Alcohol, by comparison is just that: beverage grade alcohol with which no one monkeys around. It’s highly regulated and its strength is clearly described on its packaging. Other than marketing claims, it’s gimmick free.
I opened it immediately upon receipt and found it coiled up like a snake and needing to unwind before showing much of the character that would come with a bit of some space in the bottle. Several weeks later, it delivered.
On the nose of this BIB release is spring in a glass–a mixed bouquet of peonies, roses and lilac–backed by cinnamon stick and lavender. I’d be hard pressed to recall nosing such a floral spirit.
Asked often about which bottle in the Jack Daniel’s line would be closest to the original whiskey he distilled, Eddy points to the Bottled-in-Bond Tennessee whiskey, “because the age (4 years) would be correct for that time.” Back then, whiskey wasn’t commonly aged much longer, he added.
This is rye whiskey that speaks beyond corn’s common caramel coating with a voice that goes deeper, all the way into the soil itself, to tell its own story, a story I find utterly intriguing because it reveals itself through taking new sips to turn a new page in the tale.
What’s different between what I do now versus what I did at Stranahan’s was operating mostly as a blender and finding complementary finishing casks. I really enjoyed that, but to come here was an opportunity to do that on a bigger playground.
Despite being part of that shift, I’m still a little bothered as a former restaurant industry employee. It’s tough to know distant peers are struggling due to a shift in the new habits adopted by me and millions of other drinkers.
Here’s one fact to grasp: This perceived sales slump is exemplary of the rollercoaster ride that affects every large industry. Good days see profits rise, bad days see them plummet.
Now, go to a quiet room, add earplugs if necessary, and place a large napkin over your head to capture all the crazy aromas you’ll get from this—things like over-baked chocolate brownies, figs, prunes, bonfire embers, ganache, chocolate cake, pastry cream and a deeply charred barrel.
Upon arrival, the proofs of those 32 barrels were 125. Near that modest body of water and behind the rickhouse’s brick walls, they’ve steadily lost proof down to 108, which is pure magic in whiskey aging.
