch, but I’ll go with price. $50 is not abjectly out of place in today’s market and it’s certainly better than the $75 that the McKenzie above commanded, but it does feel just a tad overpriced. On the flipside though, I have enjoyed every pour from this bottle and as such, when this bottle is finished, I will purchase another at this price with absolute certainty.
The Ugly: Because New Riff is a smaller distillery, their distribution reach and volume, particularly outside of Kentucky is quite small which in turn equates to a hard to find bottle locally. Luckily here in Florida, I have seen bottles of their bourbon and rye show up on Total Wine shelves and thus far they tend to stick around rather than be instantly swept away by the bourbon nerds. I have yet to see New Riff in any other store in my area however, be it a chain or a mom-n-pop store.

As I contemplated these two bourbons, a $75 dud and a $50 surprise, flashes of another bourbon that I purchased around the same time kept popping into my thoughts - Wild Turkey 101. Why Wild Turkey 101? Well for two reasons: the insanely low price I paid for a bottle and just how tasty I have always found 101 to be.

First, the Kick’n Chicken’s specifics:
Wild Turkey 101
Region: Kentucky
Mash Bill: 75% Corn, 13% Rye, 12% Malted Barley
Strength: 50.5% ABV (101.0° Proof)
Color: Natural Color
Filtration: Chill Filtered
Maturation: NAS ('up to 6 to 8 years' as shadily proclaimed on the back label)
Price: $13.99 (Publix Supermarkets, sale price)

Ultimately, I poured a half ounce of the two boutique bourbons and tasted blind against a half ounce of the 101. I was able to correctly identify each one, the McKenzie due to its bitter note, the New Riff due to its rye punch and higher proof, and the Wild Turkey by process of elimination (and for being all around pleasing). Rating the three bourbons, I placed the New Riff in the top spot, followed by the Turkey, and sitting a distant third was the McKenzie. Not a terribly shocking ranking given my impressions above, but when you factor cost into the rankings, things become decisively convincing.

I purchased that bottle of Wild Turkey while passing through my local grocery store which had the whiskey marked down to $18.99 / 750ml bottle. If you bought two bottles, you received an additional $10 off the total purchase. That extra discount brought the pre-tax price of each bottle down to $13.99. Think about that, thirteen dollars and ninety nine cents for a 50.5% ABV, 6-8 year old bourbon that stands up to any desired application - neat, over ice, in a cocktail, or even in cola. Most striking however was the fact that such a budget-friendly bourbon that is readily available totally dominated a specialty bourbon that not only cost five times more but required far more hoops to jump through in terms of ordering/shipping. To be fair, it is said that Wild Turkey is capable of producing 9.5 million proof gallons of whiskey each year. Despite not knowing the specific annual output volumes of Finger Lakes or New Riff, I think it safe to speculate that neither come anywhere near Wild Turkey’s production output which in turn means that Wild Turkey has far more margin with which to leverage in offering their bourbons at lower prices.

While I will temper my cost criticism of the Finger Lakes bourbon, I simply cannot ignore the fact that I enjoyed Wild Turkey 101 far more. This collision of a high cost for a less enjoyable whiskey is what left me feeling regret over my purchase of the McKenzie bourbon. In the big picture, it’s not that big a deal. While this experience will serve as a reminder to be a tad more cautious when contemplating the purchase of an unknown whiskey, my positive New Riff experience ensures that I will not totally write off exploring future boutique whiskeys. More importantly however, this experience serves as a great reminder to be thankful for that which I already have. Often times we sadly tend to take for granted the familiar and loved items in our life. Here, in some small way, is a reminder of how foolish that is.

Legent & Friends

Even before I removed the tamper-proof capsule guarding Legent’s cork, I knew this tasting would happen. While Jim Beam only has two bourbon recipes, they do deliver a notable diversity across all their bourbon brands. Even within their low-rye recipe family, Beam achieves enough differentiation to justify three premium brands - Knob Creek, Baker’s, and their flagship Booker’s. The grain, yeast, water, still, distillation proof, barrel characteristics, and barrel-entry proof all remain constant for Beam's bourbons; the diversity comes from subtle variances in the wood staves of the barrels, where those barrels are stored, how long those barrels are stored, and critically, how those barrels are selected and batched into their respective products.

In my previous post, I relayed some of my curiosities regarding Legent’s production - what the proportions of the three whiskies used in Legent were, which Beam bourbon recipe was used, and how old each component was. Ever curious (translation - looking for an excuse to enjoy some bourbon), I decided to see if tasting Legent alongside the Beam bourbons I had on-hand revealed any insight into these mysteries. The tasting pitted a pour of Legent against half-ounce pours of:

• Knob Creek Small Batch (Beam low-rye recipe, non-age stated, 50% ABV)
• Old Grand-Dad Bottled in Bond (Beam high-rye recipe, non-age stated, 50% ABV)
• Booker’s Batch 2018-01 (Beam low-rye recipe, 6 years, 3 months old, 63.7% ABV)
• Baker’s (Beam low-rye recipe, 7 years old, 53.5% ABV)

Right out of the gate, Old Grand-Dad was eliminated from the comparison and pushed into the least-similar spot. If one ever wonders what rye contributes to a bourbon, just enjoy a pour of Knob Creek next to a pour of Old Grand-Dad. The wood/brown-sugar of the Knob Creek is replaced with a grassy spearmint vibe. Granted, some of this difference is due to barrel selection and batching, but with more than double the rye content, Old Grand-Dad radically stands out from its Beam-brethren. When comparing Old Grand-Dad to Legent, I really struggled to find any similarity whatsoever. To my nose and tongue, these two whiskeys aren’t even in the same galaxy.

Booker's was the next to be eliminated. Coming in at 63.7% ABV, it is a proof-bomb that dwarfs not only the Legent, but all the other bourbons on the table. Adding water helps tame the alcohol sledgehammer, but intense wood, resin, and waxy characteristics remain. Of all Beam bourbons, to me, Booker’s has consistently been dominated by that wood/resin/waxy character and this really torpedos the comparison to Legent as none of those characteristics exist in Legent. There is some bourbon commonality, but it is a stretch. As such, Booker's seems more like a distant cousin, than a direct sibling.

That leaves both Knob Creek and Baker's and both share some common characteristics to Legent in regard to smell and taste. On the nose, it's Baker's that comes the closest to Legent, though I find it difficult to quantify just how close the aromas are. Knob Creek’s nose has a wonderful oak meets brown sugar quality that neither Baker's nor Legent share. There is a savory sweetness, rather than a sugary sweetness in both Legent and Baker's that unites the two whiskies.

The similarities flip when it comes to taste, this time it's Knob Creek that is closer to Legent. Baker's retains a savory/herbal sweetness whereas Knob Creek continues its brown sugar/caramel trend which parallels, but does not imitate, Legent's fruity sweetness.

So we have Legent and Baker's being similar on the nose whereas Legent and Knob Creek are similar on the tongue. Of the two, it's the Legent - Baker's smell similarity that is much closer than the Legent - Knob Creek taste similarity. Truth be told, I'm beginning to believe the wine-finished components of Legent had more of an impact on the taste than the smell. Funny, because when I was tasting Legent alone, I was convinced the wine-influence had significantly impacted the whiskey's nose.

