Spirits: Two Nikka Whiskies

I've been meaning to do this post for a while, not least because I need to make room in my bar, but also because it covers a unique variety of whiskey that I think deserves consideration. A couple months ago, I overheard a couple guys wondering aloud about the Japanese labels up on the bar whiskey shelf, and immediately had to jump in for color commentary, much to my wife's dismay. I hope some of that enthusiasm comes through here.

Japanese whiskey is kind of a funny thing. (Yes, for the pedantic, that's often spelled "whisky", which is a stupid and pointless convention that I refuse to follow.)  It's a relatively new practice in Japan, one which has already established a bit of a core style but which culls influences from other, older traditions. Japan has an astounding talent for mimicry, and often when I taste Japanese whiskey I'm reminded of other styles that are being given a deep nod. That's definitely the case with these two.

Both of these are produced by the Nikka Whisky Distilling Company (I'll respect the convention here because it's part of a formal name, nerds) which was one of the first distillers to set up shop in the Japanese islands. Its founder, Masataka Taketsuru (for whom one of the whiskies below is named) came from a family of sake brewers, and enrolled at the University of Glasgow to study chemistry during the brief decades when Japan was open to the West before World War II. He became enamored with the Scottish whiskey-making tradition, apprenticed to a few distillers, married a young Scotswoman, and returned to Japan. After working for an established distiller (now owned by the giant Suntory) he went independent and established his first distillery in Yoichi on the northern island of Hokkaido, following highly traditional Scottish whiskeymaking practices. Later on, the company added further distilling operations, including a Coffey or column still imported from Scotland, and now oversees a whole range of distilling and bottling operations all over the Japanese islands. These folks have carried on their founder's legacy of traditional methods taken very seriously, and it shows in the end product available on our shores.


Taketsuru Pure Malt

About: A blended malt, meaning that it's a combination of multiple single malts. There's no age statement on this, so while I hear that various 12-year, 17-year, 21-year, and so on versions are available, we can't be sure that this isn't mostly much younger. Ah well, we must be content with what we're given. According to what sources I can find, it's partially aged in sherry casks, which explains some of its similarity to scotch, which is often treated in the same way.

Tasting Notes: There's a wisp of smoke on the nose of this one that immediately brings to mind scotch, possibly even one of the intense island editions that tastes like moss and sea. Yet it's also pretty and lightly floral, with hints of ripe fruit. The palate is smooth and beautiful, with all kinds of balanced flavors. There's spicy grain and more of that smoke; there's stewed apple, toasted almonds, and cherry blossom; there's orange peel and a curiously buttery quality. I keep wanting to taste it over and over again to catch new hints. The presence of peat builds as it sits on your tongue and is notably present on the long finish, along with repeats of the savory flavors in the palate. Really tasty, and while it occupies a similar niche of flavors as an island scotch (Scapa, maybe?) it seems to strike off in its own, highly refined direction.


Coffey Grain Whisky (again, it's in the name)

About: Being a "grain whiskey", this isn't made from just malted barley but also contains corn and wheat, bringing it a bit closer to bourbon than scotch. Surprisingly (at least to me) it's produced on the same stills that produce the Taketsuru, which are located in the Miyagikyo distillery. Again, there's no age statement, and there's not much information available that I can find about the aging process, but I won't argue too much when the end product is this good.

Tasting Notes: To me this is much more reminiscent of Irish whiskey than scotch. It smells sweet and richly fruity on the nose, with a bit of toasted grain background. On the palate it shares a marshmallow-y sweetness with Irish whiskies, along with a core of rich grain. There are accents of orange peel and cherry blossom throughout, echoing the Taketsuru, but it has a much richer, denser texture. The peat here is a subtle backing only, and the finish is mostly one of lingering spicy grain. It's a markedly different product, and while I think it's less subtle and layered than the Taketsuru it's also deeply satisfying. Anybody who likes a good Irish whiskey like Redbreast would dig this too.


For the curious, there are other Japanese whiskies available on our shores, notably the excellent Suntory-owned Hibiki, and I fully intend to give them a rotating spot in my bar. They may be somewhat uncommon in the US but are worth seeking out, and the Nikka editions above are excellent entry points.

Spirits: Karlsson's Gold Vodka

When I assembled my list of actually good vodkas a few months ago, Karlsson's was on my potential list for inclusion but didn't make the cut because, well, I hadn't actually tried it. I first heard about it in my copy of Jason Wilson's Boozehound (an all-around great book) which describes it as a total rejection of the modern multiply-distilled and ultra-filtered "premium vodka". Wilson even uses the term "potato eau-de-vie", and given my love for other products that use the same philosophy I was dying to try it.

Although I started to see advertisements in Imbibe Magazine, several reviews, and even a couple single-vintage line extensions (single-vintage vodka!) it was months before I stumbled across a bottle of Karlsson's for sale locally. That wound up being a little too late to make the aforementioned list, but I have no qualms tacking on an addendum. Shall we?

About: That's a pretty bottle, no? The shiny golden potatoes along the inside label are a nice touch. The stuff inside has an interesting provenance, stemming from what Wilson describes as an effort to capture a sense of terroir in vodka. It's produced from a blend of heirloom new potatoes all grown in Cape Bjäre, Sweden. Once harvested, the spirit is run only once through a continuous still, not multiple times as is common with super-luxe flavorless vodkas, and is bottled unfiltered. Which makes the clarity of the end result a little surprising, but there you have it. Basically, they're trying to capture the flavor of the potato itself, with as little filtering or embellishment as possible. How do they do?

Tasting Notes: Served at room temperature, this is aggressively medicinal on the nose, a bit like smelling a bottle of aspirin. It's a bit offputting, but there are some notes of dried herbs and black pepper in there too. On the palate, it's immediately rich and creamy (not adjectives that I would normally use to describe vodka) and I'll be damned if it doesn't actually taste a lot like a raw slice of potato. It's subtly vegetal, sweet, a little bit peppery, with distinct notes of fresh thyme and heavy cream. But all of that is played softly and in balance, without much fanfare. As a result, ice waters it down too much and renders it unremarkable. My favorite way to drink it so far has been chilled and served on its own; when cold, the medicinal nose is almost entirely absent, and you can let the vodka rest and warm up on your tongue to taste the layers of flavor. Chilling also helps temper the medicinal and peppery bite of the finish, leaving behind a creamy sweetness that is, again, oddly... potato-y. Sipping vodka - who knew?

On the whole I really like this stuff as a curiosity and a marked departure from the intent of most vodkas. It's definitely more intensely flavored than the other vodkas I reviewed previously, and I feel like it wouldn't mix quite as effectively - it's really meant to be enjoyed on its own. I'm not sure if there's a huge niche for that in the liquor market, but I'm glad that somebody is trying to fill it.

Spirits: Even More Weird Gins

That's right, kids: even more weird-ass gins for your perusal. I'm trying to build a very off-kilter catalog here.

