Category Archives: Bourbon

Whoever Makes The Juice, I Like It: Pappy Van Winkle 15

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I’ve had a bottle of Pappy 15 that I’ve been nursing for ages. As it recently passed the halfway mark, it’s on the list to go finish sooner than later. I can’t lie: I definitely love Pappy. I just don’t love the hype and hysteria around it.

I’d been on the fence writing about this one for ages. I loathe the idea of contributing to any more hype around it, especially since the fall release is drawing ever nearer. Given that we’re near the point where the Stitzel-Weller distillate is going to be depleted, there’s also an unending amount of tiresome speculation and parsing of what Buffalo Trace and the Van Winkles have to say about what’s in the bottle. I’ve heard so many different versions at this point that I really assume it’s all bullshit and am not concerned particularly.

After all, I have been known to enjoy the occasional KBD product, and they play it pretty close to the vest about what goes into a given bottle. If it’s good, it doesn’t matter too much to me.

It should be said, this is not a review of the current releases that have been flagged as being the Buffalo Trace Pappy. This bottle was from a 2010 release, but has a 2009 bottling date on it. I will leave it to those who parse the words of the Van Winkles, Harlan Wheatley, and bottling codes to say definitively what is in this one. The last I’d checked, an ’09 bottling code was generally an indicator of Stitzel-Weller juice, but for all I know, it’s Evan Williams, a dash of Kool-Aid and a splash of V8.

As we all know by now, Pappy has a reputation of being the creme de la creme of bourbons. Surprisingly, it remains reasonably priced – no $200, aged at sea, stored in warehouses damaged by extreme climate, sprinkled with moon dust backstory on this one. It’s a 15 year old wheated bourbon made by the people whose name is synonymous with long-aged wheated bourbon.

There’s tons of wheated bourbon out there. There’s tons of old bourbon out there. Why should you try and get a pour of Pappy at some point?

Regardless of what its provenance is, Pappy is a bottle that has a phenomenally well-executed bourbon in it.  While I prefer the 20, which to me may be the best wheater ever produced, the 15 is ridiculously good. If you’re not familiar with wheaters, you’ll note a lack of the more peppery spice. That doesn’t mean it’s just flabby caramel notes; the wood can impart spice of its own (as Scotch & Ice Cream’s sadly now-defunct Single Oak Project coverage discovered with the #3/#4 char experiment). Rye has a distinct spice to it, and wheat has been described as not being uniquely spiced on its own, but rather being notable for its absence of spice.

The extra age ensures that everything the wood has to offer is on display. Past this point and it becomes distinctly woody. The 20 is not to everyone’s taste; as a fan of tannic flavors and its unique spice, I prefer it. However, after 15 years you definitely move into a distinct style regardless of the mashbill.

The nose on this Pappy is delightfully sweet, revealing maple syrup and a light oakiness, with a hint of warm brown sugar (think of brown sugar on oatmeal). There’s a light hint of nutmeg and some cinnamon, as well as some pleasing black tea tannins.

The palate is great. A rich, almost syrupy mouthfeel; sweet from the start and with a nice wood influence. I tasted a little corn, but that was against the major notes of maple syrup and brown sugar, again with some cinnamon heat in the background.

The finish is initially warm with black tea tannins, but it cools to leave a more flavorful cinnamon note, gentle oak influence, more maple and brown sugar. There’s some light black cherry on the finish, but it’s fairly tucked away.

There really is nothing not to like about Pappy 15, unless you recoil in horror at woody notes in your whiskey or you’re not a fan of tannic wines or black tea. Fortunately, if that’s your preference, the pressure on stocks is towards ever younger releases currently and you might not have a problem.

For those who covet a taste of Pappy Van Winkle, my best advice is to try and get to a solid club or restaurant that isn’t necessarily known as a “whisky spot” (I wouldn’t even waste the time asking at The Daily Pint in LA). I’ve had more regular encounters with Pappy at places like Son of a Gun near the Beverly Center, the Soho House in West Hollywood, and (of all places) Crossroads BBQ/Bubba Diego’s on Sepulveda. Basically, look for newer restaurants where there’s a definite desire to get the right credibility with a spirits list, or money’s-no-object gathering places.

You can get this if you cultivate a relationship with your local spirits buyer; even then, there is likely a waiting list that’s got dozens of names ahead. You might get lucky and find it on a shelf (but that’s incredibly unlikely) – if you do, don’t debate yourself, just buy a bottle. $70 may be more than you spend, but it’s only on shelves for a short while at this point.

There’s not a lot like this particular wheater. Buffalo Trace’s offerings are a little more overtly woody and have a more prominent black cherry note to them. Maker’s is much younger; Jefferson’s 17/18 taste more woody to me, and Rebel Yell is garbage.

It’s worth a try, but as I say and continue to believe: A-level whiskies are always coming. Don’t fret if you can’t find this.