Plotting the four contenders, from least-similar to most-similar (from a qualitative, not quantitative perspective), I have: Old Grand-Dad at the far-end of the scale, Booker's about a quarter of the way up from Old Grand-Dad, Knob Creek, and Baker's each falling about three-quarters up the scale with Baker's getting the top-spot by just a hair due to the technicality that its nose is closer to Legent's nose than Knob Creek's taste is to Legent's taste.

My Totally Subjective, Non-Scientific Plot!

I’ve said numerous times before, tasting multiple whiskeys side by side is a valuable, insightful exercise. Legent certainly stands on its own against the other Beam bourbons, but make no mistake, it is different and quite un-bourbon like for most of the experience. I can understand why those that enjoy and seek out a typical bourbon might have a ho-hum reaction towards Legent - the wine influence certainly impacts and transforms the whiskey. This detour however is precisely why I enjoy Legent - it’s a unique experience that starts out bourbon-esque but then begins to gently steer towards a non-bourbon taste and finish. This is the beauty of opinions, they are simultaneously right and wrong depending on perspective; drink what you like, avoid what you don’t, and raise a glass every now and again to whatever it is you hold dear.

Cheers!

Legent

Legent
Classification: Blended American Whiskey
Country: United States of America
Region: Kentucky (Clermont: 37.931N, -85.652W)
Mash Bill: 75% Corn, 13% Rye, 12% Malted Barley
Strength: 47.0% ABV (94.0° Proof)
Color: Natural Color
Filtration: Unknown
Maturation: Unknown age, charred American Oak, red wine and sherry barrels
Price: $34.99 (Total Wine)

tl;dr summary - an intriguing blended whiskey that offers an enjoyable twist on traditional bourbon hallmarks. Bourbon initially on both the nose and tongue with the wine influence rearing its head from the middle of the experience through the conclusion. More prickly and fiery than its proof would have you believe yet requires care when adding water as the whiskey can be easily washed away. Ultimately a fairly priced whiskey that defies the bottom-shelf stereotype of blended American whiskey; worthy of a spot on your shelf.

Generally speaking, blended whiskey, particularly American blended whiskey, has been regarded as a bottom-shelf mixer with a bargain-basement price tag. In its worst implementation, blended American whiskey is nothing more than a dumping ground of youthful bourbon cut with cheaply made and totally unaged neutral grain spirit. There are other implementations however - blended whiskeys that are comprised of well crafted and well aged components, carefully selected to compliment one another, whose goal is to produce a result that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The truth is, while I very much enjoy straight bourbon, straight bourbon has a new charred oak requirement that really is a sledgehammer of influence. As such, though there is variance in smell and taste across the spectrum of bourbon producers, that variance is much smaller than if a variety of barrels were permitted in bourbon’s production. This is where blended American whiskey comes in. Happily, a side effect of the recent boom in premium American whiskey has spurred producers to explore premium blends which in turn has begun reversing blended whiskey’s rotgut stereotype. Free to use any variation of maturation barrels available, quality American blended whiskeys significantly enhance the quantity and variety of compelling whiskey offerings produced in this country.

As stated in the earlier teaser post, Legent is a blend of three whiskeys: Jim Beam Bourbon, Jim Beam Bourbon finished in ex-sherry barrels, Jim Beam Bourbon finished in ex-red wine barrels. Disappointingly, I have more questions than answers regarding the specifics of this blend’s provenance and have yet to come across any official specifications regarding the minutiae of the blend. Are there equal parts of all three components?, Does one component occupy the majority of the blend relegating the other two to the minority? What about the individual components themselves, how old is each one? How long does the bourbon rest in the respective wine barrels? What about the bourbon itself? Jim Beam has two bourbon recipes, a high-rye (27% rye, used for their Old Grand-Dad bourbons) and a low-rye (13% rye, used for all other Beam bourbons) each made with the same yeast strain. Does Legent use the same bourbon recipe for each component or a combination of the two?

Offering my opinion and speculative guesses, I’m betting that Legent exclusively uses Beam’s low-rye recipe bourbon. As for age, I’d place the general age of each bourbon on the younger side, but not to an extreme degree, perhaps 5 to 8 years old. Further, I’d say the sherry and wine-finished components do not spend much time at all in their respective wine barrels; less than a year I’d wager, perhaps being as brief as 2-3 months. Legally Beam is allowed to artificially color this whiskey as it is a blend, but I think it safe to say Beam has done no such thing, that beautiful reddish-mahogany color is all natural baby! As for chill-filtration, Beam does chill-filter a number of their offerings yet I have no reasonable yes or no guess if Legent was chill-filtered. My personal hope is that Beam did not chill-filter this whiskey as I think the chill-filtering process would strip some of the wine-barrel nuances and lessen the overall experience.

UPDATE - I drafted my guesses above a little over a week ago and between then and now, I came across this article which addresses some of the items I was curious about:

Legent showcases its Bluegrass State roots from grain to barrel, using a five year old bourbon distilled by Jim Beam with its standard mashbill as the core component. Two finished whiskeys are incorporated—a sherry cask-finished bourbon with an extra two years of maturation, and a California red wine cask-finished bourbon with one extra year of maturation. The three pieces are married together in a tank for a month, and while exact proportions of the final blend aren't disclosed, the base bourbon is the largest player, followed by the wine cask and then the sherry cask.

https://www.foodandwine.com/cocktails-spirits/legent-bourbon-beam-suntory-review

I will add a cautionary asterisk to this information as it does not come directly from the producer, but all the details seem quite reasonable. My guess as to the base age of the bourbon was in the ballpark, but I whiffed on the durations of the respective wine finishings; two years in sherry and yet, I did not detect the sherry influence all that much (though it is the smallest component of the blend). Also, very interesting the biggest component of the blend is the straight bourbon.

Impressions
Thus far, I’ve had four separate pours of Legent. The notes below are a conglomeration of the notes I took during each of the four tastings. During my first pour, I kept adding water to tame the fiery alcohol and ultimately added too much water, effectively washing the whiskey away.

Nose
Classic bourbon at first - brown sugar, corn sweetness, and yes, the wine influence does emerge shortly after the initial sniff. Absent from the nose is oak and char. Despite knowing there are sherry barrels and red wine barrels involved, this does not smell like a sherry influenced whiskey to me. In fact, this smells of a port finished whiskey. Very interesting!

Adding too much water killed a lot of the bourbon and wine smell. Bummer, lesson-learned for future pours, be stingy with the water. There is an almond paste / marzipan smell after excessive water. This is surreal, it is not just a muted version of the water-free whiskey but an entirely different whiskey.

Taste
Upon arrival, just like on the nose, it’s bourbon on the tongue. The second thing I notice is a medium to medium-strong alcohol punch; a fiery, prickly alcohol at that. Far more of an alcohol punch than the nose would have you expect. Bourbon remains throughout the first half of the sip, but the wine influence emerges during the second-half and takes over from there.

The initial bourbon has a bit of waxy wood that reminds me of Booker’s. Every now and again, I get a flash of that classic peanut taste that Jim Beam bourbons are known for. It’s not consistent nor anywhere near as prevalent as found in Beam’s straight bourbons, but it is there.