Esmé

About: From what I can tell, this might be an exclusive import from Total Wine & Spirits, who consistently surprise me by carrying some otherwise hard to find stuff. Information on how it's produced is a bit difficult to come by, but its listing at the retailer notes that it's a modern gin, flavored with cucumber and rose petals, which puts it into direct competition with the long-dominant Hendrick's. I was a little skeptical, but pleasantly surprised to find that it's less aggressively floral than expected. And it retails for maybe 60% of Hendrick's typical price. It's certainly not small-batch in any sense, but I don't let that bother me when I'm buying Tanqueray, so why should it here?

Tasting Notes: Esmé doesn't stray too far from the London Dry formula, and the nose is nothing too distinctive, except for some floral-perfume notes that blow off quickly. The palate is quite soft, with a creamy marshmallow character reminiscent of a decent vodka. The botanicals start creeping in after the sweetness eases, but they don't include much juniper flavor, more an indistinct mix of dried herbs and a bit of citrus peel. Pretty quickly, the bitter-grassy flavor of cucumber takes over, supplemented by a little pepper and capped off by a distinctive wash of rose petal. That combination isn't exactly my favorite, but it's not overwhelming here and there's not much competition from the other botanicals. Fans of Hendrick's or newcomers to gin will probably find this suitable, and I like it with a simple mixer, but it's no substitute for a London Dry.

G'Vine Nouaison

About: This one's a bit of a blast from the past for me; I originally tried this gin back in the very first days of this blog, way before I had a clue what was going on. Unfortunately, I didn't record any tasting notes, so it's impossible to know how much either my taste buds or the gin itself have changed. Regardless: this is another French product, distilled in copper pot stills from the same Ugni Blanc grapes commonly used to produce cognac. That distillate is then macerated with different botanical blends, which notably include the delicate grape flower, to produce both Nouaison and its cousin Floraison. The latter is a fresher, lighter style where the floral character is very prominent; Nouaison skews a little closer to London Dry territory, but still has a lot of distinct grape character.

Tasting Notes: The aroma on this one is distinctively, richly floral, stuffed with violets and fresh grapes; it puts me in mind of young French table wine, a Beaujolais maybe. The floral quality in particular carries on into the palate, which is... complicated. Initially, it's all violets and blueberries, powerfully floral and sweet, until the classic London Dry botanicals take hold. There's (oddly fresh?) juniper, coriander, cinnamon, and peppercorn, balanced and spicy through the finish, the texture dominated by rich essential oils. It's all layered with the rich, warm sweetness of vanilla and more of that fruity, young table-wine character, which lingers on into a perfumed and slightly hot finish. I dig it! It's most definitely unusual, and despite its billing not really anywhere close to a classic London Dry, but the vinous qualities pair nicely with vermouth and other aromatized wines, making it an interesting candidate for your next Negroni or Martinez.

Letherbee Autumnal 2015

About: We've talked about Letherbee's flagship gin before, with a passing reference to the 2014 Vernal edition. Since then, a full year has gone by; the 2014 Autumnal wasn't terribly impressive, and the 2015 Vernal was flavored in a tropical-ish style with papaya and coconut (hard pass, thank you) but these unique variants sometimes hit a real home run. Witness the 2015 Autumnal edition, which is aged in a used Buffalo Trace bourbon barrel and flavored with Vermont maple syrup. I'd feel bad about including this here if it wasn't so damn good; when I started drafting this post I had just bought a third bottle, but now I can't seem to find it anywhere. Perhaps that's not surprising given the limited nature of these releases, but it does make this review somewhat teasing. Let's just say that if you do uncover a bottle of this, you should buy it.

Tasting Notes: Perhaps it's unsurprising that this drinks pretty much exactly as it's described on the label. The nose is relatively restrained, straddling an odd line between the botanical presence of gin and the woody qualities of whiskey. The maple is foremost on the palate, initially sweet but turning to intense wood tannins and a sort of cherry-like warmth. At the same time, the vegetal qualities of Letherbee's flagship gin come in like an aquavit, with strong notes of fennel, cinnamon, and coriander. It's a bit like Linie, a bit like aged genever, not really much like a gin at all; perhaps it's not surprising that I like it given my usual penchant for weird spirits. Regardless, it's such an interesting and complex spirit with such rich botanicals that it does well in simple cocktails, like an old-fashioned made with a little bit of the syrup from a good jar of brandied cherries.

This is getting to be a pretty robust selection of damn weird gins! I don't know when exactly I'll get a chance to expand further, but it'll be detailed here if and when I do.

Spirits: Widely Varied Rums

This is a post that I've been wanting to do for a while, in part because it celebrates a spirit that I think is under-appreciated by the drinking public at large, and in part as a rehearsal. After a year's hiatus, a good friend (most of those reading this will know exactly who, but this is the internet, so let's keep things comfortably anonymous) has invited me back to run another holiday party drink extravaganza! I am wildly excited, given what a blast I've had doing these events to date.

One of the best old-fashioneds I've had in recent memory is a rum variant, and I decided that I'd do my own as part of the lineup for this event. It's a great place to dive in, because it allows for some context around the history and ultimate simplicity of the old-fashioned format. It also provides for a springboard into rum, showing off its historical pedigree, the amazing quality that's available today, and how it can be superbly applied in cocktails. That's what I want to get into with this intro, which will be much longer than what I'd ultimately deliver live (don't worry, Mystery Friend, I'm not planning an extended lecture here) but the written format gives me a chance to structure and lay out my history. Stick with me, we'll get to some tasting soon too.

So: Rum. The origin of the name is unknown and sports many colorful theories (as with so many boozy terms) but the term starts appearing in the 1600s, often alongside the even more delightful "kill-devil". This gives a clue for how it was perceived: rough, fiery, potent, and unsavory, a stigma that clings to it even today.

Rum is, by definition, a distillate made from sugarcane, usually from molasses (we'll talk about exceptions later). As it turns out, since yeast eats sugar, sugarcane will ferment very nicely, and that's been known for thousands of years; a fermented sugarcane drink called brum has been produced by the Malay people for ages. But more relevant to us, the same fact was re-discovered on early American colonial sugar plantations. Somebody noticed that the molasses (produced as a byproduct of sugar refining) fermented nicely if allowed to sit in the tropical heat; somebody else then had the genius idea to distill the resulting alcohol, concentrating and preserving it.

What we now call "rum" was born, and it quickly became associated with the sailors who conducted trade in sugar and slaves during the Colonial period. Rum became a hot commodity in the notorious slave trade that fueled Europe's economic expansion, to the point where the term "rum triangle" became synonymous with the routes. Sugar (along with rum) and other raw materials were shipped to Europe; finished goods like textiles and guns were shipped to Africa; slaves were shipped in horrifying conditions to work the sugar plantations in the Americas, and the whole thing went round again. As the New England colonies grew, a modified route also developed that shipped sugar to New England (to be fermented and distilled), rum and goods to Africa, and slaves back to the West Indies and Caribbean. This isn't exactly the most savory backstory, but it shows you that rum had heft. It was a major export, which together with cotton and tobacco provided an economic engine driving growth in the early American Colonies.  Today's world might look very different without it.

