Lot 40 Rye Whisky

Lot 40 Rye Whisky

Canada, eh? I’ll be the first to admit I know too little about the whisky of our neighbor to the north, but it’s clear that Canadian whisky is riding the same surge of love that is hitting bourbon and American rye these days. We’re seeing more premium releases, and they’re exporting more and more around the world. I’ve tasted a few, including American-labeled bottles of Canadian whisky like WhistlePig (what? WhistlePig isn’t made in Vermont!? but it says “hand bottled at WhistlePig Farm, Vermont”!). There’s plenty of nice stuff coming out of Canada for sure, but nothing I tasted really got me excited to fully embrace Canadian whisky… until I tried the Lot 40 Rye Whisky 2012 Release.

Ho. Lee. Cow.

Lot 40 Rye WhiskyThere are a bunch of much wiser Canadian whisky drinkers out there who have extolled Lot 40’s virtues. It won this big award from Whisky Advocate. And this one, too, from a bunch of Canadian whisky pros. And you can read a scholarly history of Lot 40 here (please do, really) from Davin de Kergommeaux, “certified Malt Maniac.” Most importantly, try to locate a bottle of this stuff ASAP. Lot 40 has been rolling out in select markets in the US over the past few months (after hitting Canada in late 2012), and just hit Georgia in January. It’s a limited release, so bottles are not likely to stick around for long. No telling what the next go round will look like, assuming there is one. So get it while the gettin’s good.

A few quick details, then the review and tasting notes. Lot 40 is a marriage of many batches of copper pot still rye whiskey – 90% rye, 10% malted rye – spanning different ages. I’ve read it’s mostly in the 7 to 8 year old range, aged in a variety of barrel types. It was produced at the Hiram Walker Distillery.

Lot 40 Rye WhiskyLot 40 Canadian Rye Whisky, 2012 Release
86 Proof, Approx. $55 Retail
Tasting Dates: February 1 – 9, 2014
Thirsty South Rating: WOW*

Lovely rich copper color on this Canadian. Sniff it and you get prominent rye bread, then a fruity almost bubblegummy note, nutty black walnut, ginger and a lot of intriguing spice notes. Think ginger peach cobbler with walnuts and a sprig of mint on top. It also had me thinking of Italian amari (that’s the plural of amaro, at least I think it is, kinda like octopi is to octopus, but I digress…) with their bittersweet baking spice character.

This is made for sipping – no water, no ice required. In fact, I much prefer it neat. This will not be confused for bourbon, it’s rye through and through, with a firm and elegant strength. It’s supremely well balanced, but you get bitter and slightly sour and delicately floral and rich warm grain and fruity tart at different moments in time. Baking spice shows up strong in the middle – plenty of clove, a burst of sharp ginger. A bit of wood shows up, but never gets in the way. The finish starts off sharp with those rye and spice notes, then mellows and fades slowly into happiness. It’s highly complex and highly drinkable, wholly rye but very distinctive at the same time.

This is an incredibly singular whisky. For American rye drinkers, it will have you questioning what a great rye should really taste like. It may not have the power of Thomas Handy, nor the age of the Sazerac 18, nor the warm embrace of the Van Winkle Family Reserve, but – to me – it’s every bit as intriguing, enjoyable, and impressive as any of those great rye whiskeys. O Canada!

Lot 40 Rye Whisky

Lot 40 Rye Whisky

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* Thirsty South Rating Scale:

Wow – among the very best: knock-your-socks-off, profound, complex liquid gold!
Excellent – exceptional in quality and character, worth seeking out, highly recommended
Good Stuff – solid expression of its type/varietal, enjoyable and recommended
Fair – fairly standard or exhibiting obvious though minor flaws
Avoid – move away folks, nothing to see here, a trainwreck

High West Campfire Whiskey: Review as Fan Fiction

Every other ghatblammed whiskey writer seems to have waxed poetically on the jackelope-like qualities of High West Distillery’s new Campfire whiskey – a blend of straight rye, straight bourbon and blended malt Scotch that ends up anything but straight. Its like a crooked trail through the dry, magnificent deserts of Utah that ends up in the rain-drenched peat bogs of Scotland, via the rye and corn fields of the great American plains. Actually, that’s exactly what it is.

I’ll dispense with the formal tasting notes, the whiffs of this and the hints of that, and get right into the story. Fan fiction, if you will. A fiction so unbelievable that it just might be true. Here’s the first chapter – grab a glass and take a seat:

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It all started with a sip. Not just any sip, mind you. Perk had spent the day chopping up the big oak tree that came down in the lightning storm the week before. You know, that oak tree that used to stand sentinel over his rows of corn down on Lawrenceburg Road. The tree was old but sturdy, not the kind to be felled easily, but lightning has a way of turning tree to toast.

