Zaya - Rum Good Enough to Drink Straight

 



 

Curveball - this week we're venturing into a place I rarely go: the world of rum.

As a younger man, I drank a fair amount of rum in a small variety of mixed drinks. As I aged and started drinking my spirits straight, or with a little water, rum became something I kept  on the bar for my friends who didn't like whiskey. It was a lonely bottle of either Ronrico or Bacardi, light, and lasted a long time, since it only got consumed by visitors.

Last year at our annual Solstice Party, though, a friend whose opinion on many things, including booze, I greatly respect, insisted I try a dram of this Zaya Grand Reserva dark rum he had brought.

With a little trepidation, I did. What a surprise.

It smelled of vanilla and caramel. It had a slightly heavy, but pleasant mouthfeel when taken neat.

And, oh my, the flavor. Sweet, so very sweet, with rich vanilla, caramel and chocolate notes. You can taste some alcohol, but there's almost no alcohol burn, which is simply stunning for an 80 proof (40% abv) spirit. It has a nice medium length finish, with maybe just a hint of oak towards the end.

Zaya Grand Reserva is a blended rum, made from a blend of different rums that have been aged in oak barrels for at least 12 years. It's also supposed to be quintuple distilled.

For those who have forgotten, rum is made from sugar cane. And while all drinking alcohol is produced by yeast eating sugar, the source of sugar the yeast consumes greatly affects the flavor of the alcohol created.

You could make mixed drinks with this, I guess, but stay away from mixing it with cola. Your tongue will go into a diabetic coma.

I recommend at least trying this as I take it: neat, at room temperature. It will have you seeing rum in a whole new light.

You can find this around the country, and even in North Carolina, for $30 - $35 a bottle, which is a decent price for an excellent 12-year-old spirit.

And, yes, my friend was kind enough to leave the bottle with me...

 

The Best Damn Rye - Willett Family Estate Single Barrel Rye, Rare Release

 

WIllet Family Estate Bottled Single Barrel Rye is simply the best rye whiskey I have tasted. All my whiskey-loving friends who like rye rave about it. Even those who don't like rye admit that it's the best rye they've ever had.

If you manage to find this, buy a bottle. It's not too pricey (around $35 a bottle in the US as I write this) and even if you don't like rye, it's a fantastic addition to your bar for your friends who do. It also makes an excellent gift to a rye whiskey drinker - I gave myself a bottle for my birthday, in fact. :-)

This is the whiskey that redeemed rye whiskey for me. My first taste of rye was horrid: astringent and unpleasant and completely off-putting. I was planning to give rye a complete miss, until a friend convinced me to try the Willet Family Estate Bottled Single Barrel Rye (hereafter referred to as Willett SBR).

That designation, detailed at length on the label, as a single barrel whiskey, makes this a rare bird in the marketplace. Most whiskies of all types (bourbon, scotch and so on) that are bottled are produced by mixing the contents of many, many barrels to produce the desired flavor and amount of product. This is necessary because different barrels of whiskey age differently, depending upon a host of factors, such as temperature, place in the warehouse, the wood of the barrel, variations in the quality of the grains in the mash and so on.

So, each individual barrel can have its own unique taste. However, successful branding requires a consistent product, and successful business minimizes waste.  So barrels are mixed to smooth out the variations and maximize utilization of the distilled spirit.

Willett SBR is one of a handful of whiskies on the market where the contents of the bottle came from a single barrel of whiskey: no mixing. Flavor consistency is maintained by the taste buds of the Master Distiller, which leads to an interesting phenomenon - WIllet SBR bottles don't carry a consistent age statement. I have bottles that were aged for 4 years, and bottles who had to spend another year in the cask to become "right".

This is also a cask-strength whiskey. The strength varies a little from cask-to-cask, but the bottles I've seen or drank have ranged from 109 proof to 116 proof ( 54.5% to 58% ABV).

In the glass, this has a rich reddish gold color. The aroma is of oak and alcohol and spice.

I occasionally sip this straight, which is frankly amazing for such a strong spirit, but I generally prefer it with a little water. That cuts the hefty alcohol content down and lets some of the other flavors come through.

WIllett SBR has a nice rich mouthfeel. I taste notes of mint and spice, maybe some oak, and a lovely sweetness that's not quite honey.

I think it's delightful. But rye, because of it's spicy notes, tends to divide folks more than a sweeter grain, such as barley, does when it is the primary ingredient in the mash. As an American Rye, WIllett SBR is legally required to have at least 51% of the mash grains be rye. I have found several places online claiming that the mash bill is actually 95% rye and 5% barley, but I haven't found what I consider to be an authoritative source for that information.

