What's in a name?

That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet. But Shakespeare neglected to have Juliet explain that the contrapositive is not necessarily true. Just because you call something a rose, doesn’t mean it smells sweet. Try it the next time your dog takes a crap or you drive past some ripened roadkill. Ahh… the smell of roses. Doesn’t work does it?

But that doesn’t stop people from trying. I just came back from a new deli in town (no names, they were nice people). It was a very classy looking joint. Fancy sponge-painting effects on the walls, expensive ingredients proudly on display, clean, tidy, friendly, treats for your dog if you brought him, even a scented candle flickering on a wooden display unit. I purchased a "Five-cheese Panini With Bacon". The place was expensive and we had come on many recommendations. What culinary masterpiece did my immediate future hold for me? I brought it back to the office, and proceeded to chow down on what I’d have to call a kind-of shitty grilled cheese sandwich with some crumbled bacon in it. So if it wasn't really that good, why had people told us this place was amazing? Fancy sponge-painting effects on the walls, expensive ingredients proudly on display, clean, tidy, friendly, treats for your dog if you brought him, even a scented candle flickering on a wooden display unit.

What does this all have to do with booze? Patience, grasshopper.

Mr. Dicks just posted a preemptive rant about (rī)¹, the whiskey so cool it can’t even spell its own name. He hasn’t tasted it yet, but he suspects shenanigans are afoot. And as much as I love Jim Beam, I have to concur. The outlook isn’t rosy. So often in the liquor business, they try to wow you with their image and not their product. Two huge examples of this are Grey Goose and Michael Collins. They are the brain-child of marketing wizard Sidney Frank. He imported the finest French blah blah and distilled it in a yawn, who gives a shit. The end result, as I’ve ranted about before, is flavorless Everclear cut with mineral water, forever reducing the public image of vodka from an exotic alcoholic beverage to a more efficient way of delivering drugs to the bloodstream. Kind of like crack. Where was the real innovation? The price. He set the price well above the existing top-shelf vodkas like Stolichnaya and Absolut. It was so expensive, it had to be good, right? Throw a few ads in some magazines, bribe some rappers to include it in their lyrics, and then you sell the whole puppy farm to Bacardi for $2.2 billion. And as I said before, Grey Goose isn’t shit and even has a place in my home bar, but is it really worth what you pay for it? Before his death, Sidney followed up this (and many other) success(es) with Michael Collins Irish Whiskey. This time, he was less successful because the existing niche market valued flavor. And not just flavor, but a very specific flavor. Sure, it was dressed up fancy and put on the top shelf just like Goose, but once the Irish Whiskey lovers of the world sipped it, the cat was out of the bag and the brand failed to perform as anticipated.

There are, as I stated in my comment on Richard’s post, top-shelf brands that don’t follow that plan at all. Jim Beam itself has Booker’s, Baker’s, Basil Hayden, Maker’s Mark, and Knob Creek; all bourbons, all value the flavor of the product over the image, and none of which shun their bourbon heritage one bit. One look at the bottles, and you know what’s inside. Hell, the company's motto is “The stuff inside matters most” and I’ll drink to that with any of their bourbons. But something about the sleek, minimalistic, hip packaging of (rī)¹ gives me doubt. And just to make sure I’ve made my point, let’s have a little visual demonstration of what I’m talking about:

You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down? It's a slippery slope, people. When you concern yourself with appearance, it's easy forget that what's inside is what really counts. It's easy to be lulled into the false belief that you can just slap a label on a dog turd that says "Rose" and everyone will say it smells terriffic. Sure, some people wearing fuzzy orange visors might, but not everyone will. And if you've completely missed the mark - if your product has no merit other than its packaging, you might just go down in flames. Not having tasted (rī)¹, I can't say for sure if this is the road they've chosen to go down, but I sure hope it isn't. I hope when I take my first sip of it, I sputter and cough a little bit, Richard and Paddy laughing at me before taking sips and doing the same. I hope it's strong. I hope its bold. I hope spicy and kicks you in the teeth just like spirits distilled from fermented rye should. I hope Jim Beam Brands Co. hasn't forgotten their own motto: The stuff inside matters most.

Ultra-Premium Rye, an Oxymoron?

A couple of weeks ago I was in the liquor store, when I by chance came a cross a bottle of (ri)1 (pronounced rye one) Ultra-Premium Rye Whiskey. The very first thing I said to myself was "oh God, no." I don't know why. I love rye whiskey. In fact, the other thing that popped in my head was "you bastards stole our idea." You see, my friends and I have always though that starting our own Pennsylvania Rye distillery would be a kick-ass idea. And nobody makes a Pennsylvania rye anymore (the secrets out, damnit!).

