Los Angeles Times: One barrel, one bourbon
www.latimes.com/features/food/la-fo-bourbon17dec17,1,4619866.story?coll=la-home-food One barrel, one bourbon
Single-barrel brands are elevating the status of the original American whiskey.
Still great for post-feast sipping, they are now being used in cocktails and
make great gifts for the holidays.
By Regina Schrambling
Special to The Times
December 17, 2003
For the longest time, Bourbon and I had a May-December relationship: We got
together for the Kentucky Derby in springtime and for eggnog at the holidays.
Since the allure in either season was only high proof and aggressive flavor, any
Bourbon would do. What was good enough for old grand-dad was good enough for me.
But in the last few years, the original American whiskey has literally come of
age. The potent old mainstays with backwoodsy names along the lines of Wild
Turkey and Rebel Yell can still be found, but these days they are being
increasingly crowded by new variations designed to elevate Bourbon to
connoisseur status, with lineage-evoking labels like Elijah Craig and Kentucky
Spirit.
In this age of microdistilling, these are what are known as single-barrel
Bourbons. They're serious whiskeys that are even more handcrafted than those in
the last big trend, small-batch Bourbons. Many even boast a vintage on the
label.
These "newer" — but actually older — Bourbons are far too good to cut with
eggnog. They demand the same attention as a fine Cognac, and they'll command the
same respect. The best of them has a mouth-filling headiness, a smooth and sweet
caramel base overlaid with almost pepperiness, not to mention a decided oakiness
from the barrels they age in. Like all great spirits, they engage all senses,
particularly smell and sight.
They're meant for sipping at the end of a festive meal. But as barroom
connoisseurship devolves into one-upmanship, they are beginning to turn up in
cocktails as well. If high-end vodkas can get lost in the Cosmos, why not show
off $40-a-bottle single-barrel Bourbon in a Manhattan?
Most important right now, with the calendar counting down, single-barrel
Bourbons make a jazzy gift, too. If the flavor weren't so sensational, the
bottles alone would make them stand out. Not one has a screw top, for starters.
Most are as heavy as crystal and flaunt their Bluegrass origins (a little metal
horse and jockey on a stopper, for instance).
Just how radically Bourbon has evolved came clear to me when I opened an old
Kentucky favorite, along with the new Elijah Craig single-barrel Bourbon. Both
Heaven Hill and the 18-year-old Elijah Craig are produced by the same company
based in Bardstown (Stephen Foster's old "home") whose distillery I toured way
back in 1977. But they could not be more different.
Heaven Hill is, to put it bluntly, one step above paint thinner: watery but
pungent, with more fire in your throat than caramel on your tongue. Elijah Craig
— named for the preacher who produced the very first Bourbon, in 1789 — is
buttery but edgy, with burnt-sugar undertones and an aroma that is anything but
nose-singeing. I would serve it in place of Cognac any time. Elijah Craig is the
best of the single-barrel Bourbons I've tasted. Not surprisingly, the distiller
contends it's also the most aged of any on the market, at 18 years in charred
oak (or, as the marketers put it, "72 seasons").
For anyone whose gold standard of Bourbon is top-selling Maker's Mark,
single-barrel Bourbons may be a bit of an acquired taste. They're much more
powerful on the palate. Maker's, produced the same way since 1953, remains the
quintessential smooth Bourbon, neither overly sweet nor extremely challenging.
There's nothing more accommodating for mixing with anything from festive mint
syrup to plain old Coke. Like the best of the mainstream Bourbons, Maker's Mark
is blended from an array of barrels of whiskey; point of origin is less
important than final flavor.
Pure appeal
The small-batch Bourbons that stole Maker's thunder in the 1990s are more
refined, made from the contents of a few sedulously selected barrels, blended
for smoothest flavor. These are brands like Knob Creek and Baker's and Basil
Hayden, all boutique bottlings from Jim Beam. By contrast, single-barrel
Bourbons are just what they sound like: Only the liquor aged in one charred
white oak barrel is in the bottle. All of it is the same age, the same taste,
with the same nuances from the same wood. The flavor, to my palate, is much more
upfront than from even a seriously good blend.
What sets all Bourbon apart from other alcohol is signaled by its original name:
corn whiskey. Under a federal law passed in 1964, 51% of the mash it's fermented
from must be corn. The rest is wheat, barley or rye. (Contrary to myth, the law
does not stipulate that Bourbon can only be Bourbon if it is produced in
Kentucky — Virginia and Tennessee also make it.)
As anyone who understands what makes soft drinks so sweet should know, corn is
one seriously sugary beginning for a spirit. And an overtly sweet sensation may
be what characterizes Bourbon above everything else. Unlike Cognac, which the
best Bourbons emulate, the flavor is more akin to dulce de leche. You can almost
smell sugar.
Distillers in the whiskey's namesake Bourbon County have always sworn that the
local water, filtered through limestone and high in minerals, adds another
undercurrent of flavor. That may be hard to prove, but it's undeniable that the
charred oak barrels the industry has used since the 1860s give color as well as
intensity to the taste (although added caramel undoubtedly contributes more). By
law, Bourbon must be aged at least four years. But more and more producers are
doubling and tripling that.
Most single-barrel Bourbons run about $32 to $45 for a 750-milliliter bottle,
compared with $12 or $13 for a brand like Heaven Hill and about $20 for a
small-batch brand like Knob Creek. (Some small-batch Bourbons can cost more than
$100, though.)
In these unsettled and unsettling times, Bourbon marketers are making much of
the fact that theirs is the one spirit that qualifies as "freedom booze,"
invented and made in America. The whole world of Bourbon may be emblematic of
America in another way: Sales are most robust at the high end of the market, in
the super-premium segment (as grandiose as that adjective sounds, it really
connotes only a price tag of more than $20).
Using them in a cocktail might seem extravagant, but if money's no object, it's
hard to deny a single-barrel Bourbon will transform any drink, even eggnog. With
classic cocktails like the Manhattan and the old-fashioned making a comeback,
better Bourbons should as well. As with any spirit, the better the base, the
finer the finish.
-- continued --