Tag: Seven Days of ASMW

Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // Town Branch Kentucky 7 Year Single Malt Whiskey
There is something to be said for consistency, for knowing exactly what’s in your favorite bottle of whiskey every time you pull it from the liquor store shelf. In fact, the promise of reliability helped transform whiskey from a product of convenience to a product of preference.

Whiskey drinkers today are fiercely loyal, often seeking out specific styles, brands, and flavor profiles they trust, whether based on one past experience or a thousand.

Modern distillation has evolved in service to that consistency. Whiskey makers have perfected the process, armed with historic knowledge and advanced technology. Yeast strains are carefully cultivated and perpetuated for generations. Temperatures in fermentation tanks, stills, and warehouses are precisely manipulated to fine-tune a spirit’s flavor and viscosity. Sensors on every piece of equipment—even barrels—monitor the precise details that shape a whiskey’s final outcomes.

Modern distillation is a masterclass in repetition, but that’s not entirely what whiskey-making is about.

At its core, distillation is an iterative process, an experiment shaped by variables that can never be fully controlled. A distiller never really knows what will happen when new make spirit goes into the barrel. They can’t; wood, climate, time, and chance all play their part. The modern blender’s job is to manage those outcomes, to mix and tweak and play with the spirits until the whiskey transforms into something intentional.

Sometimes that means a batch that tastes exactly like the last, and like a hundred batches before. Other times, honoring the spirit means letting it change.

That’s precisely the case in Lexington, Kentucky, where Head Blender Dave Bob Gaspar has subtly—but deliberately—shifted the profile of Town Branch 7 Year Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey.

I know this whiskey well. I worked at Town Branch for nearly a year after relocating to Lexington in the summer of 2024. I was drawn to the distillery specifically because it produced a single malt, but quickly realized that it wasn’t my favorite expression in the brand’s core lineup.

This wasn’t a failing of the whiskey so much as a matter of personal taste. I gravitate toward whiskeys with earthy, herbal or spice-forward notes—Town Branch Rye, for example—while the distillery’s single malt leaned decisively into citrus and fruit.

Personal preferences aside, I encouraged guests to try it on every shift. As a tour guide, my role wasn’t to curate the tasting to my palate, but to help visitors discover theirs. And plenty of them did; more than a few left with a bottle of single malt tucked under their arm.

In December, I found myself back at the tasting bar—though on the opposite side. This time, I was a guest, invited to sample some of Town Branch’s newest expressions. When Dave Bob handed me a small pour of the 7 Year Old Single Malt Whiskey, I expected familiarity.

Instead, I was surprised—not only by the flavor, but by how much I liked it.

The whiskey was still 87 proof, still seven years old, dressed in its grey label and recognizably Town Branch. But the flavor was a little bigger, a little more assertive. It had a weight that I didn’t remember.

Had my palate changed, or had the whiskey?

It turns out, it was the whiskey.

Dave Bob was pouring from a brand new bottle, its contents recently awakened from their oaky slumber. He noted my surprise, and explained that the shift was intentional.

In Town Branch’s early days, founder Dr. Pearse Lyons had envisioned—and created—a softer, smoother spirit. Dr. Lyons was Irish by birth and by whiskey training, and while he chose a double distillation process for his Kentucky-made whiskey (rather than the triple distillation common in Ireland), he prioritized a light, approachable fruit-flavored profile.

The approach made sense at the time, but does it still?

In Kentucky, a delicate single malt doesn’t always stand up to its bolder brethren, bourbon and rye. And so Dave Bob set out to evolve the spirit, not abandoning Dr. Lyons’ vision, but reinterpreting it. It’s not a new distillate or proof or even age statement; instead, Dave Bob is working within the confines of whiskey distilled more than half a decade ago, incorporating older barrels to tease bolder flavors from the blend.

The result is a single malt whiskey that can stand on its own—and a mixing glass.

Tasting the (New and Improved!) Town Branch Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey

In the glass, Town Branch’s Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey is noticeably pale—it’s, by far, the lightest expression in the entire Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey lineup. That color—or lack thereof—comes from the barrel.

As the distilling part of Lexington Brewing & Distilling Company, Town Branch’s stills operate just steps from Lexington Brewing, where Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale is made.

Barrel aging beer was one of Dr. Lyons’ signature innovations, and has come to define the brand for more than two decades. It also means that barrels at Lexington Brewing & Distilling follow a unique path, traversing Cross Street from the distillery to the brewery and back. First, the new oak barrels are filled with Town Branch Bourbon. Four to six years later, the barrels are emptied and filled with Kentucky Irish Red Ale, transforming it into the flagship Bourbon Barrel Ale. After that, the barrels hold one of the brewery’s cream ales: vanilla or tangerine. Only then are the thrice-emptied barrels filled with single malt new make spirit and left to rest for at least seven years.

The whiskey that emerges is light gold in appearance. It opens to the nose with citrus fruit, vanilla, and malt, like the rich sweetness of a pineapple upside-down cake.

On the palate, that fruit blooms into ripe and juicy flavors. There’s a touch of almond, or almond extract to be exact, and a viscous-yet-light mouthfeel.

The finish tingles and lingers on the tongue, a flash of deeper fruit notes and baking spices. There’s also a hint of beer, a little bit of funkiness pulled from the depths of the well-used oak. It’s not unpleasant; it adds character, an extra bit of depth.

All told, Town Branch Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey is bright, refreshing, and wholly different from any of the other whiskeys included in this series.

It’s also different from its former self. Which, some might say, is the point.

Slainte, y’all.

In My Glass

Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey

Town Branch/Lexington Distilling Co. – Lexington, Kentucky

43.5% ABV; 7 Years Old

On My Desk

Royal Futura 600 Typewriter

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026
- Day One: McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey
- Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt
- Day Three: Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year
- Day Four: Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey
- Day Five: Cedar Ridge The QuintEssential Signature Blend (Batch 017)
- Day Six: Whiskey Del Bac Club Blend 2025
A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of Kentucky Single Malt Whiskey was given to me by Dave Bob and the team at Town Branch. Thank you for letting me sample and share the new and improved single malt!
January 22, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // Whiskey Del Bac Club Blend 2025
If I had a dollar for every time I heard someone call American Single Malt Whiskey “American Scotch,” I’d have enough to fund a much larger collection.

But that collection would be funded by misconception at best.

There’s no such thing as “American Scotch.”

The first problem with the phrase is its impossibility. Scotch is, by definition, Scottish. American whiskey is, also by definition, American. The two are separated not just by geography (including a really big ocean), but by culture, history, and law.

The second problem is the implication. Calling it “American Scotch” suggests mimicry, as if American whiskey are trying to counterfeit Scotch, the liquor equivalent of a “Guuci” bag sold on a New York street corner.

Yes, many American Single Malt Whiskey distillers were, and are, inspired by Scotch. Some even produce spirits that taste remarkably like Single Malt Scotch Whisky. 10th Street Distilling’s Peated Single Malt, one of 2025’s Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey selections, is one such expression. Peated Scottish barley, copper pot stills, and ex-bourbon barrels produce a whiskey that, if you closed your eyes, could have originated on Islay—except it was distilled and bottled in California instead.