As I said at the beginning - if you can find it, buy it. If you don't like rye, buy it for your bar anyway. Trust me, you will find folks who do and will love you for introducing them to the Willet SBR.

Laphroaig Quarter Cask - Laphroaig Refined

 

Off the southwestern coast of Scotland lies the Isle of Islay. The signature taste of Islay whiskies is peat, with peatiness generally increasing as you move from west to east, and north to south, across the island.

Thus, at the southeastern corner of Islay, you find the three distilleries that define the outer limits of peatiness in scotch whisky: Ardbeg, Lagavulin and Laphroaig.

The standard Laphroaig expression is  a 10-year-old single malt, that, to my taste buds, is the least interesting of the standard expressions of these three distilleries. The others (Ardbeg's 10-year-old and Lagavulin's 16-year-old) offer more complex flavors to complement the peat, while the standard Laphroaig is just peat, peat and more peat.

Enter then, the Laphroaig Quarter Cask.  It comes with no age statement, but an intriguing back story.

Laphroaig takes whisky that's been aging in their standard reused American Bourbon barrels, and moves it into much, much smaller American Oak barrels of the size used 200 years ago. These barrels are about 1/4 the size of modern barrels, thus the name.

This dramatically changes the wood-to-whisky ratio -  more of the spirit in these smaller barrels interacts with the wood, altering the flavors substantially.

Quarter cask is also bottled at a slightly higher proof than the 10-year-old Laphroaig - the Quarter Cask is 48%/96 proof, the standard is 40%/80 proof - but still doesn't qualify as a cask strength whisky. It has a lovely golden color.

You can really taste the difference the change in the aging regime makes. Quarter Cask has a wonderful sweet lead in to the trademark intense peat flavor, that slowly, slowly fades gaining notes of iodine and hints of sea water.

The aroma is slightly less intensely peaty and iodiney than the standard Laphroaig,  promising something different, yet familiar.

Laphroaig recommends taking your Quarter Cask with some water, and I agree. A bit of water accentuates the sweetness and cuts the alcohol burn down, allowing your tongue access to all the available flavor.

Make no mistake - this is still Laphroaig. Peat is the main attraction, and if you don't like peat, you will not like this. Conversely, if you like peat, this will not disappoint.

I think of it like this: the Laphroaig 10 is a teenager, full of piss and vinegar, but obsessively passionate about peat and with no conception of elegance or grace. Quarter Cask is that same teenager at 30, still intensely passionate, but softened a bit by age and experience, and having learned the value of grace and refinement in getting his way.

I can take or leave the Laphroaig 10. Quarter Cask, on the other hand,  I will endeavor to keep stocked on my bar.

 

Tyrconnell - Sweet Irish Single Malt

 

The Tyrconnell is a rarity in the marketplace - a single malt Irish whiskey. Most Irish whiskies you find on the shelves int he US are blends of whiskies from several different grains, and possibly  different distilleries.This includes heavyweights like Bushmills (although they do have a single malt offering) Jameson's and Tullamore Dew.

It is, by Internet reports, double-distilled, as opposed to the triple-distilling most Irish whiskies undergo. This seems to be born out in the heavier mouthfeel of the Tyrconnell when compared to a triple distilled whiskey like Tullamore Dew.

The Tyrconnell is aged for some years in oak barrels. How many? Who knows. There's no age statement on the bottle, nor on the official Website. Barrels are ready when the  master taster says they are.

Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, as barrels of whiskey in a warehouse age at different rates depending on where in the warehouse they are. Some will be ready sooner than others.

And I certainly can't complain about the end result. The Tyrconnell has a wonderful, intense fruity smell that immediately surprises. It's got a pleasant light golden color.

Taste-wise, it's a nice mix honey and fruit sweetness with just a little oiliness at the end (which seems to support the double distallation hypothesis). The finish is short - the flavors don't linger long.

I find it to be quite a pleasant dram, especially in summertime. I take mine neat. Water seems to weaken the wonderful aroma, and reduce the honey and fruit notes in the taste and bring out the alcohol flavor.

At $30 - $35 a bottle, it's a solid value in the whiskey world. It's a quite accessible drink, and makes a nice addition to the bar of somebody who wants to offer something a little different from the standard Irish whiskies most Americans are familiar with.

If you're a scotch drinker who likes Auchentoshan or Glengoyne, you'll find Tyrconnell to be most agreeable.

And a side note on globalization: Cooley Distillery used to be the last independent distillery in Ireland. It's now owned by the parent company of Jim Beam.

