(part of a series of posts on a recent panel tasting of 18 American rye whiskies that starts here. For more information on rye whiskey and additional tasting notes, pick up the January/February 2007 issue of Imbibe magazine.)

Prior to the rye tasting, I knew very little about Black Maple Hill. I knew that they were a small, independent bottler of “reclaimed” older stock from other distilleries, and that the prices they asked for their bourbons and ryes were typically beyond my pay grade, except for special occasions.

While working on the story, however, I learned a few things about Black Maple Hill. First, the label is owned by CVI Brands, a very small company based in California, that sources out ryes and bourbons for bottling under the Black Maple Hill label, and that also imports premium single malts, cognacs and armagnacs for distribution in the United States. The company also sets its standards rather high, purchasing as much of a spirit as it can once it’s found a type that meets its specifications. This also means that the company would rather lose a product than continue a label over an inferior spirit; for example, Black Maple Hill bottles bourbons in 14, 16 and 21 year old versions, but once supplies of its standard 11-year-old bourbon were depleted, and a replacement of equal quality wasn’t found, the 11-year-old label was eliminated.

Black Maple Hill releases less than 2,000 cases of whiskey in the U.S. annually; of this, 300 cases at most are of rye. For the past four years, Black Maple Hill has marketed an 18-year-old rye whiskey, typically for around $85. This past fall, the company released a 23-year-old rye for around $125 a bottle. Our tasting panel was fortunate enough to obtain samples of each of the whiskies for the second round of tasting, conducted by three of the original four panelists, and tasted alongside ryes from Buffalo Trace.

Black Maple Hill 18-year-old Straight Rye Whiskey

The 18-year-old Black Maple Hill is a single-barrel rye, bottled at 95 proof. Unlike the similarly aged Sazerac 18-year, the Black Maple Hill came up very sweet and fruity on the nose, with a complex woodiness and an intriguing depth. On the palate, the whiskey continued its waves of sweetness, with touches of apples and pears mixed with brown sugar and leather. Touches of mild sourdough in the luscious middle were the main clues that this was a rye, and — most remarkable to me — the whiskey had an incredibly long and luxurious finish, with bright fruity notes that danced on the palate long after the whiskey was swallowed.

Black Maple Hill 23-year-old Straight Rye Whiskey

The newest bottling from Black Maple Hill also clocks in at 95 proof. At five years older than the 18-year, this whiskey is surprisingly light, with a very bright and sweet aroma that comes across somewhat hot. Once tasted, the heat evaporates, replaced with an oaky smoothness. As with the 18-year, notes of pear, apple, sourdough and brown sugar dominate, but the effect is mellowed by the additional aging, and the finish is like a train leaving the station — slow, prolonged, and touched with notes of gladness and sorrow. This whiskey was so good it made me downright emotional.

All three panelists tasting the Black Maple Hill revised our initial rankings and placed the 23-year at the top of our lists. While no slouch, the 18-year was in a tough competition with the Thomas Handy Sazerac, and placed ever-so-slightly behind it in a very tight race.

After tasting these 18 ryes, I’m proud to say that the 23-year-old bottling of Black Maple Hill was the finest rye whiskey we came across, and it was my personal favorite as well. It’s also one of the rarest; around the holidays, I decided to buy a Christmas present for myself, but couldn’t find a bottle of the 23-year-old anywhere; I made do with some of the 18-year-old BMH instead, with few regrets. If you come across a bottle of either of these ryes, do yourself a favor and grab it immediately. And should you find an extra bottle of the 23-year-old, grab it for me — I’m saving a very special spot in my liquor cabinet just for it.

Thanks for playing along for this two-month-long series of tasting notes. But lest you think it’s all over, I have two additional ryes to cover, that I’ve come across since the Imbibe story went to press: Templeton Rye and Old Potrero’s Hotalings Rye. Stay tuned.

Tags: Rye, Spirits by Paul
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(part of a series of posts on a recent panel tasting of 18 American rye whiskies that starts here. For more information on rye whiskey and additional tasting notes, pick up the January/February 2007 issue of Imbibe magazine.)

