2016 Whisky Wind-down, 23: The Easy Way

Today’s dram: Johnnie Walker Black

Today’s tasting notes: This whisky wasn’t in my draft plans for Whisky Wind-down, but it turns out I had a travel size bottle in my collection.

I acquire these, sometimes as gifts, other times picked up at distilleries, and they accumulate. I have a drawer for them now.

Not to digress too much, but is travel size the right term? Feels a little silly. Sample size? Airplane bottle? The only size allowed in Utah up until the state board changed its mind and now you can’t buy them there at all? Fun size?

I’ve had Johnnie Walker Black before, though I’ve never owned a full-size bottle. It’s been a couple of years, but I recall this being a decent enough whisky, just not remarkable.

I went looking for the description online — since the tiny bottle isn’t helpful here — and supposedly it is smoky. Huh. I do not remember that. Then again, maybe it’s only smoky if you’re used to easy-going Scotch whisky. I have what you might call an affinity for smokiness.

Anyway, let’s see how memory matches reality …

Huh. There is smoke there. Not faint, either. Distinct. Not Laphroaig, mind, but then what is? Otherwise, smooth. Very. Not much peat to speak of, but there. It’s Scotch whisky, for sure, and if you’re not a Scotch whisky drinker this might well bowl you over.

Today’s thoughts: So, here’s where I tell you this was meant to be an entirely different entry of Whisky Wind-down.

I will probably get back to that one, which, not to spoil the surprise, covers a different color of Johnnie Walker.

I have a lot more to tell you about my feelings on blended whisky. Those feelings, however, are tied to something else I really want to talk about.

My writing on that topic wasn’t working today. And I want to be happy with the results. This is a fun series for me, but getting it right matters, too, especially with certain topics. Later, I hope.

Today’s lesson: Admit when it’s not working and find something that does.

Today’s toast: To self-awareness: Wait, who am I?

2016 Whisky Wind-down, 24: Reunions and Rare Bottlings


Today’s dram: Maker’s Mark 46, Cask-strength (only sold at the distillery)

Today’s tasting notes: I’m opening this one for the first time today. I picked it up last October, when the wife and I went on a road trip through Kentucky, home of bourbon: 1,531 miles, 8 days, 13 distilleries, 6 bourbon bars, 3 cave tours, 2 dinners with friends, 1 game night. (Gee, it would have been nice if someone had blogged about that, wouldn’t it?)

The distilleries included every one on the official Kentucky Bourbon Trail, which includes most of the big-name bourbons you’ve probably heard of, including Maker’s Mark. For most of its history, Maker’s Mark only produced one bourbon, its namesake. One grain bill, one technique, one whisky. A few years ago, it began gradually experimenting and eventually released Maker’s 46, which is the namesake whisky aged an additional year or so during which time several lightly toasted wooden staves are inserted into the barrel. (They got it right on the 46th variation, hence the name.) While you can buy Maker’s 46 in any good bottle shoppe you can only buy the sparingly produced cask-strength version of 46 at the distillery.* It’s pricey, but my wife and I splurged on a pair of bottles, given how much we like Maker’s 46.

I love the handmade look to the label on this one. Not like the professional label on your regular bottles of Maker’s Mark, eh? Well, it kind of is. One of the cool things we saw on the distillery tour was the print shop, where two people are employed full-time to print all the company’s labels on a 19th century hand-crank printing press. Pretty damned cool.

I know that’s a lot of preamble for the tasting notes, but context matters, yes?

So, taste — sweet mercy! 

I’m a fan of Maker’s Mark, anyway. I love the nuanced difference between their bourbon and most others. I love that their mash bill isn’t the typical corn/barley/rye. They sub winter wheat for the rye. This tones down the spiciness (or “bite”) and gives the whisky a softer, easier touch. 

Maker’s 46 is that, with a gentle vanilla note added from the extra aging with those special staves. 

This? Oh, it’s lovely. All the grace and gentle beauty of 46, with the warmth dialed up just a touch from its cask strength. 

Today’s thoughts: Along the way on our road trip, we stopped in Louisville, which apart from being home to a few distilleries and many bourbon bars, is also home to a dear old friend of mine. And while I had not seen her in person in over twenty years, she is one of a handful of people I went to high school with whom I still care to keep in touch. She was DM for the first serious Dungeons & Dragons campaign in which I ever played.** She introduced me to R.E.M. and feminism.

These days she works in a game store, and I am a tiny bit jealous of that. But we got to stop by the shop to get a couple of board games in, and I even picked up a few dice while I was there because there is no such thing as too many dice.

It was good catching up. We agreed to not let another 20 years go by without hanging out. 

Today’s trivia: Since bourbon must be aged in new oak barrels, a steady supply of used barrels emerges from every bourbon distillery. Different distilleries have different means of disposing of their used barrels (nearly always for profit) but a great many end up at Scotch whisky distilleries. Scotch whisky also has to be aged on wood, but there is no requirement that the wood be new, so many varieties of Scotch whisky spend most (or all) of their maturation years in barrels that once held bourbon. (Some are aged in barrels that were originally used for sherry or other spirits, and this can be an important aspect a whisky’s profile. I digress. More one this later, surely.)

