Hubert Germain-Robin Offers Brandy Distilling Class

Charentais still at McMenamin's Cornelius Pass Roadhouse Distillery 

Just over the transom from The American Distilling Institute comes word that Hubert Germain-Robin is leading a brandy distilling class this November in Portland, Oregon. Germain-Robin was co-founder with Ansley Coale of Germain-Robin distillery in northern California in the early 1980's, though his family has been in the cognac business for centuries.

Writes ADI president Bill Owens:

This week-long workshop will combine traditional techniques of Cognac-style brandies with three decades of experience in working with New World varietals to create new flavor profiles.
 
The workshop addresses the conditions a craft distiller must be mindful of in the vineyard, the winery and throughout distillation. In keeping with the traditional methods of distillation the participant is encouraged to use all their sensory perceptions in creating their product.

Participants will get hands-experience with fermentation, distillation, barrel management and blending. A variety of tastings will include eaux de vie from different varietals of grape, Cognac, Armagnac, American brandies, and wines appropriate for distilling brandy.

The course will be conducted on the Charentais alembic still at McMenamin's Cornelius Pass Roadhouse Distillery. Participants will stay November 4-9 at McMenamin's Crystal Hotel in downtown Portland.

I may try to get there. Haven't decided yet, but I've a weakness for Portland and deep respect for Hubert. [Update 9/21/12 I'm going; see you in Portland] Those attending need to get to Portland on their own, but the course fee runs $3,500 and includes "instruction, hotel, bus tour of local distilleries, and most meals." The ADI website does not yet include registration instructions. If you're keen to do hands-on brandy distilling with a master of the craft, keep an eye on the ADI's website (www.distilling.com) for updates or send them a check:

ADI
Box 577
Hayward, CA 94543

Pok Pok's Chicken Wings

I've lost my goddamned mind: 

just conducted an interview 
of the chicken wings I'm frying at home. 

Surprisingly, they have a voice a lot like mine, 
only higher.

~ Facebook post from me last night,

an increasingly rare occurrence

Last month, I spent the better part of a week in Portland, Oregon. Like so many before me, I was smitten. Can you blame me? I’m from San Diego, a desert town on the coast. It’s hard not to be taken with Portland’s lush greenery and air so moist you can feel it even on a sunny day (or, rather, during sunny parts of most days). Add to that the breweries, the distilleries, the Bookstore, hiking out in the gorge, the cocktails, and the food…oh, sweet Jesus, the food.

We ate. When someone asks me what we did in Portland, my answer is simply: we ate. Bacon macaroni and cheese from a food truck, sour cherry water ice, bulgogi tacos, truffled popcorn, pickles, ice cream sandwiches, fried-to-order chocolate donuts, pork ribs, chicken fried steak, boar, an amazing red pork stew, cured meats, cheeses, biscuits, fried chicken, berries, cherries, lefse, blue cheese burgers. I didn’t feel right for a week afterward. It was glorious.

A plate of spicy chicken wings at Andy Ricker’s restaurant Pok Pok, though, was so good that we ordered another round even though there wasn’t one single hungry person at the table. I’m not the first to write about the wings. I won’t be the last. The have a fame of their own. When my friend Barry sent directions for making them from a 2008 Food & Wine recipe, I bought three kilos of flappers and broke out the fryer.

It was too much. None was left.

Ike’s Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings
(aka Pok Pok Wings)

The menu calls them Ike’s Vietnamese Fish Sauce Wings. No disrespect to Ike, but most everyone I spoke to in Portland called these crispy glazed chicken wings Pok Pok wings. In brackets are my adjustments and notes. You’ll notice that I like garlic and heat. To add some spice to the glaze, I added a healthy dollop of sambal oelek, an Indonesian crushed chile paste that’s widely available even in whitebread grocery stores.

½ cup Asian fish sauce [Viet Huong brand nuoc mam]
½ cup superfine sugar
4 garlic cloves, 2 crushed and 2 minced [8-10, 4-5 and 4-5]
3 pounds [whole] chicken wings
2 tablespoons vegetable oil, plus more for frying
1 cup cornstarch
1 Tbl chopped fresh cilantro
1 Tbl chopped fresh mint [chiffonade]
[2 Tbl sambal oelek, Huy Fong brand]

In a bowl, whisk the fish sauce, sugar, [sambal oelek, if using], and crushed garlic. Add the wings and toss to coat. Refrigerate for 3 hours [more than that and they become oversalted from the fish sauce], tossing the wings occasionally.

Heat the 2 tablespoons of oil in a small skillet. Add the minced garlic; cook over moderate heat until golden, 3 minutes. Drain on paper towels.

In a large pot, heat 2 inches of oil to 350°F. Pat the wings dry on paper towels; reserve the marinade. Put the cornstarch in a shallow bowl, add the wings and turn to coat. Fry the wings in batches until golden and cooked through, about 10 minutes. Drain on paper towels and transfer to a bowl.

In a small saucepan, simmer the marinade over moderately high heat until syrupy, 5 minutes. Strain over the wings and toss. Top with the cilantro, mint and fried garlic and serve.

Salty? Yes. But not too much so as long as you don’t overdo the marinating time. Cook a pot of plain white rice, crack open a beer, and make sure you've got plenty of napkins.

2nd Annual Northwest Eggnog Competition

Tomorrow night, Uptown Billiards Club in in Portland, Oregon is hosting the 2nd Annual Northwest Eggnog Competition. I'll be down in San Diego, but it sounds like area alcoholists, including Craig Hermann and Jeffrey Morgenthaler, are already gearing up and will be attending the best eggnog throwdown.

If I were anywhere within 40 miles, I'd be there.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009
7:00pm - 9:00pm
Elephant's Deli on NW 22nd Ave., Portland

* * *

As a side to this event, I've got to share this email I got from my buddy Barry. Barry lives near Elephant's Deli, so I called him today to let him know about the event, but also that I didn't yet have all the details.

Now, Barry uses Google's voicemail which also sends him an email with the (supposed) text of the call. I left him a message this afternoon suggesting that he check out the eggnog competition. Didn't know the details other than Morgenthaler tweeted about it. The gist of the message was to look into it because I was going to be in San Diego, didn't have any more info than that, and I didn't want to send him on a snipe hunt.

I busted out laughing at the worst transcription job I've ever seen. This is the complete gibberish that Google sent him as the text of my message:

Hey. It's Phil Shay are you talking about and I just remembered something on the road earlier in the week in Portland atthe post club. Olson's Deli which, I think it's just like of spring away from you tomorrow night. We're having some kind ofPortland bartenders. 8. Not competition and Jeffrey, Morgan dollar will be there. He's a bartender. Clyde common andhave a good point, and several others at least 10 times. I'm not sure which, but it sounds like something that might bekinda fun to do this. It's indeed. That's where it is on another LSATs telling them somewhere and he's got some free time. Idon't know what it is. I don't know any details that would you expect all at home and it's 7 a goes on facebook on 7 mycomputer and tomorrow so I'll be offline mostly for a week or so. Yeah, so give us a while and really do talk to them, cosI'm guessing I was just like swamping doing to our last time when you called. So that's why I was referred, but he's did alot of the virtual church on it. So with the lose of the pros and cons and I haven't had any problems so far as I can, I'd. I'ddefinitely love it and let me point out, it's because I know I have to the pickup the canoe colossal at. If you could. That'spretty cool. So yeah. Catch you later. Bye.

Oh, well done, Google.
Your friend,
Phil Shay
.

Distillers to Gather Once More in Portland

Gather 'round, ye distillers of brandy and gin, ye wranglers of whiskey. This April, the American Distilling Institute holds its 8th annual Craft Spirits Conference & Vendor Expo in Portland, Oregon.

As usual, there will be tastings and judging. Vendors to the distilling industry will show off bottles, labels, yeasts, grains, and even barrels for stowing away slumbering spirits.