There are still a few people floating around who haven’t heard of Fritz Maytag and the wonderful things he’s done with all manner of alcoholic beverages for more than 40 years. For a full rundown, I encourage you to Google “Fritz Maytag” and “craft brewing,” to get a small idea of how Maytag helped save American beer from itself, and added fuel to the smouldering craft beer movement.

In the early 1990s, Maytag turned his imagination to spirits, and the first challenge to present itself was rye whiskey. At the time, there was precious little rye on the market, and Maytag saw a niche for a high-end, craft-produced rye. An interest in history also led him in a direction that was contrary to prevailing whiskey wisdom: that is, the longer the whiskey has aged in charred oak casks, the higher the quality of the finished product. After determining that early American whiskies — in other words, early rye — was often minimally aged, and frequently had mashbills composed purely of rye, Maytag set out to create premium versions of the highly charged rotgut that flooded Eastern markets 200 years ago.

Named for the San Francisco hill where the distillery is located, Old Potrero debuted in 1996. The whiskey is a pure-rye single malt, and is crafted in two versions: an 18th-century style whiskey, aged less than two years in lightly toasted — not charred — oak barrels and bottled at cask strength, around 125 proof; and a 19th-century style whiskey, aged slightly longer in charred barrels, and bottled at a more modest 90 proof.

Comparing single malts such as Old Potrero with more typical straight ryes such as Wild Turkey and Rittenhouse required a bit of a balancing act; indeed, even when hidden among an array of more than a dozen other whiskies, the two versions of Old Potrero were so distinctive that it became immediately apparent something unusual was being sampled.

Old Potrero Single Malt 18th-Century Style Whiskey

As this style of the Old Potrero is not aged in charred oak barrels, it can’t under U.S. law be labeled a “rye.” With its minimal aging and barrel-proof bottling, the 18th-century style is a bit of a rough character, and has earned both accolades and brickbats from spirits fiends over the past decade.

The whiskey comes up very pungent in the glass, with a dry, sweet herbaceousness tinged with heather and grass. Its alcohol heat is readily apparent, bringing waves of an aroma that reminded some panelists of grappa, and others of kerosene.

The heat and herbaceousness continue in the flavor. Once tasted, there’s no denying this is a single malt, with rye’s distinctive musty, dry character washing over the palate in aggressive waves.

While the whiskey came across as intriguing, it was a bit too hot and fierce to garner much enthusiasm among the panelists. Two tasters appreciated the whiskey’s unique character, while others found it “offputting” and unmanageable.

Old Potrero Single Malt 19th Century Style Straight Rye Whiskey

At a lower proof and somewhat more tempered by the wood, the 19th-style Old Potrero earned more praise from panelists. As with the 18th century style, this whiskey immediately distinguished itself from the other ryes in the tasting, reminding panelists more of single-malt Scotch or grappa than of American whiskies.

The aroma was dry, almost dusty, with sour, peaty notes and a complex menthol and turpentine character. When tasted, the whiskey had a mild honeyed sweetness, with a long, peppery finish and a lingering herbaceousness. Panelists described the whiskey as “earthy,” and drew comparisons to mushrooms, pomace and cherry pits.

While the 18th century style Old Potrero was a difficult whiskey to love, the 19th century style was much more agreeable. It was the top pick in the first round by two of the panelists (without the Buffalo Trace and Black Maple Hill whiskies taken into account), and placed second on another panelist’s first-round list.

But while the Old Potrero placed so well, it also sparked a debate on what is a rye? As a single malt, and minimally aged at that, the whiskey was very different from every other straight rye we encountered, differing from whiskies such as the Van Winkle or the Rittenhouse similar to the way that a rhum agricole differs from a rum from Jamaica or Puerto Rico. In a totally blind tasting, without the benefit of even knowing what type of spirit is being tried, its quite possible the Old Potrero would be placed in a Scotch or Irish whiskey category, rather than that of an American straight rye.