Part of the reason for this popularity is that rum was one of the few distillates available at the time. Whiskey was perhaps being produced in small quantities in the rocky Scottish and Irish islands, but in a rough and barely palatable form. The column still used to produce clear spirits like vodka and gin hadn't been invented yet. That left brandy, which was expensive, and more importantly for the British, it was foreign. Rum provided a viable alternative, being made from sugarcane in colonies largely controlled by the British. That in turn provided fuel for a navy full of thirsty sailors.

It seems odd today that a massive military operation could be essentially powered by booze, but it's true. Consider the conditions. Voyages of any kind across the ocean took weeks or months, and you had to bring all your provisions along with enough space left over for cargo. Crewing a ship took dozens of men, which on the ocean meant not only food but hydration. Before the days of effective filtration and storage methods, fresh water could become corrupted and spread disease after a few weeks. Instead, ships carried beer (and wine for the officers) which kept longer due to its alcoholic content, and also provided some nutrition - indeed, a significant portion of the average sailor's daily caloric intake came from beer. But beer was no less bulky than water, and would go off if kept for any length of time in the hot and stuffy hold of a ship.

Eventually, British vessels began to carry spirits as well, which took up less cargo space, kept pretty much indefinitely, and which could be used to supplement stocks of fresh water as available. David Wondrich's Punch! makes a pretty compelling case for punch (the original mixed drink!) being born out of spirits mixed with water to cut down their proof, a concoction known as "grog". Often this was spiked with citrus to combat scurvy, and sweetened for taste. At first grog used a Javanese distillate called arrack, but rum provided a close substitute that was much easier to find on voyages to and from the Americas. Eventually ships were supplied with even cheaper gin, but not before rum became firmly entrenched as a sailor's drink. In other words, rum was a sort of military technology, one that kept sailors hydrated, entertained, and scurvy-free when combined with citrus. It helped to power the single greatest navy on the seas, strengthening the British Empire and shaping the history of the Western world. How's that for heft?

But, back to the modern world. Rum is nowadays produced primarily in the Caribbean islands that hosted the sugar plantations where it was born. Some newer US-based micro-distilleries also make rum, but the producers operating in New England during early colonial days have been supplanted by whiskey distillers. With such extensive history, it's perhaps no big surprise that rum styles have diverged and diffused over the centuries, and just about every island has its own take on the concept. Some use column stills to mass-produce a light, airy product; others stick to older pot stills of unique and arcane design. Some carefully blend different varieties for a smooth, sippable product; others like more spice and bite. Most of what we call "rum" is produced from molasses, but there are variations such as rhum agricole (produced on former French colonies, such as Haiti and Martinique) and cachaça (produced in Brazil) are made from fermented whole sugarcane juice instead, which hasn't been processed to refine out the pure sugar. That stuff is a whole different beast in terms of flavor, and less common here in the US anyway.

Just as there's wide variation in style between American, Scottish, Irish (not to mention Canadian and Japanese) whiskeys, there are many different renditions of rum, and it's instructive to taste them next to each other. Or, at least, that's the conceit that I'm operating under. Hence, here are three different rums from three different islands. All three are produced from molasses, moderately aged, and can be found for $25-35 apiece. I consider them all solid, everyday, multi-purpose rums, but they are far from identical, as we'll see.

Plantation Grande Reserve 5 Year Old

About: Let's start with an easy one, made in the tiny island nation of Barbados. Despite the island's history as a British colony, the rum itself is bottled by Pierre Ferrand, a French cognac producer who also imports one of my favorite white rums and one of my highly prized sipping rums. So I may be biased, but this rum earns points for being a smooth, straightforward product that does very nicely in cocktails while being perfectly enjoyable on its own. It's aged in bourbon barrels in the Caribbean climate, then gets "refined" in French oak casks. The website suggests that the 5 years on the label is all in the bourbon barrels, so I'm not sure what exactly that last part means, but it has a definite impact on the final flavor.

Tasting Notes: Perhaps predictably, this rum has a lot in common with a relatively-young cognac. It's sweet up front, with a solid apple-pie core, but laced with the ineffable haut goût (or "hogo" in rum terms) which is really difficult to define but often sought-after both in older brandies and in rum. There's not a ton here, but it's noticeable, and it opens up the tropical-spicy flavors that begin to dominate the palate. Lots of guava, clove, allspice, vanilla, and a little whiff of coconut too. The finish ends just a little bit spicy, which is enough to draw you in and take another breath of the guava-apple-allspice nose again and start the process all over. This is a bit too smooth for Tiki-style drinks or anything with a lot of citrus, since those are basically designed to compensate for rougher rums, but it's a really good choice for off-beat mixing in stirred drinks (like a rum old-fashioned) and it's a solid sipping rum if you don't want to break the bank.

Pyrat XO Reserve

About: Pyrat is bottled by Patrón (a company you may have heard of) and is sourced from Guyana. No, not the French one, the other one; did you know there were two Guyanas in South America? The distillate is undoubtedly a modern product, as seen below; the bottle, as seen to the left, is a squat pirate fantasy not designed with bartenders in mind. Also pay no attention to the "XO" on the bottle; the use of such grading terms is traditional for brandy, but totally unregulated outside of the French tradition, perhaps doubly so in a former British colony. So there's a lot of questionable branding going on here, but it's not a bad entry-level product inside.

Tasting Notes: This is a less subtle beast than the Plantation, but it has lots of the same sweetness up front. The nose is somewhere between root beer and ginger ale, with a strong whiff of lime peel. It tastes unsurprisingly of molasses, loaded with nutmeg, star anise, allspice, and ginger, which gets sweeter as it sits on the palate. Gradually this develops into a strong sweet orange quality, reminiscent of orange liqueur, with some tropical fruit (papaya?) and funky hogo in the background. Notice a pattern? The sweetness is really overwhelming by the end, but that actually makes it a decent dessert rum, possibly very nice for a rum cake or other confectionery. Pyrat also fits nicely into a Tiki cocktail blend; I'd definitely like this offset with another dry, overproof rum and plenty of citrus.

Matusalem Gran Reserva

About: Although this one says "Cuba" on the bottle, it's actually made in the Dominican Republic, Cuban imports being embargoed until recently. As it turns out, a number of Cuban rum producers left the country after the revolution (you've heard of Bacardi, right?) and set up shop in neighboring countries to continue their trade. The "15 years" on the bottle isn't the same minimum age that you'll find on whiskey; it's an estimated average, as this is produced using the solera system. Also used for sherry, madiera, and other dessert wines, this is a method by which the product is fed from barrel to barrel and continuously blended; because the barrels are never fully drained, this means that some fraction of the distillate could be much older than the date on the bottle, though none is exactly as old as stated.