Granddaddy of the American craft distilling scene, Steve McCarthy (Clear Creek Distilling), Lisa Laird of Laird & Company (we absolutely adore her 100 proof bonded apple brandy, even though a bottle hasn't been seen on San Diego shelves since last year), and Henrik Mattsson, author of Calvados, will speak.

Bill Owens, president of ADI, also promises hands-on distilling classes at Portland distilleries: Whiskey at Bull Run Distilling, brandy at Stone Barn Brandy Works, infused vodka at New Deal Distillery, and gin at House Spirits Distillery (transportation and lunch provided).

Details:
ADI 8th annual conference
April 4-8, 2011
The Benson Hotel
Portland Oregon

For full information, see the American Distilling Institute's site.

The Kingston Club, a Fernet-Laced Cocktail

Your first sip of Fernet Branca, an Italian liqueur, 

will be akin to waking up in a foreign country 

and finding a crowd of people arguing in agitated, thorny voices 

outside your hotel window. 

It’s an event that’s at once alarming and slightly thrilling, 

and leaves you wanting to know more. 

~ Wayne Curtis

The last time I traveled to Portland, we ate and drank for five solid days. It was, as I've mentioned, glorious. We ate from food trucks, from restaurants, in breweries, at picnic tables — wherever and whenever we spied something that looked good. And, man, it all looked good. To catch our breath, we dropped by bars — sometimes just to shoot a few games of pool, but often to visit a particular bartender. And so I dragged my crew to Clyde Common in the ground floor of the Ace Hotel where bar manager Jeffrey Morgenthaler slakes the thirst of travelers, locals, cocktail enthusiasts, and the occasional insufferable cocktail snob who may get pawned off on a visiting writer.

Fortunately, Morgenthaler isn't such a snob; he's a down to earth, genuinely nice guy who does smart things with drinks. I've got an awful lot of whiskey at home, so, despite the large board bearing an impressive list of supple bourbons and spry ryes, I opted for something tropical after our initial round of Negronis. Bar man Junior Ryan set me up with one of Morgenthaler's concoctions: the Kingston Club cocktail, a peach-colored, lightly fizzy drink based on Drambuie and laced with Fernet, the bitter Italian amaro I once heard a wag call "bartenders' Jagermeister."

A small quantity of Fernet in a tropical drink is unusual, but isn't much of a stretch. After all, tiki bartenders have long used the similarly bitter absinthe-like Herbsaint and Pernod to craft an ethereal, can't-quite-put-my-finger-on-it taste. For you thespians, think of it as the crowd on stage, constantly mumbling "peas and carrots, peas and carrots," helping to set a mood, but not stealing attention from the leads. Drambuie, on the other hand, is a surprise. Best known for starring in the classic Rusty Nail, the Scotch-based liqueur usually plays, at best, a walk-on role in the tiki scene. I'm glad it walked on here.

Kingston Club 

1.5 oz Drambie
1.5 oz pineapple juice
.75 oz lime juice
1 tsp Fernet Branca
3 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake, top with 1 oz soda water, strain over fresh ice in a collins glass. Garnish with a large orange twist.

Goes well with:

• A visit to Clyde Common (1014 SW Stark Street, Portland, Oregon)
• Wayne Curtis' piece for The Atlantic on Fernet. 
• Morgenthaler doesn't just do smart things with drinks; he writes smart prose about them at www.jeffreymorgenthaler.com and doles out bar wisdom in an ongoing series for Small Screen Network.
• Headed to Portland? Why not check out Tiki Tuesdays at Rogue or drop by the nearby Teardrop Lounge for an absinthe-spiked Charles H. Baker Jr cocktail, Remember the Maine?

Bitters Tasting Table in the Meadow

As you build your cabinet of cocktail bitters — or, at any rate, put together a handful of stalwarts you want always to have on hand — keep in mind that any proper liquor store will carry common brands such as Angostura, Regan's No. 6 orange bitters, and possibly Peychaud's, that old New Orleans favorite essential to a Sazerac. Here and there, stores may also carry Fee Brothers bitters or tiny, single-shot, paper-wrapped bottles of Underberg, digestif bitters from Germany that are so good after a heavy meal (or a stein too may of beer). Truly well stocked stores with robust selections may offer modern bitters from Bittermens, Adam Elmegirab, Berg & Hauck, The Bitter End, and more.

These are the stores to patronize.

Go on; taste. And again. And again.

San Diego is not awash in an ocean of bitters, so I keep my cabinet stocked with commercial stuff through a combination of combing local stores and mail-order sources as well as doing lots of pre-travel research on which bartenders, bars, and bar supply houses to hit when I'm on the road. When I'm in Portland, Oregon or Manhattan, for instance, I make a point of dropping by The Meadow. Owned by Salted author Mark Bitterman, The Meadow offers fresh flowers, salts, chocolates, and bitters. When I was in the Manhattan store recently, my obsessions over the last two caused a shameful amount of money to flow from my pocket to Bitterman's register.

Most of the brands were familiar or even old hat to me, but the flood of new labels over the last five years has caused even bitters geeks to fall behind in the latest offerings, bottlings, iterations, and experimental batches. The Meadow's way around shoppers' potential unfamiliarity with brands is to offer a tasting table where one bottle of every bitters in stock is open. Drinkers who want to compare brands of celery, old fashioned, orange, or other bitters are welcome to do so.

The Meadow isn't the only place to offer tasting bottles, but it does have one of the largest range of bitters to smell and taste on site. In the Manhattan store, 50-60 open bitters bottles stood ready for walk-ins to sample. Local bartenders get a professional discount; visiting writers do not.

Now, if only there were a way to sample them through the mail...

Meanwhile, most of the stock is for sale online here.

The Meadow — New York 
523 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
212.645.4633

The Meadow — Portland 
3731 N. Mississippi Avenue
Portland, OR 97227
Tel: 503.288.4633

Toll free for both stores: 1.888.388.4633
http://www.atthemeadow.com

Goes well with:

• Bitter Disappointment from Japan, in which a much-anticipated package from San Francisco barman Neyah White arrives smelling so good. Wait...why does it smell at all?
• My take on Brad Thomson Parsons' 2011 book Bitters: A Spirited History of a Classic Cure-All, with Cocktails, Recipes, and Formulas. In a nutshell: good, but not as good as it might've been with better editing.
• Pink lemonade; you can buy pink powder in a canister...or you can empinken your drinkin' like a grownup with aromatic bitters. Also, check out "Cocktail" Bill Boothby's getting in his digs at temperance charlatans making vats of the stuff for circuses, fairs, and churches in another look at pink lemonade. He's as subtle as a whack upside the noggin with a loggerhead, but Boothby's insinuation that saloons were far better and safer places to drink than church fairs wasn't far off the mark — at least as far as some saloons and some churches were concerned.

Remember the Maine? Hell, I Barely Remember the Walk Home.

Treat this one with the respect it deserves, gentlemen.

~ Charles H. Baker, Jr.

Charles H. Baker, Jr. — bear with me, drinks people; I know you know this, but others may not — is a towering figure in cocktail literature. His 1946 two-volume The Gentleman’s Companion was one of the first serious cocktail books I bought almost twenty years ago. Because bars sometimes base cocktail programs on his recipes more than half a century after publication, a passing familiarity with them helps tipplers navigate options at bars that trade in old-school drinks.

This weekend in Portland, I was pleased to recognize Remember the Maine, one of his classics, featured at Teardrop Lounge. It's not unlike a Manhattan, but with an absinthe kick, you wouldn't mistake one for the other. The drink's name refers a popular slogan that decried the sinking of the battleship USS Maine in Havana's harbor, thus sparking the 1898 Spanish-American War. Baker invokes the slogan in his typically florid and heavily-capitalized prose: 

REMEMBER the MAINE, a HAZY MEMORY of a NIGHT in HAVANA during the UNPLEASANTNESSES of 1933, when EACH SWALLOW WAS PUNCTUATED with BOMBS GOING OFF on the PRADO, or the SOUND of 3" SHELLS BEING FIRED at the HOTEL NACIONAL, then HAVEN for CERTAIN ANTI-REVOLUTIONARY OFFICERS

His original recipes reads: Take a tall bar glass and toss in three lumps of ice. Onto this foundation donate the following in order given: one jigger good rye whiskey, ½ jigger Italian vermouth, one to 2 teaspoons of cherry brandy, ½ tsp absinthe or Pernod Veritas. Stir briskly in clock-wise fashion -- this makes it sea-going, presumably! —turn into a big chilled saucer champagne glass, twisting a curl of green lime or lemon peel over the top.

