Category: Understanding Whisky

  • 11 Whisky Myths to Ditch in 2026

    11 Whisky Myths to Ditch in 2026

    Whisky is more than a drink, and each sip carries more than flavor. Distilled into every bottle is a compelling blend of tradition, identity, and—unfortunately—baggage.

    Some of what we believe about whisky comes from history. Some of it comes from marketing, where storytelling plays with the boundaries of fact and fiction. And some of it is simply lore, repeated long enough to feel like truth.

    It’s the unfounded assertions about whisky that carry the most weight—and do the most damage. These tightly-held beliefs can become barriers to the exploration and enjoyment of whisky. That’s never been a good thing, but in 2026 it presents a big problem for an industry that’s struggling to find its footing in a post-COVID reset.

    The new year feels like a perfect moment to let go of a few myths that no longer serve the drink, the people who love it, or the people who want to know more. So here are 11 whisky myths that simply aren’t worth the buy in 2026.

    Gatekeeping Myths that Keep Newcomers Out of Whisky

    1. There’s a “right” way to drink whisky.

    Some people will tell you that the only way to drink whisky is neat. Room temperature. No ice. No water. Absolutely no mixers.

    This, frankly, is nonsense. Whisky consumption is not a performance, and it’s not a competition.  If your way of drinking whisky brings you closer to the spirit—and to the people and moments around it—you’re doing it right. Ice, water, cocktails, neat pours, shared drams, hurried shots, and long contemplative sips all have their place.

    2. You need a refined palate—and vocabulary—to truly appreciate whisky.

    Most whisky descriptions are bullshit. They’re marketing (and I say this as a marketer). That doesn’t mean that they’re useless or even wrong, but they are highly subjective and often generously creative.

    Everyone experiences the flavors of a whisky differently, depending on personal taste and their unique frame of reference. Tasting is a learned skill, as is the vocabulary and experience most people use to describe whisky’s flavors. No one is born detecting saddle leather, antique libraries, or sun-warmed fig trees. Those descriptors come from experience, memory, cultural shorthand, and sometimes, yes, imagination.

    If you can describe a moment, a place, or a feeling, you can describe a whisky. Your language doesn’t have to sound like a tasting panel or a poem. You can fully experience (and enjoy) a whisky even if the only words you have to describe it are “good” or “bad.”

    3. Certain whiskies are only for certain people.

    This myth is pervasive, stubborn, and deeply annoying—especially to anyone who doesn’t fit the expected profile of a whisky drinker (white hair, white skin, and definitively male).

    At its core, the idea that whisky isn’t for everyone (or that certain whiskies are for certain people) is rooted in misogyny, racism, and outdated assumptions, all dressed up as “tradition.” You can see it in both subtle and not-so-subtle ways, from advertising to representation to the way we describe certain drinks and who they’re for.

    Taste doesn’t have a demographic, curiosity doesn’t require permission, and whisky has always crossed boundaries. There are no geographic, cultural, and social limits beyond legal drinking age to determine who can enjoy whisky or what type of whiskies they should enjoy. If a whisky speaks to you, it’s for you. Full stop.

    4. Whisky culture is only for experts.

    Expertise has its place in whisky, but so do enthusiasm and curiosity. Every whisky expert started as a beginner, unsure of what they were tasting but interested enough to pour a glass anyway.

    For the whisky industry to grow—or to stabilize, in the current market—it doesn’t need more experts. It needs more newcomers, people with space to listen, ask questions, and take that first sip.

    Experts are essential in this space, but as producers and guides, not as gatekeepers. Culture survives by being shared, not guarded, and whisky was designed for drinking and sharing. 

    Outdated Whisky Myths About Production

    5. Older whisky is always better.

    Age statements feel reassuring. They offer a tidy metric in a world that loves easy comparisons. But age tells you how long a whisky waited, not what it became.

    A five-year-old whisky produced in Kentucky and a five-year-old whisky made in Sweden are completely different products. Climate, production style, grain, the type of barrel, and so many more factors play a role in how flavor evolves over time.

    Time can deepen complexity, but it can also bury it. Some whiskies peak early, and some are meant to linger in the barrel a bit longer. Balance, character, and intention (not to mention personal preference) matter far more than the number on the label. 

    6. If it’s expensive, it must be good.

    Is there anything better than finding a whisky you love for a price that doesn’t break the bank? Cost doesn’t equal quality, and price often reflects scarcity, hype, distribution, or collector demand far more than anything else.

    Great whisky doesn’t announce itself with a price tag; it reveals itself in the glass. And, quite frankly, there’s a whisky for everyone at every price point.

    Some of the most honest, expressive, and enjoyable whiskies were never designed to be rare or prestigious. They were made to be opened, to be shared. To show up on ordinary nights and important ones alike, with or without the fanfare of a high price tag.

    7. “Craft” automatically means a better spirit.

    There is something to be said for small whisky producers: they often bring creativity, innovation, and a fresh perspective to challenge tradition. But while small distilleries have their advantages, size alone doesn’t determine integrity.