When the wine influence pops up, it also raises the sweetness level of the sip. The wine-influenced portion of the sip is much sweeter than the bourbon-influenced portion of the sip. This sweetness is not that classic brown sugar sweetness of the bourbon, rather it is a red fruit/grape sweetness.

Water has opened up more of that grape and wine taste. Just like on the nose however, I get much more of a port finish than a sherry influence; this so reminds me of the finish I get from Glenmorangie’s Quinta Ruban port-finish. The water has reduced the waxy-wood notes. Still a bit more alcohol burn than I would expect, I am still a tad surprised by this.

Finish
Medium length. Cinnamon is prevalent, specifically cinnamon candy (think Atomic Fireball). A pleasant red-fruit sweetness lingers as well with everything culminating in a black tea note. The finish is slightly drying, but not to an excessive degree, think ~25% as drying as how an Earl Grey tea finishes.

Overall
Fascinating to learn that five year old Beam bourbon constitutes the largest component in this blend. In my opinion, that certainly explains the excessive alcohol punch/prickle, relative to its bottling proof, that I experienced. A splash of water went a long way to mitigate the youthful alcohol, just splash conservatively as this whiskey can wash out quickly. While Legent did not displace Maker’s 46 as my favorite finished/blended bourbon, it's easily on my 'recommend' list. Truth be told, I’ve paid much more for worse whiskeys in the past. At $34.99, I foresee Legent staying on my shelf to be a weeknight pour as well as sharing with friends during a tasting to highlight just what blending and different woods can do to a whiskey.

I have one more Legent-centric post in the works, stay tuned for Legent & Friends.

October's Whiskey

One of the whiskies that I will be spending a lot of time with in October is Legent - a new(ish) offering from distilling giant Beam Suntory. Officially declared as a joint effort between the two respective companies, Legent is comprised of three different components:

1. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon
2. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon finished in ex-sherry barrels
3. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon finished in ex-red wine barrels (the specific variant of wine is not disclosed)

The ingredient list above makes it pretty clear that Beam's contribution to the whiskey is the Kentucky Straight Bourbon. Suntory's contribution comes in selecting the sherry and wine barrels as well as blending the three whiskies into the final product. Officially marketed as a coming-together of Jim Beam's legendary master distiller Fred Noe and Suntory's legendary chief blender Shinji Fukuyo, Legent on paper is an intriguing whiskey to me; intriguing enough to take the $34.99 plunge to see firsthand how this Kentucky-Japan mingling turns out.

I am not 100% if I will have one large post or several smaller posts containing thoughts, impressions, and opinions regarding Legent, but I do know October is the month that I will be discussing this blended American whiskey.

More to come.

A New Balvenie

Balvenie The Sweet Toast of American Oak
Classification: Single Malt Scotch Whisky
Country: Scotland
Region: Speyside (Dufftown: 57.459N, -3.128W)
Mash Bill: 100% Malted Barley
Strength: 43.0% ABV (86.0° Proof)
Color: Unknown
Filtration: Unknown
Maturation: 12 Years in ex-bourbon, 8-12 weeks in new American Oak
Price: $64.99 (Total Wine)

I've been told through the years that I tend to be overly verbose when discussing things that interest me. Keeping this in mind, I decided to lead off with a tl;dr summary for those that may not be interested in reading the entire post, so without further ado:

tl;dr summary - an enjoyable single malt with a terrific nose, pleasing taste, weak finish and mysterious production characteristics. Ultimately this malt is betrayed by its disproportionately high price. Personally, I'll pass on purchasing future bottles unless pricing comes down into the $50 - $60 range.

Overview

Balvenie’s new series of whiskies, officially called ‘The Stories Series’ has begun hitting store shelves in my neck of the woods. Comprised of three ‘stories’, each is told through a unique single malt expression (and corresponding marketing campaign) from the fabled Speyside distillery in Dufftown. The stories are, in numerical order, ‘The Sweet Toast of American Oak’ (12 years old), ‘The Week of Peat’ (14 years old), and ‘A Dark Day of Barley’ (26 years old). Today I’ll be focusing on the first story - The Sweet Toast of American Oak, but I have little doubt that story #2, The Week of Peat, which must be a re-labeling of Balvenie’s annual Peat Week release, will be getting some screen-time on this blog in the coming months. As for the third story - A Dark Day of Barley - being a 26 year old single malt, one would expect a hefty price tag and Balvenie did not disappoint with an MSRP of $799. I had the rather surreal experience of encountering a bottle of this super-pricey malt while popping into what can only be described as a ‘humble’ strip mall bottle shop, the type of place one would expect to find plenty of Fireball but not uber-premium limited releases. To the shop’s credit, they were charging MSRP with no added kickers, but alas, despite the Indiana Jones encountering the Golden Idol awe I felt holding the bottle, I could not bring myself to spend that much coin on a bottle of hooch. I bet it’s tasty stuff though…

Balvenie's stated goal and purpose of the Sweet Toast of American Oak was to produce a sweeter, fruiter Balvenie by utilizing new oak that had been deeply toasted before charring, the theory being to maximize the exposed wood sugar available to the malt during maturation. Balvenie sourced these new American White Oak barrels from the Kelvin Cooperage in Kentucky. The coopers at Kelvin first toasted each barrel over a white oak fire (not a gas-fueled burner) before charring the barrel and shipping to Balvenie. Once at Balvenie, the coopers at the distillery re-toast the barrels:

Once the barrels safely arrive on Scottish soil, the pre-toasted casks are given an extra deep toast in The Balvenie Cooperage to drive the heat further into the wood and bring out as much flavour as possible. As Head Cooper, Ian McDonald asserts: “We’re adding extra life and flavour into the wood. After it’s spent 6 weeks in transit from Kentucky to Dufftown, our signature Balvenie burn refreshes the wood, bringing out all the flavour, colour, vanilla.”

This second toasting of an already toasted and charred barrel seems curious to me, I would love to know more granular detail in regard to why this was done. My cynical side wonders if the barrels were shipped from Kentucky intact or as palletized loose staves. If shipped as loose staves rather than fully-assembled barrels, perhaps this second toasting in Scotland is to ensure barrel integrity and consistency mitigating any structural issues resulting from reassembly of the barrel in Scotland. My non-cynical side wonders if this second toasting in Scotland was done purely to improve the overall influence of the barrel on the malt; if so, I am genuinely interested in the science behind this second toasting's improvement on the barrel.

Regardless, once the second toasting is complete, 12-year old Balvenie that had been aging in ex-bourbon casks is re-barreled in these new toasted-charred-toasted barrels and left to sit for eight to twelve weeks. After that, the malt is dumped, proofed down to 43% ABV and bottled. Far beyond wondering what the reasoning behind that second toasting of the barrel is, my two biggest questions regarding this malt are is it chill-filtered and is it artificially colored. There is no official word from Balvenie in regard to either of these questions and I'm left again with cynical and non-cynical thoughts. Cynically, I would not be surprised if the answer was ‘yes’ to both. Historically Balvenie has both colored and chill-filtered their non-single cask and lower-tier offerings. If that precedent remains true with this offering, I find it quite perplexing, particularly in regard to chill-filtration as doing so seems counterproductive. If one of the goals of this new malt is to extract as much wood sweetness and character as possible, then why chill-filter the malt which will in all likelihood remove some of that wood influence? Non-cynically, I can either give Balvenie the benefit of doubt or choose not to fixate on the label's ambiguous disclosures in these two areas. I'll tip my hand on where my feelings fall on these two questions in my impressions below, let’s get into the dram.