So, Maker’s Mark barrels? They’re mostly sold to Laphroaig. As our tour guide put it, if you love Laphroaig whisky  — I do! —  you owe a tiny bit of gratitude to Maker’s Mark.

Today’s toast: To travel and friendships renewed!

—–

* — Cask-strength versions of original Maker’s Mark bourbon, once hard to find, have started popping up at better bottle shoppes. That’s good stuff, too. (If any of these terms are unfamiliar, check out yesterday’s post, Whisky Wind-down, Interlude: Terminology.)

** — I’d previously participated in other role-playing games, even a quick D&D session, but she ran the first proper campaign*** I was a part of. Glory days.

*** — It was a second edition game world of her creation, with a focus on role-playing over combat. I played a thief.

2016 Whisky Wind-down, 25: Faraway Friends

 

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Today’s dram: Jameson Irish Signature Reserve

Today’s tasting notes: Jameson is smooth, rich easy-drinking Irish whisky. This stuff? Head of the class. It has almost no rough edge to it. Gently sweet. The body is light if you’re used to single malt Scotch whisky, but it’s in the medium range for Irish whisky.

Today’s thoughts: This bottle was a wedding gift from one of my wife’s friends who lives in Ireland. I’m told you can’t buy this in the States. She gave us this bottle and a pair of lovely Irish crystal tumblers. Once or twice a year we have a measure and I talked her into doing so tonight. (It was not a difficult conversation. My wife is fond of whisky, too, with the notable exceptions of smoky or peaty Scotch whisky.)

Why this dram tonight? Faraway friends are on my mind. I’ll leave it at that.

Today’s maudlin notation: Hug the ones you love, and don’t put off taking that trip to see them (or saying yes when they ask to visit you).

Today’s toast: To all I hold dear, but especially those not near: Be well. I love you.

Whisky Wind-down, Interlude: Terminology

As I was writing my latest, I caught myself drifting into whisky esoterics, and it occurred to me I should probably not assume everyone reading this series has the same level of familiarity with this, uh, hobby as I do.

With the casual drinker (or interested non-drinker) in mind, here are some whisky basics:

Wait, whisky? Or, whiskey? You seem unsure on this. 

Depends where you live.

Most of the world prefers to spell it “whisky.”

Here in the States we mostly spell it “whiskey,” but being contrary Americans we are not consistent and sometimes use “whisky.” (There is probably an American somewhere selling “wisky.” Or maybe whiskay. Whiz-K. Schwizkee. I’ll stop.)

The Irish, meanwhile, spell it “whiskey.” Or uisce beatha.

I prefer “whisky” because I prefer the way it looks. (Also, the AP Stylebook says to use “whiskey.” That book has irritated me one too many times, so I sometimes go against it on principle.)

At any rate, I use “whisky” in my writing unless the distillery uses “whiskey” in its name, in which case I’ll defer to that.

Unless I typo it. Whicth hapens.

At any rate, if spelling inconsistencies get on your nerves, maybe don’t take up drinking whisk(e)y.

Fuck the spelling, what is it?

Booze. Made from grain. (Goes like this: Make grain soup. Let it ferment. Boil it down. Let it sit for a few years, usually in a wooden barrel. Dilute. Bottle. Profit.)

If you want more detail, try Google. (Or take a distillery tour. Serious fun, those.)

What sort of grains are we talking here?

A little bit of everything. (I recently tried a quinoa whisky. It was … an experience.)

But let’s narrow focus. Most of what I drink is malt whisky.

Malt whisky?

Whisky made from malted grain (Malted basically means “sprouted.” It’s … well, it’s a whole process unto itself. Seriously, if you want more detail, hit Google.)

The grain in malt whisky is usually barley. In fact, when someone says “malt whisky” it’s safe to assume they mean a barley whisky. (I’ve never seen or heard “barley whisky” used as a marketing term.)

What about other grains?

Malted rye makes rye whisky.

There might be other single malts to which I’m not savvy, but those are the big two. And, really, when someone says “single malt” odds are they are talking about Scotch whisky.

Okay, so what exactly is Scotch whisky?

Only malt whisky made in Scotland can legally be called Scotch whisky. There are several major regions, each with a distinct whisky-making style, and some of them have sub-regions as well. (I’ll spare you several hundred words of description here, as these are characteristics I tend to mention in my tasting notes.)

And single malt?

One malt, one distillery. Single malt whisky. AKA, the good stuff.

Although the term is not limited to Scotch whisky, that’s the whisky type with which it is most commonly associated.

(Do not confuse single malt with “single barrel.” A single malt whisky, like most types of whisky, is usually a mixture of dozens of barrels, which may or may not have been from the same distillation batch or aged for the same duration. These are joined under the guidance of a distillery’s master tasters to produce a consistent product.)

In that case, what exactly is a blended whisky?

Different malts. Possibly different grains.

Generally speaking, single malts are seen as having more character than blended whiskies, but that’s not to say a master blender can’t make something you will enjoy more.