Tasting Notes: My initial impression is that this tastes older than either of the preceding rums. It's restrained, with a noticeable presence of oak, or cigar box maybe. The nose has little bits of coffee, vanilla, raisin, nutmeg, and orange peel, without any one overwhelming the whole. On the palate, it's the driest rum here, with only a little residual raisin and toffee sweetness not quite balancing things out and leaving the texture little thin. The flavor is as complex as the nose; dried orange, allspice, and vanilla start out, with coffee, tobacco, and oak following but not predominating. The allspice builds toward the finish and the bitter toffee quality returns too, leading things out nicely. The only thing really missing is hogo, which makes this less appropriate as a traditional Tiki rum, but the smoothness is great for mixing in simple cocktails. I particularly like a rum Boulevardier variation* which lets the bitter qualities shine while reinforcing with sweetness.

*2 oz aged rum, 1 oz Campari (or similar), 1 oz (good) sweet vermouth, 1 dash orange bitters, assembled over a large ice cube. Let's call this one a Privateer, though I'm sure there are plenty other cocktails with that name.

So: rum is pretty variable stuff! Keep in mind that this is just one moderately-aged subset of rums; there's much more variation between categories than displayed here. I'm looking forward to talking about it, among many other things.

Spirits: Koval Distillery Whiskeys

In August, the wife and I took a trip to Chicago for our anniversary. I had every intention of writing up the entire trip, I swear, but somehow life intervened and that post simply never happened. But, I did manage to bring a couple souvenirs home from our final stop just before skipping town: the distillery and sampling room at Koval Distillery.

I've talked about a couple of Koval's unusual products before, but the visit was a real education in just how odd their stuff is. The distillery was founded by a wife-husband duo who hail from Austrian families with a history of distilling brandy, which in Europe generally means trying to capture the nuances of a specific fruit in their distillate. I love such unaged European brandies, and it's really interesting to see how the approach translates to distilling whiskey from grain.

Practically, what this means is that Koval uses only 60% of the total output of their still to make each batch of whiskey, using what's known as the "heart". (It's probably worth noting that their main still is much bigger than the display model seen to the left.) The 10% toxic "heads" which come out first get used to clean the floors, and the 30% largely flavorless "tails" that come last get collected and re-distilled into vodka. Thrifty! Their barrels are smaller than the 55 gallon model used by most domestic bourbon distillers. Instead Koval ages for about 2 years in smaller 30 gallon barrels (made in Minnesota) with a variety of finishes.

And that finish, I'd say, is one of the things that makes Koval's product so interesting. They distill using a variety of interesting grains, all of them carefully sources and certified organic, but in the tasting room you get to try differently-aged samples: the same whiskey, from the same grain, in three totally different expressions.

This color difference gives you a preview of what's to come. The white whiskey on the left is aged for a single day (apparently legally required to label it "whiskey") and no more; the other two are aged for about two years. In the middle is a "toasted" barrel expression, with no char on the inside of the barrel; on the right a bourbon barrel with a classically charred interior. This makes for a shocking difference in the finished product.

Now, these are also distilled from different grains, but having sampled practically every combination available at the tasting room (at the encouragement of my long-suffering wife) I can tell you that the finish makes just as much difference than the source grain. Let's not belabor this with the format that I've kept to in other spirit reviews, because the different styles that these represent are as interesting as the specific whiskies I brought home.

First, the white whiskey. I'm usually suspicious of white whiskeys, since they have a reputation for roughness thanks to the infamous poor quality of moonshine. In truth, there are a surprising and growing number of quality minimally-aged whiskies out there (High West calls them "silver whiskey" in a superb branding move) and Koval's are easily the best I've ever tried. These are essentially fresh off the still, having been aged only in barrel for a single day, which is apparently legally required in order to label them with the term "whiskey". Essentially, they're the pure stuff, as close to a straight expression of the grain as it's possible to get.

The Oat version that I brought home is sweeter on the nose than other new-make whiskies, bordering on the round sweetness of a classic eau-de-vie, only... tropical, somehow. The body is beautifully smooth and creamy, without a hint of burn; the grain is a predominant flavor, providing a persistent sweet quality reminiscent of oatmeal (duh). As it sits on your palate there are little pops of maple, vanilla, apple pie, guava, and a growing spicy character (think allspice and white pepper) that lingers into an extended finish. From what I recall of the other white whiskies, they differ mostly in the details; the rye is unsurprisingly spicier, for example, but shares the same impeccably smooth, silky-sweet palate. Every single one is amazingly smooth and delicate for such fresh spirit, a great testament to Koval's distilling practices.

Second, we've got Koval's Toasted Barrel expressions, which were the most exciting find for me. This whiskey is distilled just like the others, then decanted and aged in barrels whose oak staves are briefly heated to "open up" the wood grain without developing the char characteristic of bourbon barrels. It's instructive because even though it's produced in the same fashion and aged for the same length of time, the result is totally different from the other styles. That's easily seen in the pale gold color, which resembles scotch or a delicate Irish whiskey more than it does most caramel-brown American whiskey.

Out of the available options, I chose the Spelt to take home (made from a subspecies of wheat) because it was the most unique of the available grains and also because it edged most into complex, delicate scotch whiskey territory. As with all of Koval's products, it's a little sweet and grainy on the nose, but also carries a pleasantly sawdusty aroma like fresh-cut wood. That's reflected on the palate, which is delicately sweet at first with notes of nougat like a good Irish whiskey, touched up with a vaguely floral note, like a very subtle chamomile. A spicy presence grows and grows, with intensely peppery notes and the drying presence of the wood tannins, all against a backdrop of honey, wheat, and a bitter-herbal character that puts me in mind of absinthe. It's one of the sweeter toasted barrel versions, less spicy than the rye, less floral than the millet, and I can't think of a single other whiskey I've tried made from spelt, so it gets points for uniqueness too. The only problem is that it's a very limited release, quite possibly sold only at the Koval distillery, and I've been unable to find it anywhere locally.

Finally, though by no means last, are the more traditionally styled whiskies aged in charred oak barrels, in the same fashion as bourbon (in fact, bourbon is included among them, but distinguishes itself by using millet in the mash). Again, these are aged in small barrels for a shorter amount of time than larger producers. The size of the barrel, and the resulting increase in surface contact, is partly what produces the classic rich caramel color despite only about two years in oak. But don't worry - the flavor is still distinctively Koval.

My selection of these was the Four Grains whiskey, made from a combined mash of oat, barley, rye, and wheat (what proportion of each isn't specified). This strikes an intriguing balance between the qualities of all those constituent grains. It's spicy and fruity on the nose from the rye, with big hints of orange peel and malt. Sweetness is immediately evident on the palate, in a fruity/floral combination that reminds me a lot of maraschino liqueur with some honeyish acidity. It grows increasingly grainy in a breakfast-cereal sort of way, with the airy quality that I always associate with wheated whiskies, and a light undercurrent of char. Eventually it turns to cinnamon and nutmeg, and winds up in an intensely peppery and lingering finish with a hint of licorice. It's one hell of a whiskey with a lot going on, though it maintains the sweet fruitiness consistent with Koval's other expressions. This bottling, fortunately, is one of the easier versions to find, and well worth hunting down!

All three of these (and the expressions that they represent) are excellent products, and Koval a very welcoming distillery. I highly recommend visiting! You can taste to your heart's content, view the workings of a true craft distillery, and pick up products that can't be found anywhere else. For us, it was the perfect endcap to our vacation.