That "cherry brandy" has caused some confusion — or at least room for interpretation — among bartenders since both Cherry Heering (a dark, sweet, cherry-infused brandy) and Kirsch or Kirschwasser (a clear distillate of cherries, nearly double the proof of Heering) may be used. I find the lower-proof Heering rounds out the drink nicely, but feel free to experiment. The drink doesn't call for much absinthe, but tread lightly if you're unsure whether you enjoy the taste; its presence is not a subtle one.

Remember the Maine (modern adaptation)

2 oz rye
.75 oz sweet vermouth
2 bar-spoons Cherry Heering
½ bar-spoon absinthe

Stir briskly with a bar spoon in a mixing glass with ice. Strain into another glass and serve up.

Goes well with: A stop at Teardrop if you're in Portland. In fact, it's one of the reasons to visit.

Teardrop Lounge
1015 Northwest Everett Street
Portland, OR 97209-3117
(503) 445-8109
http://teardroplounge.com

Tiki Tuesdays

Whether the house specials are tropical drinks or tacos, it seems as if Tiki Tuesdays are cropping up in bars all over these days. Some tikiphiles don't even bother with bars and simply make delicious rum concoctions at home before the work week is even half over. Me? I don't know why we have to make it Tuesday. Seems Tiki Wednesday and Sunday are perfectly fine days to mark the passing of the week. That's not to say I would turn around and leave if I should stumble across a full-blown Tiki Tuesday in progress...and that's exactly what I found at Rogue Ales public house in Portland last month.

Because I intended to catch up with Blair Reynolds of tiki syrup fame, Craig Hermann (aka Colonel Tiki), and their families while there, I packed along a Hawaiian shirt. For this, I was roundly mocked at home. This was, of course, not the first time that has happened. Whenever I don one of those floral shirts, my sidekick Dr Morpheus asks "Is that what you're going to wear?" Sometimes, admittedly, I put one on just to elicit this response. I never said I was not mischievous. Photographer Douglas Dalay will more blatantly lean in closer to me, cup one hand to his ear, and make the most pained expressions when he sees me wearing such a shirt. "What?" he'll mock-shout. "What?! I can't hear you over that loud shirt."

So with those two in tow, I dropped by Rogue Ales to take a load off and try to catch up with distiller John Couchot. John was offsite that day, so we visited him at another Rogue property, but not before discovering that Rogue, too, had a Tiki Tuesday. The deal was that anyone walking in wearing a Hawaiian/tropical shirt would get a free beer. Mine was locked away in the rental car a block away. Ah, well. After much travel, it felt good to sit and enjoy a cool beverage and I wasn't about to go get it.

Dalay had other ideas. Not one to pass up a good deal, he asked for the keys and disappeared. About five minutes later, who should stroll through the front door talking smack about free beer? I wasn't sure because I had one hand cupped to my ear, leaning in, and trying to make out what he was saying over the loud, loud shirt.

Goes well with:

• Simbre Sauce, the pre-batched cinnamon-allspice-vanilla-bitters syrup we use at home for Nui Nuis, ice cream, over granola, etc., is named after Douglas Dalay.
• Rogue Ales. There are several venues for Rogue, but the one we dropped in that day for Tiki Tuesday was at 1339 NW Flanders in Portland, OR [(503) 222-5910]. They also host a Bacon Wednesday. At least, that's what the sign by the host station read. I didn't have a shirt for that.  
• Other Portland stories include Remember the Maine? Hell, I Barely Remember the Walk Home and Pok Pok's Chicken Wings (with recipe).   

Stephen McCarthy's Keynote Address to the ADI

Earlier this month, Stephen McCarthy, president and founder of Clear Creek Distillery in Oregon and one of modern America's distilling pioneers, delivered the keynote address of the American Distilling Institute's annual meetings. Because of work and family commitments, I couldn't make it to Portland for the meetings, but ADI president Bill Owens was kind enough to send on McCarthy's April 6th talk. 

Unedited and in its entirety, here's Stephen McCarthy on his own background as a distiller and the future of American small distilleries.

I think it is important for you to realize what you are trying to do: the changes you represent and which are represented by your colleagues who came before you in the wine world and in the beer world-not to mention coffee, bread, vegetables, cheese to name a few-are profound.

I watched all this happen, starting in the 1950's and what I saw was probably representative of what happened and is happening all across the US.

My story and the story of my region are like yours.

I grew up in Roseburg, Ore., pop. 4500, before TV came to town and before I-5 was built. Portland was four hours away on a two-lane road in a station wagon with four brothers.

Imagine 1950.

Roseburg had an active agricultural economy, with lots of fruit and vegetables, some livestock (mostly sheep, I think) and turkeys, and the remains of a prune industry in the form of "prune dryers," tall, oddly shaped barn-like structures that had heaters that dried the Italian Blue Plum into prunes.

We also had a built-in cultural bias against anything that was grown or made locally. People that went west in the dust bowl years, picked crops in California in the depression, and worked in the Oakland shipyards in WWII came to southern Oregon in the late 1940's to find work logging the native forests. I believe they didn't "think local" because they were not sure where they were. Several good local cheese makers gave up in the 1950s or early 1960s (does anyone remember Langlois cheese?). There was a terrific melon from Dillard, Oregon, an elegant cantaloupe from an ideal microclimate. We grew terrific pole beans, good strawberries and very good walnuts. I don't think much of that is left.

Another branch of my family had been growing apples and pears in the Hood River Valley in Northern Oregon since 1909. The family lost the orchards in the Great Depression, and maybe another time, depending on how my mother wants to spin the legend. After World War II my dad started buying back the old orchard property, although the original orchards were pretty much gone. In the 1970s we started buying other nearby orchards, and we have been buying in small and large batches, ever since.

I pretty much stayed out of farming and ran the industrial side of the family. My dad had a small company making hunting and shooting accessories. He wanted out, and sold it to me for a dollar down and a dollar a week. It worked out well, I made two or three good decisions and it grew like crazy. And so I thought I was hot stuff, a marketing genius. I was unimpressed by what I saw of fruit marketing. Or fruit growing, for that matter. The local fruit growers were pretty well wedded to chemicals, and odd varieties of apples and pears were being driven out by an industry devotion to the Red Delicious apple. And of course, if you went to a local grocery, even in the fall harvest season, the fruit you encountered was right off a truck that had come from a warehouse a hundred miles away. Small fruit growing regions - and Hood River Valley at 15,000 acres of orchards was very small - had a hard time attracting capital and management and marketing talent to compete here in America, let alone in the world market.

The other thing I should mention is that it was my good fortune to spend a lot of time in Europe, starting in 1960. There, I developed an interest in good French regional wine, which led to an interest in almost any wine from Europe, and that led to an interest in everything else from Europe that I could eat or drink. Eventually I came to appreciate that the people I met ate and drank only what they grew - what they had. Their genius was taking whatever they could grow and making something wonderful out of it. Poor land that could only support goats led to chevre. Undrinkable ugni blanc wine led to cognac. Small, crummy apples in Normandy led to Calvados. And so on.

Eventually I learned that the Williams pear, which the French, Swiss and Germans made into the fantastic Williams pear schnapps or eau de vie of poire williams was the same as our Bartlett pear. The Bartlett pear was the principal ingredient of fruit cocktail, which was what my generation had been raised on. But as the fruit cocktail died a well earned death, the market for the Bartlett pear swooned. And that's how I got into all this. I set out to rescue the Bartlett pear market, save orchard farmland from development for tract homes, provide myself with a decent supply of good poire williams, which was impossible to get in Oregon at that time, and maybe make a buck or two.