This is the exception for American Single Malt Whiskey, not the rule. Even as American distillers draw from Scottish distillation traditions, they’re forging a distinct identity, represented in unique flavors that carry a uniquely American sense of place.

American Single Malt Whiskey is not a derivative of Scotch whisky, but a definitive spirit in its own right.

The differences matter. Beyond geography, American single malt distillers have far more creative freedom than their Scottish counterparts. There is no pot still requirement, no three-year aging mandate. These liberties allow American distillers to experiment, to innovate, and to create a market on its own, separate from Scotch whiskey (and from bourbon too).

In Tucson, Arizona, Whiskey Del Bac is doing more than crafting an identity; they are teasing the Scotch whisky world aong the way.

If you meet the team behind Whiskey Del Bac, you would know the teasing was likely not intentional—or, at least, not ill-intentioned. The founder, Stephen Paul, is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. He built the distillery out of his garage, driven by curiosity and a history of handicraft.

Whiskey Del Bac produces both smoked and unsmoked barley malt whiskeys, but the smoke you experience from this desert distillery is nothing like what you’d experience on the Isle of Islay.

That is, of course, intentional. The distillery’s mantra—mesquited, not peated—signals a style that is cheeky, bold, and unmistakably Southwestern. Heat replaces humidity. Dust replaces brine. It tells you exactly who Whiskey Del Bac is, but it’s also a little cheeky, an exaggerated wink to Scotch drinkers, Scotch haters, and the Scotch Whisky world itself.

Provoking, or even outright offending, the Scotch Whisky industry is something of a rite of passage for American Single Malt Whiskey distilleries. Whiskey Del Bac earned their stripes in 2025, when the Scotch Whisky Association—the official body charged with protecting Scotch Whiskey, sent them a cease and desist letter targeting the name of the distillery’s annual winter release.

The concern? That a saguaro-cactus-adorned bottle, clearly labeled as American Single Malt, might somehow confuse someone into thinking it was Scotch simply because it was named “Ode to Islay.”

The letter, though inconvenient in timing (having landed just weeks before the expression’s release), was important. It indicated that Whiskey Del Bac had arrived. The Arizona distillery is no longer too small, too obscure or too inconsequential to be ignored.

As Whiskey Del Bac grew, so did the scrutiny—and so did the SWA’s efforts to distance its whisky wards from these desert-made spirits.

So, no, American Single Malt Whiskey is not “American Scotch.”

A cease-and-desist aside, the proof with Whiskey Del Bac’s spirits is in the sip. That’s true with the now-renamed “Ode” and with the 2025 Private Barrel Club Blend American Single Malt Whiskey in my glass.

Tasting Whiskey Del Bac’s Club Blend 2025 American Single Malt Whiskey

Members of Whiskey Del Bac’s Whiskey Club aren’t just fans of the spirit; they’re insiders. Currently only available in Arizona but with plans to expand, the club offers members special access to invitation-only events and distillery-only releases.

The Club Blend 2025, is one of those releases: an exclusive, cask-strength blend of six barrels, with just 282 bottles filled in total. Number 152 is in my hands.

Four of the barrels held the “Classic” whiskey, the distillery’s unsmoked spirit. Two were filled with Dorado, the mesquited-not-peated single malt made with barley malted and mesquite-smoked on site. All six barrels were on their second use—a departure from the distillery’s usual first-fill approach—and aged for at least three years, making this the second-oldest American Single Malt Whiskey they’ve ever released.

Yes, three years in the barrel makes this spirit the second-oldest American Single Malt Whiskey from Whiskey Del Bac. Whiskey maturation just hits differently in the Southern Arizona desert—especially for a distillery that, as a rule, pours its new make spirit into virgin 15-gallon barrels.

That’s not even the biggest surprise about this bottle.

You might be tempted to think that a one-third ratio of smoked to unsmoked malt means a light smoky flavor. You would be absolutely incorrect. The aroma of mesquite, reminiscent of desert barbecues and warm nights, appears at the first pop of the cork. It carries with it a scent of sweet vanilla and baking spices, warm and inviting.

On the palate, the 126-proof spirit amplifies that warmth, with campfires and cream, crème brûlée, and sticky pastries. The flavors are bold, rich, and lingering, coating the tongue and lighting a fire all the way down.

It’s not fair—or honest, or complete—for me to explain the flavor of Whiskey Del Bac in this way.

To me, this whiskey is a dark cigar and a low fire under a clear night sky, stars glowing and sparkling above, unhindered by the glow of streetlights. It’s long evenings at Batch, the downtown whiskey bar, sipping on Scotch and American whiskeys as I lick the sticky icing of a house-made donut off my fingers. It’s too-hot nights and the not-so-distant howl of coyotes and the way that the brown-and-green desert explodes into color with the spring bloom.

At its best, whiskey isn’t just a drink, a portal to drunkenness, or a social lubricant. It is experience and memory, deeply personal yet meant to be cherished, savored, and shared.

Sláinte, y’all.

In My Glass

Club Blend 2025 American Single Malt Whiskey

Whiskey Del Bac – Tucson, Arizona

63% ABV; 3+ Years Old

On My Desk

1961 Olivetti Lettera 22 Typewriter

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026
- Day One: McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey
- Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt
- Day Three: Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year
- Day Four: Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey
- Day Five: Cedar Ridge The QuintEssential Signature Blend (Batch 017)
A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of Whiskey Del Bac Club Blend 2025 was sent to me by the team at in Tucson. Thank you all for sending such a beautiful bottle of whiskey!
January 20, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // The QuintEssential Signature Blend (Batch 017)
“Is this Heaven?”

“No, it’s Iowa.”

Field of Dreams, 1989

In the early days of whiskey making, you would be hard-pressed to find a distiller who didn’t also carry the title of farmer. Whiskey was, first and foremost, an agricultural product. Farmers transformed their excess grain into distilled spirits to prevent spoilage, supplement their homegrown income, and secure the revelry of their family and their neighbors alike.

In eastern Iowa, the agricultural roots of distillation still grow deep into the rich Midwestern soil. The Quint family founded Cedar Ridge Distilling in 2005, establishing the first legal distillery in Iowa since before prohibition—but they were farmers first. Their ancestors settled in Winthrop, Iowa in the late 1800s, building a farm and a life shaped by the American dream.

“While the equipment has changed, the job hasn’t,” says Jeff Quint in a video for Cedar Ridge Distilling. “Get the seeds in the ground and let nature do the rest.”

Located in America’s heartland, Iowa is nearly synonymous with corn. This mid-sized Midwestern state (26th in the nation by land area) produces an astounding amount of the grain—2.77 billion bushels in 2025, according to recent reports.

It’s no surprise, then, that Cedar Ridge started its whiskey production with bourbon. While most Iowa corn is sent to market and sold to the highest bidder (or for whatever the going price is at the time), the Quints’ grain instead heads straight to their distillery in nearby Swisher, Iowa.

Cedar Ridge describes its Iowa Bourbon Whiskey as “a clean, approachable sipping whiskey.” The grain-to-glass spirit won Gold and Best of Category at the 2018 Los Angeles International Spirits Competition Awards, helping to put Iowa whiskey on the national map.