    Craft isn’t about scale. It’s about intention. It’s about decisions made with care, respect for process, and accountability to quality, whether you’re producing for the masses or for a few loyal customers. Romanticizing smallness can be just as misleading as dismissing it. Great whisky might fill a handful of barrels or thousands.

    8. Whisky must be aged for at least two years.

    This myth is complicated, and understanding requires understanding the differences in production and regulation that define whisky around the world.

    In Scotland, a spirit isn’t whisky until it has spent at least three years in the barrel. In the United States, there is no such minimum unless a whisky is designated as bottled-in-bond or straight. A whisky has to be aged in an oak container, but that aging could—technically—span 10 minutes rather than 10 years.

    Granted, no one wants to drink a 10-minute-old whisky (better known as slightly-dirty moonshine). But the point stands: the rules around aging aren’t universal.

    Regional Whisky Myths to Leave Behind

    9. If it’s not bourbon, it’s whisky.

    First and foremost, bourbon is whisky (or, more accurately to the region, whiskey). To their credit, most bourbon drinkers do actually know this, and they quickly counter any reiteration of fact with “but not all whisky is bourbon.” They’re not wrong—but they are missing the point.

    Bourbon and whisky are not two separate and equal pillars in the worldwide whisky space, and framing them as such dismisses the robust diversity of the worldwide whisky industry that, statistically, accounts for a much larger market share than America’s favorite spirit. Lumping all non-bourbon whisky styles together as “everything else” does a disservice to their cultural impact, range of flavors, and potential for enjoyment.

    10. Bourbon can only be made in Kentucky.

    Bourbon is an American whisky. It is not exclusively a Kentucky whisky.

    Yes, Kentucky still makes about 95% of all bourbon produced. A perfect storm of geopolitical, social, and agricultural factors guaranteed that a century or two ago. But great bourbon is no longer limited by these factors, and distilleries all across the United States are producing fantastic bourbons—with or without the use of limestone water.

    11. All Scotch whisky is peated.

    As a Scotch drinker, I’d like to see this myth die quietly and quickly.

    Yes, peated Scotch exists. Yes, it’s divisive. And no, it is not the singular defining flavor of Scotch whisky.

    Many single malt Scotch whiskies—especially from regions like Speyside and the Lowlands—lean toward fruit, floral, honeyed, or buttery profiles, with little to no smoke at all. One flavor experience shouldn’t define an entire category, especially a category with as much diversity as Scotch.

    Taking the time to understand the nuances of a category can open the door to exploring new flavors and finding something you enjoy, whether it’s Scotch, bourbon, rye, Canadian whisky, or something else.

    And if you still don’t like it? That’s fine. More for the rest of us.

    Leaving the Myths of Whisky Behind

    The future of whisky doesn’t belong to outdated rules and rigid beliefs. It belongs to those who approach the spirit with curiosity and openness. It’s time to pour these myths down the drain and to open our minds to the stories still being written about whisky.

    Sláinte, y’all.

    🥃The Whisky Type is a self-funded project powered by equal parts curiosity, chaos, and whisky. If you’d like to support Carolyn’s questionable life choices and excellent content, buy her a dram! https://ko-fi.com/thewhiskytype

  • What is American Single Malt Whiskey? Understanding the USA’s Newest Official Whiskey Category

    What is American Single Malt Whiskey? Understanding the USA’s Newest Official Whiskey Category

    Last week, I attended the Stave & Thief Society’s Executive Bourbon Steward Course in Louisville, Kentucky. Our curriculum was, naturally, focused on bourbon. However, one early module went beyond corn whiskey to discuss the various other whiskey categories recognized in the USA. It also included a range of whiskey (and whisky) categories recognized around the world.

    As we closed out the chapter, I realized that American Single Malt Whiskey hadn’t been mentioned. I raised my hand to ask about the perceived oversight.

    “Well, it’s not an official category,” replied Chris, our instructor for the morning.

    “Yeah, I know,” I acknowledged.

    That was the end of the conversation.

    Little did we know, American Single Malt Whiskey was, in fact, a legally-defined whiskey category that day. In fact, the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB) had announced its planned ratification of the category just one day before, on December 12, 2024. The news simply had not yet reached my class of mostly bourbon aficionados.

    Since then, the whiskey world has erupted with chatter about this new and exciting category. Congratulations and questions have flowed in tandem, both in the American whiskey community and those overseas. The questions I’ve seen often stem from expectations set by more established single malt regions, leading to confusion about what the American Single Malt Whiskey category is—and why its regulations have been established as they are.

    So grab a glass of whiskey, and let’s dive in.

    History of American Single Malt Whiskey

    While malted barley was the grain of choice for whiskey distillation in Scotland and Ireland, it grew poorly in most New World soils. Instead, the earliest American distillers focused on rye. Thanks to a variety of sociopolitical, agricultural, and other factors, bourbon, a corn-based, barrel-aged liquor, quickly overtook rye both in terms of production and status. For 200+ years, bourbon has reigned supreme as the nation’s native spirit, even receiving an official designation as such in 1964.

