XXX: St. George's 30th Anniversary Single Malt Whiskey

Just as 2012 was heaving its last gasp, I plunked a bottle of St. George Spirits' 30th anniversary single malt whiskey on my desk with every intention to crack it open on my return. See, at the time, I was due to be away for much of January. And so I was. But I picked up a wicked cold on the road. Sense of smell and taste completely rubbished, I avoided tasting new spirits and stuck with those I already knew (often in the form of hot, chest-warming drinks liberally dosed with rum or brandy).

I'm back at work now, but it's a pity I didn't get to the whiskey sooner. It's exquisite.

Like many American distilleries, St. George has been presenting spirits that push, pull, and tug at traditional categories. Take its dry rye gin, an unaged, pot-stilled 90-proof rye whiskey finished with juniper and other botanicals typical of gin.

Likewise, the 30th anniversary single malt brings in an unexpected dimension. Finishing whiskey in casks once used for Port or Madeira, for instance, is not unheard of but the distillery here has taken advantage of its inventory of barrels that previously held its pear eau de vie. The result is a lush, heady, distillate; once I pulled the cork, its aroma filled the office. The pear is there as well as the malt, but roasted orchard fruits come through with an overall spiciness that suggests ginger and toasted nuts. Sweet, but not cloying. Despite the high proof (47.3% abv), it's balanced, almost — but not quite — as much a joy to inhale as to drink. Brendan Gleeson's line from 28 Days Later rises to the surface of my mind; Takes out the fire but leaves in the warmth.

A long finish lingers, lulling me into a contemplative, almost glassy-eyed mood, making me wish I'd started a fire in the hearth before I'd poured some into the tumbler. There will be no mixing cocktails with this one. Instead, I pull my sweater a little closer in a big, comfortable chair, bury my nose in the glass, and stretch out the moment as long as I can.

The release is limited to 715 bottles, so it may take some sleuthing to track down one for yourself. And it's not cheap: retail will run you around $400 for a 750ml. How to get a bottle? St. George's website advises: "Because of the extraordinarily limited nature of this release, we have had to allocate bottles to select retailers in the markets we currently have distribution. Please contact your favorite local retailers to see if they have a bottle or two. Many bottles have already been snapped up, but we know where to find the ones that remain…If you need assistance scoring a bottle of your own, please contact our office at 510-769-1601."

Goes well with:

• A Fistful of Pears, Bread & Gin's spaghetti Western-inspired take on a bittersweet cocktail using St. George's pear eux de vie and pear liqueur.
• Ernie Button's Vanishing Single Malt Scotch, in which photographer Button turns an eye to his dirty tumblers for an unexpected discovery. 
• A persistent rumor holds that when a Scotch distillery replaces an old still, a new one — completely reproduced down to every last ding and dent — takes its place so the new spirit is unchanged from the old. The chairman of the company that has made most of the stills in Scotland takes issue with that and sets the record straight.  

Whisky Advocate Runs Feature Story on White Whiskey by...Oh, Hey. Me.

You have to look at white whiskey 

on its own merits. 

If you judge it 

compared to aged whiskeys, 

it fails. 

Every time.

~ Darek Bell

Corsair Artisan Distillery

Shea Shawnson pours Double and Twisted light whiskey at Elixir

The current issue of Whisky Advocate magazine has a feature article on white whiskey by yours truly. [Edit 12/9/12: scroll down for a link to a PDF of the article.] White, light, unaged, minimally aged, and "raw" whiskeys are growing in popularity. Not everyone — including those who make it — agrees on what it is, so when editor Lew Bryson asked me to take a run at white whiskey, I made some phone calls, packed a sandwich, and hit the road to talk to distillers who make the stuff and drinkers who down it.

As grain spirits come off the still, in- dustry insiders call the heady, limpid distillate new make or white dog. Every whiskey distiller in the world makes it and almost all of it is destined for barrels. Some, though, trickles out to the public. Lately, distillers and consumers alike have taken to calling it white whiskey. Marketers trumpet it as a hot new thing. In truth, the wheel has been around longer. And fire, of course. But new make was old hat when Johnnie Walker took his first wobbly steps. 