Corn whiskey may have been the obvious starting point for Cedar Ridge, but The Quint family didn’t stop there. Inspired by Scotch whisky (and the rich finishing techniques of historic distillers The Balvenie), they began producing single malt whiskey using barley sourced from Canada. Those early experiments and releases evolved into what is now The QuintEssential, with Batch No. 001 released in 2020.

(Well played with the name, Quint family. We love a good play on words around here.)

By 2025, they were already on Batch No. 017 and had racked up an impressive list of awards for the spirit: Double Gold at the 2025 SIP Awards; Gold at the IWSC in 2024; and a 5/5 rating from The Whiskey Wash, to name a few.

“With upfront deep stone fruit balanced by a subtle peat finish, this single malt sets the American Standard with a taste that’s perfectly rich and complex,” reads the label on the front of my bottle of The QuintEssential Signature Blend Batch No. 017.

It’s a bold claim, especially given the vast and rapidly expanding landscape of American Single Malt producers. And yet, there is something genuine in the assurance. The brand’s tagline, Authentic by Nature, speaks not only to their agricultural roots but also to a distinctly Midwestern sensibility marked by hard work and humility.

Tasting The QuintEssential Single Malt Whiskey (Batch 017)

The QuintEssential is released in batches, but Cedar Ridge’s unique Solera aging process ensures a continuous line threaded through every bottle of single malt whiskey that they produce. More commonly associated with wine-making—another part of the Cedar Ridge craft beverage lineup—the solera method can be found at a handful of distillers, offering a unique way to marry the flavors of the whiskey while creating consistency over time.

Cedar Ridge uses two styles of two-row malted barley to make The QuintEssential whiskey, one peated and one unpeated. They’re first double distilled and aged separately, coming off the still at 148 proof and cut to 120 proof before going into a barrel.

The peated distillate is aged in ex-bourbon barrels for four to five years before entering the solera barrel. The unpeated distillate spends just two to three years in an ex-bourbon barrel before being transferred into finishing barrels.

Because Cedar Ridge makes both bourbon and wine, there is no shortage of barrels on site, but they do pull from other sources as well. The exact mix of finishing can include rum, wine, port, sherry and fruit barrels, among others.

After its initial aging and finishing, the fresh whiskey is transferred into the solera cask, a giant wooden barrel that never runs dry. There, the new whiskey blends and integrates with a continually aging “motherbatch” of single malt spirit. Though every batch has its nuances, this process ensures that every bottle of whiskey carries with it the full history of Cedar Ridge’s single malt whiskey expressions.

My first sniff of The QuintEssential Batch 017 is bright with stone fruits like plum and peach. There’s a hint of sweetness too, like buttered dessert breads mingling with vanilla.

On the tongue, the fruit flavors take a step back, swirling and slipping into malty, oaky pepper. A hint of peat smoke dances around the gently sweet flavors, lingering on the tongue as the rest fades away.

At 92 proof, it’s an easy sipper, but with complexity and depth more often found at a higher ABV. The proprietary blend of cask finishing adds intrigue without overwhelming the core character. That’s a testament to the expertise of Cedar Ridge’s head blender Murphy Quint. In the wrong hands, Cedar Ridge’s complex finishing approach could easily veer into overcomplication, but here, the flavors remain well-balanced.

The excellence of the whiskey aside, The QuintEssential stands as a testament to the creative freedom that American Single Malt Whiskey distillers enjoy. With no restrictions on stills, barrels, or aging timelines, the category invites experimentation, giving whiskey makers the opportunity to shape unique expressions that are unmistakably their own.

In Cedar Ridge’s case, that freedom takes the form of a solera-finished single malt born in the heartland of America—and a distinctive spirit that couldn’t be made anywhere or by anyone else.

Sláinte, y’all.

In My Glass

The QuintEssential Signature Blend Single Malt Whiskey (Batch No. 017)

Cedar Ridge Distillery – Swisher, Iowa

46% ABV; No Age Statement

On My Desk

Remington Rand Deluxe Model 5 (which is so pretty, but needs so much work)

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026
- Day One: McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey
- Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt
- Day Three: Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year
- Day Four: Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey
A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of The QuintEssential was sent to me by the folks at Cedar Ridge. Thank you to the Quint family and Cedar Ridge team for letting me sample and share their fascinating whiskey!
January 18, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Batch 003

For day four of Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey, we’re headed to the woods. Not just any woods, but the Redwoods of Northern California.

The Redwood Forest stretches hundreds of miles along the northern California coast from the San Francisco Bay up into southeastern Oregon. Here you’ll find some of the tallest trees in the world, some extending as much as 380 feet from earth to sky.

This is ancient land, abundant in life and history. The massive trees once covered some two million acres, but intense logging in the 19th and 20th centuries destroyed most of the original forest. Loggers not only devastated the local ecosystem of the trees, but disrupted the lives of the indigenous people who had resided among the trees for centuries. Today, less than 5% of the once-expansive Redwood Forest remains. What is left is now fiercely protected, ensuring that these living giants can never again be cut down.

It was this landscape that inspired founder Derek Benham in 2013. According to the distillery’s website, Benham “saw potential in this region’s cool, temperate climate—perfect for aging whiskey slowly and evenly.” In 2015, he broke ground on a new distillery in Graton, California, filling the first barrels of Redwood Empire Whiskey that same year.

Graton is located in Sonoma County, in the heart of wine country. It may seem like a surprising place for a whiskey distillery, but it’s one deeply rooted in craft beverage tradition. Both Master Distiller Jeff Duckhorn and Master Blender Lauren Patz, come from wine families, bringing a unique heritage of patience and terroir to their whiskey-making.

In an article for Men’s Journal, Duckhorn described Redwood Empire’s whiskey as having a strong “sense of place.” For this distillery, that’s more than a poetic notion, but a responsibility. From the start Redwood Empire Distilling focused on making its spirits from local grains from the start, sourcing corn, barley, rye, and wheat from the nearby Sacramento Valley. Plus, through a partnership with Save the Redwoods League and Trees for the Future, they’re working to rebuild the forest around them. To date, more than 1.8 million trees have been planted.

In 2025, the distillery moved from their original facility in Graton to an expansive space on Mare Island, a narrow strip of land between the Napa River and the San Pablo Bay. They now occupy two historic buildings that once housed a naval base dating back to the mid 1800s. It was the first naval base on the West Coast and an important hub during World War II, where hundreds of naval ships (and a handful of submarines) were built and repaired.

Today, the waterfront campus houses a bar, restaurant, and all distillery operations. And, for the first time, it allows Redwood Empire to welcome visitors.

Big trees, waterfront views, and good whiskey? Sign me up.

Tasting Redwood Empire Foggy Burl 100% California Single Malt Whiskey (Batch 003, 2025 Release)

Many of Redwood Empire’s whiskeys are named for the giant trees of the Redwood Forest. Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey takes its name from a towering redwood located off the bank of Redwood Creek near Tall Trees Grove. The tree is known for its remarkable use of fog, drawing approximately 40% of its water needs from the coastal fog that often fills the woods.