    While limited quantities of barley have been used in bourbon and rye production for centuries, the first known American Single Malt Whiskey was not made until the mid-1990s. Raw barley is more expensive than rye or corn, and demand for single malt whiskeys simply didn’t justify the cost of experimentation for most American distilleries.

    Clear Creek Distillery, founded by Steve McCarthy and now part of Hood River Distillers, was the first to take a chance on malted barley. With the release of McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey, the distillery introduced a traditional-yet-unexpected spirit to the American whiskey scene, lighting a slow fuse that eventually led to an small explosion of American Single Malt Whiskey distillers and enthusiasts.

    Today, hundreds of distilleries across the nation are making some type of American Single Malt Whiskey. The American Single Malt Whiskey Commission (ASMWC) counts more than a hundred of these distilleries as members. These include craft distilleries like the category’s catalyst, Clear Creek Distillery, established bourbon makers like Jim Beam, and Tennessee whiskey pioneer Jack Daniels.

    What is American Single Malt Whiskey?

    The American Single Malt Whiskey Commission was founded to “establish, promote and protect the category of American Single Malt Whiskey.” Created by some of the category’s first producers, they drafted and refined the original guidelines for what should be labeled as American Single Malt Whiskey:

    • Made of 100% malted barley
    • Distilled entirely at one distillery
    • Mashed, distilled, and matured in the USA
    • Matured in oak casks no larger than 700 liters
    • Distilled to no more than 160 proof (80% alcohol by volume)
    • Bottled at no less than 80 proof (40% alcohol by volume)
    • If labeled as American Straight Single Malt Whiskey, aged for at least two years

    These requirements draw on established practices in American whiskey while also leaving room for the creativity and innovation that sets American Single Malt Whiskey apart.

    The lack of a minimum age statement (unless labeled as straight whiskey or bottled in bond), a maximum distilled proof of 160, and a minimum bottled proof of 80 are all common to American whiskey regulations.

    Unlike single malt Scotch and Irish Whiskey, any type of still can be employed for the production of American Single Malts, including column, pot, and hybrid stills. Unlike bourbon and rye, distillers can also choose to age their new make spirit in used or new barrels with the interior either toasted or charred.

    For many years, American Single Malt Whiskey has operated out of a so-called “gentleman’s agreement,” with most—if not all—single malt distilleries in the USA following the established guidelines. With the ratification of American Single Malt Whiskey as an official TTB category, these once-loose guidelines are now law. The official ruling was published on December 18, 2024 and goes into effect on January 19, 2025.

    What does the TTB’s recognition of American Single Malt Mean for the Industry?

    The ASMWC has fought tirelessly for legal recognition of American Single Malt Whiskey for the better part of a decade. At the same time, its member distilleries have been successfully producing, labeling, and selling their spirits as American Single Malt Whiskey. So why does the ratification of this new category—the first in 52 years—matter?

    To answer that question, I called my friend Mark A. Vierthaler, the head distiller at Whiskey Del Bac and, in full disclosure, a former colleague. I worked at Del Bac as a tour guide for about six months back in 2021 and 2022. I also objectively love their whiskey—partly due to Mark’s expertise and influence on its production over the last few years. I knew that he could help me understand the full impact of this moment in whiskey history.

    What the TTB’s Recognition of American Single Malt Whiskey Means to the Category

    Mark immediately pointed to one word to describe the importance of the TTB’s ruling: legitimization.

    ” The ratification and recognition of ASMW shows consumers—locally, nationally, globally—that what distilleries like Whiskey Del Bac have been doing for more than a decade and a half has just as much cachet as bourbon, rye, [and] wheat whiskey—whichever American whiskey you choose,” he explained. “It makes it easier to educate consumers, creates trust in the category, and encourages more distilleries to begin experimenting with this American take on a classic style of whiskey.”

    Mark’s clear explanation especially resonated with me due to an experience I had earlier this year. On a trip to England and Scotland, I stashed a couple bottles of Whiskey Del Bac in my suitcase, eventually sharing them with friends who work in the Scotch whisky industry.

    “This is actually pretty good,” my friend Jon said, after taking a sip.

    It was the “actually” that got me—of course I wasn’t going to drag bad whiskey across the ocean. But I couldn’t blame him for his response; because experience and knowledge of the American Single Malt Whiskey category has been so limited, so are the expectations for its spirits. According to Mark’s predictions, the formalization of the category will change that.

    What the TTB’s Recognition of American Single Malt Whiskey Means to Distillers

    As a follow-up, I asked Mark what American Single Malt distillers hope will come from the TTB’s new regulations. He told me that innovation and transparency are two of the most important elements of the ruling.

    “Without an official designation, and American Single Malt Whiskey falling under the amorphous umbrella known as ‘Distilled Spirits Speciality,’ you could claim you were single malt, but there were no methods to ensure that you were following the spirit of the guidelines,” he explained.

    In short, American Single Malt Whiskey distillers—or those who claimed to be—had no real accountability or obligation to follow the ASMWC’s guidelines. Now, distillers and consumers will know that anyone with American Single Malt Whiskey on the label are playing by the same rules. That allows distillers in to explore and expand on the category’s potential even more.