I have done most of that. I started with an empty warehouse in an old industrial neighborhood in Northwest Portland. My hope was that because the Bartlett and Williams pears are the same, and the still I bought was the genuine European item, and the techniques were simple, that I could eventually learn how to make good poire williams.

I expected it would take years to get something I could take to market. But my first still load, in the fall of 1985, was good. That first taste was good. Pear growing, pear ripening, pear crushing, pear fermentation and pear distillation seemed almost intuitive. We had a lot to learn, of course. There is a difference between making 500 gallons of pear mash, and making 60,000 gallons. Last year alone, my distillery bought 500,000 pounds of Oregon pears, and another 500,000 pounds of other Oregon fruits-blue plum, yellow plum, apple, cherries, and so on.

And Roseburg, where I grew up and which I left decades ago, is now a hotbed of imaginative, innovative winemaking. And small distilleries are popping up in Douglas, Josephine and Curry Counties. No longer just poison oak, sheep and scrub oak grow in those valleys and on those pretty hills. Rows of hot weather grape varietals, miraculously correct for the microclimate, produce fruit that produces unusual and wonderful wines. The scrub oak, actually Oregon White Oak, or quercus garyana, is now made into barrels for aging wine and my whiskey. An hour south, Rogue Creamery Blue Cheese is made and sold, and they can't make enough each year. I don't know if the Dillard melons are back, and I know the pole beans are not, but now even modest restaurants in Roseburg proudly list "local" cheese and "local" wine. A huge cultural change has taken place.

And so, in a way we are taking back our country, exercising control over what we eat and drink. I think we are retuning to a nation that actually makes things. This is a huge accomplishment. You are a big part of it.

But we are just beginning.

As we go forward, I would like to point out some important issues that we face and that we must resolve:

1) Quality. I am concerned about quality, but in a way I am not so concerned about quality. Capitalism will work its wonders. The wine writers will keep writing and the sommeliers, and the bartenders, and all those smart retailers out there, and there are a lot of them and they ARE smart, will keep tasting, and those distillers who measure up in the most important contest of all-the one where the bartender or retail buyer or distributor sales manager says, "OK, we'll put it in"-those distillers will prevail. The best thing about capitalism is that the data is always clear.

My sales strategy was always

a) top quality product (without this you are road kill)

b) good packaging

c) fanatic customer service, especially for the distributors and the retail buyers

d) painfully low prices

If you can do all this you have a chance. That is all. You have a license to go out there and let fly. Good luck. And no complaining.

2) The big guys. NABCA, DISCUS, and WSWA may not always be our friends. Bill [Owens], I suspect you have done a lot in this area, but we need a sophisticated Washington, DC presence to tell us when the 900 pound gorillas are not thinking good thoughts about us. And I am not convinced that asking for a TTB tax break for small distilleries is the best way to position ourselves in the upcoming skirmish. That tax break might be very expensive. There are no deals in DC without a payback.

3) Shipping: the anti alcohol people have made a big effort to severely restrict winery direct shipping. I have seen this in Oregon. There may be an unholy alliance between NABCA, the anti alcohol people, and WSWA. Many state Alcoholic Beverages Commissions' bureaucracies do not have the sophistication to see through this, nor the cohones to withstand the political pressure. I have tried not to muddy the waters by raising the issue of spirits shipping. Let's let the wine people win it for wine, and then see what we can get out of the deal, rather than handing the other side a nice weapon with which to bludgeon us.

4) Nomenclature. This one is the most important, as I see it. Good eau de vie with no compromises is expensive to make. But it is also very good. And like the best distillates and the best wines from all over the world, a market for very good and very expensive eau de vie exists. We have found it. But the customer who will search out good New Zealand white wines, SE Washington merlot, or an exotic Whiskey, wants to know exactly what it is, what is in it, where it was made, by whom. And then he or she will pay. The basis for the success of Oregon Pinot Noir lies very much in a system of strict nomenclature. And likewise with the AOC system in France, and the DOCG system in Italy. When you pick up that bottle of expensive Bordeaux, you know what is in it and who made it.

Right now the spirit world is in disarray. Bulk, industrial vodka from god knows where is being sold as "Oregon Vodka" "Made in Oregon" even though the only thing from Oregon that is in it is some local water, to bring down the proof for bottling. I have had important figures in distribution in the US ask me why the nomenclature for artisan spirits is so flakey. My best distributors remind me that they like to buy things with a real provenance. There is a place in the industry for rectifiers, just as there is for negotiants in the world of French wine. But there should be a place, with clear, easy-to-understand nomenclature, for those who are actually making what they sell. This means, to me, that the spirits in the product are made from a previously-non-distilled substrate, on the premises. There are analogies in the beverage world that will work well. If you see the words "Produced and Bottled by....." and the geographic designation "Willamette Valley" on a bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir, you know what it is.

We have to work this out. Some nomenclature is now clearly misleading and some of my brethren are not being totally truthful.

Bill Owens, you have made a contribution to this industry that is hard to overstate. So, by the powers vested in me by NO ONE AT ALL, I hereby designate you to lead the effort to untangle this issue.

And, now, I thank all of you very much for the chance to meet many of you yesterday at the distillery, and for the chance to tell my story, and now I think it is time for all of us to get on with what looks to be a very wonderful day.

Bookshelf: Salted

I enjoy food in the broadest sense. My obsessions, though, are reserved for the preserved. Fermented, brined, smoked, pickled, cured, aged, dried, distilled, candied — these are descriptors that make me salivate. Once you know that about me, it’s no surprise that those obsessions form the pillars of my 2,000-volume culinary library.

One recent acquisition has kept my attention for the better part of two weeks: Mark Bitterman’s Salted: A Manifesto on the World's Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes. When I say that the book is riveting, understand my obsessions and take it with a grain of…well, you know. But even if you don’t know a Lot about salt, my guess is that you could rattle off common names for a few different kinds of the stuff without much thought. There’s table salt, sea salt, rock salt, kosher. Most folks have a general understanding of what these look like.

Bitterman isn’t satisfied with such anemic nomenclature. He tackles over 150 different salts from common table salt to more esoteric offerings from around the world; Japanese Takesumi bamboo salt; maple smoked salt from Maine; French sel gris de I’lle de Noirmoutier; Peruvian pink salt; sal grosso do Algarve, a coarse, moist Portuguese salt; black truffle salt; pink, red, and black salts of Hawaii — almost 20 full pages just of charts with thumbnail photos and descriptions followed by nearly 90 pages of in-depth discussions of the origins, manufacture, physical properties, tasting notes, and uses of many listed in the charts.

Recipes in the last part of the book cover salting for preserving (e.g., gravlax, sauerkraut, preserved lemons), drinks, desserts, and brining — fairly standard things, even if the particular salts he calls for bring very specific sensations to each dish. I broke out into a slowly spreading smile, though, when I read his section on pink Himalayan salt. The gravlax is made by curing salmon between blocks of the stuff over several days. But Bitterman proposes something else entirely different; actually cooking on blocks of salt heated so hot that eggs and bacon sizzle and flank steak cooks five seconds per side (yeah, five seconds). He writes:

When you cook on Himalayan block salt, several things are happening at the same time: the heat of the block sears and browns proteins, melts fats, and caramelizes sugars, while the salt subtly dehydrates the surface and seasons the food. Together the heat and salt work in wonderful harmony, producing unique salty-toasty-caramelized flavors and delicately crisped surfaces as thin as a single layer of glaze on porcelain.