I Guess seeing this new whiskey on the shelf bothered me for two reasons. One, I don't care for the phrase "ultra-premium" attached to anything I drink. I usually find the product to be of slightly above average quality, and highly above average in price. It's a buzz word that has no meaning, unless you've got the balls to back it up. I've seen many ultra-premium liquors fall short of their namesake. Second, I just don't see the words "ultra-premium" and "rye" going together. They just don't fit with my image of what rye is supposed to be.

Let's first skip past Canadian whiskey, which is often called rye whiskey for some reason, but usually has no rye in it at all. When it does, it usually accounts for a small amount of the blend. Rye whiskey came out of the foothills of the Appalachians in rural Western Pennsylvania. It was the drink of the common man when rum fell from grace after the American Revolution. Rye was the only distilled spirit that was born 100% from American sweat and labor. Rum relied heavily on molasses imports from the West Indies, and gin usually was made with spices from around the globe. Both were also distilled primarily in the urban coastal cities. Rye on the other had was a hard drink, made by hard men, who just wanted to supplement their income with their excess grain. It was harsh and peppery. A bold drink. America's fire water.

Rye was the only real whiskey anybody drank prior to prohibition. Bourbon? Barely anybody touched the stuff. It existed, but wasn't really popular until after prohibition. When you watch an old western on TV and somebody orders whiskey, they were ordering rye. Rye has this grittiness to it, this classic mystique of the old days, the harder days. Rye is dirty. Rye burns the throat, and hard men drink it. There is nothing ultra-premium about rye.

I looked at the elegantly tapered bottle on the shelf before me. I take note of its clean simple label. This wasn't rye that I was looking it. In my eyes, it was a gimmick. What right did it have to come out of nowhere, and just declare itself champion over all other ryes, without being tested in the fires.

It wasn't until just recently that I discovered that (ri)1 is actually made by Jim Beam. I suppose that offers some merit to it. I definitely will have to try it. But is it really worth $50 a bottle. This shit is expensive. Being a lover of rye whiskey, I am definitely taking a biased stance on this one. I love Jim Beam, and I hope that this whiskey is spectacular, but their marketing campaign and image for this one just doesn't sit right with me. I don't think it ever will. Rye doesn't belong in a fancy bottle with all the top shelf booze. It belongs buried in the back, and when the bartender takes it out to serve a lone, grizzled, old man, sitting in a dark corner of the bar, fingerprints can be seen in the dust that has collected on the bottle.

Pennsyltuckey Bound

Speak to someone who's visited rural Western Pennsylvania, and there's a good chance you'll hear the word "Pennsyltuckey" used in a derogatory fashion. It's a geographically-specific slur close in line with words like hick, hillbilly, and redneck; but this insult carries with it a sadness, harkening to a proud rural tradition that was forced to find a new home some 215 years ago, and with it a distinctive regional libation.

Before the days of highways and airports, the Appalachian Mountains were a significant geographical boundary cutting through the heart of Pennsylvania. So significant was this barrier that Western Pennsylvania applied to the Continental Congress as a separate state called Westsylvania. They were categorically denied. Still, they fought fiercely in the revolution with rifled-barrel long arms called "Jagers". Once independence was won, they hung up their Pennsylvania Rifles and returned to their lives of farming and distilling a uniquely American spirit: Pennsylvania Rye Whiskey.

When the new federal government imposed exorbitant taxes on small distilleries, the primary source of income for these fiercely independent Westsylvanians was eliminated. The violent Whiskey Rebellion that followed was quelled only when an army larger than was needed to win the revolution marched on Pittsburgh. Rather than bend to federal oppression, many farmers packed up their rifles and whiskey and moved to more remote territories like Kentucky where the federal government had little influence. In this new home, their unique spirits would evolve as corn became the dominant grain, and aging in charred white oak barrels transformed Pennsylvania Rye into Kentucky Bourbon.

But Rye continued to be the dominant spirit in the rapidly expanding United States for over a century, with large companies replacing the over-taxed independent distilleries. Beer or wine were seldom seen as liquor traveled much better; and Rye relied solely on domestic ingredients, unlike the previous American booze king: rum. Even after the Civil War, the American West was not fueled by "redeye" (which is, in fact, not even alcohol, but a highly poisonous derivative of sterno) nor by Bourbon, now revered as the most American of spirits. No, when Doc Holiday strode up to a bar and knocked on the countertop, it would have been a bottle of Pennsylvania, or "Monongahela" Rye that would have been placed in front of him.

Prohibition finally sounded the death-knell for Rye. The advent of the cocktail and the bootlegging of Canadian whiskey during those dry times acclimatized American pallets to sweeter alcohol; and the smoother, smokey taste of bourbon won people over after repelation. Soon the names of Craig and Beam were supplanting Overholt and Schenley on backbars. Rye was at best a specialty, at worst a relic.