    “With this being made into law, it allows distillers to continue to push the boundaries of what single malt means, while still holding true to a transparent standard,” Mark said. “The designation of American Single Malt shows that American ingenuity and whiskey-making expertise isn’t limited to one category.”

    As an example, he explained, “Whiskey Del Bac was inspired by the Scottish model, but not defined by it. Like our fellow American Single Malt producers, we’re showing that single malt is so much more than what people think it is.“

    How to Learn More About American Single Malt Whiskey

    As with any spirit, there are two ways to learn about American Single Malt Whiskey: in a glass or in a class. For the discerning whiskey enthusiast, the best option might be both.

    American Single Malt Whiskeys to Try

    With hundreds of Single Malt Whiskeys being produced in the USA every day, there’s no shortage of whiskeys to sample. Many people can find a bottle of Clermont Steep, made by Kentucky giant Jim Beam, at the local whiskey shop.

    For a deeper glimpse into the quality and innovation embodied by the category, consider buying a bottle from one of the craft distilleries who helped to define it.

    Here are a few of my favorites to consider.

    1. Whiskey Del Bac. I’ve been transparent in my bias toward Whiskey Del Bac, but I’m not alone in my appreciation of this Southern Arizona distillery. While they’re best known locally for Dorado, made with mesquite-smoked malted barley, it’s the Classic, a straightforward, unsmoked single malt, that’s making national waves. Still one of my favorite American whiskeys, the Classic received a 93 rating from Whisky Advocate in 2021.

    2. Westland Distillery. Based in Seattle, this innovative distiller is taking a nerdier approach to whiskey. When I visited the distillery in 2022, I learned about their use of local oak quercus garryana—and a PhD-level exploration of barley varieties too. Their new core range features their Flagship American Single Malt Whiskey as well as whiskeys finished in wine and beer casks.

    3. Minden Mill Distilling. Located outside of Reno, Nevada, Minden Mill’s spirits are a reminder that whiskey is, primarily, an agricultural product. Early farmers often distilled their excess grain as a way to use up overstock and supplement their income. Minden Mills now employs this same farm-to-bottle mentality, harvesting their own grains to produce “single estate whiskey.”

    4. Andalusia Whiskey Co. Stryker, the flagship American Single Malt Whiskey from Andalusia Whiskey Co., features barley smoked over oak, cherry, and mesquite woods. Together, the imparted flavors reflect the unique terroir of the distillery’s Central Texas location. I received a bottle of Stryker last year as a thank you for dog sitting. Then unfamiliar, it has become a daily sipper.

    5. Lost Lantern Whiskey. As a blender and independent bottler, Vermont’s Lost Lantern Whiskey doesn’t make its own spirits. Instead, they work with distilleries throughout the country, frequently engaging American single malt makers to produce a unique range of whiskeys. Flame, which marries spirits from Santa Fe Spirits and Whiskey Del Bac, was named the “Best American Blended Malt” at the 2024 World Whiskies Awards.

    Because of the category’s still-growing prestige (and the challenges of in-country distribution), many of these notable whiskeys can be hard to find. That means that even an American Single Malt Whiskey enthusiast like me still has barely scratched the surface in tasting the incredible whiskeys out there (hint, hint, distillers….send me your samples…).

    Despite the challenges of finding American Single Malt Whiskeys on the shelf, these spirits—and many others not listed here—are absolutely worth a sip.

    Classes to Build Your Knowledge of American Single Malt Whiskey

    Some of us like to pair our whiskey sips with certifiable expertise. For the nerds like me, here are two courses to take your American Single Malt Whiskey knowledge to another level:

    1. The Edinburgh Whiskey Academy’s Certificate in American Single Malt Whiskey. Launched in 2024, this online certification course was produced in partnership with the ASMWC. I was part of the EWA’s pilot program, and I was hired to do a final round of edits to the course content too. Like all of the EWA’s course offerings, the American Single Malt Whiskey Certificate offers a thorough dive into the category. But the best part is the videos: featuring whiskey makers and ASMWC leadership, the class videos provide unique insights from those that know American Single Malt Whiskey best.
    2. Courage & Conviction ASM Academy. This free course from Virginia Distilling Company (another great single malt distiller to try) offers a four-part overview of American Single Malt Whiskey. It covers an overview of the category, production, and sipping the whiskey before wrapping up with an introduction to Virginia Distilling.

    Of course, if you prefer to keep your nose out of the books and in the glass, that’s perfectly okay too. The most important thing for any whiskey enthusiast to know is that American Single Malt Whiskey is officially here—and it’s here to stay.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    🥃 The Whisky Type is a self-funded project powered by equal parts curiosity, chaos, and whisky. If you’d like to support Carolyn’s questionable life choices and excellent content, buy her a dram! https://ko-fi.com/thewhiskytype

  • A Typist’s Guide to Whisky // What is Whisk(e)y?

    A Typist’s Guide to Whisky // What is Whisk(e)y?

    As a full time whisk(e)y enthusiast and a part time distillery tour guide in Kentucky, one of the most common questions I get asked is, “What is the difference between whiskey and bourbon?”