Nose
Malty sweetness, fruit sweetness, particularly peach, lots of peach for me. Minimal alcohol. Gentle oak. This is clearly a malt whisky on the nose, but there are subtle bourbon notes as well, particularly that charred/fired wood smell prevalent in so many bourbons. A funny aside, when I first removed the protective capsule covering the bottle's topper, the smell of the wood used atop the cork immediately reminded me of how my childhood Lincoln Logs used to smell. Sadly the cork's wooden topper now has no distinctive smell, so it was a one-time shot of nostalgia.

Taste
Totally different than the nose. Spicy and more oak than the nose indicates. Spice eventually fades to a mild sweetness with that peach note reappearing and concludes by fading into oak.

Finish
Short to medium-short. Oak, spice, and fruit sweetness.

Overall
Very interesting how the nose screams one impression while the taste delivers a very different impression. Lots of fruit and gentle oak on the nose, a beautiful smell wafting from the glass. Spice and oak dominate the taste up front but eventually yield to the fruit sweetness. Incredibly, there is zero wood resin / astringency in this malt. When I first heard about 12-year old Balvenie being transferred to new American oak for an additional three months, I was immediately concerned. The power of new oak cannot be understated and with great power comes great responsibility - new oak will push whiskey to either dizzying highs or terrifying lows. One of the potential lows is an overpowering wood resign, a somewhat bitter, waxy vibe that dominates the flavor. It seems to me that Balvenie’s chosen cooperage not only ensured the new barrels were seasoned properly, but toasted to just the right degree to strike a balance between char and caramelized goodness. There is near-zero alcohol prickle which again makes one think this was a well produced and well cared for whisky throughout its distillation and maturation.

On the negative side, this is not an overly nuanced or complex whisky. Enjoyable yes, but not a layered experience yielding an array of evolving flavors and aromas. The two weakest aspects of this malt for me however are the finish and the price. The finish is woefully short and leaves you wishing for more, particularly after that delightful nose. Indeed, the experience peaks at the beginning with the nosing and goes downhill from there for me: nose < taste < finish. Second, the price. I paid $64.99 for this bottle but feel it would be more realistically priced in the $50-$55 range which would also make the bottle more comparatively priced to its fellow 12-year old shelf mates. Shockingly, on a recent visit to the Total Wine where I purchased my bottle, I noticed they had raised the price of this malt to $72.99 which even further bolsters this criticism. Curiously, Balvenie's own 12 year Single Barrel First Fill expression retails for the same price yet comes bottled at a beefy 47.8% ABV and is non-chill filtered to boot (proudly proclaimed on the bottle's label)!

At the $70+ price-point there are many other compelling offerings such as Macallan's various 10-12 year variants, Glenmorangie's Nectar D'or, or Bunnahabhain's 12 year. Of course there is a Balvenie tax to account for, but even so, in this instance, the Balvenie tax is greater than the Macallan tax which is astonishing and reeks of bad value for my personal money. This brings me back to my feelings on the ambiguity of whether this malt has been artificially colored and/or chill-filtered. In my opinion, any malt commanding a $70+ price-point should be presented free of artificial color and non-chill filtered. Optionally, but ideally, a malt at this price-point should also be offered at a higher bottling strength, say 45%+ ABV, as well as contain an age statement, however I typically offer leniency over the absence of either so long as the malt in the bottle is particularly enjoyable.

If interested, Balvenie's official product page for The Sweet Toast of American Oak:
https://us.thebalvenie.com/stories/the-sweet-toast-of-american-oak

Vive la France!

The middle weekend of June typically means it is Le Mans weekend - a very special time where prototype and grand touring sports cars spend 24 continuous hours racing through the French countryside. As in years past, my much better half and I celebrate the weekend with a special menu and a dedicated cocktail (okay, to be honest, this how we celebrate just about every weekend, but stick with me here). This year we decided to crack the fabled French 75. While the drink is almost certainly a New York creation, it was concocted to honor something very French - the Canon de 75 modèle 1897 - widely considered the very first modern military artillery piece.

The French 75 was the artillery weapon of choice for the Allied Forces during World War One. In fact, a young Harry S. Truman commanded a dozen French 75s as he led Battery D of the U.S. Army's 35th Division's 129th Field Artillery during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive on the War's Western Front. Before this turns into a history lesson, as my sauced-up relatives would say, enough history honey, more hooch, so let's get to it.

There is some dispute over the primary spirit used in the French 75 - the majority of recipes call for gin while a few call for brandy/Cognac. Being committed to the craft, we of course had to mix up both versions. Impressions below.

Ingredients

1.50 ounces gin or brandy/Cognac

0.75 ounces simple syrup

0.50 ounces fresh lemon juice

Brut sparkling wine/Champagne (important to use Brut here to keep the sweetness in check)

1 lemon peel for twist

Process

1. Chill a Champagne flute or wine glass. 
2. Place the gin or brandy/Cognac, simple syrup, and lemon juice in a cocktail shaker with some ice.
3. Shake and strain the shaker mixture into the glass and top with sparkling wine/Champagne (I'd say you are going to pour ~2 ounces of champagne here).
4. Squeeze the lemon twist over the drink and drop in.

We opted for a VSOP Cognac as that is what we had on hand. We also opted for a Champagne because what else would you use on Le Mans weekend?! Fun fact - today, spraying Champagne is a tradition on a motorsport victor's podium where the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers are celebrated. However, it was the legendary Dan Gurney who first sprayed Champagne on the podium, celebrating the 1st place finish of he and A. J. Foyt's Ford GT40 Mark IV in the 1967 Le Mans. 

Returning to the hooch, I was once told by a wine merchant that when it comes to Champagne, forget about brands and simply buy the cheapest 'Grand Cru' Champagne you can find on the shelf. I have no idea how accurate or insightful that advice is as neither of us are Champagne enthusiasts, but to date, we have never had a disappointing example.

As for the two French 75 versions - we each slightly preferred the gin version to the Cognac version. The gin version was a bit less sweet, a bit more savory and as a result left you desiring a second one immediately after finishing. To use a breakfast metaphor, the Cognac version was like stuffed French Toast to the gin version's corned beef hash. Don't get me wrong, both versions are delicious, it just depends on what you are looking for from the cocktail - sweet or savory.

Cheers!

Transitional Patience

"Oh, Andy loved geology. I imagine it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes, really. Pressure, and time." - Ellis Boyd "Red" Redding

Pressure and time, two words that kept swirling around the ole noggin as I contemplated my most recent pours of Ardbeg's Uigeadail (pronounced oog-ah-doll). Bottled at 54.2% ABV and without chill filtration, Uigeadail took me on quite the journey of self-discovery, far more than any of the other malts adorning my shelf.