At a glance:

Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve, 15y, 53.5% ABV
Nose:  Delightfully sweet – maple syrup, light oakiness, a hint of warm brown sugar. Light hint of nutmeg and some cinnamon. Pleasing black tea tannins.
Palate:  Rich, syrupy mouthfeel. Sweet at entry with some nice wood; a little gentle corn, tons of maple syrup, brown sugar, and a little cinnamon heat in the background.
Finish:  Warm initially with some black tea tannins, cooling leaving cinnamon, nice gentle oak influence, and more maple syrup and brown sugar. A hint of black cherry on the finish but tucked away.
Comment:  There’s nothing not to like here.
Rating: A-

Canadian Rye, Three Ways

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There are a number of whiskies out there that sit in the “American”/”Bourbon” section of your local liquor store that should more appropriately be sitting in the Canadian section. Three highly-regarded ryes – WhistlePig, Masterson’s, and Jefferson’s, despite hanging out next to Rittenhouse, Jim Beam Rye, Sazerac and others, are actually produced in Canada. You’ll see this usually acknowledged in teeny type on the label somewhere.

My interest in looking at these a while back was spurred by seeing a bottle of WhistlePig in one of my local haunts that had a store-made shelf talker which loudly announced WhistlePig as being made in Vermont.

That seemed odd to me – rye is in short supply these days and it’s not one of those things that a lot of people are producing. It’s a ridiculously tough grain to work with when compared to the other options out there, and has a tendency to get really sticky. (Don’t believe me? Try making some rye bread – even if rye is only 30-40% of the total flour weight, you will quickly see how much stickier rye is than wheat).

I looked on the back and saw the “Produced in Canada” label. Ah yes. It’s as American as William Shatner, poutine and ice hockey. Not that there’s anything wrong with that – I love Star Trek as much as the next guy.

Digging some more, I saw two other ryes were noted as sharing some similarities with WhistlePig: Masterson’s and Jefferson’s. All three are 10 year old straight ryes, just at differing proofs. Clearly the best thing to do is have a shootout.

Starting at the top is the most expensive and probably most well known rye, WhistlePig. It’s garnered some awards and has developed a pretty good reputation. Its following is maybe not the most fervent out there, but that’s because it’s pricing itself into the premium end of North American whiskies.

WhistlePig’s nose is initially dry and slightly spicy, with a fairly hefty dose of wood. There’s a trace of black pepper, some oranges providing some zesty top-end to the nose, and a gentle caramel influence. Confectioner’s sugar, gentle cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg and faint clove rounded out the nose.

The palate started woody initially, with a slightly dry and light mouthfeel, but that opened up. It started to get more sweet, and cinnamon also added some heat to the palate. It was lightly floral as I commonly find ryes to be, and there was a slight caramel tone to the sweetness.

The finish was initially warm, but the heat faded, and left a slightly caramel sweetness with a good dose of rye and gentle spices. White pepper heat contrasted with nutmeg, and it all resolved to a wood finish.

Does WhistlePig live up to the hype? It’s a pretty good nose for a rye, with tons of baking spices competing for your attention. A little sweetness helps round out the palate and provides nice contrast with the spice and wood. It’s got tons of character and at 10 years, the really piney notes you get from a lot of ryes have been tamed.

That’s a promising start for this whiskey. The next up was Masterson’s, which came in at 45% ABV (compared to WhistlePig’s 50%).

Masterson’s nose was spicy and initially sharp, with white and black pepper abundant. It opened up to the familiar note of confectioner’s sugar and some sweet toffee. There was definitely wood again on the nose, but overall the nose was predominantly sweet with spice as a shading. I couldn’t help but shake the image of a fresh beignet when nosing this.

The palate entered with a light to moderate weight, with wood and a slow, spicy heat initially – again in the form of cinnamon. There was a very agreeable mellow sweetness permeating everything, with confectioner’s sugar giving some direct sweetness. It was gently sweet and had some faint piney notes, and again reminded me of a pastry.

The finish was sweet and agreeable with gentle toffee, but a more pronounced caramel character and a touch of maple syrup. There’s a light wood influence that was obvious, and it even had a slightly vanilla character to me.

Masterson’s had an undeniable similarity to WhistlePig, though at the lower proof, the sweetness shone through. It lacked some of the complexity on the nose, but had a more easygoing sweetness not found in the WhistlePig. Overall, I thought it was really nice.

Finally, the last option was Jefferson’s Rye, also 10 years old, and splitting the proof difference at 47%.

The nose on Jefferson’s was lightly woody and had traces of pine. Sweetness with the expected confectioner’s sugar, as well as some caramel led on the nose, with gentle cinnamon and a touch of anise to add a little more dimension.

The whisky had a medium mouthfeel, fairly rich and again led with wood and built heat slowly with cinnamon. The woody character lightened but remained present. Toffee and maple syrup developed in the background. Overall, the palate seemed to have a nice gentle heat and an agreeable balance between wood and sweetness. Again, like the Masterson’s, I thought the palate was slightly bready like a fresh doughnut. (Actually, it reminded me most of a malasada).