    I always appreciate the people who are willing to pose this question, and even more so when it’s asked outright. Humble ignorance is welcome, and it’s far less frustrating than the persistent—and incorrect—insistence that bourbon is bourbon and whiskey is everything else.

    Sometimes, the word “whiskey” is even wielded as an insult, particularly in reference to the spirits made south of the border—the state border, that is. If you ever want to see a born-and-bred Kentuckian’s head explode, suggest that Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey is also bourbon. We’ll save the question of whether it actually is or isn’t bourbon for another post, but let me tell you this: as a resident of the state by relocation rather than heritage, it’s good fun.

    The truth is this: bourbon is whiskey. Not all whiskey is bourbon, however.

    Whiskey (or whisky, depending) is a broad category of spirits. It includes the subcategories of bourbon, rye, Scotch, Canadian whiskey, Irish whiskey, and so much more. But to understand the definitions of and differences between these varieties, we have to first answer the bigger question: what is whiskey?

    Note: Because this conversation started with bourbon, an American whiskey, I use the e-inclusive spellings of “whiskey” and “whiskeys” throughout, rather than my usual “whisky.”

    A lovely dram of Glenmorangie’s Tales of the Forest.

    What is Whiskey? (Or, What is Whisky?)

    Whiskey—with or without the e—is any spirit distilled from a fermented grain mash. The grains most commonly used in whiskey are malted or unmalted barley, corn, rye, and wheat.

    The grain-based nature of whiskey is critical in its definition, as it distinguishes the spirit from rum (fermented and distilled from sugar or sugar cane), brandy (fermented and distilled from fruit), or any other distilled spirit made worldwide. Those spirits may follow a somewhat similar fermentation and distillation process, but they are not whiskey.

    How is Whiskey Made?

    Whiskey is created through a multi-step process involving mashing, fermentation, and distillation, in that order.

    Mashing

    Starch is a natural component of grain, but sugar is what we need for the production of alcohol. Luckily, the starch that’s found in grains can be converted into sugar relatively easily. This happens through a process called mashing.

    When barley is malted—a separate process that teases the grain kernels into starting germination before ruthlessly stagnating their growth—it releases enzymes that can break down starches and convert them into sugars. These powerful enzymes can transform an entire batch of grain, even if only a small portion of the recipe includes malted barley. The enzymes can also be added separately, if no or not enough barley is desired as part of the final product.

    The process of mashing activates these enzymes. Introduced to the warmth of hot water (approximately 152 °F or 67 °C to be precise) they quickly get to work, moving through the batch of grain—essentially a big batch of oatmeal (or its alternate-grain equivalent). As the mash soaks, the grains, and then the water, become sweeter and sweeter.

    Mashing is a relatively quick process, especially compared with the rest of whiskey production. The mash tun, a big vat designed to stir the contents while it cooks the grain, often finishes its work in an hour or two.

    Then it’s on to fermentation.

    The mash/lauter tun at Stranahan’s Whiskey Distillery in Denver, Colorado, USA.

    Fermentation

    If you think fermentation sounds fancy, let me assure you—it is not. Fermentation is what happens when yeast, a living microorganism, eats sugar.

    Alcohol is yeast poop. CO2, another natural byproduct of fermentation, is yeast farts.

    You’re welcome.

    Yeast exists everywhere in the world: on plants and surfaces and even our skin. Over the years, the whiskey industry has cultivated particular yeast strains or species for their efficiency and outcomes, often using the same strains of yeast for decades.

    Yeast is well known by whiskey enthusiasts for its practical application of creating alcohol. It is deeply under-appreciated for its artistic contribution to whiskey: creating flavor. While whiskey gets a significant portion of its flavor and aromas from a wooden barrel (something we’ll discuss later), the undercurrent of a whiskey’s flavor profile starts in the fermentation tank.

    Yeast produces esters, chemical compounds which are central to the flavor of the spirit, and the type of yeast used will impact the flavors that appear.

    Craft breweries have been leaning into this fact for some time, experimenting with a wide variety of yeasts. In the whiskey industry, consistency has more often reigned supreme, at least over the last century. That’s not to say that some distilleries aren’t pushing the boundaries of yeast usage. New and old distilleries are increasingly recognizing yeast for its creative and flavorful potential, and exploring what that can mean to the final product.

    Regardless of whether a distillery uses a tried-and-true yeast strain or something new, the fermentation process (which can vary from a few days to a week or more) results in something called “distiller’s beer.” Typically containing 8-10% alcohol by volume, this hop-less beer is what we distill into whiskey.

    Mash fermenting at James E. Pepper Distillery in Lexington, Kentucky, USA.

    Distillation

    Distillation is how we separate the wheat from the chaff—or, more appropriately, the ethanol from nearly everything else.

    Distillation works on elementary-level science: every substance on planet earth freezes, boils, and vaporizes at a different temperature. Through distillation, we use this concept (and heat) to parse through the varied components of our distiller’s beer until we are left with a liquid that is both appetizing and safe to drink.

    Distillation happens on a still. Whether it’s a column still, a pot still, or some hybrid combination of the two depends on the distillery and the type of whiskey they’re creating.