Bitterman is no mere salt enthusiast; he’s a shopkeeper as well and his careful thinking about how to use salt shines through with the voice of someone who has clearly tasted his share of the stuff and knows how to handle, store, and in some cases revive salts. His Portland, Oregon store The Meadow sells salts (and plenty of cocktail bitters) from around the world. The next time I head to Portland, that den of whiskey and home distilling, I fully intend to pay The Meadow a visit, hand over a wad of cash, and say “I’m in your hands.”

Mark Bitterman (2010)
Salted: A Manifesto on the World's Most Essential Mineral, with Recipes
320 pages (hardback)
Ten Speed Press
ISBN: 9781580082624
$35.00 (Bitterman offers a signed copy with free shipping here)

Recent Projects: Malt Advocate

Just before the Memorial Day weekend, the new issue of Malt Advocate dropped in my box. Celebrating its twentieth year, the issue is replete with whiskey reviews, invectives hurled against garnishes and bloggers, industry news, projections, and interviews. As always, it's an entertaining read and a great look into the personalities, firms, and bottlings that make the world of whisk(e)y such a great place to spend time.

There, on page 28, is my contribution to the state of spirits in the US. As a guest writer for the Small Stills column, I posed a simple question:

The United States has seen enormous growth of new craft distilleries over the last decade. As encouraging as that growth is, formal opportunities for those who want to learn how to distill have not kept pace. This raises a straightforward question: where are these new distillers learning to make spirits?

Those who know me and know my line of research already know the answer: While some take weekend courses, university classes, and hands-on workshops, the simple answer is that many learn in their own homes. 

Interviews with John Couchot of Rogue Spirits in Portland, OR, Jim Blansit of Missouri's Copper Run Distillery, New York vintner Seth Kircher, and a couple of guys who prefer to go nameless. For more, pick up the Summer 2011 issue of Malt Advocate (vol 20, no 2). 

Capuchin Capers? Them's Just Pickled Nasturtium Pods

The first I’d heard of capuchin capers was in John Evelyn’s 1699 Acetaria. Subtitled A Discourse of Sallets, the book details the types and uses of plants destined for grand salads of 300 years ago. In recent years, we’ve become accustomed to more eclectic salads than those of, say, the mid-20th century. When once iceberg lettuce ruled America, we now don’t give a second glance at arugula, mâche, radicchio, and perhaps torn herbs tossed in the bowl.

Nasturtium seed pods

17th and 18th century salads — or, rather, sallets, salats, and such spellings — could be a riot of colors, vegetables, fruits, flowers…and seeds. Capuchin capers were nothing more than the seed pods of nasturtium plants preserved in the manner of more exotic — and pricey — Mediterranean capers.

Although many older sources mention the striking similarity between pickled nasturtium pods and actual capers (also a pickled bud), I gave them short shrift; it seemed just one more example of a foodstuff born of scarcity while users convinced themselves it was just as good as the real thing.

Turns out, capuchin and Mediterranean capers are surprisingly similar. The color is not quite the right green (too light), the covering (ridged and grooved) is off, but the smell and — more importantly — the taste is close enough that after running an experimental batch earlier this summer, I went into the fields to gather enough buds for a few pints.

Fence row nasturtium flowers and seed pods in San Diego

Evelyn notes nasturtiums ought “to be monthly Sown: But above all the Indian, moderately hot, and aromatick, quicken the torpent Spirits, and purge the Brain, and are of Singular effect against the Scorbute [scurvy]. Both the tender Leaves, Calices, Cappuchin Capers, and Flowers, are laudably mixed with the colder Plants.”

“Monthly sown” because nasturtiums are in their entirety such useful plants and a supply throughout the growing season makes good sense. For using the plants’ “hot and aromatick” properties into winter, Evelyn recommends candying the buds as strewing herbs (that is, strewn on the floors of homes to keep down the stink in pre-modern England). Haven’t tried that. But those capers are another story.

Evelyn’s cappuchin capers (also capuchin, capuchine, capuccin, etc) are named after capucine, the French word for nasturtium. One presumes the French name for the flower comes from Capuchin friars who may have grown them as medicinal plants in their monasteries. One is not, however, a scholar of French etymology, and will leave that that shit alone for now [edit 2 Aug 2010: see Tammy's note below for confirmation of my inexpert use of French].

Adapted from The River Cottage Preserves Handbook’s recipe for Nasturium “capers”, here’s

Capuchin Capers

5 tsp salt
7 oz nasturtium seed pods
2 bay leaves (see "Notes on aromatics" below)
2.5 cup white/rice wine vinegar

Add the salt to 2.5 cups distilled or bottled water. Stir to dissolve. Rinse and drain the seed pods, then add them to the brine. Allow to stand 24 hours at room temperature.

Drain and dry the pods well. Pack into sterilized small jars, add the bay leaves (and/or other aromatics, if using). Leave about half an inch of headroom, then top with vinegar. Seal with vinegar-proof lids and leave in a cool, dark place for at least two weeks.

Notes on aromatics: Poke around old receipt books and you’ll find seemingly unending recipes for nasturtiums and their buds. They do have a peppery bite and go well in salads, with steaks, etc. Historically, a broad range of aromatics have complemented that bite when preserving the seed pods: dill, tarragon, chervil, nutmeg, black pepper, mace, cloves, bay leaves, etc. I used bay leaves only, but play with the flavors that suit you.

Strew the “capers” in salads, use them in tartar sauce, make compound butters, season tapenade with them. They’re versatile, they’re cheap, and they’re a bit of the 17th century you can bring to your own table as easy as pie. Or, rather, pye.

Goes well with:

• Evelyn, John (1699) Acetaria. A Discourse of Sallets. Prospect Books out of the UK has issued a handsome printing edited by Christopher Driver and with a forward by Tom Jaine — Powell’s in Portland carries it. (Prospect also released C. Anne Wilson’s laudable history of distillation, Water of Life).
• My take on The River Cottage Preserves Handbook.

Jim & Rocky's Barback Pro-Am

Last week, Rocky Yeh — bartender at Seattle's shuttered Vessel and no slouch in the consumable vice department — emailed asking if I'd like to barback on screen. He and coworker Jim Romdall are traveling down the West Coast to throw down the barback gauntlet wherever they alight to local liquor types. The resulting videos will be posted on the Small Screen Network.

Now, I'll put my mug on camera here and there: for news crews, documentaries, and various broadcast and academic hoo-haws. In fact, if you look closely at the movie In Her Shoes, you'll see me in an uncredited role as a cheesemonger. That shoot was a lot of standing around, bullshitting with Toni Collette and Brooke Smith in between takes, and not doing anything particularly taxing.

Jim & Rocky dispatch a pig

Rocky would have me compete with actual bartenders to see how long I could keep up. That'd be like shooting fish out of a barrel — with me as the fish. So, while I politely declined, I did like the idea of catching up with the boys while they're in town. Next Sunday, February 20th, they'll be at El Dorado in San Diego. Look closely and you may just see me as in an uncredited role as the whiskey drinker.

Jim and Rocky write:

Come watch (and follow) Geoff Kleinman (@drinkspirits), Jennifer Heigl (@dailyblender), Quinn Sweeney(@M_Quinn), Humuhumu Trott(@humuhumu), Ron Dollete(@lushangeles), Tatsu Oiye(@toiye), Chuck Taggart(@sazeracLA), Marleigh Riggins Miller (@nerdling), Stevi Deter (@smd) and Paul Clarke (@cocktailchron) compete in their respective cities! 

You can follow their shenanigans at the Jim and Rocky Barback Challenge Facebook page.