The finish was sweet and slightly minty at first, but then was dominated by wood with a little cinnamon and rye. It was slightly bitter, and a little nutmeg went along with the wood.

Again, I found Jefferson’s a pretty good whisky. Given that it runs a little cheaper it might be the best buy of the bunch. Tasting in this sequence though, I thought it lacked a clear identity when compared to the spice cabinet of WhistlePig or the decadent pastry sweetness of Masterson’s.

So that leads us to the obvious conclusion: Which of these straight ryes is worth buying?

Well, truthfully, I wouldn’t be ashamed to have any of these on my bar. They’re all good, but they do something slightly different.

If you’re a spice fan and don’t mind a little heat and slight dryness, you should check out WhistlePig. I really enjoyed the nose on this one, and every aroma was distinct and clear.

If you’re a sweet tooth, head straight for Masterson’s. In retrospect I think I might prefer Masterson’s to the WhistlePig; a little extra water seemed to get this one sorted in the right direction for me. Don’t expect this to be as totally creamy sweet as an E yeast Four Roses, we’re still talking about a 100% rye mashbill.

If you can’t decide, are a newcomer to 100% rye whiskies, or your budget is tighter? Jefferson’s. If you want something a little sweeter, you should go with Masterson’s, and if you want a little spicier, WhistlePig is your ticket. While I’d say this was my least favorite of the three, it’s only because the other two had clearer identities in a 3-way tasting. I still have this as my bottle on the bar and will enjoy every drop that I don’t share out as a sample.

Honestly, of these three, I don’t think there’s a bad choice. And that’s great for all of us.

At a glance:

WhistlePig 10y Straight Rye 50% ABV
Nose:  A dry, slightly spicy nose with a solid wood influence, light black pepper, light oranges, a gentle caramel body, light powdered sugar, gentle cinnamon, a dash of nutmeg and a faint touch of clove.
Palate:  Initially dry and light and slightly woody; sweetness starts to show as the cinnamon heats up the palate. Lightly floral and again a slight caramel body to the sweetness.
Finish:  Warm initially, but the heat fades and leaves a lightly caramel sweetness with a good dose of rye and gentle spices on top. White pepper provides the heat with a shade of nutmeg. Resolves to wood.
Comment:  A nicely aged rye with balance, spice, and character. Tons of interest and the age does a lot to tame any overly piney characteristics that you get in too many ryes these days.
Rating: B+

Masterson’s Rye 45% ABV
Nose:  Spicy and sharp initially, white and black pepper in abundance. Opens up with some confectioner’s sugar and a sweet toffee note. Wood is evident but the nose is predominantly sweet with spice. Smells slightly like a fresh beignet. 
Palate:  Light-to-moderate body, enters a little woody and a slow spicy heat – gentle cinnamon. Mellow sweetness all around. Confectioner’s sugar again. Gentle spice, very faintly piney. Faint pastry sweetness.
Finish:  Sweet and agreeable; gentle toffee but more light caramel and a touch of maple syrup. Light wood influence is obvious on this, even a touch of vanilla. 
Comment:  Quite similar to WhistlePig, but a little sweeter. 
Rating: B+

Jefferson’s Rye 10y 47% ABV
Nose:  Lightly woody and with traces of pine. Sweet with caramel, a light touch of confectioner’s sugar, some gentle cinnamon and a touch of anise. 
Palate:  Medium richness, wood at the entry and a gentle cinnamon build. Wood lightens but remains present, more toffee and a touch of maple syrup in the background. Gentle heat, and a reasonable balance between wood and sweetness. Slightly bready, like a fresh doughnut. 
Finish:  Sweet with a slightly minty note for a second, but then predominantly on wood with a little cinnamon and rye. Ever so slightly bitter; a little nutmeg goes along with the wood. 
Comment:  Pretty good. Not a bad rye for the price, in fact. 
Rating: B+  

 

 

Going To The Wrong Side Of The Tracks

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For some reason unknown to me in the last few months, I’ve been browsing reddit’s various whisky subreddits. It’s not quite the pace or depth of discussion I like to browse at (lots of repeats, too much Aberlour), but for a quick fix of some sort of banter, it’s not an awful spot to check on.

However, one thing that always makes me laugh is the level of derision heaped upon Johnnie Walker Red (I haven’t reviewed it yet but it will certainly get its time in the hot seat). If reddit is your only source of information, you’d probably come away thinking not only is no whisky worse than Red, it’s virtually impossible to imagine anything worse than Red (as I saw one redditor comment recently).

That’s one of the craziest things I’ve read. I can think of a dozen whiskies almost immediately that are so much worse than Red it’d make your face melt off like the guy in the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

French Corpse Bowmore 21? NOOOO

In terms of whisky, I’ve been a believer that it’s worth searching out experiences good and bad. I think it’s really easy to get attached to the good side of things – hey, it tastes good! – and ignore everything that’s less than, say, a C+ by my reckoning. After all, why spend your money on crap?