Spirits: Flavorful Vodkas

I'm on record as something of a vodka hater; despite my always-rotating spirit collection, I rarely keep vodka around, and I admit to usually turning up my nose at vodka cocktails. Part of that might be rooted in good old nerd snobbiness, but if you think of spirits as a core element of flavor in cocktails (as I do) then vodka starts to seem a bit silly. Most mass-produced vodkas are designed for and advertised by a complete lack of flavor. They'll use terms like "clarity" and "smoothness", but what producers really mean is that it will get you drunk without tasting boozy. Combine it with a mixer, and you'll just taste the mixer.

So, vodka doesn't add anything other than punch, and with a little experimentation I've found that just about any vodka drink can be enhanced flavor-wise using another white spirit. Gin can readily replace vodka in just about anything; light white rum is a good choice in fruity drinks; blanco tequila or pisco can make interesting substitutions too. All of these will bring something distinct to the mix beyond the alcohol.

Let's not even discuss the scourge of flavored vodkas, okay? They're generally heinous, almost always lower-proof and created using disgustingly artificial extracts. There are a handful of craft producers making good product, but the more readily found stuff is shit. And the flavor arms race between those big makers is reaching satirical levels of absurdity. I mean, whipped cream? Salted watermelon? Fucking Cinnabon vodka? Awful. (For the record, I have tried the salted watermelon stuff, and it is easily the worst spirit I've ever sampled. It's undrinkable. Do not buy it, not even as a gag.)

But, if you look carefully, there are diamonds in the rough. In among the mass-produced vodkas are a few spirits that distinguish themselves by actually tasting like something. Yes! Vodka can have a distinctive flavor when it's not filtered down to nothing. It can taste subtly of the grains (or potatoes) used to produce it, with a flinty and vaguely alkaline character. It can have notes of vanilla or lemon peel or spice; it can be sharp and medicinal or soft and creamy; it can taste of something more than just the filtered-down essence of ethanol. Yes please. Let's try some good stuff.

Luksusowa

About: There's a long-running and vigorous argument between Poles and Russians over the exact origin of vodka. Personally, I haven't done enough research to say one way or the other, but I do know that Russians have a prejudice against potato vodka. On that point alone, my vote's with the Polish. Luksusowa (which translates to "luxury") is a triple-distilled potato vodka, reasonably popular in Poland, and despite some questionable marketing I can understand why. This stuff is tasty, and moreover it's very reasonably priced, usually coming in under $15 per bottle. I initially picked this up as a value brand, but now I think of it as one of the best values to be found.

Tasting Notes: Luksusowa is intensely medicinal and mineral on the note, which makes you think it'll be a lot rougher than it is. On tasting, it develops a creamy and rich texture, with distinct flavors of cocoa, vanilla, and fresh cream. That turns into a somewhat oily, peppery character with more mineral, fading into an extended medicinal finish with a gentle alcohol burn. At this price point it's a great mixing vodka with whatever you've got. I like it with tonic, cola, ginger beer, passionfruit juice... practically anything, really.

Reyka

About: Reyka is a unique product, the only spirit I've ever seen that's produced in Iceland. Hell, I can't even think of any other product imported from the tiny, picturesque island nation. It's also unusually produced, using volcanic activity at multiple points in the production process. The vodka is distilled from grain through an interesting hybrid design called a Carter still, then filtered through lava rocks. It's further cut with glacier water naturally filtered through volcanic springs, and the whole operation is run on geothermal power. Neat! Green! Also pretty dang tasty.

Tasting Notes: This is also a bit medicinal on the nose, but it's also got kind of a dried-herb, floral character; think herbes de provence, maybe with some white pepper. That herb character carries over to the palate, along with a slightly flinty quality, but mostly it's stony, a bit sweet, and clean with a creamy texture. The finish develops subtle notes of vanilla bean and lemon oil, then develops into a lingering peppery quality. I like this one straight out of the freezer, where the stony texture gets reinforced by cold temperatures, and the subtle flavors all come into alignment.

Tito's

About: Produced by a fellow with the unlikely name of Tito Beveridge at the first microdistillery in Texas (or so goes the marketing copy) this vodka is the only domestic product represented here, and it's got a hell of a backstory. More to the point, the bottle says that it's produced in pot stills, which produces a spirit with more character than the modern column stills used for mass-produced vodkas. That's probably why I like it so much, and why I'm not alone; this won a unanimous Double Gold Medal at the World Spirits Competition when it debuted.

Tasting Notes: This has a lightly medicinal nose with hints of orange oil and wet stone. On the palate, it's lightly sweet (kind of a lightly acidic honey character) with some candied orange notes, a grainy bourbon-esque quality, spicy cinnamon, and bitter licorice. The finish is lightly peppery, with a mild burn reminiscent of young whiskey that I really enjoy on its own. Mostly though, I like this in a Vesper, where the sweetness and the spice get along beautifully with gin and Cocchi Americano.


So there you have them! Some weirdo vodkas that I (also a weirdo) actually enjoy. All of these sell at a reasonable price point, by the way, because I think it's ridiculous to pay any more than $25 for a spirit marketed for its lack of flavor. These examples break both those rules, and for that I think they deserve a shot in your home bar.

Spirits: Local Gins

"More gins?" I can hear you asking already. You're damn right, more gins. I won't be stopped.

These particular gins are all unique in that they hail from distilleries located near my hometown of St. Paul, Minnesota. There's been a boom in local distilling lately, and it's a curious fact that the first products turned out by most of them are various takes on gin. The reason's simple: gin doesn't have to be aged to develop flavor the way that whiskey does, so you can ship product out the door and start recouping your investment immediately, rather than having to sit on barrels for a year or more. Gin's just a smart start-up booze.

The thing about gin is that you have to find a way to distinguish yourself in order to sell it. Clever marketing will only get you so far; with so many other distilleries pumping out product, producers have to make the booze itself unique in order to attract attention. These, friends, are some dang unique gins. They sure caught my eye, and I am only too happy to share.

Bent Brewstillery Gunner Ghost

About: Starting off strong is a gin distinguished by its proof. The dramatically rendered ship on the label ought to be a dead giveaway that this is navy-strength product, the stuff that sailors used to slop all over their gunpowder. (Not intentionally, it just happens after having a few, or when enemy fire fucks up a barrel.) Bent Brewstillery is also my most local of the distillers featured here; heck, our bank is located right across the street from their taproom. They produce a number of unique beers, and the brewery does double time producing mashes for their stills. Hardworking fellows over there.

Tasting: No surprise that this is pretty potent stuff from the nose on up. The botanical mix features some surprises, but the first whiff is full of classic juniper, dark herbs, and an intriguing maltiness. Lighter, grassier elements (hello apricot, lemongrass... and hops?) take over on the palate at first, but the alcohol makes itself known pretty quickly. The swallow is full of malt and spice and a rounded sweetness, plus a sort of cola flavor that's weird to encounter in gin. It's different from other navy-strength bottlings in the same way that American gins are different from London Dry versions: a bit sweeter, a bit more robust, less focused on juniper. I like it, particularly in shaken drinks.