Pressure. I have long loved Ardbeg's standard offering - a stoutly peated 10-year old that commonly retails in the $50 range in my neck of the woods. Sitting alongside the 10-year old in Ardbeg's year-round lineup are a handful of non-age stated Single Malts, all of which tend to retail for 25% to 60% more than their age-stated sibling. So how does a producer justify and convince the consumer to spend more cash on a whiskey that has less label provenance? The answer is two-fold - put a quality whiskey in the bottle and then carpet bomb the whiskey world with marketing fodder. Seemingly from the start, this strategy paid off for Ardbeg as the whiskey nerds of the Internet loved Uigeadail out of the gate. Cementing its reputation, Uigeadail's marketing portfolio was handed a crown jewel when in 2009, Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible named Ardbeg Uigeadail ‘World Whisky of the Year’ praising its “utter silky brilliance” and “complexity on a level only a handful of distilleries in the world can even dream of reaching.” From that point onwards, Ardbeg had no problem selling bottles of Uigeadail.

Time. I resisted the Uigeadail pressure for a number of years. Blog after blog, YouTube review after YouTube review hailed the spirit's awesomeness, yet I remained fiscally stubborn. 'Why would I spend nearly twice as much on an unknown Ardbeg than I do my beloved 10-year Ardbeg?'. As the years rolled by, my resistance remained steadfast, but so too did the increasing marketing and peer pressure vouching for Uigeadail's worthiness. The tipping-point, where the friction of my resistance was overcome by the stress of my curiosity, was when my local ABC marked bottles of Uigeadail down from $89.99 to $71.99. Succumbing, the long-denied bottle was finally brought home and thus began the adventure.

That purchase was made way back in 2017 and from that day to this, an important life-lesson, in regard to whiskey at least, was learned: the importance of patience and keeping an open mind when sampling a new whiskey. I journal my initial impressions of every whiskey I purchase and Uigeadail's initial entry tips towards that of being underwhelmed:

Peat on the nose, but less than Ardbeg 10. It could be the sherry casks used here, but the nose has a more herbal sense to it than 10 year. Taste - the peat is definitely there, but nowhere near 10 year. Also, there is a medicinal taste and dry finish that are quite different than the 10. The 10 is more sweet and less dry on the taste/finish. It is a good malt, but thus far, I enjoy Arbeg 10 a wee bit more.

After my first two pours of Uigeadail, I was so ho-hum towards the malt that I was contemplating a list of friends to whom I could gift the gently-used bottle. Lazily, I stuffed the bottle into a dusty corner of the cabinet and forgot about it for over a year.

Rediscovering the bottle and begrudgingly pouring another dram on an idle weeknight was perplexing. My pour that night was far better, far more enjoyable than I had recalled. Subsequent pours yielded more of the same; I was enjoying this malt, quite a lot in fact. One night I sat down with two pours - Ardbeg's 10-year and Uigeadail - to taste side-by-side. Doing so helped illuminate and zero-in on the genesis of my initial disappointment with Uigeadail. As I said earlier, I had spent years exclusively enjoying Ardbeg 10-year. As a result, Ardbeg 10-year became the standard, the very definition of what Ardbeg is and produces; the 10-year tastes just as Ardbeg should taste ... or so I thought. Uigeadail is however, by design and rightfully so, a very different malt than the 10-year. This difference I surmise is what led to my quick dismissal of Uigeadail in lieu of the 10-year. Which brings me back to my whiskey life-lesson - if a newly acquired malt should ever fail to impress straight out of the gate, rather than immediately dismiss it, allow it time to impress and earn a spot in your rotation. Time, oxidation, personal mood, preconceptions, environment; many external variables impact the impression a whiskey delivers which is why it's important to spread your enjoyment of any one bottle over the course of weeks, months, and yes, even years.

So what are my current tasting notes of Uigeadail? Well that first bottle as you can see by the photo above is almost half-finished now. The Malt Nerds claim Uigeadail's quality has decreased through the years, but I can offer no insight on that as my frugal resistance kept me from buying a bottle until 2017. What I can say is in regard to newer/current bottlings - if you enjoy peated malts from Islay, there is a very good chance you will enjoy Uigeadail - the lack of a peaty sledgehammer punch to the tongue is more than compensated for with a sherry/barrel complexity not commonly found in Islay malts:

Nose
Campfire, pine needles, cedar wood. Gentle vanilla and raisiny-sugar with the addition of some water.

Taste
Immense, coating, a surprising spiciness, peppery yielding to a candy sweetness. Smoke obviously, but not as smokey as Ardbeg and/or Laphroaig's 10-year offering. I feel water improves the taste, muting the alcohol punch and bringing out more fruity sweetness and vanilla. There is also a flickering impression of espresso for me. The espresso is not constant nor lasting, but like catching the occasional lyric of a familiar song from a passing car, it's certainly recognizable for me. The tail-end of the sip leading into the finish is forcefully reminiscent of walking past a cigar bar.

Finish
Long, smokey, pine forest. A drying sensation after a few moments as well, though not severe. Some humans are endowed with 'legs for days', well this malt is endowed with a finish for days. You will go to bed and possibly wake in the morning with remnants of smoke on your palate courtesy of this malt.

General Notes / Overall
Adding water to this malt reduces the peat punch (think bog fire reduced to smoldering fire) but increases the fruitiness on the nose. This phenomenon does not carry over to the taste however, the peat level remains the same and is entirely delightful to me.

I wrote a great deal about Ardbeg's 10-year offering and tasting that alongside Uigeadail really is an enjoyable and enlightening experience. The 10-year's peat level is analogous to Spinal Tap's 11 - it is big, bold, and tends to dominate the experience. Uigeadail dials down the peat to 7 or 8, but it's also of a different ilk - smoldering vs the 10-year's billowing. As for sweetness, the 10-year is significantly sweeter, from start to finish, than Uigeadail. These changes in peat and sweetness between the two allows Uigeadail to explore subtleties that would not be possible in the 10-year and I imagine therein lies precisely why Uigeadail retails for $20-$35 more than the 10-year. I have a hunch that a greater variety of barrels as well as a more dutiful attention to detail in blending those barrels is required when batching Uigeadail.

Truly, if you love Islay peated malts, both the 10-year and Uigeadail deserve to be sampled, ideally side-by-side if you can swing it. For my shelf, I see keeping a bottle of each available, but the 10-year will be reached for more often than the Uigeadail; the Uigeadail's complexity deserves some intentional contemplation whereas the 10-year can be casually enjoyed which satisfies my malt requirement for most nights. If however there can only be one for your shelf, choose the 10-year for a peat sledgehammer a la a Schwarzenegger action flick or the Uigeadail for a Fred and Ginger peat soiree.

Uigeadail (left) and 10-Year (right)

Guest Post! White Walker by Johnnie Walker

https://www.johnniewalker.com/en-us/our-whisky/limited-editions/white-walker/

Contributor Michael Doheny dropped by recently with impressions of a bottle you are sure to see on your local retailer's shelves. Perhaps unsurprisingly, whisky giant Diageo decided to latch on to the fervor surrounding HBO's final season of Game of Thrones by bombarding the whiskey world with a plethora of whiskies themed after the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. The first of these offerings is a Blended Scotch Whisky from Johnnie Walker honoring the mythical and conveniently named boogeymen of the series - the White Walkers. Enjoy!