However, as the more experienced drinkers know, sometimes your curiosity about a bottle that’s not being talked about is punished with the most vile and horrific stuff imaginable. After all, you might reason, how bad can a Sonoma Cutrer casked bourbon REALLY be (see above illustration for answer)? I saw a Macallan 19y bottling from Rattray at one point and picked it up. It turned out to be pretty bad. At the time, I said I wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. It was, at worst, a C- by my reckoning these days. So what do you do with these godawful bottles?

Well, in my circle of friends, you publicize the awfulness and curiosity tends to get the better of people. So you arrange a bad-sample-swap. (Or, as I did last summer, you timidly ask your host if you might try that one whisky he gave a super-low grade to).

This all easily avoids the point: WHY subject yourself to the unpleasantness of something that tastes like burning garbage and pleather?

The answer lies in palate and nose development for me. One whisky I’d inquired about was later characterized as having the most clear-cut case of a butyric acid contamination that person had ever encountered. Butyric acid, you might know, is one of the more foul off-notes whisky can develop. Its presence as a dominant note in this particular whisky helped me spot it a little more readily.

Similarly, I’ve had ones attune me to feinty notes of leather, plastic, and so on. Having whiskies that are flawed in some way tend to help develop my palate or help me better understand what a certain note is. I’ve been able to pin down more concretely some notes that were defying description previously. It also provides a nice contrast to the great whiskies so those are savored.

One of the red flags this year that was waved in front of me was John Hansell’s review of the most recent Buffalo Trace Experimental collection releases. John’s reviews are generally pretty positive and friendly, and any sort of negative aspect or flaw is generally addressed in a pretty even-handed manner.

However, John led with “Don’t buy this whiskey!” in his review of the Oat & Rice bourbons. One of the choice lines from the review was that the whiskies were “borderline unpleasant!” This, coming from John, seemed to me to be the rough equivalent of “This tasted like a dead cat that had been left in the sun for six weeks” from anyone else I knew. I was on the hook almost immediately for these.

The two whiskies are the Buffalo Trace “Bourbon Made With Rice” and “Bourbon Made With Oats” experimental releases. The name gives the details of the experiment away: these trade the traditional flavor grains of wheat and rye for rice and oats. Both sounded like worthwhile experiments.

The rice bourbon was more immediately interesting to me – rice is a pretty benign thing, flavor-wise, and I couldn’t see how that would result in a whiskey that got such negative notes from John.

The nose was lightly sweet, and had some grain and definite corn upfront; maple syrup and butterscotch also were present. There was a very little bit of black pepper, and some very faint cherry and clay notes. Pleasant so far.

The palate was extremely light, and almost watery. It didn’t make a huge statement at all. The flavors developed gradually, with sweetness leading in the form of maple syrup, with a little clay and cherry to balance it. White pepper showed up with a faint hint of cinnamon. There was a moderate wood note which did almost go towards being too bitter. The corn from the nose picked up at the end but it wasn’t very bold.

The finish was hot and dry, with cinnamon, black cherry, a dry and odd grain note which was hard to describe – I guess that’s the rice – overall a bit funky but still clean. It was more textural than taste. The finish was reasonably lasting, and sits on the cusp of bitter and sweet.

That grain note in the finish was distinctive and unlike anything I’d had in a whisky. It seemed to me to be slightly reminiscent of the aftertaste you get on a slightly warm Sapporo. It’s an interesting whisky with a light nose, but it’s more a curiosity than something to keep on the shelf. Ultimately, not really that bad – I’d even say it’s worth a try.

If the rice was OK, that must mean the oat bourbon was the real mess. I put off tasting it for a couple days and came to it with a clean palate.

The nose on the oat bourbon was sharply woody and had a heavily “toasted” character. There was some vegetal sourness peeking out, and some black cherries which initially seem to temper the bitterness, but ultimately started to reinforce it. A little corn and toffee made themselves known, and there was a definite oaty presence after a moment (more Cheerios than oatmeal). The nose stayed dry though it softened a bit and got the caramel sweetness and a light marshmallow note.

The palate was medium-bodied, though woody initially. That toasted aroma from the nose came through on the palate, and it was intensely woody. Dark fruits from the nose were all over the palate – black cherries, plums, and slightly overripe berries. It had a light fruit-derived sweetness that was also syrupy. Faint vanilla sat beside a moderately earthy taste, but it was all blunted by the wood.

The finish was very woody and got dry, and had the toasted flavor. It was slightly bitter, with some corn, vegetal sourness, and pepper. As it goes on it went more vegetal and bitter.

There’s no question the rice was the better experiment; the oat bourbon was closed off on the nose and everything seemed blunted by the wood. The only thing that was at a similar intensity was the dark fruit, but those tastes seemed to reinforce the woodiness, and it was left wanting for something brighter. Even with substantial time in the glass, it opens up a bit but never goes towards balance.

