The next big thing?

Speaking of food-flavored spirits, here's what Gerry Tosh, Global Marketing Manager for Highland Park, told The Whisky Wire he thinks is "the next big thing on the whisky horizon":

I think it will be things like flavours. They do it with Rum, Vodka, Gin and Cognac. At some point somebody will do it properly with Scotch. Will it be big? Not sure but it will maybe give the category of whisky something to fight about.

That future is already here, to some extent, with North American whiskies. Off the top of my head, I know of Spicebox Canadian Spiced Whisky, Fireball Cinnamon Whisky, and Cabin Fever Maple Whisky. For a bigger player, there's Jim Beam's black cherry-infused Red Stag -- with, I hear, more flavors to come.

In a related vein, Evan Williams now makes cherry and honey "Kentucky Liqueurs," and Jack Daniel's has a new Tennessee Honey liqueur (all of these are bottled at 70 proof, like the honey-and-spice-infused Irish Mist in the back of your mother's liquor cabinet).

So far from objecting to making infusions and liqueurs from whiskey, I do it myself. In the past few months I've made a nifty raspberry cordial from Catoctin Creek's unaged rye spirit, and a pumpkin pie spice-infused Wild Turkey for the Thanksgiving sweet potato casserole (and a few cocktails as well). The very first liqueur I made was a cherry wishniak from a base of Old Grand Dad 100.

You'll note, though, that none of the above are Scotch whiskies. I suppose it says more about the limits of my imagination than about the notion of flavored Scotch, but it hadn't occurred to me until I read Gerry Tosh's statement that anyone would even want to try flavoring Scotch.

But if they do, and they're successful, more power to them.

Just not, please, too much more shelf space. I look at the yards and yards of flavored vodkas and rums in the liquor stores, while all the whiskies of the world fit into less space than the vodkas alone, and I think that one thing we don't need is a smaller selection of whiskey-flavored whiskey.

The Vodka Wheel of Flavor

To digress from whisky for one post:

For years, I believed what I'd been told: that the better the vodka, the less flavor it had. Under this principle -- call it the "Our filtering process goes up to eleven" principle -- the ideal vodka would be indistinguishable from pure spring water (until it hit the bloodstream).

To be fair, what flavor a lot of vodkas have is kind of nasty, and the goal of getting rid of that flavor is a noble one. But it's also a challenging one, so it's no surprise that few distilleries have succeeded at it.

Nor is it terribly surprising that a number of distilleries have decided that masking the flavor of their vodka with something else -- lemon or coffee or, God help us, cupcake -- is the way to go.

Still, I've recently tried vodkas from some craft distillers, who seem to think it's worth trying to make vodka that tastes like vodka.

It seems to me, then, that there are four regions on the Vodka Wheel of Flavor, four possibilities distillers may try to achieve:



If your vodka starts out tasting like turpentine, there's good reason to try to make it taste like nothing, or like food. A vodka with little flavor of any sort has its place if you're mixing cocktails. And food flavored vodka might come in handy, too, if you're having a bachelorette party or something.

But it seems to me that, since mankind has the knowledge to make good-tasting vodkas, we should stop thinking that the better the vodka, the less flavor it has.

To-may-tin, To-mah-tin

By now, I'm used to the fact that Americans can't know how to pronounce a brand of single malt Scotch whisky unless they've heard someone else pronounce it first. (Sort of like how you need someone to tell you which wild mushrooms are edible before you can spot them yourself.)

Some pronunciations can be guessed via the "What Would Scotty Say?" principle. Surely no true Scotsman would rhyme "Glenfiddich" with "rich."


Others can be guessed via the "It must be pronounceable by human mouths" principle: one way or another, the "h" in Laphroaig has got to be silent, right?

Still, it's hard to sound both confident and casual when you're blindly guessing.

So I was happy to find (via @ChooseAWhisky) Esquire's Scotch Pronunciation Guide, featuring Scottish actor Brian Cox in quite possibly the best acting gig (as measured in drams per unit effort) the forces shaping Western Civilization have yet produced.

Now there's no need for Americans to limit themselves to ordering the Glenlivet -- unless, of course, that's what they want. (Or if they're in one of the 93% of American bars whose stock of single malt consists of that one bottle of Glenlivet 12 yo that's been there longer than the bartender, but that's a problem for another day.)

Just a Jiggerlo

I am a Maker's Mark ambassador. Here's my card:


Next time you have a bourbon, why not make it a Maker's?

You'll note that I've only been an ambassador since last year. I put off signing up for years, because while I do enjoy Maker's Mark, I don't actually go around introducing people to it.

Then I went to a wax-dipping event and met a for-true, professional Maker's Mark ambassador. I told him some of my family members only drink Maker's Mark, but I drank other bourbons as well. "So do I," he answered. "So does Bill Samuels [Maker's Mark president]."

He went on to say, "People ask me what we think of our competition. I say we don't have any. There are one hundred thirty different bourbons, and each one has its own group of people it appeals to."


So I figured, if the president of Maker's Mark can try other bourbons, someone who tries other bourbons cab be a Maker's Mark ambassador. And I'm glad I signed up; I didn't know it at the time, but they send gifts to their ambassadors at Christmas. (This year it was those adorable bottle sweaters. I'm fresh out of Maker's Mark right now, so I put the sweater on a stuffed bear I had -- the only way I like to mix bourbon and Coke.)

My willingness to enter into non-monogamous relationships with whiskey brands by no means ends there. I am also a member of Four Roses' Mellow Moments Club, even though I sort of fudged my answers to the Mellow Aptitude Test. (That too brought me more than the email announcements I was expecting: a nice coaster for Christmas, and even a birthday card.)