Foggy Burl stands 347 feet tall and more than 13 feet in diameter, its magnificent height mirrored in the tall, slender bottle of whiskey.

Every batch of Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey is different, and each release an evolution in the distillery’s 10-year history of experimentation. There’s no age statement, no barrel information. But for Batch 003, released in 2025, the combined mash bill includes 12 different malt varieties, including distillers malt, munich, carabrown, chocolate, Maiden Voyage, and more. True to Redwood Empire’s founding principles, every ounce of barley comes from Northern California, making this spirit a uniquely Californian whiskey, from grain to glass.

On the nose, I get a bright blend of fruit and nuts, fresh and vibrant. Its legs are soft, not oily or coating the glass in a thick haze, yet slow to return to the body of the spirit below. It’s golden in color, described on the provided spec sheet as “24K Gold.”

The palate delivers beautifully on the promises of the nose. The fruity notes deepen, rounding into a richer flavor profile and balanced with an earthy, sweet undertone. There’s a last dance of luxury and a hint of oaky spice in the finish, which the distillery describes as “sinfully decadent.”

Ooh, la la.

I love a spirit that winks at you, and this is just such a whiskey. From the stunning linocut-styled label (mine in a limited-edition blue) to the fungus-adorned antlers of the regal buck it portrays, this whiskey is a vibe from start to finish. It is nature and luxury combined, a steady companion for any occasion, whether that’s an adventurous day spent on a forest trail or a cozy moment in laughter with good friends.

Some whiskeys rely on grandeur and spectacle, requiring a creative hook to pique interest and position the spirit in the wider whiskey world. In comparison, this whiskey feels understated. It’s stripped back and honest, presented without pretense to let the wonder and beauty of its home shine through every pour.

It makes me want to go to the woods.

(And I, as a general rule, do not go to the woods.)

But maybe I just haven’t found the right woods yet.

Slainte, y’all.

In My Glass

Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey

Redwood Empire Distilling – Sonoma County, California

47% ABV; No Age Statement

On My Desk

Grundig Triumph Personal typewriter

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026

Day One: McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey

Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt

Day Three: Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year

A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey was sent to me by the folks at Redwood Empire Distilling. Thank you to the team for sending the bottle to sip and share!

January 15, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year

It’s day three of the 2026 Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey series, and I have a confession to make: I didn’t like Stranahan’s Rocky Mountain Whiskey the first time I tasted it.

The thing is, there are certain American Single Malt expressions that lean hard into a banana bread flavor profile. I’ve asked a few distillers about the source of this particular note, and the answer is always the same: it’s a combination of factors. Yeast selection. Fermentation methods. Where the cuts are made off the still.

It’s all science and taste and artistry tied together. Absolutely fascinating, of course.

But I just don’t enjoy it.

It’s odd, too, because I love banana bread.

I still have my grandmother’s handwritten recipe card in my kitchen, nearly 20 years after her death. She made it often, using up whatever rapidly-browning bananas were sitting on her counter. She would even send me a loaf or two when I was in college. I would warm a slice in the microwave, slather it with butter, and enjoy a little taste of home.

But one thing that I’ve discovered throughout my whiskey journey is this: while I may love something on a plate, I don’t always like it in a glass.

Banana bread is the perfect example, and it was that flavor profile that dominated my first experience with Stranahan’s Original Single Malt Whiskey. But with so many other whiskeys in the world to explore, I simply labeled the spirit as “not my favorite” and moved on.

Until a few years later, when I found myself in Stranahan’s Denver Distillery.

I had flown up from Tucson, Arizona to attend an event with the Scotch Malt Whisky Society, and I figured I ought to make the most of the plane ticket. Despite my skepticism toward Stranahan’s (unfairly assigned after one tasting of one expression), I was excited to visit another ASM distillery, so I booked a tour.

Walking through the facility—one of the largest, if not the largest, single malt-focused distilleries in the country—I learned about its history and processes. While Stranahan’s wasn’t the first to make an American Single Malt Whiskey, they are among the oldest. Their first whiskey was released in 2006, nearly 10 years after a barn fire sparked an unexpected friendship between a local brewer and a volunteer firefighter.

That fire connected local whiskey enthusiasts Jess Graber and George Stranahan, who together developed the recipe for what would become Stranahan’s Rocky Mountain American Single Malt Whiskey. Graber officially founded the company in 2004, naming it after his friend. It was the first (legal) distillery in Colorado since prohibition.

Today, Stranahan’s proudly calls itself the #1 American Single Malt. It’s a bold claim, but not without merit. After 20 years of production, they are the most awarded distillery in the American Single Malt Whiskey category. Building on the success of the Original, they offer a full range of small batch single malt whiskeys, which are available for sale in their Denver brand home and across the country.

I tasted a few of those whiskeys—including one or two limited distillery exclusives—at the end of my 2023 tour. Standing in the Stranahan’s distillery tasting room, I learned a very important lesson:

Never, ever judge a whole distillery by a single expression.

As it turns out, I like Stranahan’s just fine, thank you very much. And I’m genuinely excited to include them in this year’s Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey series. Especially because the expression they sent me, the Mountain Angel 12 Year, was recently awarded the #16 spot in Whisky Advocate’s Top 20 Whiskies of 2025.

Yes, please.

Tasting Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year Single Malt Whiskey (Batch 2)

If you’ve ever wondered where the angels might be the happiest, look to the skies above Denver, Colorado. The city’s high altitude, dry air, and dramatic temperature shifts all wreak havoc on aging whiskey. Evaporation accelerates as barrels breathe deeply and the angel’s share climbs, leaving far less in the barrel than one would prefer.

For the Mountain Angel 12 Year, the angel’s share reaches nearly 80%. A shocking four-fifths of every barrel disappears into the air in just over a decade. What remains is bottled as the distillery’s “rarest expression,” produced in limited runs and released in small batches.

My bottle is from Batch No. 2, numbered as 9,653 out of 16,800.

(Okay, it’s not a tiny run of whiskey, but I told you they were pretty big.)

For a whiskey category that’s barely three decades old, a 12-year age statement is not insignificant. Stranahan’s uses local barley—Colorado being one of the few states where the crop thrives—and crisp Rocky Mountain spring water to produce their spirits. This particular whiskey is aged first in new American Oak barrels, then finished in port wine casks.

On the nose, I get rich, ripe fruit, sweet and potent. Yes, there’s still a whisper of banana bread, but it’s refined now, not heavy or overbearing. After a swirl, the whiskey slides back down the glass at a moderate pace, not too thick and not too thin.

The first sip is surprisingly light, not entirely what I expected from a port wine-finished whiskey. It’s rounder and fuller than the legs would suggest, and the flavor flows in waves, notes of fruit and pastry coating the tongue before settling into an oaky, tannic finish.

At 94.6 proof, it falls in what I consider the sweet spot for most single malt whiskeys. Still, I wonder about its potential at a slightly higher ABV. I wouldn’t mind a little more intensity, a stronger punch of flavor on the palate.