In celebration of the final season of Game of Thrones, Johnnie Walker released a new “color” in the vein of their Red, Black, Double Black, Green, Gold, and Blue varieties - “White Walker” Johnnie Walker was a “limited” release to the public, debuting in October of 2018. I had emphasized limited due to the fact there were still several on the shelves of my local ABC in April of 2019.

The true gimmick of this offering is not the flavor or blend, rather it is that the bottle utilizes thermochromic ink to give message when frozen. Since I am a fan of not only the A Song of Ice and Fire book series, but also the television program, I thought I would give this a review to coincide with the season’s third episode, long rumored to be a viewing experience of epic proportions.

I didn’t adhere to any of the rules from our blind tastings in the past. As instructed by the bottle's label, I kept the bottle in my freezer and decided on three pours: straight, half cola and half whisky, and finally two-thirds whisky and one-third cola.

There are several nods to the show on the bottle, from the blue-white ice wrap, reminiscent of the so named White Walkers, to the bottle being “Distilled, Blended, & Bottled North of the Wall”. On the back, there is a summation of HBO's interpretation of the White Walkers, and then a description of the source of the blends as well as some tasting notes.

It is 41.7% ABV

Inital Pour (straight)
Color: Straw to clear
Smell: Nothing distinct, choked by the chill.
First sip: When sampling I always dredge air through my teeth to chew the flavors a bit. There was a lingering burn, but it was snuffed out suddenly. Not sweet, spicy, or floral, just a wild burn and gone.
Finishing the pour I eventually got hits of caramel and toffee. However, there is nothing here that would make you want to drink this straight.

Second Pour (half whisky, half cola)
Color: Rich caramel
Smell: Still nothing discernible
First sip: Oh. I’m drinking diet coke with a thick malty aftertaste. There is almost no hint of the spirit left to be found. Perhaps the slight tingle on the lips, but little else.
Finishing the pour further reinforces the initial sensations of it being lost in a sea of cola.

Third pour (two-thirds whisky, one-third cola)
Color: Charred Pine
Smell: A faint vanilla, but overwhelmed by the bubbling cola.
First sip: The sip seems...thin. As there is no one flavor overriding the other. It has the memory of those wedding receptions attended in your twenties - where the drinks are being watered down, but you are just happy to have an open bar. Heat is negligible.
Finishing the sample, sometimes i got a bit more of one than the other, all-in-all your typical poorly mixed drink from the tourist trap or hotel bar.

In the end, the Wall, should stand and let these Walkers stay beyond our reach. When your most redeemable quality is the bottle, you have reached Dan Aykroyd levels of stewardship of your brand. It is as if, you know nothing Johnny Walker.

Redbreast 12 Year Cask Strength - Pour Three

Ahhh sweet sweet pour number three. After this pour, I can officially offer up my opinion on this whiskey but I suspect it will come as no surprise that I heartily enjoy this beverage. Right off the bat that green grass smell that at first evaded me in pour two jumps out straight away for me. Just as I could only smell vanilla for the longest time in pour two, I am only getting that green grass/barley smell now. Oddly, there is actually a bit of alcohol punch/burn on the nose this time around; I don't recall getting that strong of an alcohol impression from the nose in previous pours. Because there was a fair amount of prickle in the tasting portion of the previous pours, I am going to add about a teaspoon of water straight away and let this glass rest a spell.

Long before Anthony Bourdain published his first book, Kitchen Confidential, detailing what life was like in the kitchen of a busy Manhattan eatery, I was experiencing first-hand many of the scenes he so vividly described. Granted, I was not working in New York, but the restaurant that hired me to clean fish, peel shrimp, shuck clams and oysters, along with countless other scrub-level-one jobs was actually quite busy on a nightly basis. The dining room had a seating capacity of 48, yet on our busiest of nights, we would frequently turn the dining room over four times, preparing and serving 192 patrons worth of seafood delights. I worked at that restaurant from the age of fourteen all the way through my second year of college. In that time I progressed to line cook in the kitchen as well as the seafood/produce/beef buyer for the entire menu and associated fish market. If you have ever read Mr. Bourdain's book, I can assure you he told no tall tales - the restaurant kitchen, the restaurant business in fact, is filled with easily the greatest assortment of characters and personalities that I have ever come across.

Whoa, the water has brought out an entirely new smell for this whiskey - earth/dirt coupled with that green grass and yes, lo and behold, the vanilla is there at the end as well. I absolutely love how whiskeys can change from night to night. The taste has a rush of sweetness and no where near the alcohol punch that I remembered from a few nights ago. This is the kind of pour that brings about a smile - sweet barley sugar, some vanilla, a gentle bit of oak. Zero astringency to me and zero yeast smell/taste to boot. To me this feels like a well-aged whiskey, both in terms of length as well as attention to detail throughout its life in Ireland.

The service staff at the restaurant remained fairly consistent throughout my tenure, not many firings nor new-hires. Most were in their late-30s to early-40s and quintessential Florida beach bums. None had college educations but many had tried the office-job route previously, ultimately deciding the lifestyle-freedom and money offered by serving suited their needs better. In contrast, there was far greater personnel turnover in my area, the kitchen staff, and perhaps expectedly, that is where the most remarkable and colorful personalities of the staff resided.

Holy crap, there is that lemon Pledge again! I noticed this wack-a-doo smell during pour number one and was wondering if it was just a fluke. The lemon is fleeting, not lingering, but it was most certainly there. The taste remains satisfyingly consistent - the green grass, the malt sugar, the subtle oak, what a reliable palate this whiskey offers.

Taking inspiration from Reservoir Dogs, I will not use any real names in what follows, so let's get started with Mr. D who served primarily as the lunch-shift cook. Mr. D claimed to have served in the Army during the Vietnam War, completing two tours of duty. He was a short, trim man, standing 5'8"ish and weighing I would guess no more than 150 pounds. He had long brown hair that he almost always wore pulled back into a tied pony-tail. Upon arriving to work each day, Mr. D would pull from his various pockets several gallon zip-loc bags containing handfuls of loose marijuana as well as sandwich-size zip-loc bags containing dozens of pills whose color assortment had the physical appearance of a burst bag of Skittles. He was fairly soft-spoken, but I always felt that was due to him never being sober while at work. He would often stare the thousand yard stare as though deep in thought, yet nothing profound ever came. Once he claimed he was best friends with Neil Young's guitar technician - even going as far as to promise me he had arranged backstage passes to a Billy Joel concert at the Orlando Arena for me as his friend was helping Billy out on this tour. Mr. D told me my passes would be waiting at Will Call; shockingly there were no passes when I arrived. Good thing I had purchased tickets just in case. Billy put on a heck of a show that night, just as Mr. D had in his own way. I never saw Mr. D drink, but he professed that he loved Glenlivit Single Malt, which considering this was the early 1990s is kinda cool - Single Malts were just starting to gain major traction at that time. Mr. D was ahead of his time.

I am nearing the end of my dram tonight and can happily report that each sip has remained consistently enjoyable. For me, this whiskey needed water to help tame that alcohol punch. I don't recall the standard Redbreast 12, sold at 40% ABV, requiring any taming with water, but I also doubt I proofed my Cask Strength pours down that low from their starting point of 58.2%. It would be interesting to try the standard offering side-by-side with the Cask Strength version. I am betting I would still prefer the Cask Strength version, but those who do not want to bother adding water or adjusting the spirit in the glass would be better served by the standard offering I suspect.