What is novel is that until about 2005, few dreamt a market still existed for the stuff.

My travels brought me up the west coast of the United States. From tiny sheds up dirt roads to a distillery in an old Air Force hangar, I met with men and women making, selling, drinking, and mixing white whiskeys.

Bars and restaurants from New York to Seattle offer white whiskeys as a matter of course, even pride. White Manhattans and albino Old Fashioneds abound. If whiskey cocktails unblemished by oak are insufficiently exotic, trendy tipplers can ask for them “improved” 19th-century style with a few dashes of absinthe. 

Despite growing awareness and acceptance, the category is dogged by three recurrent questions. Two are worth addressing in passing: (1) Is white whiskey moonshine? and (2) Is it any good?

I tackle those in about 500 words, but the third question, the one people should be asking and which fills the bulk of the article, is what do we do with it? Pick up the Winter 2012 issue of Whisky Advocate for some of the answers — including arguments that the way many white whiskeys are made is completely wrong — or download a PDF of It's a Nice Day for a White Whiskey here.

Interviews, insight, and recipes from Thad Vogler of Bar Agricole and Shea Swanson of Elixir in San Francisco, Darek Bell of Corsair Artisan Distillery (and author of Alt Whiskeys), Jim Romdall of Vessel in Seattle, Ian and Devin Cain of American Craft Whiskey distillery, barber and distiller Salvatore Cimino, 13th generation master distiller Marko Karakasevic from Charbay, and, midwife to the modern tiki renaissance, Jeff "Beach Bum" Berry.

Here's a bonus recipe that didn't make the article from bartender Rhachel Shaw whom I ran into as a customer at rum bar Smuggler's Cove. Shaw pays tribute to Elizabeth Taylor (whom one can only presume guzzled staggering quantities of raw whiskey) with a drink named for the late movie star's perfume:

White Diamonds  

1.5 oz. Koval Chicago Rye
.75 oz. Cocci Americano
.5 oz. Maraschino
1 dash Bitterman's Grapefruit Bitters 

Stir on ice. Strain. Garnish with grapefruit peel.

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.

Tales of the Cocktail Update. I'm Out; Rupf and Heugel Are In

Missing a Tales of the Cocktail weekend is not something I do lightly. Yet for the first time in years, I'm out. Whether I'm at the podium or in the audience, the annual fête in New Orleans has been one of my must-do events for almost a decade. If you look at the schedule for this year's sessions, you will find me listed once again as a presenter, this time with Paul Clarke of Imbibe magazine and the Cocktail Chronicles.

Well, grab onto your seats, kids — the lineup just changed. The session on American non-grape brandies is still on, but if you've already bought a ticket with hopes of seeing me in New Orleans, you just got an upgrade; Paul will be joined by not one but two others on the mic.

Bobby Heugel of Anvil

First up is Houston bartender Bobby Heugel, co-owner of Anvil Bar & Refuge. Bobby will be on hand to offer the thirsty crowd brandy-based libations and a bar owner's perspective on using these American fruit spirits. We've mentioned him before for his rum, Averna, buttermilk (yeah, buttermilk), and Chartreuse cocktail, the Vanderbilt Fugitive.

Jorg Rupf and Lance Winters next to an Arnold Holstein

Paul and Bobby will be joined by pioneer California distiller Jorg Rupf. Rupf founded St. George Spirits in Emeryville, California in 1982, twenty-five years before most of today's distilleries even existed. His masterful eaux de vie are exemplars of the craft and have racked up award after award. Twenty years after the founding of the distillery, he and distiller Lance Winters blended American wheat and viognier grapes to create a new vodka they dubbed Hangar One.

You may have heard of it.

Rupf is now officially retired. But some people just can't leave work behind when they call it quits; we are pleased that he still has some skin in the game and will be sharing over three decades of distilling knowledge.

Regrettably, a conflict has arisen that precludes my joining this august triumvirate in New Orleans. A shame. It sounds fantastic.