Pro-Am Schedule and Locations

Portland (Jen Heigl and Geoff Kleinman)

Irving St. Kitchen February 13th 6pm-10pm

Pope House February 14th 8pm-close

San Francisco (Quinn Sweeney and Humuhumu Trott)

Cantina February 16th 6pm-10pm

Cantina February 17th 6pm-10pm

San Diego / Orange County (Ron Dollette and Tatsu Oiye)

El Dorado February 20th 6pm-9pm

320 Main February 21st 6pm-11pm

Los Angeles (Chuck Taggart and Marleigh Riggins Miller)

Bar Kitchen February 23rd TBD

Caña February 24th TBD

Seattle (Stevi Deter and Paul Clarke)

Rob Roy February 27th 7pm-Close

Needle & Thread February 28th 6pm-Close 

The Maine Julep

Derby season is nearly on us and, as every year, readers will be subjected to odes and plaudits for that Kentucky stalwart, the mint julep. Now, my father is a Kentucky Colonel and I myself enjoy a bracing mint julep on occasion; the julep was for years and years the standard drink in our house. But I do not engage in the kinds of blowhard battles over their proper preparation that passed as performance art in years past. Your julep is yours and mine is mine.

Perhaps no greater bullshitter than Irvin S. Cobb waxed (and waxed and waxed) eloquent over the julep, however, any chance he was given. Cobb (1876–1944) was a journalist and humorist — and a renowned drinker. His 1936 pamphlet for Frankfort Distilleries details his supposed encounter with “a criminal masquerading as a barkeeper” that may ring a bell with anyone who’s brushed against particularly florid examples of the craft of modern cocktologists.

And once, in Farther Maine, a criminal masquerading as a barkeeper at a summer hotel, reared for me a strange structure that had nearly everything in it except the proper constituents of a julep. It had in it sliced pineapple, orange peel, lemon juice, pickled peaches, sundry other fruits and various berries, both fresh and preserved and the whipped-up white of an egg, and for a crowning atrocity a flirt of allspice across that expanse of pallid meringue. When I could in some degree restrain my weeping, I told him things. "Brother," I told him, between sobs, "brother, all this needs is a crust on it and a knife to eat it with, and it would be a typical example of the supreme effect in pastry of your native New England housewife's breakfast table. But, brother," I said, "I didn't come in here for a pie, I mentioned a julep; and you, my poor erring brother, you have done this to me! Go," I said, "go and sin no more or, at least, sin as little as possible."

Julep or Pie?

Irvin S. Cobb (1936) Irvin S. Cobb’s Own Recipe Book. Frankfort Distilleries, Incorporated, Louisville.

Goes well with:

• The Barkeeper's Favorite Weapon, in which New Orleans maestro Chris McMillian wields a massive hammer and recites poetry while mixing a perfectly acceptable, non-pastry, mint julep.
• Mint Abomination. Ok, maybe I do take offense at some attempts at mint juleps. So does Portland bar man Jeffrey Morgenthaler. Here's a short bit (with video) of how not to do it. Whether or not Woodford Reserve is your go-to whiskey, that's no way to treat a bourbon.

Drink What You Like (Regardless of the Mixologists' Sniffy Disdain)

if i was bartending with anyone

who said shit like that

i would pull his underwear over his head

and throw his ass

out the front door

~ bigjmurf

Over the holidays, one of the local markets slashed prices on liquor. Cointreau, in particular, was nearly half price, so I bought several months' worth. As I was checking out, the clerk read the neck tag's recipe for a margarita and, sounding genuinely sad, said "Damn, I've been making this wrong for years." I asked him "Well, do you like your margaritas?" His face brightened immediately. "Oh, yeah. They're great!""Then what do you care what someone else says you should be drinking? Make them the way you like them."

Now, I like well-crafted, classic drinks as much as the next guy and hold bartenders who purport to make them to certain standards — I'll send back a Manhattan that's been shaken, for instance — but the thing about drinking is: drink what you like. Listen to what seasoned boozers have to say, but don't be intimidated by them. Do you like, for instance, your red wine chilled...or with fish? Well, cork dorks may disapprove, but drink your red wine chilled and with fish. Is what you want right now — for whatever mysterious reasons — a Long Island iced tea? Well, then, order one.

But not from this incompetent pretender:



Thanks to John T. Edge from Oxford, Mississippi who sent me this gem this morning. You'll find this guy in the video everywhere. Portland, Kansas City, Philadelphia, Chicago, New Orleans (well, during Tales of the Cocktail, anyway), San Francisco, Los Angeles...and probably your home town.

You know...wait. Hang on. On second thought, DO order that Long Island ice tea from the mustachioed, waistcoat-wearing, bitters-making douchebag. The theatrics alone may well be worth the price of the drink. Who knows?  He might just make you the best Long Island you've ever had.

Goes well with:

• Victoria Moore's How to Drink.  She writes: “It’s often said that life’s too short to drink bad wine, but I’d go further. Life’s also too short to drink good wine, or anything else for that matter, if it’s not what you feel like at the time. There’s no point in popping the cork on a bottle of vintage champagne if you really hanker after a squat tumbler of rough red wine.”
• Brad Thomas Parsons' book Bitters. It's a good read for regular folks wanting to know more about the history and use of cocktail bitters, but beware that it's also kindling for the fevered prejudices of guys like the ridiculous fool in Shit Bartenders Say above.

Moonshine's Original Intro

Distiller: "What are you doing with that book?"

Me: "I wrote it."

Distiller: "No shit?! Dude, will you sign it for me?"

Rummaging around for something else this morning, I found the original introduction I wrote for my book Moonshine! Now, even though that intro got cut, I'm perfectly happy with how the book turned out and both touched and pleased how it's been taken up by amateur and professional distillers as well as a growing urban homesteader movement as well as folks who just are curious to know how spirits are made.

It's on sale at Amazon but it seems like Powell's in Portland sells more copies of that book than any other free-standing bookstore in the US. Hats off to Powell's — and especially to Tracey, whom sources tells me wrote a very nice review of the book and posted it right there on the shelf.

This, then, is for Tracey: The original introduction for Moonshine!, which has never been printed anywhere. Cheers!

I’m walking in downtown Asheville, North Carolina, musing over a dinner conversation with my waiter. Jesse is twenty-six, maybe twenty seven, a transplant from Pennsylvania. And he’s a moonshiner. Not a home distiller, as a New Yorker or Californian might call himself, but a moonshiner. We are, after all, in the mountain South where in some circles a certain degree of pride accompanies the term. As I pass a grizzled old man on a bench, he looks me right in the eye. “That boy,” he announces, “cain’t hold his liquor.”

Who cain’t hold his liquor? I cain’t hold my liquor? Why would he say that? Do I give off some fear-like pheromone that tells drunkards I cain’t hold my liquor? Jesus. Can cops smell it? Maybe it’s Jesse who cain’t hold his liquor. The old man could have overheard our conversation at the restaurant. Was he warning me to stay away from the waiter? No. No, this is not a restaurant kind of guy. It’s his own weakness he’s throwing on to others, a conversational sleight of hand to confuse anyone who suspected him of upending too many bottles himself.

In the end, the disjointed pronouncements of a chronic drunk say more about my state of mind than his. Moonshine has infected my thoughts more than I suspected. I’ve become so attuned to signs of illicit distilling, interpreting codes, and listening to the spaces between words that a blush of moonshiners’ natural paranoia is coloring my regard for other people.

Moonshine is back. Here’s what I know about it.

Snag a copy for Christmas from Powell's. I'm pretty sure cops can't smell it. Unless they can smell cool.

Gather ‘Round, Ye Distillers

Two distillers’ events are coming up and I’m superbummed that I can’t make either of them. The first is nearly on us.

Up the coast in Portland, Oregon, the 2009 Great American Distillers Festival is gearing up. For a measly $16, attendees get two days of festivities and a fistful of tickets for samples. I always enjoy rubbing elbows with my friends who forge whiskey, brandy, and other less recognizable spirits, but throw in a cocktail mixing contest hosted by the Oregon Bartenders’ Guild and I shake my head in wonder for not packing a bag. A total of $1750 will be dispersed as prizes, so you know the bartenders will be flexing their shaker guns.

October 24-25th. Full details at The Great American Distillers’ Festival website.

The second shindig is the American Distilling Institute’s hands-on whiskey distilling workshop at Stillwater Spirits in Petaluma, CA December 7-11th. The price tag is little heftier ($3500), but Bill Owens promises tours of Anchor Distilling, St. George Spirits, and various “whiskey bars.”