    Whiskey stills are almost always made of copper. Copper will naturally react with sulphur particles in the distiller’s beer. The result is copper sulfate, a compound that sticks to the inside of the still rather than in your glass. Sulphur, typically described with a smell like rotten eggs, is not a flavor you probably want in your whiskey, and copper takes it out.

    We could get into the intricacies of various stills and their functionality, but that’s a post all on its own. Here’s what you need to know: at the end of the distillation process, the stills have whittled the distiller’s beer down to what’s called “new make spirit.” You might also hear it called distillate, white dog, white lightning, moonshine, or, my personal (and unofficial) favorite, “pre-whiskey.”

    The alcohol percentage of new make spirit is significantly higher than distiller’s beer. It’s also perfectly (or nearly) clear and high in ethanol (the good alcohol), though many of the oils and esters of the fermented beer have persevered through the process. This is good; it means our whiskey will have flavor.

    According to our dictionary definition, we could stop here—but most whiskey geeks would (rightfully) scoff at the idea. There is one more more step to transform this clear spirit into our favorite amber liquid.

    Copper pot stills at Town Branch Distillery in Lexington, Kentucky, USA.

    Does Whiskey Have to Be Aged?

    Whiskey lovers, brace yourselves: what I’m about to say might make you angry.

    Technically, whiskey may not need to be aged.

    You may have noticed that the general definition of whiskey noted above does not mention it at all. Worse, there are a number of clear, unaged “white” whiskeys in the market at this very moment.

    I know, I hate it too.

    That said, most defined sub-categories of whiskey do require aging, and some even mandate a minimum age. More importantly, the universally-accepted expectation of whiskey demands an aged spirit.

    So put down your pitchforks, damnit. I’m on your side.

    Whisky barrels aging in the warehouse at Bunnahabhain Distillery, Port Askaig, Scotland.

    What is Aging?

    When a whiskey is “aged,” it has spent some amount of time in a wooden barrel. Typically made of white oak, these barrels significantly contribute to the flavor of the spirit—and they provide all of its typical golden, amber, or brown color.

    Barrels made of white oak are the #1 choice for whiskey distillers worldwide. As a hardwood, white oak’s dense fibers and natural components help to prevent whiskey from leaking through and out of the barrel. This is key to making sure that the spirit stays in the barrel where it belongs, rather than on the floor of your rackhouse.

    White oak also contains natural compounds that contribute to the flavor of whiskey. While the presence and levels of these compounds may vary depending on the species of white oak used, a handful are well-known for their particular flavor influence on whiskey:

    • Vanillins: vanilla and spice 
    • Oak Lactones: coconut and wood
    • Guaiacyl: smoke 
    • Eugenol: spice
    • Tannins: bitterness and astringency

    Many whiskeys, particularly American whiskeys aged in virgin oak barrels, also feature a caramel note and a pronounced sweetness. This is largely due to the wood sugars in the barrel, which are charred and caramelized through the process to prepare the barrel for aging. The more times a barrel is used, the less influence these and other compounds will impart on the final flavor of the whiskey.

    How are barrels made?

    Whiskey barrels are made by a cooper in a cooperage.

    Yes, if your last name is Cooper (à la Emily in Paris), your ancestors probably made wooden barrels for a living.

    Using heat and force, wood planks (called staves) are shaped and secured with metal hoops. For American whiskeys, the barrels are typically charred, or burned out on the inside. There are several levels of charring, ranging from one to four, and I’ve heard five mentioned on occasion. Each level corresponds to a particular number of seconds that the barrel is subjected to fire. The lower the char level, the less fire is used.

    Charring a barrel breaks through the outer layer of the wood and gives the spirit more access to those flavorful compounds noted above. The more charred the barrel, the more influence the wood compounds will have on your final product.

    Some distilleries also “toast” their barrels. Toasting is a slower, more careful process to heat the inside of the barrel. Toasting often results in a lighter colored whiskey with less wood influence in its flavor profile.

    Barrels of whisky at Glenkinchie Distillery, East Lothian, Scotland.

    What does the “age” of a whiskey mean?

    While other alcoholic drinks can continue to age even after leaving the barrel, a whiskey’s age is calculated as the number of whole years that the spirit spent in its oaky home. There’s no rounding up in whiskey—a whiskey that spent 9 and 3/4 years in a barrel is not a 10-year-old whiskey; it is 9 years old.

    When a bottle of whiskey is marked with a particular age, it indicates the youngest whiskey that is included in the bottle. Blended and batched whiskeys (yet another topic for another time) are defined by the youngest whiskey added to the blend, even if it’s only a drop—a 10-year-old whiskey could contain spirits that aged for far longer, and those elderly spirits could even be in the majority.

    Some whiskey folks are very particular about the age of their whiskey, suggesting that a whiskey can’t be good if it’s less than 10 years old, or some other such self-imposed standard. Some national regulations also require a minimum age to carry a particular label, such as the three years necessary to make Scotch whiskey.