The smell after the storm lingered for days all around, and Perk’s work on the wood just brought it out even stronger: the buzzsaw scent of fresh-cut oak combined with the charred remains of singed bark, a bit of tree sap burnt like sugar in a skillet sticking it all together. Perk liked the chopping, if only for the memories racing through his mind as he axed his way through the downed tree. It was the scent more than the act itself that triggered those memories of a simpler time. A simpler time that was anything but simple.

As he took his first sip of rye that same night, the spice and bite were like a kick in the dusty pants, and those same memories that the oak brought out earlier in the day began to crystallize into something entirely different in his mind. Memories merged with dreams and came out, somehow, as an ambitious but highly suspect plan. A plan that would take him far away from Lawrenceburg Road.

When Perk woke up, his head seemed to drag a few feet behind his body. Those sips of rye had accumulated to something more like a deluge. But through the deluge, the plan he had hatched managed to hold its form. It took a few coffees, amped up on that hazelnut vanilla crap he had grown accustomed to thanks to his last girlfriend, for all the details to come into focus. But that very same morning, memories and plans and dreams actually turned into actions. He picked up the old circular dial phone, the one his dad once used, and called up the airline for a one way flight to Edinburgh. He would take the train out to Aberdeen, and from there… well, his plans hadn’t gotten that far. But he knew, despite the distance, he would find a home where the spray of the sea mingles with the deep funk of burning peat.

Perk wasn’t wishing to wash away the past. On the contrary, he hoped, he knew, that the scents he could only seek in Scotland would stir up memories that even the oak and the lightning couldn’t. He knew there was a key, hidden in the Scots mist, to unlock the same mystery that his father before him couldn’t solve. He knew he had to go.

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High West Campfire Whiskey, Batch No. 1, Bottle No. 646
A Blend of Straight Rye, Straight Bourbon, & Blended Malt Scotch Whisky
92 Proof
Approx. $54 Retail

Verdict? Excellent. Inspiring and unique stuff, enough so to inspire fan fiction. You’ll find here an intriguing story of bourbon sweetness, rye spice, and Scotch smoke happily playing tug of war.

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* Thirsty South Rating Scale:

Wow – among the very best: knock-your-socks-off, profound, complex liquid gold!
Excellent – exceptional in quality and character, worth seeking out, highly recommended
Good Stuff – solid expression of its type/varietal, enjoyable and recommended
Fair – fairly standard or exhibiting obvious though minor flaws
Avoid – move away folks, nothing to see here, a trainwreck

Full Disclosure: Bottle received as a tasting sample from High West.

Maker’s 46 Tasting Notes: I Like ‘Em Fat

I like ’em fat, I like ’em proud.
Ya gotta have a mother for me,
Now move your big a$$ round this way
So I can work on that zipper, baby.

Prince (inspired by James Brown)

I don’t throw around raunchy Prince lyrics lightly, but Maker’s 46 was shoutin’ out for something loud. Before we get heavy though, some background is in order…

Maker’s 46 debuted a bit over a year ago, and highlights a trend towards untraditional forms of aging and impacting the flavor of bourbon (see Woodford Reserve’s Maple Wood Finish as another prominent example). These spirits are not for purists or traditionalists, they intentionally tweak the straight bourbon approach to deliver something new. Maker’s Mark former president Bill Samuels called Maker’s 46 “a breakthrough in the contemporary craft of bourbon” with “innovative techniques never before employed.” So, yeah, not for folks who dig on tradition. The innovation? Taking regular old Maker’s Mark and re-barrelling it with seared French oak staves inside the barrel for a few extra months, imparting some amped up flavor and playing Jedi mind tricks with the whiskey inside. I can’t say that I’m a huge fan of regular old Maker’s Mark, finding it a bit flat and without enough spice to balance out the sweet, but I do think the injection of extra oak into the process alters and generally improves it in a noticeable way.

So, on to the tasting notes and a little Prince:

Maker’s 46
“Bourbon Whisky Barrel-Finished with Oak Staves”
94 Proof
Approx. $35-$40 Retail
Tasting Date: October 25, 2011

Maker’s 46 pours a bright honey amber in the glass, possibly a touch darker than regular Maker’s Mark, but still not dark. The aroma is full of warm toasty oak, butterscotch and caramel, with a crusty, bread-like wheat undertone. Nothing crazy, it’s a bigger, stronger brother of regular Maker’s Mark. It’s on the tongue that 46 gets FAT and the nasty Prince groove comes into play. It’s luscious, round and chewy. Maybe Sir Mix-a-Lot would be more appropriate. Vanilla, caramel, and more slightly buttery toast coats the tongue. There’s a nice, welcome cinnamon spice that kicks in on the back that starts to balance things out, to give it some sass. The chewiness continues on through the finish, with an almost cabernet-like woody tannin pucker coming in at points and lingering on the tongue. So, while many may dig on this sexy MF, I must admit that it’s not quite up my alley. Too much chunky chew, not enough depth or elegance. I guess I don’t like ’em fat, after all.