A Fistful of Pears

I recently heard a straight guy — a married man, with kids — declare about distiller Lance Winters "I would be that man's wife in a heartbeat." I'm not sure how Winters would feel about that. Or Mrs. Winters, for that matter. But I understand the sentiment. See, we have a deep and abiding respect for St. George Spirits here at the Whiskey Forge. More than once I've considered chucking my entire career, throwing myself at Winters' feet, and saying "Teach me." That hasn't happened yet.

Yet.

But this morning, that old thought resurfaced as I watched the new video A Fistful of Pears featuring Winters and Jeff Levy of Bread & Gin. Recipe for the brandy-and-Bonal drink is below. Meanwhile, here's the California distiller slinging liquor and smoking a cigar like he's doing it a favor:

A Fistful of Pears

1 oz Aqua Perfecta pear liqueur
1 oz Aqua Perfecta pear brandy
1 oz Bonal aperitif wine
Grapefruit peel for garnish

Stir brandy, liqueur, and Bonal in a mixing glass with ice, strain into a chilled glass. Rim with fresh grapefruit peel, drop in the peel.

The Whiskey Litmus Test in Wineries

Last week, we spent several days in and around San Francisco, including the wine country north of the city. I enjoy wine, but I don't spend as much time mulling it over as I do spirits. So, while I've never given much thought to the cultural differences between various wineries, the question was foisted on me when conversations tilted from wine to whiskey.

In Napa, we started off one morning sampling sparkling wines. It's the kind of place where busloads of tourists disgorge during the season, but the setting was great and we had nowhere to be, so we looped back around after initially passing by. Once we were seated and were making our way through the samples, a winery employee asked what we usually drink. When we replied "whiskey," she  made a face. "Whiskey? That's weird. Who drinks whiskey? Is that like a Midwestern thing?" We were a bit frosted at the putdown, so we bought nothing.

Whiskey came up at another winery (they asked what I do). Out comes a chilled bottle of Brian Ellison's white whiskey from Death's Door — smack — right on the counter.  They weren't selling it; the stuff was there to fortify the staff. At that place, we did buy the wines, including a few bottles of pinot meunier, a variety better known for blending, but its rich, lush, and almost smoky notes may appeal to confirmed whiskey drinkers. Last year I didn't know it existed; this year, I hope to drink my weight in it.

The first winery was big, corporate, a name you'd probably recognize. The second was much smaller, lesser known, most of the grapes were grown right there at the vineyard, and the staff just oozed friendliness. Turns out that regardless of whether they're selling whiskey, wine, bacon, or grits, my sympathies are almost always with smaller producers who make what they sell.

Cheers to the artisans of this world.

Bookshelf: Left Coast Libations

Ted Munat and Michael Lazar have gathered some of our favorite western bartenders in a new, revised edition of Left Coast Libations. What? Missed the first edition, you say? Not surprising — the 2008 booklet had a small run and limited distribution. How limited? Ted handed me a copy personally at Tales of the Cocktail last year. (Aside: Just one of the reasons we like Tales: five days in seminars, lunches, dinners, workshops, and afterhours shenanigans and I know what you’re going to be drinking this year. And next.)

Left Coast Libations is at once serious and ridiculous. It’s a serious look at 100 original cocktails, the bartenders who created them, and where to get them in the field. No Jack-n-Coke recipes, but you will find directions for making the kinds of syrups, tinctures, bitters, purees, juices, and other house-made liquids and foams one actually finds in many bars today. The recipes are informed as much by culinary trends as classic cocktail culture.

Want cardamom tincture for that Apricot Cardamom Flip? It’s here. So are straightforward concoctions such as agave nectar syrup, cinnamon tincture, homemade grenadine, house chocolate liqueur, and prickly pear juice. If you want to tackle more complex recipes, try your hand at a maple syrup gastrique, saffron sharbat, smoked cider air, Angostura-rum fig brûlée, or even — if that’s the way you swing — smoked ice.