As it stands, it’s well-balanced, and likely appeals to a wider audience at 94.6 than it would at 100 proof. Mountain Angel is also a remarkably smooth whiskey, with enjoyable nuance and depth to it.

Thank goodness the angels didn’t take it all.

In My Glass

Stranahan’s 12 Year Mountain Angel Single Malt Whiskey (Batch 2)

Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey – Denver, Colorado

47.3% ABV; 12 Years Old

On My Desk

1961 Smith-Corona Skyriter (purchased online from a Colorado Goodwill!)

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026

Day One: McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey

Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt

Day Four: Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey

A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of Stranahan’s American Single Malt Whiskey was sent to me by the folks at the distillery, who I did not tell about our rocky start. Thank you to the team for letting me taste and share their wonderful whiskey!

January 14, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2026 // McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey

Every story has a beginning, a time and place in which it finds its roots.

For American Single Malt Whiskey, that beginning can be found in Oregon. It was 1994, and the late Steve McCarthy, a lawyer-turned-businessman-turned-distiller, had begun producing brandy made from local fruit nearly 10 years before.

According to legend (and a lovely, worth-the-read feature in Wine Enthusiast), McCarthy’s venture into the spirits world started in Europe in the early 1980s. Traveling back and forth between continents on business, he grew an affinity for the brandies produced there, and decided to replicate their production back home in the Pacific Northwest. McCarthy established Clear Creek Distillery in 1985 in Hood River, Oregon, about an hour outside of Portland.

In the 90s, he turned his attention to barley, and to what would become the first American Single Malt Whiskey.

On a trip to Ireland, McCarthy spent a long evening with a friend and several bottles of Scotch whisky. Diving into the flavors of the spirit, McCarthy was inspired again, just as he had been with the brandies of Europe. Returning home to Oregon, he set to work mashing and distilling malted barley in brandy stills, filling his first barrel with new make malt spirit in 1994.

The spirit that emerged two years later was named McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey. It was the first American single malt whiskey on record.

The rest, as they say, is history.

“He didn’t understand he was launching a category,” former Master Distiller Joe O’Sullivan told Wine Enthusiast back in 2023. “At that time, he was just making a whiskey he liked and hoped other people would appreciate it. He wasn’t trying to disrupt the category. He just had a passion about it.”

American Single Malt Whiskey is a category often heralded for its diversity and innovation. It makes sense, then, that it was founded through curiosity and appreciation rather than ego.

Today, McCarthy’s is owned by Hood River Distillers, who bought it from McCarthy in 2014. Operating within the Hood River family, Clear Creek distilling continues to produce Oregon brandies, fermented and distilled from the fruits of the Pacific Northwest.

Using “old-world” techniques and local produce (per the distillery’s website), Clear Creek remains distinctively craft, producing every spirit in small batches.

And I do mean small.

Caitlin Bartlemay, who now oversees the production of Oregon Single Malt Whiskey and other products, explains that all of Clear Creek’s spirits are made on a 60-gallon Arnold Holstein hybrid pot still. Designed in Germany for the making of brandy, the stills are made of 100% copper. That composition, along with their size, allows Clear Creek to remove all of the unpleasant sulfur compounds that naturally occur in their distillate.

For the single malt whiskey, Bartlemay says, this results in “a bold and rich spirit that is balanced by both the grain characteristics and the peat smoke.”

Clear Creek’s hybrid system is especially unique in how it impacts the number of distillations needed to produce a spirit: “We are able to get the proof and style of spirit we like in a single pass instead of a double pass, so the spirit stays heavy and flavorful.”

Now Master Distiller at Clear Creek Distilling, Bartlemay originally joined the team in 2010 as a logistics coordinator under the tutelage of Steve McCarthy himself.

She says that the biggest change in the brand over the last 30 years is its range: “We have added a six year expression and two sherry cask finishes of that six year.” A partnership with Lost Lantern also resulted in a 10 year old Oregon Single Malt Whiskey.

Being the first American single malt whiskey isn’t something that Bartlemay takes lightly, either: “We are honored to be stewards of such a historic brand and look forward to watching it continue to grow with the category.”

Tasting McCarthy’s 6 Year Old Oregon Single Malt Whiskey

McCarthy’s is bottled in dark brown glass, so I wasn’t sure what to expect of the spirit, beyond the words printed on the label. I have to admit that I like the mystery; whiskey is too often judged by its color, with darker spirits earning higher marks before a taste can prove them otherwise.

Popping the cork, I immediately caught a whiff of that unmistakable smell: peat. McCarthy’s uses peat-malted Scottish barley in all of their single malt whiskeys. But anyone who knows peat knows that not all peat is created equal.

Steve McCarthy’s original whiskey inspiration and guidepost is said to have been Lagavulin 16. While Lagavulin products are certainly peated, they tend toward a more restrained, elevated expression of peat smoke than than their Islay neighbors Ardbeg and Laphroaig.

As someone familiar with that particular whisky, I can appreciate the comparison. Yes, there is a hint of the classic peat brine on the nose (which some might describe as “bandaids”), but the peat in this bottle is not a punch, but a lure. It’s salt air and even saltier bacon, the scent of the sea but also of adventure and curiosity.

(This is where I mention, for those unfamiliar with my work and my palate, that I happily drink some of the peatiest whiskies around. If you do not, take my notes with a grain of salt—pun intended.)

Bartlemay tells me that the spirit is aged in a mix of virgin and non-virgin Oregon oak barrels. There’s no particular recipe for how many of each get bottled together; every batch is blended to taste, keeping the final product consistent even when the process varies.

In a glass, the whiskey is golden and bright. I didn’t entirely know what to expect from the dark label and even darker bottle, but it managed to surprise me anyway. A quick swirl left thin peaks around the glass, eventually moving into thin, slow legs that dripped back toward the body of the spirit.

Then, the first sip.

This whiskey elicited a surprised “ooh.” Fruit is not a flavor that I typically associate with peated spirits, especially those that haven’t spent time in a sherry barrel. Peated whiskies are more often heavy and thick, with a certain meatiness to their flavors. But this one has fruit, just as rich and thick as a steak but remarkably brighter at the same time. It’s stewed apples and pastry and maybe pears, if I’d tasted a pear recently enough to be sure of the comparison.

A deep smokiness dances with the fruits, almost like a cobbler cooked over a fire (is that a thing??). The final flourish of smoke comes around at the end, more full and sweet than the typical peat finish, lingering on the tongue with a tingle.

When I poured a couple of drops into my hand, the flavors transformed into a smell of earth and sea, evoking a sense of rich wet ground after the rain. Then, as it settled, into wet socks. I know, that’s not a good smell, but it actually isn’t as bad as it sounds, or even bad at all. I can’t really explain why; it’s not repulsive in any way, but grounding and cozy.

Besides, I only found that particular note between my palms. It’s easily avoidable if you’re not particularly interested in exploring that element of the experience.

At 100 proof, the ABV is substantial enough to be present, but not overpowering. In fact, I don’t get a big punch of ethanol on this spirit. The barley flavors stand in good balance to the booze, their maturity belying their relatively young age statement at just six years.