Rye survived the remainder of the 20th century through companies like Jim Beam, which produced its own Rye and even purchased Old Overholt in 1987. Now Rye is enjoying a resurgence in popularity, and old and new brands share space on the liquor store shelf. Sazerak, Templeton, Old Overholt, Wild Turkey Green Label, and Jim Beam Yellow Label sit side by side and offer a generous range of whiskey experiences.




Old Overholt still bears a label our afore-mentioned buddy Doc would quickly recognize, though whether the flavor resembles its original Monongahela style is unclear. Still, it offers a light-handed and subtle taste of how fermented rye differs from the sourness of fermented corn.






For that comparison, though, maybe Beam Yellow serves us best. Being made by the bourbon people, it's a sharp taste of what happened when distillers changed their grain bill. It can be harsh for someone used to smooth and sour bourbons, but rewarding if your tongue will allow it past your tonsils.





Templeton is a brand that has taken a strange journey to the 21st century. It's been a registered corporation since 1965, but they recently switched to an older recipe dating back to the company's... less than legal days. Whether or not that story is true, and regardless of the old recipe's resemblance to Pennsylvania Rye, the quality of the product can't be denied. The bouquet demands careful attention; and its sweet, light, and fruity flavor belies its brute alcoholic power.




The most complex flavor composition of this bunch, however, belongs to Sazerac. Though it probably bears little resemblance to the Monongahela spirits the late 18th century, that in no way necessitates a lack of quality. In fact, as far as flavor goes, it shines above all other brands on the market now, offering the full-on kick to the teeth of Rye, with a fruity middle and a cinnamon finish. Perfectly suited for either sipping or shooting, the price is the only thing that makes it not optimal for heavy imbibing.



That title has to be taken by Wild Turkey Green. From the makers of the quintessential finish to a bad day (and start of a bad night) comes high-octane rye whiskey with a Southern accent. Sure, I could scrutinize its forceful Rye bouquet, or the wonderful afterglow that stays in your mouth after the initial burn fades; but the long and shot is it tastes fantastic and will fuck your shit up in a hurry, which for me exemplifies everything that is pure and wonderful about distilled spirits.

Bear Republic Night at Rattle 'N' Hum

First off, thanks to the dudes at Rattle 'N' Hum, who put on a great brew night. I think my bartender was Denny- I did not introduce myself, which was a faux paus. The bar was impressive in size and selection, if filled with the type of people who work in midtown. I liked the chalkboards that listed the beers, it really hammered home the idea that taps often change and the impermanace of craft brewing. While even the NYTimes has recently written about craft brewing, it is nice to see a bar drive the point home in the epicenter of tourism and bland corporate dronedom. The ability to drink halves (or flights) instead of getting entirely blitzed drinking full pints was a nice surprise.

Enough of my attitude, on to the beers, all from Bear Republic tonight.

I started with a Grandma's Harvest Ale, or Wet Hop. The aroma is odd, musty and somewhat mild on the hops. Please keep in mind I am extremely congested, so my nose might be off. There is some citrus in the aroma. The appearance is nice, with a hazy yellow/orange hue, low carbonation and little to no head. This is reminiscent of British beers after they have settled. The flavor starts out with some male, the middle of the flavor is extremely bitter and it finishes dry and with definite hints of grapefruit. The mouth feel is smooth with low to medium body and a nice dance of carbonation that does not impede the flavor. Overall a very good beer, even if the aroma is off putting(musty, or perhaps reminiscent of farts).

Next up was the Racer 5 on cask. I blogged previously about how not all beers work better in a cask. This is one case where the brewers made a great effort to match the beer with the medium. I only tried this thanks to the bartender (we tasted together) and was astounded by the results. The beer is a double IPA and presents as a golden beer capped with a dense, creamy white head. The head hangs out for a long time- one could say too long, but one would be sorely mistaken! The beer might have been too cold, but I did not mind, it being American and all. The aroma is citrus followed by malt. The appearance is very, very clear and golden, like a Pilsner or an American Lager. The flavor starts bitter, reminiscent of lemon zest. The middle is sweet malt and it finishes bitter but not dry with sweet flavors to follow. The mouth feel is dense with good head and a medium body, denser than the color suggests. My overall impression is that this beer is well crafted to excel in the cask beyond what it does in the bottle, and I feel privileged to have gotten a taste from cask. 

I finished the night with a Hop Rod Rye on draft. This was different from the bottled version in being more bitter and far more carbonated. The aroma starts with the malt and some low levels of hops. The appearance is a lovely auburn, where red turns to brown. There was no head but a great deal of good carbonation. I'm always happy with little head on my beers, as it leaves more to drink. The flavor starts with a malt with rye spiciness floating through. Next is a bitterness with some rye left over. It finishes bitter with a sweet aftertaste. The bitterness is not citrusy as in the other Bear Republic offerings tonight, but is bordering on astringent. The mouthfeel is medium with a lot of carbonation which cuts the overall body down a bit. Overall it is a good beer that I'm glad to have had on tap but enjoy more in the bottle at a warmer temperature.  