I’m not sure that it was the oats in the mashbill that made this one what it was. It’s entirely possible; High West’s Silver Oat whiskey is a white whiskey but unusually flavorful (in my opinion) for a white whiskey. Maybe it’s a grain that intensifies too much in wood? I’m not sure, but between the wood and the vegetal hints, it seemed more like a questionable cask to me.

In any case, it was an interesting experiment and I’d love to see any future experiments like these from other distillers. The rice has definite potential in a lighter style.

I can’t say I agreed with John’s strongly negative take on these, but as usual with the strong negative reaction, they tend to be quite informative – sometimes even if it’s just about the original source’s personal preferences.

At a glance:

Buffalo Trace Experimental Collection: Bourbon Made With Rice 45% ABV
Nose: Lightly sweet – grainy notes and some definite corn upfront; butterscotch and maple syrup. A very little bit of pepper to it, extremely faint cherry and clay notes.
Palate:  Light mouthfeel; almost watery initially. Doesn’t make a huge statement. Sweetness slowly comes in; maple syrup with a little clay and cherry to balance it. White pepper on the palate; a faint hint of cinnamon. Moderate wood which is right on the edge of becoming a bit too bitter. Corn perks up near the end but the palate isn’t very bold.
Finish:   Heat and dryness initially, with a bit of cinnamon, some black cherry, a slightly dry and kind of odd grain note (which must be the rice but is hard to describe) – a little bit funky but still clean. It is almost more of a mouthfeel and texture than a taste. Finish is reasonably lasting and sits on the cusp of sweet and bitter.
Comment:  The finish grain note is really unlike anything else I’ve had. I’m fairly sure it’s the rice making itself known; the only thing that I’ve had that reminds me of that note is Sapporo. This is a pretty interesting whiskey but I think it’s more interesting as a curiosity than something you’d really want to settle down with.
Rating: B-

Buffalo Trace Experimental Collection: Bourbon Made With Oats 45% ABV
Nose:  Sharply woody initially with a heavily toasted character. There’s a bit of vegetal sourness peeking out against it. Some black cherries temper the wood a bit, but still feed into it. A little bit of corn. Some light toffee and a definite light oat presence – more cheerios than oatmeal. Somewhat dry. Eventually softens and gains some light caramel and some marshmallow as well.
Palate:  Medium thickness, woody entrance on the palate. Toasted flavor again, intensely woody. Dark fruits in abundance – black cherries, plums, slightly overripe berries. Very light fruit-derived sweetness that’s a bit syrupy. Faint vanilla, moderate earthiness that is blunted a bit by the wood. 
Finish:  Very woody, drying, toasted. Slight bitterness on the finish. A little corn, a little vegetal sourness, a dash of pepper. A slightly more bitter vegetal note as it lasts. 
Comment:  Interesting experiment. Rice is the better of the two. The nose is just a little too closed off and everything gets blunted by the wood. The only thing that can really hang with that – the fruit notes – are very dark and it all cries out for something brighter to balance it. Even letting it sit, it opens up a bit but not enough to pull it into balance. 
Rating: C+ 

 

 

Four Roses OBSV Part Two: Extra-Aged Bourbon

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Earlier this week, I wrote about the standard off the shelf 50 proof Four Roses Single Barrel (OBSV). I said it was a great value for the price and one of the best bourbons in its class. It’s time to take this opportunity to see what happens to that recipe when you age it up a bit.

Four Roses’ big push is on their ten recipes, highlighting the role of mashbill and yeast which do definitely play a big role in determining the flavor of a bourbon. However, most whisky aficionados know, the time in oak changes the spirit dramatically. The vegetal notes of new spirit fade away in favor of the tannins and spicy body that wood imparts; the turbinado sugar flavors mixes with the wood influence and becomes more like maple syrup, toffee and caramel. Too little time in the wood and you might as well be riding shotgun with Popcorn Sutton. Too much time and you’d be better off brewing a tea with pencil shavings. Bad wood will take you in the direction of popsicle sticks and napkins. There’s a lot of room to go wrong.

Due to the climate in the midwestern US, which was far too extreme for me (hot summers and cold winters drove me from southern Illinois to southern California), bourbon is ready for prime time in anywhere from four to eight years. Twelve years can be pushing it but some bourbons wear the age well. For the most part, the old-age crown is worn most readily by the Pappy Van Winkle bourbons, effortlessly holding up to 15 and 20 years of age. Heaven Hill’s Elijah Craig also manages 12 and 18 20 years (but at $150 I don’t expect to have a judgement on the 20 soon). What then of the other distilleries? There’s a lot that can go wrong in over a decade.