Quite frankly, as a peat enthusiast, this could easily become a daily drinker. It would be lovely with a medium-bodied cigar, and it’s even a whiskey I’d pour for a non-peat drinker. That fascinating dance of flavors offers just enough peat to tempt the curious, without overwhelming them in smoke.

(I’ve also been known to goad a non-peater into drinking violently peated whiskies, but this one I’d do for a wholly different intention.)

McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey doesn’t just represent just the beginning of American Single Malt Whiskey. Instead, it’s a reminder of how the category was born, and the passion that now defines the category as a whole.

In Hood River, Oregon, American Single Malt Whiskey not only created a category, but a culture of curiosity, patience, and the simple desire to make a whiskey worth drinking.

Sláinte, y’all.

In My Glass

McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey

Clear Creek Distilling – Hood River, Oregon

50% ABV; 6 Years Old

On My Desk

Facit TP1 Typewriter

Read More from the Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey 2026

Day Two: New Riff Sour Mash Single Malt

Day Three: Stranahan’s Mountain Angel 12 Year

Day Four: Redwood Empire Foggy Burl Single Malt Whiskey

A Note of Gratitude

This bottle of McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt Whiskey was sent to me by Caitlin Bartlemay, master distiller for Clear Creek Distilling. Thank you to Caitlin and to the team for letting me sip and share their fantastic whiskey!

January 12, 2026
Seven Days of ASMW 2025 // St. George Single Malt Whiskey

Today is the final day of SEVEN DAYS OF AMERICAN SINGLE MALT WHISKEYS, a series to celebrate the innovative, creative, and talented distillers making American Single Malt Whiskey across the nation.

It’s been two days since the U.S. Tax & Trade Bureau’s ratification of American Single Malt Whiskey officially went into effect. That means we’re now standing (and sipping) in the future of whiskey, where barley is just as respected in American spirit production as corn and rye.

The seven distilleries and spirits I’ve featured over the last week are not, in any way, the be-all and end-all of ASMW. None were the first ASMW, and they may or may not be the “best” (though that ranking is inherently subjective). These seven whiskeys just happened to be in my cabinet at the right moment, some because of familiarity and others as a result of curiosity.

There are many other ASMWs I still have yet to try or, even if I’ve tried them, to purchase in a full bottle. Distribution is one of the biggest challenges still to overcome for American Single Malt Whiskey. Many of the producers representing the best of the category are still largely considered “craft” distillers; they’re doing a lot with limited resources, and crossing state lines to expand their general distribution is no small task.

We can only hope that the legitimization of the category will increase awareness and demand for American-made single malt whiskeys, thereby also increasing access. If you have an ASMW you love, whether enjoyed locally or discovered on your own whiskey journey, drop a comment over on Instagram. Let’s talk about it! And, even more, let’s share the gift of those recommendations with the whisky enthusiasts of the world.

(Shameless plug: if you’re an ASMW producer and want to send me a bottle to try and share, I’ll also happily trade my two cents—that is, my honest opinion and some pretty photography—for a tipple.)

Let’s dive into the final dram of the week: the Single Malt Whiskey from St. George Spirits.

This was a fun whiskey to close out the series. Like the Peated Single Malt from 10th Street Distillery, I knew nothing about this bottle when I purchased it (on the same very expensive Total Wine trip as the Balcones Single Barrel store pick). I had, in passing, heard of St. George Spirits, but I wasn’t familiar with their whiskey, or opinions of their whiskey, in anyway.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but he’s not allowed to drink whiskey anyway.

Each batch of St. George’s single malt whiskeys is available only as a limited annual release. It’s produced in Alameda, California, and the fact that I found a bottle on the shelf at all is a slight miracle. Sometimes it’s helpful to be a single malt enthusiast in a world of bourbon bros. But this bottle also sat on the shelf for a few years, ready and waiting for my eager cart to roll by.

I purchased the whiskey in 2024, but the bottle came from the distillery’s 21st batch of single malt, as indicated by “SM021” printed in small red text.

St. George released their first batch of ASMW in 2000, and they’re currently on number 24. As the batch numbers appear to correspond with the year of release, this bottle like came out in 2021.

Old or new, I’ll take it. This distillery has been making single malt whiskeys for 25 years, and I’m excited to try anything I can get my hands on.

On the nose, I immediately get a hit of sweet, slightly over-ripened green apples. There’s a slight grainy grassiness too, like walking in a farmer’s field after the rain. Yesterday when I originally opened the bottle I noted it as a little funkier than I do today; I poured another small bit this afternoon to refresh my tasting memory, and found the initial punch softened.

I guess that’s my reminder to try my whiskeys at various times; our senses vary throughout the day and week, depending on a number of factors.

On the palate, the same bright fruit flavor leads the way, but it’s rounded out with a creamy nuttiness. There’s a punch on the back end, as the whiskey takes a sharp upward swing in flavor before fading into a gentle finish. It’s unlike any other single malt whiskey I’ve tried, and that appears to be by design.

Being an older release, St. George doesn’t currently have a lot of details about Batch 21 online, but a review from the Whiskey Wash helped to answer a lot of questions.

For one, the whiskey is made with several barley varietals, including “various roast levels of two-row barley sourced from Wisconsin (pale malt, crystal malt, chocolate malt, black patent malt) and German Bamberg malt (unroasted barley smoked over beech and alder wood).” Batch 21 included whiskeys aged for 4.5 to 10 years.

Even more remarkably, those component were selected and drawn from 26 different casks. Every release of St. George Spirits’ Single Malt Whiskeys is similar in its variety, each one a blend of whiskeys stored in a diversity of cask styles and prior uses. The thread of continuity between batches is held only in the hands of the distillery’s distiller and blender, who builds a creative composition from an expansive library of whiskey casks held in the distillery’s rackhouse.

Batch 21 is unexpected and fascinating. I don’t know if it’s the whiskey I’ll reach for at the end of a long day when I want something familiar and true. Instead it’s a sipper worthy of time, space, and consideration. It’s philosophy, waiting to be examined from every angle.

Good thing I was a philosophy major.

Slàinte, y’all!

In My Glass

Single Malt Whiskey

St. George Spirits – Alameda, California

43% ABV; Est. Age 4+ Years

On My Desk

Royal Quiet De Luxe

January 21, 2025
Seven Days of ASMW 2025 // Balcones Texas Single Malt Whisky

Y’all, it is time to CELEBRATE!!

Today, the U.S. Tax & Trade Bureau’s definition and regulations for American Single Malt Whiskey officially go into effect. As of January 19, 2025, American Single Malt Whiskey has risen to official, legal, and regulatory status. This innovative, creative, barley-focused category has now taken its rightful place in the lexicon of American Whiskey alongside bourbon and rye whiskey.

One week ago, I launched this series, Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskey, to count down to today’s historic event. While personal circumstances have delayed the completion of the series, I’m back and ready to complete the set today and tomorrow with two incredible whiskeys.

For Day Six, we’re headed back to Central Texas and, more specifically, to the city of Waco, where you can find Balcones Distilling, one of the American Single Malt Whisky Commission‘s founding members.