Whiskey bars?

The five-day class includes:

• Five night stay at the Metro Hotel (one block from Stillwater) and all meals (we have a good cook for the week)
• Tuition, room & board
• Tours of St. George Spirits Distillery, Anchor Distilling Co. and the finest San Francisco Whiskey bars
• Distiller Jordan Via (Stillwater Spirits) on brewing, distilling and maturation
• Brewer Bill Owens (ADI) on mashing and fermentation to create wash
• Moylan's Brewery & Restaurant creation of wash in action
• Legal session on how to obtain a DSP
• Learn how to operate a Moonshine-style pot still and a five-plate Christian Carl Still
• Whiskey, bourbon & moonshine tasting daily
• Proofing session and hands-on bottling experience

Full details at the ADI website.

.

Coffee. Only Coffee. Nothing Else.

House rules. We know them. We largely abide by them. Most places that serve food or drinks — from McDonald's standard no-shirt-no-shoes-no-service policy to no-phone-calls-at-the-bar and keep-your-tongue-in-your-own-mouth rules at New York's PDT — have them.

A new Berlin coffee shop's rules, however, have some Berliners in a snit. The Barn — Roastery opened last week and almost immediately caused a furore lively discussion in the German press. At the heart of the debate is the cafe's no-stroller policy. Der Spiegel reports:

At the entrance to the café stands a one-meter (3 feet) high concrete post in the shape of a bowling pin that prevents parents from bringing buggies inside. In case the message wasn't clear enough, a sign on the window shows a pram with a line through it.

In fact, it's not just stollers that are verboten at the Barn — Roastery. Owner Ralf Rüller has instituted policies against pets, music, smoking, sugar, and, I'm hearted to read, ridiculous fake-Italian names for espresso-based milk drinks. Instead, order a 3, 6, or 10 oz cup. Laptops? A few are permitted at the media table. This, we are led to understand, is a place for coffee purists.

Rüller has been at pains online to clarify that the post can be removed for wheelchair access. As I mull over a trip to Berlin, his cafe is on my to-do list. But first, brandy distilling in another coffee-loving town: Portland.

The Barn — Roastery
Schönhauser Allee 8
10119 Berlin Mitte
Twitter: @THEBARNBERLIN 

Subway: Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz

Goes well with:

• Children in Restaurants (Or, Mr. Rowley, Your Blog Stinks), in which I catch grief from San Diego parents for writing in the local paper that I'd rather see a dog loose in a restaurant than children.

California XO Brandies Fare Well Against Cognac

Claret is the liquor for boys; 

port for men; 

but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy. 

In the first place the flavour of brandy is most grateful to the palate 

and then brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking can do for him.

 There are indeed few who are able to drink brandy. 

That is a power rather to be wished for than attained.

~ ascribed to Samuel Johnson in Boswell's 1791 Life of Johnson

Elin McCoy's recent piece for Bloomberg pits California brandies against Cognacs which for centuries has stood as France's ne plus ultra brandy. The subcategory under review is XO, the "extra old" brandies that spend at least six years (and sometimes decades) in barrels and which may be a blend of dozens of brandies.

McCoy writes:

With only five serious producers, California was the underdog in this competition against six French bottlings. Cognac is home to four giant global brands and hundreds of small family distilleries, and only brandy made there can be named after that region. Like producers in Cognac, the Californians double distill wine in traditional copper pot stills. The big difference is the grapes. Cognac is restricted to ugni blanc (for roundness), colombard (for depth) and folle blanche (for finesse). Any varieties can be used in California. 

For the blind tasting, she brought together Falvian Desoblin, founder of New York's Brandy Library, Jason Hopple, beverage director of New York’s North End Grill, and wine collector Stuart Leaf. The California distilleries represented in their blind tasting include Osocalis, Etude (which sells remaining XO inventory made by Remy Martin on the premises), Germain-Robin, Jepson, and Charbay. Their finding? A Cognac — Jean Fillioux XO Grande Reserve — just beat out the American offerings.

Here they are discussing the selections. Link to the original article with ratings and prices after the video.



Goes well with:

• Elin McCoy's article from Bloomberg. 
• Flavien Desoblin's Brandy Library in Manhattan
• Hubert Germain-Robin is offering a week-long class in brandy distilling next week in Portland, Oregon. Who's going? Me.

Medals Awarded for ADI's 2013 Annual Judging of Artisan American Spirits

The American Distilling Institute announced medal winners in Denver this evening for its 7th annual judging of artisan American spirits. As in years past, I was one of those judges (see last year's winners here). 140 distilleries submitted a total of 317 spirits. The tastings were blind — that is, judges did not know who made the spirits. Each glass in each flight was labeled simply A, B, C, et cetera. Only at the end of the second day of evaluations, when each panel of judges was allowed to view the bottles, did we learn who made what.

Rum expert Martin Cate was on hand.

Smart judges who had taken note of their favorite A, D, F, or whatever samples during the tasting took even more notes on those bottles when we were let into the pouring room — and set out to find those bottles when they returned home. Below, you'll see some of those favorites for yourself.

Judging instructions for these spirits (almost entirely from American distilleries) are slightly different from those of other competitions. Part of the purpose of the judging of these spirits is to encourage American craft distillers, some of whom are accomplished, some of whom are still learning the business. In addition to numeric scores, judges give each sample additional tasting notes, suggest improvements, note what they like about the spirit, and — when appropriate — identify particular flaws such as high fermentation temperatures or scorched tastes that come in part from improper filtration. Understanding some of those specific flaws can help distillers improve their spirits.

While individual spirits are assigned scores on a hundred-point scale, medals are not strictly awarded according to that score, nor was the highest-scoring spirit in each category made the gold. Scores between 80 and 89 do not automatically yield, for example, silver medals, nor are those that score from 70-79 awarded bronze. Rather, the rubric the four panels of judges used for awarding medals took into consideration additional questions:

Gold medal — Would you happily buy this spirit for yourself?
Silver medal — Would you give this spirit as a gift to a valued friend or loved one?
Bronze medal — Would you be happy getting this as a gift?

Some classes didn't have winners of every medal. Some had multiple bronze or silver medals. So let's get to it. Here they are — the spirits the judges wanted for our greedy selves, the ones we'd buy our moms, and those worthy bottles we'd like someone to drop on our desks now and then.

First, the BEST OF CLASS winners:

Whiskey
Ballast Point Spirits - Devil’s Share Malt Whiskey
Gin
Valentine Distilling Co. - Liberator Gin
Rum
Balcones Distilling - Texas Rum
Moonshine
Ole Smoky Tennessee Moonshine - Apple Pie Moonshine
Brandy
Jepson Vineyards - Old Stock Mendocino Brandy

Now on to the categories, as broken down by ADI staff:

WHISKEY
Clear Whiskey
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Myer Farm Distillers - White Dog Corn Whiskey
Silver Medal
Dark Horse Distillery - Long Shot White Whiskey
Bronze Medal
Middle West Spirits - OYO Rye Whiskey
High West Distillery - Silver Whiskey - Western Oat
Indian Creek Distillery - Elias Staley
Cornelius Pass Roadhouse Distillery - White Owl Whiskey
Asheville Distilling Co. – Troy and Sons Platinum Heirloom Moonshine

Aged Corn Whiskey
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Balcones Distilling - True Blue

Bourbon (under two years)
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Yellow Rose Distilling - Yellow Rose Outlaw Bourbon
Silver Medal
Kings County Distillery - Kings County Bourbon
Bronze Medal
Rock Town Distillery - Arkansas Young Bourbon Whiskey
Cacao Prieto - Bloody Butcher Bourbon Whiskey

Straight Bourbon
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Balcones Distilling – Fifth-Anniversary Texas Straight Bourbon
Silver Medal
Dallas Distilleries - Herman Marshall