Some blended whiskies are quite popular, i.e., the (in)famous Johnnie Walker lines of Scotch whisky, which bring together multiple malt whiskies from multiple distilleries to produce their various “colors.”

Other blends have names — such as bourbon.

What about bourbon? 

Bourbon is whisky. But it’s a very particular type of whisky, with some special legal caveats. The mash bill has to be a least 51% corn. (Barley is nearly always in there, too, as is rye, though some blends use wheat instead.) The spirit must be aged on charred new oak barrels. (The time varies, but it’s a minimum of two years to be called straight bourbon, and anything younger than four years is supposed by labeled as such, I guess so people can laugh at the baby bourbon. There are currently some distillers out there flaunting these age requirements, using technology to speed the process and calling the result bourbon. Some people call them innovators. I call them assholes. Which is not to say they aren’t making good whisky; but c’mon. Call it what it is — make up something snazzy; employ a marketing department ! — but don’t pretend it’s bourbon.)

It has to be made in Kentucky, right?

No. Common misconception. However, nearly all bourbon is made in Kentucky, due to tradition, marketing, and groovy whisky weather. Bourbon must be made in the United States. (Unless you’re a foreign government that disagrees. Also assholes.)

That it?

No, there are some regulations about distillation strength and bottling strength, but frankly that’s a lot of math, and I am a writer, not a, er, math person.

And Tennessee whisky?

It’s usually (not always) legally speaking bourbon, but most Tennessee whisky makers don’t use that term because they like their exclusive term better.

Also, it has to be filtered through charcoal. Or something. I’m not a big fan.

Irish whiskey?

There are some pesky legal specifics (on distillation proof, aging time, and something else, I think) but the big deal is to be made on the island.

Irish whiskey is generally regarded as smooth, and this is often attributed to the common technique of triple distillation (which is exactly what it sounds like).

Personally, I find Irish whiskey a little too easy drinking, but that is only a bad thing depending on context.

A while back you mentioned single barrel. What’s the big deal with those?

A single barrel is just what it says — whisky bottled from one barrel, not a mixture. This is whisky with nuance. That one barrel might have, for example, been left in storage longer or been exposed to more or less heat than typical. Maybe the distiller got a weird idea and (depending on the whether this is allowed for the whisky in question) used an unusual wood or char level. Perhaps … you get the idea. This is one-of-a-kind stuff, and it’s generally priced to match.

What about cask strength? You tossed that term around back in Whisky Wind-down 30

At maturity, nearly all whisky is diluted with pure water to bring its proof down to a standard level, usually between 80 and 90 (40-45 % alcohol) depending on style.

Cask strength whisky is undiluted. This is whisky off the wood, unadulterated the way the elements made it. The longer it aged (and the warmer the climate) the stronger a cask strength whisky will be.

Sometimes cask strength is also single barrel. AKA, the best stuff.

(Some people cut cask strength with water. I have nothing but contempt for that practice. Just save money and buy regular whisky, fool.)

You take this stuff pretty seriously, huh?

You have no idea. This is the polite, condensed version.

Anything else?

I agree with Warren Ellis on the subject of cocktails.

Who? What?

Shh. I’ll get to it eventually.

2016 Whisky Wind-down, 26: Day Job

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Today’s dram: Macallan 10-Year-Old, Fine Oak

Today’s tasting notes: Tastes like Scotch whisky, a single malt from the Highlands.* Which is what it is. Good whisky. Warm whisky. Comparable to The Glenlivet 12? Kinda. I feel like this goes down a bit easier, but it’s really a push between the two for me. It’s easy whisky. Workday whisky.

Today’s thoughts: I once worked for a man who kept a bar in his office. It was one of those globe bars, the kind that looks like it’s just a swanky wooden model of the Earth — nothing to see here, merely the fancy of a geography aficionado —  but then swings open to reveal a half-dozen bottles and glassware.

Not that this guy was trying to hide his bar; he just liked the look of the thing. He wasn’t shy about being a drinker, and on a good evening, when he was particularly pleased — with himself or, rarer, with something an employee had done — he might just offer a drink, possibly paired with a cigar from his office humidor.

Did I mention this was a man who owned his own business? Yeah. Perks of ownership.

I haven’t worked in a place like that before or since, but I do imagine one day having that sort of set-up myself. Not as a boss or business owner. I have zero interest in either. But an office with a bar appeals. Nice desk. Good view. Maybe of the mountains. Yes, I’m describing retirement.

Day job retirement, anyway.

For now — and, let’s be honest, likely the next couple of decades — that’s a necessity.

I’m not going to discuss my current work, but suffice to say it’s not an open bar environment.

On the plus side, it’s rarely so stressful that I feel like heading straight to my own bar afterwards, either.

That’ll do for now.

Today’s note on balance: I’m not going to say balance is essential, either in whisky or life, but there are areas where I prefer it. Day job is one. Happy to have that.

Today’s toast: To the working stiffs: It may not feel like it, but 5 o’clock is coming.

—–

* — I know. Speyside. Look, if the distillery doesn’t go to the trouble of labeling its own sub-region, who am I to go chasing after it? But, yes. Speyside.