Fun fact: long before I ever moved to Texas, my first-ever trip to the state was a visit to Waco. My choice of destination was questioned by locals at both end of my trip, but a friend from college was in her first year of graduate school at Baylor University. I spent my spring break lounging around the university’s pools where she worked.

It was “cold” by Texas standards (probably 70 degrees Fahrenheit), but downright balmy compared to Michigan. They’d had to de-ice the plane on the runway before I left, and I spent the rest of the week wearing flip-flops and chasing catfish in a kayak.

I absolutely loved it.

Somehow, despite living in Texas for several years (and a good portion of that time less than two hours away), I haven’t been to Waco since. But this incredible distillery, established in 2008 and known for both its single malt whisky and blue corn bourbon, proves that Waco’s talents extend far beyond higher education, cults, and shiplap-centered interior design.

I’ve had this single barrel bottle of Texas Single Malt Whisky in my cabinet for a few months now. I picked it up on a shockingly expensive trip to Total Wine & More here in Lexington, where I walked in just for fun and immediately filled my cart with several Scotch and bourbon and American single malt whiskeys alike.

Despite the length of my receipt, not a single regret could be found.

This Texas Single Malt Whisky is a single barrel selection bottled exclusively for the store. At 62.9% ABV, it’s not a whisky for the feint-hearted. Dark mahogany in color, the cask-level strength is matched only by the richness of both the nose and palate.

Even flavor is sometimes bigger in Texas, and this whisky has it in spades.

Though I’ve known about Balcones—and their excellent reputation—I’ve had Balcones’ single malt whisky just once before. I was in Dallas for a conference, and made my way to the hotel bar almost immediately after checking in. I remember enjoying the dram, though I sipped it through a travel-induced haze. It was good, but didn’t have nearly the impact of this unique barrel selection.

But that’s the fun of a barrel selection—while you might have a sense of the whisky’s baseline flavor, you never fully know what you’re going to get until you sip it.

For this pick, the nose is like a rich fruit pie. Maybe cherry? I don’t particularly like cherries, so it’s difficult to translate that common flavor experience into my own experience of this whiskey. The thickly married notes of stone fruit and pastry are both there, though. On the palate, it’s more of the same, though it quickly dissipates into a malty grassiness in the finish.

In all truth, I can’t fully decide if I like the finish on this whisky; it’s almost like following a delicious piece of pie by sucking on a blade of grass. That may sound terrible, but it’s not as bad as it seems, I promise. I may not be sure if I particularly like it, but I also don’t hate it. It’s definitely different than anything I’ve tried before, and I just keep picturing a cowboy, leaning against a fence after lunch.

After a wild couple of days, these tasting notes might be going off the deep end. Cowboys? Blades of grass?

Can I blame the cask strength, y’all?

Some of us aren’t built for our own whisky enthusiasm, and it doesn’t take long to feel the 125.8 proof of this whisky. Here’s what I can say: I’m very much intrigued, and I can’t wait to explore more of what this bottle has to offer.

Good thing I’ve got plenty of time to enjoy it.

Sláinte, y’all!

In My Glass

Texas Single Malt Whisky (Single Barrel)

Balcones Distilling – Waco, Texas

62.9% ABV; Aged at Least 24 Months

On My Desk

1962 Smith Corona Skyriter Manual Typewriter

Made in England

January 19, 2025
Seven Days of ASMW 2025 // 10th Street Peated Single Malt

It’s Day Five of SEVEN DAYS OF AMERICAN SINGLE MALT WHISKEYS, a week-long series honoring and celebrating the USA’s newest official whiskey category. The Tax & Trade Bureau’s ratification of American Single Malt Whiskey as a legally-defined subcategory of American whiskey was announced in December. It goes into effect this Sunday, January 19, and we’re counting down to the occasion both here and on Instagram.

All seven of the whiskeys selected for this series have two things in common. First, they’re all American Single Malt Whiskey, meaning that they’re made from a 100% barley at a single distillery in the USA aged in an oak barrel no greater than 700L, distilled to no more than 160 proof, and bottled at not less than 80. In addition, all of the whiskeys I’m choosing to feature already exist in my whiskey cabinet; I purchased no new bottles for the purposes of this series.

Unsurprisingly, that means that some of the whiskeys featured so far are old favorites, or they’re new expressions from a well-loved whiskey maker.

Today’s whiskey is neither. It’s a freshly cracked bottle from a new-to-me distillery, purchased on a whim while shopping online for another particular spirit. Since its arrival, it has held space in my cabinet, waiting to be opened and experienced and introduced to my palate.

That whiskey—or, as they prefer to be called, whisky—is the Peated Single Malt American Whisky from 10th Street Distillery. As someone who was introduced to whisky through the salty spirits of Islay, Scotland, the idea of a peated American whisky is enticing. So enticing, in fact, that I ordered this bottle with little-to-no research.

I can’t help it; I just love that rich peat smoke. And I got it with the 10th Street Peated Single Malt. The second I popped the cork the sweet smell of brine rose up from the neck of the bottle to tingle my nostrils.

I believe my exact words were “Ooooh.”

For a peat-lover, this whiskey is a delight. Made from peat-smoked malted barley imported from Scotland, it is aged in first fill ex-bourbon barrels for a minimum of three years. The distillery proudly employs a Scotch-inspired distillation process, using a double distillation and custom-built pot stills to produce their new make spirit.

The result is a golden colored whisky with well-balanced flavors of smoke, light fruit, and a hint of vanilla, like gently charred summer peaches with a dabble of cream on top. The smoke, while very present, is refined: not too brash and not too faint.

It’s a deeply enjoyable whisky, and has the awards to prove it. The Peated Single Malt won double gold at the World Wine & Spirits Competition in 2019 and Best in Class from Whiskies of the World in 2018.

And yet I found myself perplexed. Shouldn’t an American whiskey taste more….American?

Terroir is an ever-debated term in the whisky world. It’s the idea that a spirit’s provenance deeply impacts its ultimate flavor profile, thanks to the waters and grains and even the air around it.

Once upon a time, terroir was everything. Farmers, the original distillers, harvested their own grains, grown on the same lands where they were fermented and distilled into spirits. Water was drawn from local sources, and the closest woods or peat bogs provided any necessary fuel.

Even today, many distillers lean wholeheartedly into the culture and flavors of their regions. We saw it earlier this week with the Texas BBQ-inspired Stryker. Virginia Distillery relies on natural spring water from the Blue Ridge Mountains, while Whiskey Del Bac uses mesquite to smoke its barley for Dorado.

10th Street Distillery, on the other hand, seems to eschew these regional calling cards in favor of a flavor profile that can only be described as transcontinental. If not for the California location of the distillery, this whisky could be Scotch. I know that I’m sipping on an American whisky only because I was the one to read, open, and pour from the bottle. If 10th Street’s Peated Single Malt were placed among a lineup of peated single malt scotch whiskies, I don’t know that I could pick it out blind.

Is this still an American whisky if it’s made with ingredients sourced from 5,000 miles away, and if it doesn’t taste like what we’d expect from an “American” whisky?

Yes.