I think it all started when I became a Friend of Laphroaig more than a decade ago. A few emails, the occasional letter or pin mailed to my home, and that was about it.

Every now and then, though, I'd come across another distillery that had a fancy name for its mailing list (though I think Laphroaig is still the only place where I have my own plot of land). And I'd say, why not?

Looking through my email records, I see I am now an Ardbeg Committee member and a Jura Diurach. I'm in the Highland Park Inner Circle, and I was a Kindred Spirit of Glenmorangie back when that meant something. I'm in the Chivas Brotherhood, whatever that is, and I may have once been in the Chivas Circle, whatever that was. I can get into Balvenie's Warehouse 24 and the Buffalo Trace Saloon (where I'm no better at pool than I am in the real world). I am a Glenfiddich Explorer. I belong to the Bardstown Whiskey and of-the-Crown Societies (if it still exists, I'm also in the the Striding Man Society).

Of the above, I'd particularly recommend Warehouse 24 to anyone who likes Scotch whisky. Although they occasionally taunt me with give-aways only available to residents of the UK, their Whisky Academy videos alone are worth the price of admission.

If you like a brand of whiskey, or are even just willing to be talked into liking it, it's probably worth the minute or two it takes to sign up (although it would be nice if more of these websites would actually "Remember Me" so I didn't have to enter a birthdate on every visit (and don't get me started on scrolling past Algeria and Lesotho to select my country of residence)).

Are there any distilleries or brands whose membership programs you recommend?

Drink Less, Taste More

Weekend Whiskey's motto for 2012 is:

Drink less, taste more.

The inspiration comes in part from Shane of The Good Spirits Co., whose wee brief message for the whiskey fans near the end of Ralfy's video tour of the Glasgow bottle shop was, "Drink less but better quality."

It's also based on the old Pete & Jack cartoon in which they say they aren't concerned about getting injured while drinking, "Because we never drink anyway..." "...Right, we taste!"

I think it's a sound principle, if I do say so myself. A good drink is better than a good buzz. For that matter, you really will taste more if you drink less -- and, following Shane, if you're tasting more you're going to want better quality.

One other thought: I'll never be able to drink -- sorry, to taste all the whiskies I'd like to, since I'd like to taste them all. Some people might be saddened by that fact, but it's actually liberating. If I can't taste all the whiskies I'd like to, then there's no point in my trying. Rather than rushing to taste the next whiskey, I'm perfectly all right taking my time with the one in my glass right now. I may taste fewer whiskies, but there's no reason I can't taste more of each of the few I taste.

Gentleman Shopping

Gentlemen shoppers off on a spree,
Reel into Bonwit's for lingerie
Lord and Taylor have mercy on such as we.
Buy, buy, buy.
-- James Thurber

I find that shopping for Christmas presents falls into one of three categories, depending on how much time is left:

1. The casual stroll, just to see what the stores have this season.
2. The death march, during which I look at and reject every object for sale in the mall.
3. The scavenger hunt, when I have a list, a plan of attack, and about an hour.

This year, I added a warm-up and cool-down to my scavenger hunt, in the form of a Bulleit bourbon and a Redbreast 12 yo, respectively.

The Bulleit had a terrific nose, full and fruity (cantaloupe in particular). Given that, the taste was a little disappointing. It seemed like it could have used more time in the barrel to come together and intensify. I'd certainly drink it again, but there are a lot of other bourbons I want to try first. (For that matter, Bulleit's rye is also near the top of my "to try" list.)

As for the Redbreast, it has a sweet, rich nose like a premium bourbon, and its flavor kept the promise. I added a little water, and its Irishness really came forward. This is a smooth, sipping whiskey for cold nights. My only complaint is that I wasn't as blown away by it as I expected after reading all the "best Irish whiskey" hype. I could see it winding up in my liquor cabinet at some point, but I won't be scouring the shelves for it this week.

How to Nose Scotch Whisky

Here, for the Scotch novice, is a compendium of the best advice for getting the most out of smelling whisky. (And if you just said, "Er, isn't the point of whisky to drink it?", then you're obviously a novice. Experts don't drink whisky, they taste it.)

1. Pour a wee dram of Scotch into a whisky tasting glass or a Glencairn glass or a sherry copita or a wine glass or just any old glass for crying out loud, you're smelling whisky, not performing brain surgery in space. (Note for Americans: 1 wee dram is approximately 3/4 of a slug.)
2. Note the whisky's color.
3. Note that the whisky's color tells you nothing about what it smells or tastes like. (You might wonder, then, what the point of noting the whisky's color is. Near as I can figure, it has something to do with testing your knowledge of sauternes.)
4. Swirl the whisky around in the glass. Alternatively, don't swirl it; what is this, a wine tasting?
5. If you are insane, wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, or employed as a Master Blender, and you are not in my house, you may at this point fling the whisky on the floor and return to Step 1.
6. Admire the legs, if that's your thing.
7. Place your nose inside, or just above, or a few inches above the glass. This is the critical step; make sure you do it properly.
8. Take a sniff or take three sniffs or just breathe normally, with your mouth open or your mouth closed or your mouth disposed however you want.
9. Think about the aromas you're smelling. (There is a common misperception among novices that the aromas smell like whisky, but with a little practice you'll get past this.)
10. Try to describe the aromas in terms of other things you've smelled, like honey, or can imagine having smelled, like heather. Leave it to the experts to mention aromas of things no one has ever smelled, like "wet medicinal leather." If you're blocking, "spice" usually works. (Note: with Islay malts, it's customary to say "peat" instead of "dirt.")

There! Now you've just nosed Scotch. You've earned yourself a drink. And if you want to drink the whisky you've nosed, go ahead; you can learn how to taste it later.