I was excited when I heard about the Four Roses Gift Shop exclusive, a 17 year old OBSV recipe. While I’m a big fan of OBSK, OBSV is a reliable favorite. Getting the chance to try an extra-aged version was a rare treat. Unfortunately, one problem: my wife wasn’t about to sign off on me jetting to Kentucky to pick up a bottle of bourbon.

Fortunately, a good friend offered to pick up a bottle for me and ship it back. I took him up on his offer, sending him a couple bottles of Southern Californian microbrew in exchange. Soon, the whiskey was in my hands. I could hardly wait to see what would happen with this one. Would it show too much oak? Would it be the greatest thing ever? Perhaps worst of all, might it be a very middle of the road and safe barrel pick?

The nose on this one is great – warm and woody, with dark fruits prominent up front. Plums and black cherries compete against very creamy vanilla; deep wood notes provide a bed for everything. Rye spiciness is evident and even slightly aggressive, but not to the extent that it’s disagreeable or too harsh.

The palate starts dry with plenty of wood. Cinnamon, black cherries and vanilla take over, moving the palate away from dry astringency. Toffee and maple syrup pick up, and then rye comes storming in again, providing a nice kick and a slightly floral quality. With a little more time the wood comes into focus but it’s not so dry, and it’s nicely balanced by light orange zest.

The finish, much like on the standard OBSV, is drier than the palate. Black pepper and oak lead; cinnamon and black cherries come side by side behind it. Finally, rye spice and a hint of nutmeg are the last flavors standing.

I was really surprised by the 17 year old version of this whisky. I certainly expected an uptick in dryness, black pepper, cinnamon, and wood, but the creaminess on the 17 is much more pronounced to me than it is on the younger standard version. There’s a strong wood influence to be sure, but it’s not in the least bit tired. It’s full of life and flavor, but with a weight and deliberation that you’d hope for in a bourbon of this age.

Quality-wise, I have to say that this particular barrel (78-30, Warehouse QS), honestly stands shoulder to shoulder with other highly regarded bourbons like those found in the Buffalo Trace Anniversary Collection; Pappy Van Winkle, or the Parker’s Heritage collection. Honestly, I think if Four Roses could find the right push for this one, they could release these in limited quantities to a broader market and have a serious contender for the Van Winkles of the world, which are becoming a chore to find anymore.

Four Roses Single Barrel (Private Selection – Four Roses Gift Shop) OBSV 17y 53.3%  ABV
Nose:  Warm and woody, with dark fruits – plums, black cherries – jostling for attention against creamy vanilla aroma while deep wood notes provide a bed. Rye spiciness is evident and slightly aggressive but not disagreeably so.
Palate:  Dry on the palate initially with plenty of wood; giving way to cinnamon and black cherries with a light bit of vanilla, slight toffee and faint maple syrup. Rye picks up right behind this, giving a nice kick and slightly floral note. Light orange balances the wood which starts to come to the forefront again.
Finish:  Finishes dry with black pepper and oak, a little cinnamon and black cherries; rye spiciness and a hint of nutmeg.
Comment:  Interestingly, I think the creaminess is better developed in the 17y version of OBSV than the 10y. The barrel notes give a strong influence to this and it’s quite powerful, but not at all tired. Full of life and flavor, but moving deliberately according to its age. If Four Roses released this wide they might have a contender to the Pappy throne.
Rating: A-

Fourth Of July: Four Roses Single Barrel

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A while back in my extensive discussion of Woodford Reserve, I mentioned that I thought a similarly priced bottle which was a far better value in terms of quality and taste was the Four Roses Single Barrel bottling. I’ve come back to it time and time again and find it’s one of my all time favorites.

If you’re not familiar with Four Roses, it’s an interesting operation. Their Four Roses (“Yellow Label”) bourbon is a mix of their ten recipes that they produce. Yes, ten recipes. Four Roses essentially makes ten separate bourbons which vary by mashbill and by yeast strain.

Mashbill is not a surprising way to vary character – it can have a huge effect. Their two mashbills are “B” and “E”. E is a 75% corn, 20% rye mashbill; B is a 60% corn, 35% mashbill. There are also five yeast strains used with both of the mashbills – these combinations produce the ten bourbons.

If you’ve never managed to have a tasting where yeast was the variable, I highly recommend it. Retailers like Binnys and The Party Source both have all ten recipes available, and it exposes huge differences in the bourbons. I had my first education on the role of yeast strains on mashbills with High West’s David Perkins during a marathon tasting. We had four extremely different whiskeys at one point – the only difference between them was the yeast used. No one in the room guessed that as the variable.

The recipe used by Four Roses in the standard widely-available single barrel bottling is the OBSV recipe. This means the “B” mashbill (35% rye) and the V yeast, which Four Roses describes as having a “delicate fruit, spicy and creamy” character. This combination happens to be one of my very favorite – everything is in exquisite balance.