Big J was in many ways the opposite of Mr. D. He was an absolute unit of a human being, standing 6'4" and easily weighing 275 pounds. He allegedly attended the Culinary Institute of America though no one could say if he graduated (or even attended for that matter). He claimed to have worked in some pretty legendary restaurants - the original Morton's in Chicago, Sparks Steakhouse in Manhattan and Olives in Boston to name a few. To listen to Big J relate his work experience, one got the impression that he essentially worked his way down the Eastern seaboard until he finally settled in our sleepy little beach town. One thing was certain however - Big J could cook and I do mean cook well. While Mr. D was a quintessential fry cook, Big J worked every aspect of the kitchen - grill, broiler, range with a masterful hand and a gracefulness that defied his physical presence. He was the first to teach me the beauty of the Maillard reaction, the end-result of proper searing. He also taught me the power of stock making - boiling down lobster and shrimp shells for days at a time, the resulting stock when strained could be used to orgasmic effect in bisques, cream sauces, or compound butters. The very first dish he prepared for our 'staff dinner' was steak au poivre. When I chimed in that I don't like pepper, he grimaced and told me to shut up. I can still remember that first bite, it was life-changing and instilled in me as pure a love as possible in regard to a proper pan sauce. While Big J did not have the zip-loc stored vices of Mr. D, it did not take long to discover why Big J had perhaps worked his way down the Eastern seaboard. On the line in the kitchen was a cold line were all refrigerated items for service were kept.  It was these refrigerators that housed Big J's muse - vodka, and lots of it. Working alongside him, I would routinely see him finish two 750 ml bottles of vodka in a six hour span. He would repeat this incredible feat night after night. More times than not, he could maintain his composure despite the vodka infusion, but it was the occasional 'not' that caused most of his troubles. It was an amazing experience for me, still on the young side of teenager at this point, to witness the destructive power of alcohol firsthand. Big J had a genuine talent, a real gift to create delicious food, but he also had a serious demon that he allowed to totally neuter that talent. I am not here to say Big J would have been the next Emeril had he put the vodka down, but I do know he would have had a far stabler life than bouncing from restaurant to restaurant staying one town ahead of his drunken reputation. Such a shame, such a waste. Doubly so when you consider that he was actually a damn nice guy - funny, generous, attentive, a blast to be around ... when he was sober.

Well my third pour is done and dusted. I have waxed poetic enough I suspect but my goodness, we have only scratched the surface of my adventures in that restaurant. Perhaps future pours will stoke the flames of nostalgia in future posts. It was fun composing these three entries in a stream of consciousness manner. As for Redbreast, it is utterly delicious. If you like Scotch, particularly Highland/Speyside malts that lean towards fruit sweetness with gentle barrel influence, then I think you will dig Redbreast. The one characteristic that Redbreast brings over say a Speyside malt is that fresh green grass characteristic thanks to the un-malted barley in the mash bill. So long as Redbreast keeps the quality of this whiskey consistent, I will always ensure there is a bottle on my shelf to enjoy and share with friends. Erin go Bragh!

Redbreast 12 Year Cask Strength - Second Pour

A different glass for this pour, a glass that I discussed in an earlier entry and related that while it is a crowd favorite in our house, it is not the best glass for nosing a whiskey in my experience. Despite this shortcoming, the first sniff of this pour brought an immediate smile and 'ohhh sweet honeycomb' exclamation. My goodness, tonight's pour is sweet sweet sweet. Near zero alcohol burn on the nose. This almost smells like a liqueur. After some time, the vanilla comes back out to my nose.

When I was fourteen years old, I asked my father for a raise in allowance. Without flinching, he reached into the local paper sitting on the end table next to his recliner and tossed me the help wanted classified ads. My dad was, as the kids would say today, old school. He was not one to celebrate life's wins all that much nor would he lament life's losses all that much either. If I brought home a report card with a 'C', he would, in no uncertain terms, tell me that result was unacceptable. When I raised that 'C' to a 'B', he would again tell me in no uncertain terms that that result was unacceptable. When I raised that 'B' to an 'A', he would simply nod his head. Exasperated, I would prod him for a celebratory high-five to which he would in all seriousness tell me 'achieving the result you should have achieved in the first place is not a cause for celebration'.

Zero sweetness on the first taste with a wallop of alcohol. Of course that impression I know is deceiving as my tongue cannot be trusted with that initial ethanol blast. Let's add some water, I'd say about half a teaspoon into this one ounce pour.

This is not to say that my dad's parenting style is the gold standard. I've always felt that it takes two to tango in regard to parenting. If by adolescence the child does not agree with the parent's core philosophies, then I don't think it matters all that much how the parent parents (within common-sense reason of course, I'm not talking Lord of the Flies parenting is acceptable here). Two of my brothers didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with my dad in many regards, one of them did the bare minimum in terms of compliance with my father's rules and regulations, the other openly defied him most of the time. I on the other hand, seemingly from my earliest memories, totally agreed with my dad's philosophy which meant my compliance took near-zero effort.

The water has seemingly unleashed the vanilla on the nose. That or my nose is looking for and only finding the vanilla. Interestingly, I just now noticed that fresh-cut green grass smell that is so prevalent in Single Pot Still Irish Whiskey; usually that is the very first smell I detect from an Emerald Isle malt. Subsequent tastes and the alcohol burn/punch is still strong after the water. Stronger than I expected to be honest. I'll give it a few more minutes.

My father handing the me help wanted ads did in fact lead to a rather important moment in my life. Not too long after that incident, I landed my first job and started to earn a legitimate paycheck. Two folks originally from Boston came down to Florida and purchased a two-building business smack-dab on A1A directly on Florida's Atlantic Ocean shoreline. They converted the building from office space into a twelve-table restaurant in one building and a seafood market in the other. The restaurant proved quite popular and when full, those awaiting an open table put their name on a list and waited in and around the seafood market portion of the business. One such night, my mother and I were awaiting a table when I noticed a women behind the seafood case struggling to shuck oysters. I was practically raised on seafood, in fact, my family is adamant my first spoken word was 'lobster'; virtually all our recreation time as a family was spent in, on, or around Florida's waterways and ocean. We used to harvest our own oysters and clams, as well as actively fish and as such, I was shucking shellfish and cleaning fish around the time most kids learn how to tie their own shoes. I was a shy kid but for some odd reason, I spoke up and asked the woman shucking oysters if I could come around and show her how to shuck properly. She looked up, smiled and said 'if your mother is okay with it, come on back kid'. My mom nodded and back I went. A few moments later, three dozen oysters were shucked, placed on ice-laden serving platters adorned with lemon and cocktail sauce and whisked away to the dining room. The woman thanked me for my help and said 'if you ever need a job, come talk to me'. A week later, my mom was dropping me off after school to begin my shift as the seafood market clerk and prep-cook cleaning fish, peeling and deveining shrimp, picking crab, etc. Of course, this was all totally off the books, the restaurant was a cash-only business, payroll was always in cash, and I highly doubt the state of Florida had any idea that a fourteen year old boy was working there, but let's leave the rest of that story for pour three.