(Not quite) Good Stuff* – better than it’s little brother, but far from a good value at $35 plus. If you like ’em fat, though, this may be for you.

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* Thirsty South Rating Scale:

Wow – among the very best: knock-your-socks-off, profound, complex liquid gold!
Excellent – exceptional in quality and character, worth seeking out, highly recommended
Good Stuff – solid expression of its type/varietal, enjoyable and recommended
Fair – fairly standard or exhibiting obvious though minor flaws
Avoid – move away folks, nothing to see here, a trainwreck

Full Disclosure: this bottle was provided as a tasting sample

Dickel’s For Drinking: A Visit To George Dickel’s Cascade Hollow Distillery

George Dickel is like Jack Daniel’s less popular little brother. Quieter, calmer, a bit more likely to sit back and watch things develop rather than to seek the spotlight. Contrasting a visit to George Dickel’s Cascade Hollow Distillery to the choreographed show that is a Jack Daniel’s visit says everything about the distinctions between these two Tennessee titans of whisk(e)y. Jack is an entertainer, Dickel is a quiet companion.

Cascade Hollow sits off a rural road outside Tullahoma, Tennessee. Surrounded by deep green trees and hills, it’s a lovely setting for a distillery; it’s a lovely setting for anything for that matter. The visitor center is a bit like a country cabin, rustic, uncluttered, full of old stuff. There’s a quaint little post office on site, a relic of an earlier time. A short stroll over the creek and across the street takes you to the distillery itself, a place where everything seems a bit slower and more quiet than the other distillery down in Lynchburg.

There are a total of 33 employees here in Cascade Hollow, about 1/10 the number at the distillery down the street. The tour itself is straightforward, you get to see the full distillation process, and they’ll answer just about any question you can throw at them. They know to point out the distinctions between George Dickel and Jack Daniel’s – both of which use charcoal mellowing as a calling card, both of which call Tennessee home.

The main distinctions are thus:

1) Dickel employs a combination column still then pot still distillation process, closer to what you’ll see in Scotland than Lynchburg. (They also use the Scottish spelling “whisky” rather than the more traditional American spelling “whiskey.”)

2) Dickel likes to simulate their original approach of distilling in winter by cooling down their newly distilled whisky to about 40 degrees F before charcoal mellowing.

3) When it comes to charcoal mellowing, Dickel does a couple things differently (though the use of sugar maple charcoal is the same as Jack) – Dickel places virgin wool blankets at the top and bottom of their charcoal mellowing tank to act as a filter, and they have metal plates that more evenly distribute the whiskey as it drips down. At Dickel, the whisky spends about 10-15 days to drip through 13 feet of sugar maple charcoal, vs. the 6 days or so it takes at Jack to drip through 10 feet of charcoal.

4) Dickel ages their barrels in single story barrelhouses up on the hill, in the belief that a single story approach yields more consistent results. While this does result in a more consistently aged product, it also means that aging Dickel barrels on average will be a “slower” process than aging barrels at a multi-story barrelhouse (like most whiskey producers use). Jack Daniel’s actually makes a point of showing how different the same batch of whiskey will look after a few years from the top of a barrelhouse vs. the bottom of the barrelhouse. It is significant. The greater temperature variation at the top of a tall space, especially in a warm summer, will produce greater interaction between the barrel and the whiskey.

5) So, in part at least due to single story aging approach… Dickel is aged a bit longer than Jack, though neither labels their products by age. According to my guide at Dickel, Dickel No. 8 sees about seven years in the barrel (vs. four years or so for Jack’s Old No. 7), Dickel No. 12 sees about nine years, and the Dickel Barrel Select clocks in at 10+ years (vs. six years or so for Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel.) Again, older does not necessarily mean better, it just reflects a slightly different whisk(e)y philosophy.

I must say that, while Jack impresses, and their Single Barrel whiskey is a darn good drink, Dickel is the one more likely to win my heart. From the low key approach, to the longer aging, even to the fact that their parent company (Diageo) treats them like a forgotten child, Dickel is the underdog that deserves rooting for. Now, don’t come to Cascade Hollow expecting to taste the goods. You’ll have to do that elsewhere. But once you do, you’re likely to find that the less popular little brother of Tennessee whisk(e)y is the one you’d rather have by your side on a peaceful evening.

Related Posts:
A Visit to Jack Daniel’s Distillery
Touring Tennessee Whiskey Country

(For a nice comparison of Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel and George Dickel’s Barrel Select, check out the tasting notes at Sour Mash Manifesto. It’s worth pointing out, though, that single barrel bottlings and small batch bottlings are inherently variable – you will find differences from bottle to bottle.)

And while you’re here, also check out all the stops on our Tennessee whiskey tour.