Norseman Strawberry Rhubarb Gin

About: Norseman is a micro-scale distillery run out of the hipster-heavy northeast Minneapolis neighborhood, with a strong focus on local sourcing. Even though it appears to be run by two guys and their dogs, they've really ramped up production and their products can be found at many local liquor stores (including bigger chains that will let you order product online). Those products span a few different spirits and they're starting to release aged whiskies and rum, but this is a seasonal release of their gin, one version of a few. I'm guessing that the strawberry and rhubarb are distilled in with the botanicals; I keep meaning to email the distillery for clarification on that, but haven't gotten around to it. Heck, at this point they might not even remember, this being a rather limited-edition summer edition that you might now be hard-pressed to find.

Tasting: This is a rather sweet gin, and it starts from the nose, which is filled with candied strawberry. On the palate, it's pretty one-note, but it's a complex note: think good strawberry-rhubarb pie, filled with both of those plus lemon peel and vanilla. After the swallow, a bit of white pepper hangs around, but there's really not much juniper presence here; good for the novice gin drinker. On the other hand, it's nowhere close to the artificial sweetness that you might expect from the name, and it makes for a fantastic gin & tonic on a hot day.

J. Carver Barrel Gin

About: The J. Carver distillery is a bit further afield, located in the outlying city/exurb of Waconia, not quite in what I'd consider the Twin Cities metro area but close enough that I'm considering an afternoon trip to their tasting room. They make a few "premium" gins and vodkas, but this is the odd duck of the bunch, a gin distilled with local botanicals, grains, and wild rice (definitively Minnesotan, if a bit unusual) then briefly aged in also-local newly charred bourbon barrels. Making a barrel-aged gin is a bit of a gutsy move, but it paid off. I actually first learned about this spirit from Robb Jones of Spoon and Stable, a man I trust in all matters spiritous, who liked it so much that he bought an entire barrel of the stuff for his bar. Smart move.

Tasting: It shouldn't be surprising that this is an atypical gin, with a nose more redolent of star anise and orange peel than juniper. I get a little whiff of the juniper right at first tasting, but that rapidly gets layered with licorice, vanilla, dark spices, and a building bourbon-barrel char character. The finish is a bit tannic and drying, with more of that oaky finish, a wash of black pepper, and a sort of sweet dried-herb background. It's complex, nicely aged, and a little bit rough but still sippable. With the oak presence and sweetness, this makes one hell of a Martinez.


So there you go, more weird gins! I love the motley collection that I've assembled, and you can be certain that I'll keep on adding to it in future.

Spirits: Crooked Water Bourbon

Been deficient around here, friends! I can't claim that tonight's post will be that lengthy, long in coming as it is. I just realized that I've been meaning to do so a post on this stuff for months now, and since the bottle is nearly gone it's go time.

This is a rare whiskey that I didn't hunt down myself! A few weeks ago we hosted a cocktail night, I asked a couple friends to bring a bottle of bourbon, and they showed up with this stuff. As the story goes, they'd tried the first batch of this before it sold out within a week, and were lucky enough to try the first version of a similar sherry-finished product. After trying this, I'm not so surprised that it went quickly.

Crooked Water appears to be a fairly new producer based around Lake Minnetonka, making only a handful of unique products for now. This one is a young bourbon, finished for a relatively long time (6+ months for a less than 2-year-old bourbon) in ex-port barrels.

Personally, I don't normally favor port-finished whiskeys (notably Angel's Envy, which despite being very highly rated I don't actually like much) but the young, sweet character here gets along really well with the raisiny character that the port contributes. It's still got a bit of hot, marshmallowy, congener character that indicates a young spirit, but not to an overwhelming degree. Balancing that out is a really nice spice level with a rounded, sweet mouthfeel; the only thing that really mars the flavor is a rather peppery and hot finish, but it's not overwhelming. Really surprisingly sippable for a whiskey of such a young pedigree, and as we discovered during our cocktail bonanza, it mixes really nicely too. Those hotter spicy notes stand up well to stirred cocktails and the port character makes for a really tasty Manhattan in particular.

I'll have to keep an eye out for some other Crooked Water products!

Spirits: Bizarre Booze Roundup

Woohoo! Having finally escaped the clutches of Mocktail Month, we can get back to serious drinking! Sipping. Sampling. Analysis. Whatever.

It was a good month, and certainly a helpful way to recalibrate, but now it's been a while since we did some spirits review. Heck, it's been a while since I went out and bought a bunch of booze based on whatever caught my eye - but that was exactly what happened the other evening.  It started as an innocent stop (honestly) with the notion of grabbing a bottle of wine, and ended with whatever you'd call this motley collection. God-damned strange is what I'd call them. Some very appealingly, others... less so, but still interesting. Let's have a taste, shall we?

St. George California Agricole Rum

About: The wizards of St. George Spirits feature prominently in one of my favorite recent non-fiction books, Adam Rogers' Proof. They make one of my absolute favorite gins, plus a California single malt, plus a great domestic absinthe, so I tend to trust their judgement. This is, according to the bottle, their rendition of an agricole-style rum (and, to be fair, if I'm going to blatantly ignore the whiskey/whisky debate, it seems pedantic of me to point out that it should be spelled "rhum" here) and is pot-distilled from fresh sugarcane. The label also includes the word "audacious", which... yes. That is a positive term for it.

Notes: The instant I opened this it smelled familiar, but impossible to place. I had to enlist my wife's help (she has a much better sense of smell than I) and she nailed it immediately. Olives: this stuff absolutely reeks of olives, specifically buttery little castelvetranos for some reason. The nose is so one-note and intense that it's really offputting; it's overwhelming even from a few inches above the glass. After a few minutes to sit it starts releasing some rhum-y notes of rubber and gunpowder, which is good because damned if I want to drink it before then. On the palate, those olive notes mercifully take a backseat; it's a more traditional rhum character, with fresh grassy sugarcane, intense vegetal notes, more petroleum (sounds like a bad thing, but it's very central to the style) and a little bit of melon. Then, god-dammit, the olives take over the finish with their vague brininess, backed up with modest congener funk that lingers for a while. A little lump of ice actually brings out the brine much more than I would have thought. I'm going to have to reserve this one for cocktails, where the saline character might bring some intriguing depth; I fucking love olives, but apparently not in my rum. Gotta say, I'm pretty disappointed in St. George right now. Either I got a poor batch of this, or they're being very "audacious" indeed.

Fidelitas Obstler

About: The name, and the origin, is extremely German. It looks to be an unaged brandy, and the label tells me it's a blend of 20% pear and 80% apple brandy, though it doesn't say whether they're combined before or after distillation. This delightfully translated page tells me that the distiller makes a number of other products, some of which I think I've tried, notably a raspberry brandy. However, my favorite part is this:

Especially the pear brandy is popular and well known among friends of the fruit moth. He is sorted fired from the Williams Christian pear, which has a particularly strong flavor.

Indeed. I have no idea who these "friends of the fruit moth" might be.