Historical note: the packaging claims a heritage that goes back to 1762. However, the Watt Distillery, which was the original producer of Tyrconnell, went out of business in 1925. The brand was acquired by Cooley Distillery in  1988, and subsequently the Tyrconnell was resurrected.

Michter's Unblended American Whiskey - Oh, That's Nice

 

Michter's Unblended American Whiskey shares something in common with its stablemate and previous dram, Michter's Sour Mash Whiskey - a mysterious set of ingredients.

It's not labelled as a rye or a bourbon, which means that it's likely less than 50% corn or rye in the mash. Outside of that, what's in it is anybody's guess. Well, Michter's swears there are no neutral grain spirits in there, so we can rule that out.

My guess is some combination of corn, wheat and barley - if there's rye in the mash, it doesn't seem to be a a lot, as there's not much in the way of the spicy, peppery notes I associate with rye.

Michter's American (my AC is out so I'm in no mood to retype that damn long name in full anymore) is aged in used bourbon barrels, and then cut down down at bottling to 83 proof. How long is it aged? Good question - Michter's isn't saying.

Of course, the real question, the only questions that matters are:

Is the whiskey in the bottle any good?

Is it worth the price ($40-45 in the states)?

The answer to the first question is yes - it's good. There's honey and caramel and vanilla in the nose. Like the Sour Mash, it's a lightish whiskey on the tongue. The flavor is sweet, especially with a little water, more honey and caramel notes and hints of distinctive bourbon flavor that accent but don't overwhelm. The sweetness  fades moderately quickly to light bit of spice, and then it's mostly gone.

Is it worth the price? Just like with the Sour Mash, I'm undecided. It's good, and I'm glad I took the chance on the bottle. Will I buy another bottle when I finish this one? Perhaps. I like it more than the Sour Mash, but for that price, there are still other whiskies I like more.

 

 

Michter's Sour Mash Whisky - Tasty, Tasty Mystery Meat

 

So far, this whiskey wins the title for most meaningless name.

Normally, you can glean a little something from the name of the whiskey. In the US, a straight bourbon whiskey has to be at least 51% corn in the mash recipe - usually closer to 70% corn. A straight rye, likewise, must have a grain bill of least 51% rye, although it can run as high as 95% rye. And a wheated bourbon can be assumed to have wheat in it's grain bill.

A pure malt whiskey will be made from nothing but malted barley, even if the whisky is made by blending the outputs of several distilleries. And a single malt scotch will be the all malted barley product of a single distillery.

However, sour mash refers the process of conditioning or starting the mash with leftover mash from the previous batch. This helps create better fermentation and batch-to-batch consistency. The mash is the collection of hot water and ground grains, some malted, that you add yeast to produce the low wine that gets distilled into whiskey.

The grain bill and the yeast and other microorganisms in the mash combine to produce part of the flavor of the final whiskey. Using the sour mash method helps inhibit the growth of unwanted bacteria whose by-products might produce unwanted flavors in the low wine, and the resulting whiskey.

Almost all bourbon in the US is mashed using the sour mash method, and there doesn't seem to be a distinct flavor profile associated with the method. So using sour mash as the focus of the title is equivalent to saying: American Quality Control Process Produced Whiskey.

Not particularly helpful to the curious whiskey drinker. Especially since Michter's Sour Mash Whiskey is new to the market. Their website claims that it is the resurrection of the deceased whiskey of the same name that went absent from the market for more than two decades after  the previous iteration of Michter's went bankrupt.  There is no way to tell how close the two namesake whiskies are.

In fact, what the label doesn't say is more instructive than what it does. It doesn't claim to be bourbon, so one can safely assume the grain bill is less than 51% corn. It also doesn't claim to be a rye whiskey, so I feel safe in assuming that it's less than 51% rye. And it's not pure malt, so it's made from things other than barley. There's no age statement, but according to the Michter's site, it's aged in new, fire charred, American Oak barrels.

So what's in it? Nobody outside the company really knows, but the consensus of other reviewers seems to be an almost equal mix of corn and rye, with maybe some barely in the mix. That squares with what I'm tasting - a whiskey nicely balanced between rye and bourbon.

In the glass, this has a nice dark gold color. The aroma (nose) is sweet, with hints of honey.

On the tongue, the whiskey is fees lighter than the color suggests. It starts sweetish - the corn, and then smoothly transitions to a pleasant gingery spiciness - the rye, and perhaps the oak. It has a short finish - it does not linger around long.

The light mouthfeel and short finish actually work quite well here. This a very pleasant sipping whiskey with enough complexity to make it interesting. It's a great mingling drink for parties - it's got good flavor, but the short finish ensures you wont miss your conversational openings  because your taste buds are endlessly living that last sip.