The book is a less serious look at the bartenders themselves.* Munat heckles almost all of them. Mercilessly. When writing bartender bios, Munat seems to have followed the dictum that lies reveal truths more than facts do — and outrageous ones apparently drive to the very heart of truth. Each has the ring of an HL Mencken hoax. Even through the teasing, there’s clearly a lot of well-deserved love and respect for the men and women crafting original drinks. Just…verify anything you read about their backgrounds in those pages.

How are those drinks? I’ve had the pleasure of sitting at many of the bars in the book and the recipes here reflect the complex, bold, and bitter flavors that predominate today. No Vodka Red Bulls or Jell-O shots; as Munat writes in his intro for Seattle bartender Tara McLaughlin “Rob Roy had fallen into the DJ/Jäger/VodkañRedBull Zone. And hey, don’t knock till you try it, is all I can say. But that’s not what we’re here to learn about today.”

I'll be spending a lot of time with this little tome over the next few months. In the meanwhile, here’s floral and spicy little number from Tara McLaughlin called the Gin Anthem. Hold the Jäger.

Gin Anthem

2 oz London Dry gin
1 oz Lillet Blanc
2 drops orange flower water
1 dash Fee Brothers orange bitters
Orange twist, for garnish

Stir all the ingredients with ice. Strain into a cocktail glass. Garnish with the orange twist.

The authors note that McClaughlin prefers Pacific Distillery’s Voyager gin for this cocktail.

Ted Munat with Michael Lazar (2010)
Left Coast Libations: The Art of West Coast Bartending
Introduction by Paul Clarke
166 pages, hardback
Left Coast Libations
ISBN: 0982631502
$24.95

*Just a few of the bartenders who contributed recipes: Eric Alperin, Anu Apte, Brooke Arthur, Jamie Boudreau, Jennifer Colliau, Marco Dionysos, Matty Eggelston, Lane Ford, Zane Harris, Daniel Hyatt, Lance Mayhew, Duggan McDonnell, Jeffrey Morgenthaler, Dave Shenaut, Murray Stenson, Neyah White, Evan Zimmerman, Keith Waldbauer, and Marcos Tello. We'll look for Erik Ellestad and Blair Reynold in the next edition.

Kitchen Kwento

In the space of two days — during the windup to Tales of the Cocktail next week — this week has gone from normal-busy to crazy-busy. For good measure, dozens of liquor PR reps from LA to London have been calling with invitations to parties, launches, after-hour shindigs, and meetings with various distillers, spirits brand reps, burlesque artists, and...I...I think one pitch today had me meeting Bruce Willis in Los Angeles. It's all a bit of a fog. Friends are visiting with four kids (or is it five? I lose count), and several interviews, including one with a film crew here at the house doing a piece on home distilling, have me feeling like a need a drink and a home-cooked meal.

Yes, things are moving briskly here at the Whiskey Forge.

My usual practice of juggling 5-7 books at once and devouring all the blog I can is on hold. But one new blog did catch my eye: Kitchen Kwento. Subtitled Recipes & Stories from a Pinay Kitchen, the blog is written by Aileen Suzara, a San Francisco Bay-area Filipina American who tackles — as she puts it — "connections between food, memory and place through a Filipina/American lens."

Growing up in the American Midwest, my exposure to Filipino food was limited to a few family friends. I got more of a taste for it in Philadelphia and once had a wild ride in London after being rescued from a predatory drag queen by a trio of Pinoy sailors who adopted me for the night and hauled me from restaurant to restaurant feeding me the food of their youth. Settled now in California, I have the great fortune to have become close with a few groups of Filipino friends. I have learned never to say no to lumpia and that Filipino bartenders make some of the best tropical drinks out there.

So I was happy to run across Aileen's site. I'll continue to check in now and then, but as I ready myself for the boozefest that is Tales of the Cocktail, I'll be mulling over one of her lines: "When was the last person in your family a farmer?" 

I have no idea. But now I'm curious.  


Goes well with:

• Kitchen Kwetno
• Aileen on Twitter
• (Me on Twitter for that matter)
• Tales of the Cocktail