    The average age of whiskey, (and the minimum for a “good” whiskey) varies significantly worldwide. It largely depends on the region in which the spirits are produced and aged; American whiskeys “age” quickly, influenced by the country’s diverse (and wide-ranging) climate and the requirement that bourbon and rye are aged in virgin oak barrels. Whiskeys produced in Scotland and Ireland, in contrast, take longer to mature, given the more temperate climates of those nations and the common practice of re-using barrels.

    At the end of the day, whether a whiskey is aged for 10 months or 40 years is not that relevant, as long as it meets the requirements of its home country’s definition. Far more important is the flavor of the whiskey when it leaves the barrel—and what’s “good” or not is entirely up to you.

    A tiny dram of whisky at Whiski Rooms in Edinburgh, Scotland.

    The Final Word: What is Whiskey, again?

    Just to drive the point home, we’ll say it one more time: whiskey is an alcoholic spirit distilled from fermented grain and, unless you want to upset your whiskey-loving friends, aged in an oak barrel.

    This post is intended to be a basic introduction to whiskey. Every part of the production process is far more complex and nuanced than noted here, sometimes due to basic science and sometimes due to the wide ranging practices of various regions. To start, the plan is to dig into those differences and idiosyncrasies as part of a deeper dive into each of whiskey’s subcategories.

    In short, this is part one of a probably-lengthy series, so make sure you’re following along.

    Check back each week as we dive deeper into the world of whiskey, from the experience of the spirit to the practices that define it. And be sure to follow The Whisky Type on Instagram too!

  • Sipping Spirits in the Mile High City: Denver, Colorado

    Sipping Spirits in the Mile High City: Denver, Colorado

    Update: this post was intended to be part one of a two-part series, but it’s been six months, and my dog ate my homework (aka..my laptop ate my draft), so it’s been updated to a standalone post. It seems that another trip to Colorado is in order!

    In July when I began planning a semi-impromptu trip to Denver, Colorado’s capital city, I didn’t intend to make it a “whiskey trip” per se. Yes, the primary driver of the visit was attending the first night of respected Scotch whisky writer Dave Broom’s brief US tour. And, as a single malt enthusiast, a visit to Stranahan’s Whiskey Distillery, the city’s well-known single malt makers, was required.

    More, I expected to partake in a good amount of local beer. Colorado is, after all, home to the perrenial favorite of dads and hipsters everywhere, Coors Brewing, not to mention well-known craft breweries like Oskar Blues. But whiskey? I doubted that my explorations in the spirits realm would go very far.

    I was—happily—wrong.

    Big Chief Bottling Co. in Denver, Colorado; July 2023. Photo by The Whisky Type.

    Colorado, an underrated whiskey destination.

    By their current count, Colorado is home to approximately 40 distilleries producing craft spirits ranging from vodka to gin to bourbon and rye, not to mention American single malt and the nation’s first single pot still whiskey. Known collectively as the Colorado Spirits Trail, several of these distillers are peppered throughout the state, tucked between mountains and along distant trails, promising a bit of adventure with each sample. However, most are gathered along the state’s urban corridor spanning Colorado Springs to Fort Collins.

    In Denver alone, there are approximately 15 distilleries, a fact I discovered when I googled “Denver Distilleries” on a whim last month. The first search result, published by VISIT DENVER, presented me with a list of no less than 12 active distilleries in and around the city. Another posting suggested a few more, topping off the list.

    I had only a few days in the city to explore, so I quickly perused the webpages of each local distiller, determining the type of spirits they produced, a few points of interest, and, most importantly, where and when I could find them for a tasting. By the end of my research, I had identified nine targets for tours and tastings.

    It was an ambitious plan and I’m not ashamed to admit that I failed to accomplish it. My alcohol tolerance is on the lower end of most whisky enthusiasts even without the added limitations of mountain elevation, so the effects of the alcohol quickly outpaced my ambitions. Even so, I managed to try spirits from five different distilleries while in Denver— and I was not disappointed by the experience. I’ll get into my experiences at each in part two, but first, let’s explore some of what, in my observation, makes Colorado’s spirits unique.

    A vintage still at Stranahan’s Whiskey Distillery; July 2023. Photo by The Whisky Type.

    Forget farm-to-table; this is grain-to-glass.

    All whiskies journey from the fields to the still room to the barrel before landing in your glass, but in Colorado, that journey is often personal. Much like a farm-to-table restaurant, the distilleries that I visited almost unanimously noted their use of local grains and botanicals, mashing together Colorado’s rich agricultural history with their distillation present.

    Nearly half of Colorado’s 66 million acres were used for farmland in 2022, according to a bulletin produced by the US Department of Agriculture. As a state, Colorado is ranked 5th in the nation for barley production, with 52,000 acres producing more than 5 million bushels last year, and 18th for corn, despite nearly 1.4 million acres and 148,000,000 bushels.

    Those grains are utilized in a number of ways: as food for humans and livestock, for a variety of grain-based products, and, of course, for the state’s robust beer and spirit industries (fun fact: 87% of the state’s barley goes directly to Coors Brewing Company for their beer).