Notes: Very ripe and delicate compared to a lot of unaged brandies I've had; the nose smells like nothing so much as smelling the outside of a ripe, sweet Bartlett pear. Interesting, given that it's only about 20% pear brandy. Creamy pear predominates on the palate too, though there are some sweet apple notes present, with boatloads of vanilla and a little amaretto-ish sweet almond flavor for backing. Really dig the sweet, smooth body of this one. The finish is quite gentle too relative to similar spirits, just a little tickle of white pepper and a touch of lingering heat. This would be a really nice dessert sipper, but I'm looking forward to a trial run in some cocktails too.

Espolòn Añejo Tequila

About: This one may not look like an oddity at first, but it definitely is for two reasons. First, it's a relatively cheap yet high-quality añejo tequila! That's neat, but not a big shock given how much I enjoy Espolòn's reposado product. After spending about a year aging in classic white oak, this older edition is also finished in ex-bourbon barrels, ones from the Wild Turkey distillery, no less (yum). This has a subtle but definite effect on the final flavor, adding a bit of charred bourbon character to an already complex spirit. Here is a decent interview with a more detailed description of the process and product. I am totally on board, especially given that I found it for less than $30, at which price I really should have grabbed another half-dozen bottles before they realized their terrible mistake.

Notes: All classic, aged tequila on the nose. Rich, vegetal, full of ripe pineapple and oxidized notes reminiscent of a medium sherry. That's a pretty apt description of the palate, too. There's definitely a lot of rich caramel, pineapple, and guava. Some grassy and red-pepper notes provide a bit of backup, but the interesting part is a very dry-sherry-like saline character, with even a little bit of the iodine notes that Islay scotch is famous for. The bourbon finish takes hold in an oaky flush towards the end, with some dark spicy notes and more of that oxidized sherry flavor. Tequila that reminds me of scotch? Yeah, actually, and it's awesome!

Koval Millet Whiskey

About: Remember when we talked about Koval's oat whiskey and I off-handedly joked that they had a millet variety too? Well, I fucking found it! Right next to the oat product, and a "four grains" variety; not too surprising, I wouldn't have known where to shelve this either. Looking at this induces a kind of vertigo for me, as my most personal experience with millet is when I fed it to my childhood pet parakeets as a treat. Since it's gluten-free, and has a protein content very similar to wheat, it does appear to have had a slight resurgence in health-food circles as an alternative grain, but I don't know if I'll ever see it as anything other than birdseed. And here's some whiskey made from the stuff. God damn, don't we live in strange and exciting times?

Notes: Another very unusual nose for the category, this one like nothing so much as bubble gum. There's some woody scent behind that, and a sort of amaretto character, thankfully; this isn't a repeat of where we started. It's just a very odd scent to encounter floating atop what appears to be a fairly standard American whiskey. Unsurprisingly, that floral sweetness carries over into the palate, which is mostly inoffensive; very perfume-y, to be sure, but with a bit of rye-like bite and a good caramel presence that keeps things from being one-note. I'd describe the spice as being heavy on nutmeg and clove; maybe a bit like apple pie, complete with the apple. The finish delivers much the same but ends on that very floral character, kind of like rose water. Not sure I like this one as much as the Oat Whiskey, but it's still fascinating in its own way, and the flowery notes might make a good match for summer.


Those, my friends, are some strange spirits. I'm still figuring out what to do with them (aside from the tequila; it's Cinco de Mayo tomorrow, after all) but I will gladly report my findings.

Spirits: Weird Whiskey

This time I don't have to argue about my spelling of whiskey. These are strictly American products, but they are funky samples of the lot. Or maybe they're just showing the range of the term; after all, "whiskey" can be made of just about any grain that can be fermented and distilled. Most of the big categories have some definition about what grain that can be. Scotch, for instance, is (primarily) malted barley; bourbon must be at least 51% corn. Others have strict requirements around how the spirit can be aged (bourbon, again, must be aged in fresh charred oak barrels). But just because something falls outside those boundaries doesn't make it bad, just different.

There are a lot of good craft distilleries popping up, and many are taking advantage of the room for experimentation when working on a smaller scale. This means more products popping up that skirt the boundaries of traditionally defined spirits. I like this maverick approach, because I think it's laudable to support small businesses, I have some pretty esoteric preferences, and sometimes those distillers hit on a real winner. Like the oddities below.

Koval Oat Whiskey

About: Koval Distillery gets bragging rights as the first distiller operating in Chicago in over a hundred years, though there are more recent others whose products I also quite enjoy. They're all about small-batch, single-barrel, hand-produced stuff, which to me defines the term "craft" and which I can solidly get behind. They also seem to like trying out new stuff, hence this whiskey produced from 100% oats. There might be a couple other oat whiskeys out there, but I can't recall seeing any of them on shelves. (That's not even the weirdest product Koval makes; they also produce a whiskey made from millet, a grain which I used to feed to my parakeets, and an eau-de-vie made from sunchokes, which... I mean, what the fuck?)

Tasting Notes: This is different from classic bourbon in the same sense as rye whiskey, only... well, oats. Okay, that's simplistic, but it's also true. There is a hard-to-define robustness about this one which puts me in mind of good, slow-cooked oatmeal, the real deal made from steel-cut oats. It's a little bit musty and off-putting on the nose, but the palate picks up with that oat character, some rich caramel notes, and a little vanilla. The vanilla hangs around and builds up a marshmallow-ish character that reminds me of maraschino liqueur, which carries on into the spicy, lingering finish. I can't wait to try this in an old-fashioned with a touch of maple syrup (and maybe a coffee bitters).

Temperance Trader Chinato Barrel Aged Bourbon

About: Temperance Trader hails from the Bull Run Distillery in Portland, Oregon; or it mostly does, anyway. The base whiskey itself is a fairly high-rye bourbon that's actually distilled in Indiana, but it's aged, bottled, and cut down to proof by Bull Run using the same water that supplies the city of Portland. This particular curiosity (which is experimental enough to not even be listed on Bull Run's website) additionally gets aged in barrels supplied by a local winemaker after being used to age their chinato. This is the Italian term for what I'd normally call a "quina", a fortified wine flavored with cinchona bark, modeled after the well-renowned Barolo Chinato. As soon as I saw that, I didn't care that it was a tiny bottle, I just had to have it.

Tasting Notes: The nose on this is shockingly like smelling a really robust vermouth; rich, herbal, full of caramel. At the end, there's a nice burn and bourbon smokiness to remind you that this is a spirit, after all. On the palate, there's a curious inversion; it tastes initially like a fairly straightforward bourbon, maybe a little sweet for me, stuffed with vanilla and sweet dried fruits, notably dates. But then it starts to pick up the spicy notes of the rye, and with that comes faint tannin and sweet spices from the chinato aging. The finish is a hybrid, smoky and lingering like good bourbon but also strangely flowery (I think of rosehips for some reason). Weird stuff. I'm not sure how much I'd like the base bourbon on its own, but the chinato finishing really puts a unique spin on it.