Your mouth will, however, demand another sip pretty soon. Which is perfect, because it's good manners to shut up and let others have their say, so as to avoid monopolizing the conversation. You'll be able to offer another brief nugget of wisdom and hilarity soon enough.

Maybe after just one more sip...

Michter's Sour Mash is bottled at 86 proof (43% abv), which means it's been cut down from cask strength. A little water, a splash will do and no more, can open up the flavors a little, but it drinks perfectly well straight.

Michter's Sour Mash will set you back around $40 - $45 a bottle in the US, depending up your locale. If you like bourbon or rye, it's definitely worth trying.

Personally, I'm glad I took a chance on the bottle. I'm not sure yet if it has a permanent home on my bar, though, because in that price range, I have other whiskies that I like more. Still, it seems to be growing on me.

 

A final note, just because it is interesting. Michter's website and bottle talk about the brand's proud Pennsylvania heritage. However, the current owners of the brand are just now finishing their distillery in Louisville, Kentucky. Ever since the brand was purchased from bankruptcy and recreated, it's products have been distilled under contract elsewhere - usually by Kentucky Bourbon Distillers, according to Wikipedia.

Johnny Walker Black Label - The Safe Haven

Johnny Walker Black Label is a 12-year-old blended Scotch. So what does that mean?

For starters, it means all the constituent whiskies have spent at least 12 years aging in wooden barrels, most likely oak. Since it's blended, it means that the whisky in the bottle is a mix of the products of many different  distilleries (several places online claim that about 40 whiskies go into the making of Black Label) .

And finally, since it doesn't advertise itself as a pure malt whisky, it means that whisky made from other grains, such as wheat, corn or rye are involved in the blend as well.

There are two reasons to blend whiskies like this:

• To create rich, complex whisky based on the interplay of flavors;


• To cut costs (usually the reason for the addition of non barley malt whiskies).

Blended scotch has gotten a bad rap among single malt fanciers, because all cheap scotch is blended, and makes liberal use of the non-barley grains. And cheap scotch is generally really bad scotch.

However, blended scotch doesn't have to be wretched. A talented master distiller can mix up a tasty, complex dram using the interplay of flavors from various distilleries as point, counterpoint, highlight and base.

In fact, if you're not buying single barrel whisky, your bottle of single malt (or bourbon or rye) is a blend  of various barrels from that distillery's warehouses, chosen and mixed by the master distiller to produce the consistent signature flavor of that expression. Otherwise, given that different barrels at different places in the warehouse age differently, as well as the effects of weather on the aging process, the final product would be wildly inconsistent.

So, where does Johnny Walker Black Label fall on the crap-to-gold continuum  of blended scotch?

For me, it's definitely drinkable straight, unlike its younger brother, Red Label. That immediately elevates well above most blended scotch.

Black Label is bottled at 80 proof (40% abv), which means it's slightly more watered down from cask strength than most single malts, which are generally bottled at 86 proof ( 43% abv). Even so, I prefer to drink it with a splash of water to open up the flavors.

The nose doesn't give me much, a little sugar, a little oak. It's got decent weight on the tongue, even with the water.

Flavor-wise, there's some honey, some peat, some oak. Black Label has a moderately long finish, with hints of oak and peat and caramel late in the game.

If you sense a lack of wild enthusiasm there, you'd be correct. Black Label is decent enough, and it has the advantage of being almost ubiquitous world-wide. That makes it sort of a safe haven for a scotch drinker - a tolerable dram you can find almost anywhere you end up.

What it does not do for me, is excite me. The flavor is muted compared to a good single malt, or a pure malt blended scotch made from a smaller number of  whiskies, like the Johnny Walker Green Label. It just doesn't have much character.

And, frankly, given the price, it doesn't offer a compelling value. For about the same price, you can pick up a bottle of Highland Park single malt,  Old Pulteney single malt, or  Bowmore single malt, or, if you like bourbon, a bottle of Woodforde Reserve, or Willett Pot Still, all of which have more interesting character and flavor. For significantly less, you can get a bottle of Old Weller Antique Bourbon, which matches or betters Black Label, in my opinion.

Go another $5 to $10 higher, and you start being able to buy things such as Macallan 12-year-old single malt or the Balvenie Double Wood single malt, or Dalwhinnie 15-year-old single malt: all of which a far more interesting drams than Black Label.

If you offer me a glass of Johnny Walker Black Label, I won't refuse it, and I'll enjoy sipping it. But this is not a whisky I would ever seek out, unless the bar was bereft of anything better.