This is a great bourbon for the fourth of July. I think it does everything with a touch of class. It’s phenomenal when drunk neat; it takes ice and mixers well (if you’re a mixer guy). I’ve used it for phenomenal mint juleps and this afternoon it’s going to be a part of my bourbon and vanilla ice cream milkshake. The spice adds so much character but it doesn’t live exclusively in the domain of aggressively spicy and hot whiskeys. It’s accessible and refined – a perfect model American.

The nose has nice, well-developed notes of rye which have deep nuance. It’s almost reminiscent of a super-fresh deli rye bread (a favorite!). There’s wood which gives depth and almost has a light cedar quality to it. There’s some floral hints as well as some light black pepper on the nose. Black cherries, a faint touch of maple syrup and a hint of orange round out the nose with some nice top notes.

The palate is great and continues where the nose left off: It’s nice and sweet initially but the darker fruit tartness moves in. Rye spice and creamy vanilla are in balance; light cinnamon and white pepper add a gentle but not overwhelming heat. It’s a perfectly balanced set of textures and flavors.

The finish is a little interesting but works nicely in my opinion. It starts dry with wood, but then cherry and vanilla pick up. Cinnamon heat is present, but then it dries and goes bitter but in a more vegetal direction than wood – endive and romaine hearts are present. After a while some corn sweetness comes out and you can almost imagine the character of the new make underneath all of this.

This Four Roses is one of the best bottles sitting on your liquor store’s shelf that doesn’t require you to have the determination of a bounty hunter or a close relationship with your spirits buyer to find. It’s got a much more complex set of flavors and aromas that it draws from when compared to most bourbons out there. It’s really enjoyable, a permanent fixture in my bar and in my opinion, a can’t-fail classic. If you’re looking for a great bourbon to celebrate the Fourth – look no further.

At a glance:

Four Roses Single Barrel – 50% ABV
Nose:  Nice, well developed notes of rye which have a great, deep nuance. Almost reminiscent of super-fresh deli rye bread. Nice wood with it, giving depth. Almost a light cedar quality to it. Lightly floral; a hint of black pepper. Black cherries, a faint touch of maple syrup and a hint of orange.
Palate:  Nice and sweet initially with a bit of darker fruit tartness. Creamy vanilla, nice gentle rye spiciness, light cinnamon and again a very faint touch of white pepper. Wood adds some depth again to the palate but it’s not bitter. A little gentle heat but it’s very even-tempered.
Finish:  Slightly dry at first and opening on wood, picking up the cherry notes and a bit of the vanilla. Cinnamon adds a bit of heat for a moment as it dries and goes a touch bitter with a light hint of endive or romaine heart. Settles more on the vegetal notes and a bit of corn sweetness comes out.
Comment:  Four Roses has a better than average track record for me. This standard OBSV recipe single barrel bottling is just a time-honored classic in my opinion. I love it, it’s got sweetness and creaminess but it’s nicely balanced with some spice and heat with tartness as well. It doesn’t get cloying and while the finish is a bit dry, it works very well in my opinion. For the price it’s one of the most consistently solid bourbons you can find regularly.
Rating: B+

Buffalo Trace Single Oak Project: The Unceremonious End

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Over the last year, I’ve been reviewing the rounds of the Buffalo Trace Single Oak Project. While many have been skeptical of this project, I have defended it as I didn’t see it as any more or less crassly commercial than the rest of the industry’s various projects and exclusives. I still think it’s a long way from collections that are as vulgar as the Dalmore Constellation collection, for that matter.

However, over the last few months, my tasting group has had participants drop out. I didn’t think this was a problem at the time – I know tons and ton of whiskey aficionados, surely replacing the drop-outs wouldn’t be a huge effort. And yet it was. For every replacement seat secured, another participant dropped out. While most of it was covered, it ended up being one short on a rolling basis.

Unfortunately, that’s where I have to know when to fold my hand.

Even if I did secure every seat, that’s for one round. The most die-hard whiskey fans I know couldn’t sustain interest past four releases. The prospect of chasing down willing participants seemingly endlessly for three years on a quarterly basis doesn’t sound like a fun time to me.

So, I am forced to revisit the question of the Single Oak Project. Yes, it’s interesting. Yes, it’s audacious. But if it’s not possible to drum up sustained interest among the nerdiest and most passionate of bourbon lovers, how will the project sustain interest for the next three years? As a casual consumer, you’re picking blind. The only guy who seems to be continuing to have coverage is Christopher Null over at Drinkhacker - and that’s just one opinion out there. I know I will not be buying individual bottles blind; it misses the point of the project.

So the project adds one more unaccounted-for variable: inconsistency among palates. Maybe Buffalo Trace thought this through and there will be separate cohorts analyzed, but I doubt it. Maybe Buffalo Trace is happy to roll the dice based on near-random consumer input with very little control data, but a one in 192 shot is utterly awful odds at finding “The Perfect Bourbon”. It’s better than the lottery by a fair shot, but it’s about 6 times worse odds than roulette tables.