Dry Fly Straight Triticale Whiskey

About: Dry Fly is a true, small-scale craft distillery based in Spokane, Washington, with a big focus on local sourcing of their ingredients. All the grain, for example, comes from regional farms (which explains their heavy reliance on wheat) and their tasty gin is flavored with local botanicals too. Their products don't typically go too far off the deep end, but this is one of the more interesting, made from a hybrid of wheat and rye. Not a blend of rye and wheat whiskeys, mind you; this is made from 100% triticale, an unusual grain developed in Scotland by crossing wheat and rye strains. Most definitely a unique product! What's more, these guys seem really focused on spreading the gospel of craft distilling; they're the only distiller I've run across that actually offers an in-depth course on starting up a distilling operation. Kudos, gentlemen.

Tasting Notes: A lot like a bourbon on the nose, really; I'd guess they use the same aging process as their classic bourbon and wheat whiskey products. There's a note of intense gingerbread there that I really like. The palate is a funky hybrid (shocking, I know) which starts off with a soft, yeasty bread character, backed up quickly by peppery rye, complemented by notes of dried apple, orange zest, and ginger. The oak comes out as it sits on your palate, but that rye spice carries on into a drawn-out finish, slightly bitter and backed up by the wheat roundness to produce a sort of pumpernickel flavor. My only complaint is that finish is a bit hot and mouth-drying, but that's no surprise given that this only spends about two years in oak. I hope they've got some on reserve, because it would be really cool to see what happens to this after several years in the barrel.


Honestly, kids, this isn't even the beginning; it's weird whiskeys all the way down. Why, not even a day ago we covered a whole series of unusual whiskeys I sampled at Rathskeller. Elsewhere on this blog we've seen Bernheim Wheat Whiskey, which is a solid, readily available bourbon substitute. Most whiskey nerds will already know about Angel's Envy Bourbon, which is finished in port barrels; to be honest, I didn't care for it, but their less common rum-finished rye is fucking incredible. I'll gladly recommend Panther Distillery's Pike Street Bourbon as a great local option, and it doesn't stop there. Weird whiskeys everywhere, and so many good ones to try!

Adventures: Duluth

I've been a little coy about discussing my location, and honestly, I'm not really sure why. It's not like anyone other than close friends reads this little booze-diary of mine, and it would take a lot more drinking to convince me I'm worthy of stalking. As in, hallucinogenic levels of alcohol.

Hence, this entire post is dedicated to our recent drive up to Duluth, a little jaunt that we mostly planned around teaching my wife to ski. However, as it turns out, skiing's kind of a daytime activity, which left the nighttime to wander around seeking out local watering holes. Fortunately we'd done a little scouting in advance and stayed down on Canal Street, a lively little part of downtown with many a brewpub in walking distance.

And a craft distillery to boot! One of the first places we visited was Vikre Distillery, whose products I've written about before. They've also got a neat little tasting room out front, outfitted in very chic Scandinavian style; think Bauhaus meets North Woods, which is funky but cool. It's tiny, with a small bar and a lounge area for maybe 20, separated from the actual distillery area only by large sliding-glass panels. This gave me ample opportunity to nerd out on stills while sipping on a couple nicely-executed cocktails and a neat little tasting flight of gins and aquavit. The whole place is homey and comfortable, and I was really surprised by the obvious skill of the bartender (whose name I didn't manage to catch) as he turned out drinks using house-made everything. (Apparently this is a legal requirement of the law that allowed such cocktail tasting rooms.) I also managed to spot a couple big casks stamped with port labels lined up along a wall; I'd bet that Vikre have a port-finished something-or-other in the works, and I'm pretty excited to see the end result! You heard it here first.

Right next to our hotel was the Canal Park Brewing Co., so we pretty much had to stop by and take home a growler. We tried most everything on tap over a couple of visits, and the Greedy Bastard Black IPA was our stand-out favorite. We also popped by the Bent Paddle taproom for an apres-ski beer (and additional growler) one afternoon. But perhaps the best pub we tried was the 7 West Taproom, a really basic-looking place with a surprisingly extensive beer list. They also have a neat sampling method: write your beers directly onto a paddle with dry-erase marker, receive tasting pours of said beer.

Still, nothing held a candle to our favorite place: a beautiful, historic basement bar called the Rathskeller.

I doubt you can appreciate how much I wish this place was located closer to home. We might get into a lot of trouble down there. A bit of explanation: the bar itself is located in the sub-basement of Tycoon's Alehouse, a restaurant situated in Duluth's 1890s-era town hall. The name is a German term for a drinking establishment located in the basement of a city hall (I love such fantastically precise German words) and, true to form, this one is about 20 feet below street level in an old cellar which was apparently once used as a temporary jailhouse. There's no signage; instead, you must weave your way back to an elevator at the back of Tycoon's, and hit the button ominously marked "-1". We only knew about the place thanks to a tip from one of our regular bartenders down at my favorite pub back home.

My god, but this place is cool. The shot above shows about half the lounge area, which is laid out with plush chairs in-between mortared columns with thick arches, with a bar laid out along a wall. On that bar is a well-curated selection of whiskeys, which I did my best to taste through.

No, seriously: I made a pretty good dent. Granted, it took two separate visits (or more accurately, after the first visit, we really wanted to come back for more) but I sampled just about every whiskey on that bar that I hadn't tried before.

Here's just a sample, the highlights of the first evening. First among these, to the left: Bushmills 1608, a blend created to commemorate the distillery's 400th anniversary (yeah). This, frankly, might be the absolute best Irish whiskey I've ever sampled. Rich, spicy, smooth, malty, slightly peaty; absolutely delicious sippin' whiskey, and a really unique Irish blend. In the center: Prichard's Double Chocolate Bourbon, a really nice, rich whiskey with a ton of chocolate on the nose. Despite that, it's very nicely balanced on the palate, with just some touches of bitter chocolate on the finish. On the right is something really cool: a custom Woodford Reserve blend developed specifically for Tycoon's. Apparently, the head brewer at Fitger's Brewhouse (who also has a stake in Rathskeller) regularly visits the Woodford distillery, and on his last trip developed a custom blend from different barrels! Not too far off from the base Woodford formula, but spicier, and not something you're going to find anywhere else.

Honestly, though, the best part of the whole adventure was the company we found. First, the bartender at Rathskeller, a knowledgeable and welcoming barman by the name of Cade. He knew his stuff inside and out, and was happy to accommodate my indecision. When we visited on the second evening, he not only remembered the bottles I'd tried, but my wife's whiskey preference too, and he was happy to pull down all of the bottles so that I could snap pictures. Now that's a good bartender.

Second, in a bizarre coincidence, we ran into the very same dude from the pub who recommended Rathskeller to us in the first place, in addition to our other regular bartender and their lady friends. Kudos to Jeff and Evan for their fine taste, as always. For once, I got to buy them a drink, and we had a hell of a time chilling out. That was most definitely a pleasant surprise!

Overall, it was a hell of a trip. I don't know when we'll make it up to Duluth again, but when we do, you'll very likely find us at one of these spots again.