After adding even more water, we are up to just over a teaspoon for this pour, the alcohol punch is calmed, but still stronger than I remembered from my first pour. This is still a tasty malt, just more prickly than I remember from a few nights ago. Barley sugar, more apricot, and the vanilla returns to the palate, definitely a sweet dram, but not as sweet as the nose would have you anticipate. Tonight's pour is a perfect reminder how one's experience with any whiskey can change. I have no doubt that the difference in tonight's experience lies not so much in the whiskey itself but with my physical and mental state tonight. Perfect justification not to judge a whiskey off just one experience.

Pour three in the coming days!

Redbreast 12 Year Cask Strength - First Pour

Some recent developments in the news cycle have been swirling around in the ole noggin this week and what better companion to contemplative thoughts than a quality whiskey. So promising a stream of consciousness set of impressions, I will just write and see if combining an unrelated rant with tasting impressions has any traction.

Let's break the ice with appearance - absolutely beautiful honeyed amber color in the glass. The Internet is conflicted as to whether Redbreast 12 Cask Strength is artificially colored. Sadly, there is no official word from Redbreast, but it is known that the standard Redbreast 12 year is artificially colored. As such, I have a nagging sense that this Cask Strength version is indeed artificially enhanced. Though it is a gorgeous color, personally, I would prefer au naturale.

Lauda Air Flight 004, a six-month old Boeing 767-300ER, crashed approximately fifteen minutes after takeoff on May 26, 1991. All 223 persons on board, 213 passengers and 10 crew, were killed on that flight departing Bangkok, Thailand bound for Vienna, Austria. The owner of the airline - three-time Formula 1 world champion Niki Lauda, himself a licensed and certified commercial airline pilot - took a decisive and first-hand, though unofficial, leadership role in the accident's investigation. Upon visiting the crash site spread throughout the mountainous terrain north of Bangkok, he noticed the reverse thruster had been deployed on one of the aircraft's two engines. Much of the aircraft's wiring as well as flight data recorder had been irreversibly destroyed in the crash, so no definitive cause for the crash could be determined, but investigators arrived at a probable cause - the reverse thruster on one of the engines had mysteriously engaged while the aircraft was under full power during its ascent to cruising altitude.

Nose - honey, green grass, apple, vanilla, orange, slight alcohol (nowhere near what one would expect from a 58.2% whiskey). The smell alone is worth the price of entry in my opinion. I remember my first experience with Irish whiskey - there was a unique smell that I had no idea how to quantify or describe. My whiskey mentors helped guide me, allowing me to smell fully malted whiskey side by side with single pot still Irish whiskey that uses some malted and some un-malted barley. That unquantifiable smell suddenly was quantifiable - a fresh grass, green grass smell that comes from the un-malted barley. After a splash of water and yet more time in the glass, lemon pledge alternating with sweet vanilla emerge. Soon, I found the vanilla dominating the smell of the dram.

Investigating and assessing blame in high profile situations is an insightful thing. There are generally two types of personalities at the table - those looking to find the truth, even if it hurts their interests and those looking to preserve and shield their interests regardless of the truth. This is where you find the true measure of a person in my opinion, at least when it comes to integrity. The official crash investigation, conducted by the Government of Thailand found the probable (not conclusive) cause of the accident to be an uncommanded deployment of the left engine's reverse thruster making stable flight impossible. Boeing partially rejected the finding however as they were not willing to rule out pilot error.

Taste - just a whisker too much alcohol punch when sipped neat. It is certainly possible to sip neat, but the dram feels a bit like when you induce distortion in speakers by cranking the source volume up a tad too high. With a splash of water and some time in the glass, oh, my, what a taste. Barley, apricot, stone fruits, some gentle perfume/floral notes all accentuated by subtle oak and vanilla as the sip slips over the tongue. This sounds bizarre, but I am reminded immediately of some creme brûlées I have enjoyed in the past, but with a lightly toasted sugar rather than a darkly toasted sugar. All of that Internet hype around this whiskey is making sense now.

Months passed with no official statement from Boeing but eventually Boeing disclosed to Lauda Air that in their internal testing, they had actually replicated an engine thruster deploying without being commanded to do so. On Boeing's test bed, an o-ring in the actuator that manages the reverse thruster failed when under high thrust which consequently caused the reverse thruster to unintentionally deploy. It turns out that the 767-300 featured a new and improved electronic and not mechanical linkage to deploy an engine's reverse thruster. In the older mechanical linkage version, there was an interlock that prevented an engine's reverse thruster from deploying in non-landing situations. No such interlock existed in the new and improved electronic fly-by-wire version featured on the 767-300. Boeing quietly modified the 767-300 reverse thruster system to include interlocks preventing their deployment in non-landing situations. Niki Lauda however was incensed that Boeing would not issue a statement of any kind regarding Boeing's findings in regard to their investigation of the Lauda Air Flight 004 crash. Lauda persisted, waging a public war challenging Boeing to prove that a 767 remains flyable when a reverse thruster was deployed under full thrust. Boeing initially balked, Lauda still persisted, even offering to personally fly on a 767 test where a thruster was deployed in flight if Boeing could prove that such a situation was survivable. Boeing admitted such a situation was not survivable and finally issued an official statement to that effect as well as exonerating the flight crew of Lauda Air Flight 004.

Finish - honey, vanilla, just a bit of astringency. Delightful finish, slow and lingering with continued vanilla sweetness that never quite departs. For me, no real fruit influence from the taste carries over to the finish, this is a pure sweet with a tinge of alcohol astringency finish. Perhaps a bit more water would help tame that astringency, but truthfully I am nit-picking here, this is a sensationally enjoyable whiskey. This finish lasts well into the double-digits in terms of minutes.

I have been thinking of Lauda Air Flight 004 quite a lot this week as the reports of Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 swirl through the news. Like Lauda Air Flight 004, Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 was a young (four-months old) example of a relatively new variant of long-pedigreed aircraft. Unlike Lauda Air however, around six months ago, a different example of the exact same aircraft crashed, killing all aboard, in very similar circumstances. The cause of the earlier accident, still under investigation, swirls around the aircraft's automation disregarding pilot input because the pilots had not disengaged a newly developed anti-stall safeguard in Boeing's software that is exclusively found in the 737 Max 8 and Max 9 aircraft. Upon closer investigation, it was learned that Boeing had not sufficiently trained or disclosed how this new anti-stall automation behaved or how to throughly interact with it.

I have little doubt that the 737 Max 8 and Max 9 are safe, airworthy aircraft, but there does appear to be genuine doubt surrounding Boeing's thoroughness in disclosing and educating pilots as to the aircraft's modified flight control software. My only hope is that the truth, whatever that might be, will emerge and be put to good use preventing similar tragedies in the future. In my previous professional life, I took an FAA-sponsored course in disaster avoidance where the instructor bluntly stated that the vast majority of today's aviation rules and regulations are written in human blood. The loss of human life is tragic, but it is unacceptably tragic if that loss is not used to help prevent future losses.

Second pour sometime this weekend, perhaps even tomorrow night, who knows, we can't put rules on these things. Also, if interested, here is Niki Lauda in 2017 reflecting on the crash of Lauda Air Flight 004: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E42NN1rU93o