For me, this seems to be the end of the project. I would have been interested to follow it through, but the economics are prohibitive – $600 a case every four months? I’m not going to pay close to $2500 a year for bourbon I only need about 60mL of to understand in the context of SIngle Oak, and I don’t have the space to store such a huge amount of whiskey for such an ongoing time. 54 liters of bourbon remaining in 3 years is too tall an order – to say nothing of the $7500 buy-in it would require.

So, unfortunately, this is the end for the Buffalo Trace Single Oak Project coverage here, as far as I can see it. Managing a group buy and filling minis, photographing bottles and so on – I’m not going to miss that one bit. I will miss the bit-by-bit experimentation, but $100 a quarter was as high as I would go on it.

Your best bet for future coverage is at Drinkhacker as linked above, and it seems like a few liquor store owners are quietly making their way through the flights.

Good luck, Buffalo Trace. If a release for the aficionados can’t generate and sustain aficionado interest, those three years of remaining inventory have to be looking slightly larger.

Col. E.H. Taylor Old Fashioned Sour Mash

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Today I’m turning my sights to a release from last year – E.H. Taylor’s Old Fashioned Sour Mash. The Taylor name – you might remember it as Old Taylor – was bought from Beam a few years back. For a while it looked like this might be a less-experimental series of releases than the Experimental Collection. There have been a few releases to day:

  • Old Fashioned Sour Mash
  • Single Barrel
  • Tornado Surviving (aka Kentucky Phoenix)
  • Barrel Proof
  • COLA nerds know a Straight Rye label exists. (there’s also a label for Small Batch, so who knows what the Taylor line holds)

Today we’re talking about the first release: Old Fashioned Sour Mash. Now, I know 99.999% of the readers here understand the sour mash process. It’s not a unique thing in American whisky – it’s extremely common, if not the overall norm. Without getting too deep into distillation minutia: some of the spent grain used from a prior distillation batch is retained for the next batch. This has the effect of lowering the pH for the next batch, which allows the fermentation to be yeast-driven versus bacterial. (For the real nerds, Scotch whiskies allow for a second bacterial fermentation as they’ve frequently got open-top washbacks – honestly, the best explanation I’ve ever read of the whisky making process is in Charles MacLean’s Malt Whisky which is one of the most lucid explanations I’ve encountered)

So, the difference between the sour mash process as it exists today and the “Old Fashioned” process is one of time. Buffalo Trace allowed the mash to sit for a while before entering the fermenters and the pH slowly dropped into the range that would be expected to be seen in the modern version of the sour mash process. This natural process that resulted in a lower pH is what they’re calling Old Fashioned, versus the modern spent-grain method.

OK, enough nerdosity. Let’s talk about the whisky. This stuff was mocked almost immediately upon release because of its $75 price tag. The scotch guys will pay this without blinking an eye, but $75 puts you within a stone’s throw of Buffalo Trace’s Anniversary Collection or Parker’s Heritage, so the final result better be great.

Unfortunately, if you subtract out the economics of a small run, I’m not sure that it lives up to the $75 price tag, and that seems to be the general consensus on this release.

The nose is warm and spicy, with evidence of rye almost immediately. It’s got strong but not overbearing wood influence; vanilla, corn and general grainy notes. There’s a slight hint of brown sugar and maple syrup.

The palate is lightly sour on first entry – think of a more refined version of the sourness you get off of an Evan Williams sometimes. It warms gently; has a nice woody sweetness and is mildly astringent. There’s rye, toffee, and it’s lightly vegetal. It’s nowhere near as young and green as, say, a Beam.

The finish dries quickly and leaves behind vanilla, some slightly sour new-make notes, more wood and is lightly warming with a moderate length finish.

It’s not the most amazing whisky I’ve had and I think the $75 price tag would be out of line if this were a regular production item. It’s nice with its heat and has some nuance, and the slight presence of sourness isn’t overbearingly “green” nor does it make the whole thing a mess. It serves as a nice balance to the sweetness evident elsewhere.

Honestly, I think this is a good whisky. It’s not going to be common on the shelves at this point; if you find a bottle it’s worth picking up. It’s definitely worth trying in a bar. I’d love to see something like this become a regular offering.

At a glance:

Col. E.H. Taylor Old Fashioned Sour Mash (50% ABV)
Nose:  Warm and spicy, with rye evident immediately. Strong but not overbearing wood, vanilla. Corn and grainy notes, and a slight hint of brown sugar. Some maple syrup as well.
Palate:  Lightly sour on first entry, warming gently. Woody sweetness with mild astringency. Rye, light toffee, slightly vegetal notes.
Finish:  Drying quickly, leaving behind vanilla, slightly sour new-make notes like the Buffalo Trace White Dog, more wood, lightly warming. Moderate finish.
Comment:  This isn’t a world-beater, but it’s different than most people are making today and a nice change. It’s not overbearingly hot, has some good complexity and is overall enjoyable. This has a slight sourness throughout that works nicely to provide some balance to to the sweetness.
Rating: B