IN DISTILL OF THE NIGHT

By Rod Smith

The deep, smoky flavor of small-batch bourbon is something to savor.

When the bourbon is poured and the talk runs high, I sometimes hear myself declaring with immodest pride that one of my ancestors, a Baptist preacher named Elijah Craig, was the Father of Bourbon Whiskey. I must confess, that’s not quite true.

It is true that Craig, a distant uncle on my mother’s side, arrived in Kentucky — the western frontier in those days — in 1786. It’s also true he founded a paper mill in the region of present-day Georgetown. And there was a still house in one corner of the mill, where corn mash was rendered into a spirit that was apparently held in high esteem both near and far. Records show that whiskey was shipped by river from Craig’s mill to St. Louis and New Orleans (Bourbon Street, of course) as early as 1795; he must have been distilling some time before that.

But it would be stretching it a bit to say that Uncle Elijah was the inventor of bourbon. As the writers Gary and Mardee Regan explain in The Book of Bourbon (Chapters Publishing Ltd., 1995), “The Reverend Elijah Craig is often recognized as being the ‘inventor’ of bourbon, but that claim is completely unsubstantiated. Craig was definitely a whiskey distiller in the late 18th century, and his whiskey was probably known as Kentucky whiskey or maybe even bourbon, but there’s no real evidence to prove that he was the first person to make bourbon.”

I’ll settle for that. Let’s face it, good ideas usually occur to more than one person when the time is right, and the late 18th century on the American frontier was certainly the right time and place for commercial whiskey production. No doubt about it: After a long, hard day spent carving a new nation out of trackless wilderness, a man needs a drink.

And what a beautiful drink the Kentuckians invented. More than just the most distinguished of America’s three native whiskeys — bourbon and Tennessee (which are essentially the same product with slightly different legal definitions) and rye — it is one of the great spirits of the world. And the best of the best are small-batch bourbons, rare spirits that are “mingled” (they don’t say blended) from a few special barrels. Once the secret delight of a few connoisseurs, small-batch bourbons have become available in fine bars and clubs during the past few years.

Gregg Hobbs, general manager of the Rivers Club in Pittsburgh, sees small-batch bourbon as a drink to be lingered over and enjoyed to the fullest. “It’s something you sip. It’s got a kind of smoky flavor to it, a deep flavor, as opposed to vodka and martinis, which are thinner. Bourbon is a drink you savor. I would equate a small-batch bourbon to cognac — it has a heavy nose, and then it’s got a very complex flavor, like a wine. People get different aromas from the individual bourbons the same way they do with wine.”

Four small-batch bourbons, all from the Jim Beam distillery, are currently being offered in Associate Clubs around the country: Booker’s, named for the legendary master distiller Booker Noe; Basil Hayden’s, named for “Old Grand-Dad” Hayden, the Kentucky whiskey pioneer and a contemporary of Elijah Craig; Knob Creek, named for an area near Bardstown, Kentucky, where young Abraham Lincoln lived for a time; and Baker’s, named for retired Jim Beam master distiller Baker Beam.

Brian S. Lackey, assistant food and beverage director at the City Energy Club in New Orleans, is a bourbon aficionado. I asked him to taste and describe these small-batch bourbons. “I like Knob Creek best,” he says. “It has a very nice sweet orange and maple-pecan aroma, and it’s the smoothest. Basil Hayden’s seems a little harsher, but has good cherry and oak aromas. The Booker Noe has a butter and almond aroma, and for smoothness it falls between Knob Creek and Basil Hayden’s. Baker’s has more of a licorice taste, with a little butter and maple.”

I have only a few notes of my own to add to Lackey’s assessment. The lovely mellowness of Baker’s makes it an especially good mixer. A splash of water in Basil Hayden’s turns the harshness described by Lackey into a marvelous spicy quality (probably from the high proportion of rye). Knob Creek, bottled at 100 proof, has a cognac-like complexity and smoothness that makes it ideal for sipping from a snifter. And Booker’s, my personal favorite, is to my knowledge the only unfiltered bourbon on the market (Booker Noe believes that filtering removes a bit of flavor) and is also bottled at barrel strength, or 126 proof, which gives it a powerful intensity that stands up well to ice.

IT’S IN THE WATER
Bourbon whiskey takes its name from Bourbon County, Kentucky, originally a large area that embraced most of the state. It is most simply defined as a spirit made from no less than 51 percent corn (the balance being rye or, occasionally, wheat), aged in new, charred oak barrels for at least two years. Of course, there is much more to it than that. In a sense, the character of bourbon begins with the land itself. I asked Ed O’Daniel, president of the Kentucky Distillers’ Association, what he thought the single most important factor in bourbon’s character might be. “The water,” he replied, explaining that the water used to make the sour mash and eventually to cut the spirit from barrel strength comes from the deep mantle of limestone underlying Kentucky and Tennessee. “It’s just terrific water. I’ve restored a 200-year-old house that has a well. The water comes from 36 feet underground, running through limestone, and it has the greatest taste. Water of that character runs throughout Kentucky, and it’s that iron-free water that makes the bourbon tasty, the horses feisty, the bluegrass blue, and the women pretty.”

The characteristics of individual whiskeys vary widely, influenced by a virtually infinite array of factors. The composition of the “mash,” for example. Every house has its closely guarded recipe, which it varies for each individual bottling. Most houses use considerably more than the minimum content of corn, but others include high proportions of rye and other “small grains.” Most of them also use their own strains of yeast to ferment the mash. The yeast imparts a signature that persists in some ethereal way throughout the distilling process, contributing to the subtle differences that connoisseurs find between fine whiskies from different producers.