I also had some other samples, courtesy of the bartender. I did not enjoy the Bear Republic Barleywine. It was surely a well crafted beer, but it carried a sour flavor similar to that of a Belgian ale. I am not a huge fan of the Belgian beers, and was put off. Still, a lot of hops on the nose and finish, with some sweetness crammed in between. 

I also tasted a Jack London ESB on my way out. I love Extra Special Bitters, and I love Jack London. The first real book I read was White Fang (with my father) and anything Jack London strikes a chord. I found the beer refreshingly fruity and not very bitter, especially after the walloping I inflicted on myself from the prior tasting choices. I only had about two ounces, but an interesting English yeast seemed to allow fruit notes through as well as some mild hopping, East Kent Goldings I imagine. A full report is not available, as I wanted to make it home in one piece.

I am supposed to go out this evening, and gather I'll be drinking PBR or Brooklyn Pennant Ale to try and calm my taste buds from the orgiastic experience they have just had. Sometimes after a day of rough trade some vanilla is necessary to the old tongue. If I change my mind, it will be posted.

Beer for the Mother In Law

I am in NYC for the holidays vising my in-laws. I lived here for a while, before moving to the UK and then to Chicago. Not much has changed, though I know less people with normal jobs can live here, though the bankers, girls looking for husbands and the European tourists are running like rats from the ship, so maybe there will be a creative resurgence, or at least a reemergence of people doing an honest day's work of honest work raising families. 

But back to drinking and after that I need a drink, badly. I decided to take some beer to my mother in law tonight to have with dinner. I chose a personal favorite- Southern Tier's Unearthly Harvest. I've had this before thanks to the sale rack at my local liquor store and it is fantastic. I'm sad to see them move to a plastic label, peeling the poorly applied paint off was a great activity after 650ml of 11% beer. As is getting donked on good beer for less than a 10 spot. The beer smells of citrus and malt, is surprisingly sweet for an IIPA/Double IPA/ Imperial IPA.  I like the middle term best, as I think it is what thirsty storm troopers are drinking instead of defending the mother ship during the many, many attacks. The middle is sweet and smooth, medium body and a nice layer of tiny bubbles to carbonate. Little alcohol flavor is there, but as warned on the label one should take care to respect the beer, as an entire bottle clocks in just south of a whole bottle of wine on strength. My mom-in-law wanted to know what the sweetness was and I said light caramel, which should be true. The beer has a nice golden/amber color, especially nice in the recommended tulip wine glass. The body and head retention (both low to medium) are courtesy the cara-pils and red wheat, the latter of which also contributes to the color. The finish was good, somewhat dry and lingering hops. Overall an excellent beer, though it was less hoppy than I remembered. I hoped to pair it nicely with some pesto (homemade from home grown plants upstate) and the beer did the job. But not as well as the Ska Decadent Double IPA, which I had confused this beer with. Southern Tier remains a better mom-in-law beer, especially the lack of dancing skeletons on the label.

I was going to start with a beer which piqued my interest, an organic red rye which is the current Reunion Beer. Now, this beer supports charity, so I won't be too harsh. I'm not impressed though, it tastes too much like medicine. There is a nice malt taste, but its so powerful it ends up feeling like you are drinking watered down DME. The color is interesting, but the body is so heavy even the liquid seemed to shift less than slosh. I didn't pick up much rye or caraway, but did get a hint of hops (German?). All in all, good if you like Lambics or sweet beers, and a great starter beer for the not a minor not quite an adult in your life who might be in college. (NB: We in no way actually condone breaking the drinking age laws in any state for any reason).

I picked both of these up at New Beer Distributor, on Chrystie just off of Rivington. I used to live near here and walked by it on my way to work every day, never noticing. Its a warehouse, a freezing cold dimly lit warehouse. Full of beer. No mess, no nonsense, just a few informative posters about beer from beertown.org. There is a scrawled sheet of poster board with the 4 tap selections (3 xmas beers and a pale ale from Chelsea Brewing ). Oh, and tons of interesting beers priced cheap. I bought 650ml bottles of 10% beer for less than a pint (16oz, of 5% or less beer) would cost at any bar on the island of Manhattan. I'll go back when I can browse without losing feeling in my hands and having to squint. There will be an x-mas stockup for the party on the eve and the long weekend deep in the country. 

That is all for now, but I will be at Rattle 'N' Hum  for the Bear Republic  Night of Cask and Taps. A full if drunken report might follow.