Rye Whiskey
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Grand Traverse Distillery - Ole George Rye Whiskey
Silver Medal
Mountain Laurel Spirits - Dad's Hat Pennsylvania Rye Whiskey
Bronze Medal
Distillery 291 - Colorado Rye Whiskey
Catoctin Creek Distilling - Roundstone Rye Cask Proof

Malt Whiskey (under 2 years)
Best of Category - Gold medal
Balcones Distilling – Texas Single Malt
Gold Medal
Deerhammer Distilling Company - Down Time Single Malt Whiskey
Bronze Medal
Long Island Spirits - Pine Barrens Single Malt Whisky

Straight Malt Whiskey
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Ballast Point Brewing & Spirits - Devil's Share Straight Malt Whiskey
Silver Medal
New Holland Artisan Spirits- Zeppelin Bend Straight Malt

Wheat Whiskey
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Middle West Spirits - OYO Wheat Whiskey
Bronze Medal
American Craft Whiskey Distillery - Low Gap Whiskey Single Barrel No. 1
American Craft Whiskey Distillery - Low Gap California Whiskey

Whiskey non-typical
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Glacier Distilling Company - Wheatfish Whiskey
Silver Medal
Rogue Spirits - Dead Guy Whiskey

Smoked Whiskey
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Corsair Artisan - Wildfire
Silver Medal
Corsair Artisan – Salamander

Hopped Whiskey
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Corsair Artisan - Demeter
Silver Medal
Corsair Artisan - Falconer’s Flight
Bronze Medal
Corsair Artisan - Centennial
Corsair Artisan - Pacifica
Corsair Artisan - Titania
Corsair Artisan - Amarillo

Flavored Whiskey
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Sons of Liberty Spirits Company - Seasonal - 2012 Winter Release

MERCHANT BOTTLED WHISKEY
Straight Bourbon
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Cacao Prieto Distillery - Widow Jane Bourbon Whiskey
Silver Medal
Tatoosh Distillery & Spirits - Tatoosh Bourbon

Bourbon (cask finished)
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Hillrock Estate Distillery & Malthouse - Solera Aged Bourbon
Bronze Medal
Big Bottom Whiskey – Straight Bourbon Whiskey, Zinfandel Cask

Straight Rye Whiskey
Best of Category - Silver Medal
35 Maple Street - Masterson's 10-Year-Old Straight Rye Whiskey

Malt Whiskey
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Virginia Distillery - Virginia Highland Malt Whisky

GIN
Classic Distilled Gin
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Rock Town Distillery - Brandon's Gin

Classic Rectified Gin
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Captive Spirits Distilling - Big Gin
Gold Medal
Bull Run Distilling - Aria Portland Dry Gin
Silver Medal
Veracity Spirits – Vivacity Native Gin

Contemporary Distilled Gin
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Myer Farm Distillers - Myer Farm Gin
Silver Medal
Dancing Pines Distillery - Gin
Dancing Tree Distillery - Gin
Treaty Oak Distilling - Waterloo Gin
Bronze Medal
Corsair Artisan - Steampunk
Maine Distilleries - Cold River Traditional Gin
StilltheOne Distillery - Jarhead Gin

Contemporary Rectified Gin
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Valentine Distilling Co. - Valentine Liberator Gin
Gold Medal
Maison De La Vie - Golden Moon Gin
Silver Medal
San Juan Island Distillery - Spy Hop Gin
Bronze Medal
Sweetgrass Farm Distillery - Back River Gin
Southern Artisan Spirits - Cardinal American Dry Gin
Spring 44 Distilling – Spring 44 Gin

Genever
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Oregon Spirit Distillers - Merrylegs Genever Style Gin
Bronze Medal
Corsair Artisan - Genever

Navy Strength Gin
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Few Spirits - Standard Issue Gin

Old Tom Gin
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Ransom Spirits - Old Tom Gin
Silver Medal
Downslope Distilling - Ould Tom Gin
Bronze Medal
Corsair Artisan - Major Tom

Barrel-Aged Gin
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Corsair Artisan - Barrel Aged Gin
Silver Medal
Wood's High Mountain Distillery - Treeline Gin, Barrel Aged

RUM 
White Rum
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Cape Spirits - Wicked Dolphin Rum - Silver
Bronze Medal
Dancing Pines Distillery - Rum
Donner-Peltier Distillers - Rougaroux Sugarshine

Amber Rum
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Ballast Point Spirits – Barrel Aged Three Sheets Rum
Silver Medal
Montanya Distillers - Montanya Oro Rum
Van Brunt Stillhouse - Due North Rum

Dark Rum
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Real McCoy Spirits - The Real McCoy
Bronze Medal
Turkey Shore Distilleries - Old Ipswich Lab & Cask Reserve

Overproof Rum
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Balcones Distilling - Texas Rum
Gold Medal
New Holland Artisan Spirits- Freshwater Superior

Flavored Rum
Best of Category – Silver Medal
Dogfish Head – Brown Honey Rum

Spiced Rum
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Dancing Pines Distillery - Spice

Merchant Bottled Rum
Best of Category - Silver Medal
35 Maple Street - Kirk and Sweeney

MOONSHINE
Clear Moonshine
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Dark Corner Distillery - Moonshine Corn Whiskey
Silver Medal
King's County - Corn Whiskey
Bronze Medal
Deerhammer Distilling Company – Whitewater Whiskey

Aged Moonshine
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Fog's End Distillery - Monterey Rye

Flavored Moonshine
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Ole Smoky Tennessee Moonshine - Moonshine Apple Pie
Silver Medal
Ole Smoky Tennessee Moonshine - Moonshine Blackberry
Bronze Medal
Pinchgut Hollow Distillery - Captain Mick
Pinchgut Hollow Distillery - Rise N Shine

BRANDY
Pear Eaux de Vie
Best of Category - Gold Medal
McMenamin's Edgefield Distillery - Pear Brandy
Bronze Medal
Peach Street Distillers - Jack and Jenny Pear Brandy
Harvest Spirits - Harvest Spirits Pear Brandy

Eaux de Vie
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Coppersea Distilling - Peach Eau de vie
Bronze Medal
Bellewood Distilling - Apple Brandy Eau de Vie

Applejack/Brandy
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Huber's Starlight Distillery - Huber's Applejack
Silver Medal
Tom’s Foolery - Applejack

Aged Brandy (Other than Grape)
Best of Category - Silver Medal
Peach Street Distillers - Pear Brandy

Aged Brandy - Other
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Dakota Spirits Distiller - Bickering Brothers Neutral Brandy

Grappa
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Peach Street Distillers - Muscat Grappa
Gold Medal
Maison De La Vie - Golden Moon Colorado Grappa
Bronze Medal
Peach Street Distillers - Viognier Grappa
Magnanini Farm Winery - Magnanini Grappa

Brandy (Aged less than 6 years)
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Huber's Starlight Distillery - Huber's Brandy - Reserve
Bronze Medal
Colorado Gold Distillery - Colorado Gold Brandy

Brandy (Aged more than 6 years)
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Jaxon Keys Winery & Distillery - Old Stock Brandy
Silver Medal
Jaxon Keys Winery & Distillery - Signature Reserve Brandy
Jaxon Keys Winery & Distillery - Rare Brandy

Flavored Liqueur
Best of Category - Bronze Medal
Sidetrack Distillery - Nocino
Bronze Medal
Cacao Prieto – Chamomile Liqueur
Bottle Tree Beverage Company - Hoodoo Chicory

Fruit Infusion
Best of Category - Gold Medal
Huber's Starlight Distillery - Huber's Raspberry Infusion
Silver Medal
Huber's Starlight Distillery - Huber's Blueberry
Sidetrack Distillery – Cassis Liqueur
Bronze Medal
Stone Barn Brandy Works - Quince Liqueur

Excellence in Packaging
Craft Distilled Spirits
Sidetrack Distillery - Cassis Liqueur
Merchant Bottled Spirits
35 Maple Street - Kirk and Sweeney Rum