With its unique character, the Old Potrero is most suited to be enjoyed with nothing more than an ice cube or a few drops of water; mixing it in a Manhattan or another rye cocktail will likely result in a surprising and not-entirely pleasant result.

Next: Black Maple Hill

Tags: Rye, Spirits by Paul
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(part of a series of posts on a recent panel tasting of 18 American rye whiskies that starts here. For more information on rye whiskey and additional tasting notes, pick up the January/February 2007 issue of Imbibe magazine.)

After a series of rather time-consuming life distractions derailed this coverage for a couple of weeks, I thought I should try to wrap up the tasting notes while you can still find the magazine floating around on newsstands.

Prior to the tasting, I was really looking forward to digging into the three rye whiskies produced by Buffalo Trace Distilleries: the highly regarded Sazerac 18-year-old straight rye; the “baby” Sazerac, a 6-year-old version of the older whiskey; and a brand-new bottling, Thomas Handy Sazerac rye.

Too bad the timing didn’t work out so well: On the appointed date for our rye tasting, the shipment from Buffalo Trace had not yet arrived, so the panel had to make do with the remainder of my bottle of the 6-year-old rye that I’d brought home from New Orleans. The next day, however, the box arrived, so later that week I brought blind samples to two of the other three panelists (sorry, Robert), and collected comments on the whiskies then (two additional whiskies were included in this second round). This two-part tasting kind of skewed the overall results; that’s why I discarded the idea of a rating system, in favor of simple tasting notes and impressions of each of the whiskies, along with each panelist’s preferred whiskies.

Sazerac 6-year-old Straight Rye Whiskey

The 90-proof, six-year-old Sazerac was released in late 2005, and quickly became a hit among rye fiends across the country. While in New Orleans last summer, I saw bottles of this on the back bar of nearly every place I went, and enjoyed it as the standard mixing rye for a number of drinks I ordered.

The baby Saz fared well, mostly, with the tasting panel. On the nose it came up with a fruity, peachy character, tinged with molasses and brown sugar, with a lot of character. On the palate, though, the whiskey shifted gears — a rye that initially nosed sweet came up surprisingly dry and crisp. A couple of panelists were looking for the fruit and sugar notes in the aroma to carry over in the flavor, but while the whiskey had a full body, most panelists described the taste as “muddy” and flat. One panelist summed up the whiskey this way: “If I were to use this one, I’d do it in a cocktail as opposed to drinking it straight.”

Sazerac 18-year-old Straight Rye Whiskey

At the time of our tasting, the 90-proof, 18-year-old Sazerac enjoyed a reputation as possibly the finest rye on the market. But with well-crafted, well-aged ryes appearing from Rittenhouse and Black Maple Hill, and with Buffalo Trace releasing another take on the whiskey, the Thomas Handy Sazerac, the venerable Sazerac seemed in for a battle.

Three of the four panelists reviewed this whiskey. As compared to the baby Saz, the 18-year-old came up very dry and earthy on the nose, with a deep oakiness that was very appealing. On the palate, it was easy to see why this whiskey had garnered such praise: it had the hallmark sour spiciness of ryes, tempered by the aging that gave it a round, lush body and a crisp, woody character. But while the whiskey was enjoyable, it seemed that the character of the barrel had somewhat overtaken the whiskey, and for all its pleasant aroma and taste, the rye had a surprisingly short finish. Once the whiskey’s identity was revealed to the tasters, we were all surprised that, while we were all positive on the rye, none of us were bowled over by it.

Thomas Handy Sazerac Rye

The latest bottling of a Sazerac rye, the Thomas Handy is also the most difficult to find. Bottled at barrel strength — our sample weighed in at 132.7 proof — the Handy is an unfiltered, single-barrel expression of the Sazerac line.

Tasted blind, this whiskey cleared the decks. Waves of caramel and molasses greeted the nose, and the aroma had a dry, herbaceous quality that one panelist described as “musty, in a good way,” and another termed a “rum nose.” On the palate, this herbaceous mustiness continued in spades, with a snappy sourdough bite brushed with floral, sugary notes that lingered in a wonderfully long finish.