Another major influence is the still itself, or rather the skill with which the still is operated. While a few houses such as the Labrot & Graham Distillery use the type of old-world copper pot stills employed by the artisan distillers of France and Scotland, most rely on newer column or continuous stills. A master distiller knows his stills inside and out and can play on every nuance like a great violinist working a Stradivarius. The distiller’s art is a mystery within the mystery that is whiskey itself.

Perhaps the most dramatic influence on a whiskey’s character is aging. All of the barrels are made from American white oak (Quercus alba). The law requires that bourbon be aged in new barrels only so that the spirit extracts maximum sugars, lactones, and other components of flavor and color from the tight-grained oak. Used bourbon barrels are sold to whiskey and wine producers in other countries (it never fails to give me a rush of pleasure to be visiting a distillery in Scotland and see stacks of barrels branded with names of Kentucky coopers and distillers).

The law also requires that the barrels be charred on the inside, and it is that thin layer of toasted wood that gives whiskey the beautiful amber-bronze hue that looks so radiant in a fine crystal glass, as well as the delicate sweetness from sugars caramelized by the flames. The regulations don’t specify the degree of char, however, and that is yet another of the many variables that contribute to house character.

AGED TO PERFECTION
The aging process goes faster in Kentucky than it does in other whiskey-producing regions. One reason is that a barrel actually breathes in response to fluctuations in temperature, humidity, and barometric pressure, and new oak “works” more than used oak. Another is Kentucky’s weather, which ranges between very hot summers and very cold winters. The yearly cycle of extreme temperatures increases the activity going on in barrels: During summer heat the whiskey expands into the wood, then during the winter it comes out with increased concentrations of flavor and color. As the whiskey ages and becomes more concentrated, the proof goes up. Strange as it seems, water evaporates faster than alcohol; a barrel will lose about two gallons a year to evaporation. It’s that combination of the new wood and hot-cold extremes that gives bourbon its concentrated flavor and beautiful color. Whisky producers in other countries are permitted to add caramel coloring, but not here: Bourbon is water, grain, and wood.

Even the placement of a given barrel in the warehouse affects how the spirit ages. Barrel houses are as high as nine stories. The aging process is different in various locations within the warehouse due to varying temperature, humidity, and airflow. Barrels on the top floor age faster than barrels on lower floors, and there are also differences in the way barrels on the same floor age due to their situation among the other barrels.

One of the most crucial aspects of a master distiller’s art is being able to taste the differences between barrels in the hundreds. The distiller knows how the whiskey ages in each part of the warehouse, and knows how to mingle the best barrels into a consistently distinctive bottling.

The traditional way of bottling and marketing bourbon is to mingle barrels from various locations to maintain a given brand’s style. The other extreme is the single-barrel concept, where the master distiller selects specific barrels for bottling one at a time. What goes in a bottle of, say, Blanton’s Single Barrel or Evan Williams Single Barrel is what comes out of one 55-gallon barrel.

The small-batch bourbon is perhaps the truest expression of the distiller’s art. When most people hear the term small batch they assume it refers to a single distillation in small quantity. In fact, a small-batch bourbon is a very select choice of barrels in the six- to eight-year range. It may be five barrels, or 25; there’s no legal definition. The important thing is that the master distiller has hand-picked and mingled a few hundred gallons of superb whiskeys with subtly different but complementary qualities.

“Someone orders them every day,” explains Bob Diodati, general manager of the Ipswich Country Club in Ipswich, Massachusetts. “It started out like the single-malt scotches, where people felt you had to have them either neat or on ice. But I’ve had members ordering Manhattens made with them, even a ‘Prez’ [or Presbyterian, half soda and half ginger ale with a shot of whiskey]. I don’t know how the distillers intended them to be drunk, but people can have them any way they want. It’s just a better-tasting bourbon.”

The rise in popularity of small-batch bourbons can be attributed to their affinity with fine tobacco smoke. Yes, I mean cigars. As the Rivers Club’s Hobbs points out, “If you’re a cigar smoker, you’ve got to try one of the small-batch bourbons neat. They complement cigars because they have a deep and distinct taste, and the different aromas you can pick out, especially the aromas of the wood, complement cigars better than other spirits.”

I concur wholeheartedly. For all the beauty of fine cognac and single-malt Scotch, I’ve always felt that the combination of great bourbon and a Cuban or Dominican cigar is a match made in heaven. Especially on a rainy winter evening, I can’t think of a better way to pass the time than sitting with a good friend, a glass of Booker’s (I generally take it with a few ice cubes), and an Upmann Habana #2.

And, of course, at some point in the evening I’m liable to raise a toast to my old Uncle Elijah, echoing a line from his 1808 obituary in the Kentucky Gazette: “If virtue consists of being useful to our fellow citizens, perhaps there are few more virtuous men than Mr. Craig.” I’m sure that if the old man could taste a modern small-batch bourbon, he’d be very proud, indeed.

Rod Smith would like to live in a barrel house in order to age more slowly. Among his free-lance assignments, he is writer-at-large for Wine & Spirits Magazine.

Credits: Hair and makeup by Susie Jasper for Kim Dawson. Styled by Katelin Burton for Kim Dawson. Models Lisa Merrill and Sam Steph for Page Parkes. Suit, shirt, and tie by Giorgio Armani. Dress by Amanda Wakeley. Glen-plaid old-fashioned glass by Ralph Lauren. Brandy snifter by Waterford.