    But it’s not just the grains or the geography that make Colorado spirits so, well, Coloradan. El Dorado Springs, a small unincorporated area near the city of Boulder, produces some of the best water in the world (and the best bottled water in the nation). Many nearby whiskey distilleries draw on this natural spring water at various points in the distillation process, particularly between the barrel and the bottle, and are quick to infer that this renowned spring water plays an important part in producing high quality spirits.

    Of course, the question of whether “terroir” has an impact on whiskey is constantly under debate. A 2021 scientific study suggested that locality does, in fact, impact the final flavor. Still, some of the industry’s greatest minds suggest that landscape and climate have more of a place in marketing than in the glass.

    The truth is, no one is really sure exactly what goes into the precise flavor of a whiskey, not even those who make it. Whether proven or promise, Colorado distillers seem to be marching ahead under the assumption that locality is, in fact, critical to the outcome. And they might just be onto something; in the spirits I tried, certain qualities did suggest a regional influence: the balance of botanicals selected for a local gin, for example, or even a unique grassiness to balance the spice of a rye whisky.

    Using local grains isn’t, of course, new. Distilleries have been utilizing regional sourcing techniques for centuries, but a global economy has supplemented nearby sources with an open door to the world’s agricultural products. The commonality of this ancient practice throughout Denver’s distilleries is something that makes it—and those distilleries—unique.

    The hybrid still at Stranahan’s Whiskey Distillery, Denver, Colorado; July 2023. Photo by The Whisky Type.

    Keeping Colorado ( and its whiskey) weird.

    Around the world, most distilleries use a pot still or a column still in their distillation process. On the occasion that they employ both in the same still house, they’re separate and distinct machines. During my visit to Stranahan’s Whiskey Distillery, however, I was confronted with something akin to Frankenstein’s monster—but much prettier.

    The hybrid still, as they explain it, is believed to offer the best of both worlds in whiskey distillation: the even boiling and flavor-retention of a pot still and the efficiency and clean cut of a column. According to the tour guide, Stranhan’s was the first to employ the unusual stills, which featured a short, four-window column atop a wide pot. Their use has since spread, at least in the Denver area; I saw a similar configuration down the road at Laws Whiskey House.

    Hybrid stills are not the only way in which Stranahan’s is forging its own path in distillation. Two other points of distinction center around their barrels and their boilings.

    Early in the tour, our guide explained that the distillery boils their wort between the mash tun and the fermenter, a process that I asked the tour guide about after we concluded our tasting. “That’s how they do it in Scotland,” he told me confidently. According to my classes at the Edinburgh Whisky Academy, not to mention the production tours I’ve taken at Glenkinchie, Balvenie, GlenAllachie, and Bruichladdich, it’s not; wort typically is cooled after leaving the mash tun, not reheated. But I gently prodded a little further, and we speculatively decided that it could be part of the beer brewing process; Stranahan’s made its mark on the industry by first distilling beer (actual, intentional beer rather than distiller’s beer) into whiskey.

    When we reached the barrel-packed warehouse, we also learned of Stranahan’s use of the Solera aging method, a process that is believed to increase the consistency of the spirits. Over time, some, but not all, of the whisky aging in the barrel is removed for bottling; it is then replaced with new make spirit, which mingles with the aged spirit left behind. It’s not a new method of aging, but it’s not one that has necessarily been widely adopted in the whiskey industry worldwide.

    Stranhan’s is also using foudre barrels — massive, egg-shaped barrels more commonly employed in wine-making — but I’ll admit that I was both too far away from the tour guide and paying too little attention in that moment to understand why or how.

    I have to wonder if Stranahan’s experimentation with new and old techniques may have come from its singularity; they were the first legal distillery in Colorado since prohibition. And while they were not the first to produce a single malt whiskey on American soil, the category was largely undefined (and unexplored) in 2006 when they released their first bottle.

    There’s something to be said for having the space to forge your own path. Even the bourbon distilleries I visited seemed to be doing their own thing in one way or another, whether or not they are following more traditional distillation methods. With all eyes on the better-known American whiskey regions of Kentucky and Tennessee, perhaps Colorado distillers have had more room to play.

    It’s likely that Colorado distilleries have charted a new course by necessity; the thin air and desert extremes of Colorado are a far cry from the cold, damp climates of Scotland and Ireland or even the humid, multi-seasonal atmosphere of the American mid-south.

    When whisky is aged in a humid climate, alcohol is the first element to evaporate. But in a dry climate, water particles in the new make rush into the wood and the air ahead of the alcohol. This can result in higher-proof whiskey straight from the barrel, but desert angels are greedy, and distilleries lose a lot more product to evaporationoverall. As a result, the whisky can’t spend as much time in the barrel — and you wouldn’t necessarily want it to anyway. Wide swings in temperature throughout the year and within some days cause Denver’s barrels expand and contract at a rapid pace, creating more agitation within the spirit and greater interaction with the wood.

    While that may present challenges to a distiller, it’s a good thing for whiskey lovers; it means that the spirits are ready (and, importantly, palatable) much more quickly than usual.

    That’s a perfect way to segue into the tasting portion of my trip, but for that, you do have to wait—part two of my Denver trip notes (centered around the distilleries I visited) will be released later this week!