The Thomas Handy Sazerac rye is simply amazing, and panelists agreed it represents some of the best work being done by American distilleries today. While rankings are difficult in a two-part tasting, all three of the four panelists who tasted the Handy gauged it second of the 18 whiskies tasted. It’s simply a damn good rye, and should occupy a place of honor in every whisk(e)y enthusiast’s liquor cabinet.

Next: something’s up in San Francisco

Tags: Rye, Spirits by Paul
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You might have thought, given my less-than-sterling results with last month’s MxMo submission, that I’d veer in a completely different direction for this round. And I have, to a certain extent — hot beer? Gone. Rum? Gone (given that this months theme is “whisk(e)y,” that’s not much of a surprise). Raw egg? Oops…

I’ve only come across this drink in one book, Edward Spencer’s The Flowing Bowl, published in London in 1903. I’ve had the book for a couple of years, but I managed to breeze right past this drink without giving it any more thought than a derisive, “eh — that’ll never work.” Then, a month or so ago, I was sitting at the bar at Zig Zag Cafe, and Murray set one of these down in front of me. It was great – ok, maybe just good, but way better than I’d expected it to be, given my initial attitude about the recipe.

The Colleen Bawn is simple to prepare, though it requires a somewhat elusive ingredient — Yellow Chartreuse — and it includes the bogeyman of modern mixology, a raw egg. Between the egg and the spice garnish, the Colleen Bawn has an aura of nog about it, but don’t be deceived — between the Chartreuse and the Benedictine, this drink promises a veritable gobsmack of herbaceous mojo, making its character closer to that of a Last Word or a Widow’s Kiss than a run-of-the-mill Tom & Jerry.

My only complaint with the Colleen Bawn, though, does involve the egg. While it works to give the drink body, and keeps the strong-flavored ingredients from being too overwhelming, the egg makes this cocktail a bit heavy. I’d suggest recruiting an adventurous friend or few, and using one egg for every two drinks (or playing with the recipe — I’ve pondered swapping out the whole egg for a mix of heavy cream and egg white, but haven’t pursued it further). While this will probably never make it into your usual rotation, it’s a good “check this out” drink for your ovophilic friends.

Colleen Bawn

• 3/4 ounce rye whiskey (something vigorous like Rittenhouse bonded)
  
• 3/4 ounce yellow Chartreuse
• 3/4 ounce Benedictine
• 1 fresh egg
• 1 tsp sugar / simple syrup, or to taste
  

Pour the liquids in a mixing glass. Beat the egg with the sugar, and add to booze mixture. Ice well, shake long and hard, and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Dust with cinnamon, nutmeg and, Spencer says, “pink sugar.”

Oh, and the name? I don’t know where Spencer came across the drink, but the name is related to the notorious 1819 murder in County Limerick of a 15-year-old farmer’s daughter named Ellen Hanley — thereafter known, for reasons opaque to me, as “the Colleen Bawn” — by her newlywed husband, a well-to-do man named John Scanlan, and by his servant, Stephan Sullivan, who shot Hanley and dumped her body in the Shannon. The trial and subsequent executions of Scanlan and Sullivan, with their overtones of love, murder and class divisions, was the news item of the day, and spawned the publication of a bestselling novel, The Collegians, in 1829, and the even more popular Broadway and West End drama, The Colleen Bawn, in the 1860s, followed by the opera The Lady of Killarney, in 1862; the silent-film feature, The Colleen Bawn, in 1914; and the 1934 film, Bride of the Lake. (and not a speck of that’s from Wikipedia….) At the time of Spencer’s book, the story was still a hot number in London, so I’d venture to guess he or an acquaintance nabbed the name and stuck it to the drink.

Head over to Jimmy’s Cocktail Hour for a recap of this Mixology Monday, and check out the main MxMo page for an overview of coming months’ events.

Tags: Drinks, Mixology Monday, Rye by Paul
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