Even in Scotland, much of the barley used to make whisky comes from England or—even worse—continental Europe. The vocal commitment to using Islay barley that is heard from both Bruichladdich and Kilchoman is enough to tell us that their fellow Islay distilleries are likely not doing the same. Same with the peat that they still use to fire their barley kilns; while it may be Scottish, it’s not necessarily from Islay.

And yet we don’t question whether these whiskies are “Scotch.”

The truth is, terroir is only part of the story. Where the grains or the peat or anything else comes from is important. It plays a big role in informing and shaping the flavors in the glass.

The rest, however, is up to the distillers. Selecting those grains, mashing them, fermenting with their choice of yeast and timing, choosing the distillation temperature and speed, the barrels, the rack house location, and the length of maturation—every one of these steps plays a part in the final whisky.

For 10th Street Distillery’s Peated Single Malt, that all happened on American soil. It may taste like a whisky from Scotland, but it’s an American Single Malt Whisky through and through.

Sláinte, y’all.

In My Glass

Peated Single Malt American Whiskey

10th Street Distillery – San Jose, California

46% ABV; Aged at Least 3 Years

On My Desk

1961 Olivetti Lettera 22 made in Glasgow, Scotland

🥃 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

January 16, 2025
Seven Days of ASMW 2025 // Whiskey Del Bac Classic Bottled-in-Bond

On January 19, 2025, American Single Malt Whiskey becomes an official spirits category in the United States. The ratification of this new category (the first in more than half a century) was announced last month with an effective date of this coming Sunday.

For ASMW distillers and enthusiasts, the recognition of American Single Malt Whiskey as its own distinct category is significant, offering legitimacy, transparency, and accountability to the whiskeys that bear its label.

To honor the occasion, we’re celebrating with SEVEN DAYS OF AMERICAN SINGLE MALT WHISKEYS. Every day this week, I’m selecting an American-made single malt whiskey and featuring it here, on Instagram, and even on LinkedIn. All of the selected whiskeys are already in my cabinet; I didn’t buy any new bottles for this occasion. Some are open and well-loved, while others are yet-uncorked, ready to be experienced for the first time.

Some, like today’s whiskey selection, are a mix of both.

Whiskey Del Bac, the Tucson, Arizona distillery that lives by the mantra “mesquited, not peated,” deserves credit for being the American Single Malt Whiskey that drew me into the category. I lived in Tucson for seven years, with Whiskey Del Bac (also known as Hamilton Distillers) as my home distillery.

That sounds so very magical and right for the whiskey enthusiast I am today, but I have to confess something: while I enjoyed Whiskey Del Bac in a cocktail, or even poured neat, many times over the first four years of my desert life, I didn’t really give this locally-made whiskey a lot of thought.

When I went out, I almost always ordered Scotch. I had cut my whisky teeth on Laphroaig 10, and I was actively planning a trip to visit distilleries 5,000 miles away, with barely a thought to those within the borders of my own country. American whiskey simply didn’t enter my frame of reference—not bourbon, not rye, and certainly not American single malt whiskey.

All that changed when I visited Whiskey Del Bac in late 2021.

The shift really began in 2020, when the pandemic forced all of us to spend far too much time at home. I was lucky enough to continue working remotely throughout the lockdowns. Like many people in my situation, my bank account rose, my usual spending outlets suddenly limited by the seclusion. I started buying more whisky as a result, and, with an abundance of free time, learning more about the craft of distillation too.

My then-partner and I had been planning a trip to Scotland—a bucket list item we’d set together back in 2013 when we got married. As I enthusiastically dug into the details of the trip (canceled, of course, for 2020), I naturally began to research the distilleries we would visit too. And then I began to watch documentaries about whisky.

And, well, it all spiraled from there. Quickly.

I obviously knew about Whiskey Del Bac by then, and I had thought about visiting the distillery on a handful of occasions. The idea of a tour, however, always seemed to come to me in the summer. The distillery’s website warned that the facilities weren’t air conditioned. As a result, they could become extremely warm on Southern Arizona’s needlessly hot summer days.

For this thick-blooded Michigander, it was thanks, but no thanks.

I finally booked a tour in late 2021, prompted (if I recall correctly) by yet another encounter with Whiskey Del Back out in Tucson at large. It was only my second distillery tour ever, and my first single malt tour. By the end of the tasting, my vague appreciation for the desert-made spirit had risen exponentially. When they advertised a job posting for tour guides a couple of weeks later, I immediately applied.

Within a month of visiting Whiskey Del Bac for the first time, I was on the payroll, learning about the distillation process well enough to offer that same knowledge to others. By the time I left, just a short six months later, I was a fully-developed American Single Malt Whiskey enthusiast.

Whiskey Del Bac remains my favorite American Single Malt Whiskey distillery, in part because of all that it gave me.

You might have noticed sentimentality as a common thread in the narratives so far this week.

Yes, I’ll admit it: I’m a sentimental fool.

I still count many of my Whiskey Del Bac colleagues as friends, even almost three years and 2,000 miles later. Without that experience, without having lived in Tucson and walking through their front door, I probably wouldn’t live in Kentucky, and I absolutely would not be doing this series.

It helps that they make damn good whiskey too.

Today’s selection is a little bit of old and new. While the distillery is known for their mesquited single malt, called Dorado, the Classic Single Malt is an unsmoked whiskey modeled after a Speyside Scotch. It’s meant to offer a straightforward whiskey experience, not a campfire, but a bold, enjoyable whiskey experience all on its own.

Historically, the distillery has always aged its whisky in new American Oak quarter casks, each holding around 15 gallons of spirit. As a tour guide, I used to surmise (and never actually verified) that the sizing was a result of the distillery’s humble origins. Smaller casks casks are much easier to fill, maneuver, and store than the standard barrel—especially for the one-man operation that Whiskey Del Bac was in its earliest days.

The diminutive size of these barrels, paired with the extreme temperature swings of the Sonoran Desert, typically produces a mature, delicious whiskey in little more than a year.

The Whiskey Del Bac Classic Bottled in Bond—today’s American Single Malt Whiskey selection—was instead aged for four years. It is made from the same unsmoked new make spirit as the original Classic, carefully produced in a single distilling season. But instead of being poured into small barrels, the new make spirit was loaded ino new Standard American Barrel holding roughly 53 gallons. The casks were stored as legally required for bottled-in-bond, aging for at least four years in a federally bonded warehouse in Tucson, then bottled at 50% ABV.

Only a small batch of spirit was produced in this way back in 2020, the precious liquid allocated to an experiment with results yet unknown. In 2024, the larger-than-usual barrels were emptied and bottled as a limited release. This small sample sent to me by my friends at the distillery, and has waited until today to be opened and enjoyed.

The color of the Classic Bottled-in-Bond is slightly darker than the usual Classic whiskey. The flavors, too, are a little bolder. This is unsurprising, considering that it’s bottled at 50% ABV instead of the usual 46%. Beyond that, it is the same dark fruit, sweet caramel, and warm vanilla whiskey that I’ve grown to love over the last several years. It’s just a little more robust and more flavorful—and that’s saying a lot, considering that the original Classic was listed in Wine Enthusiast’s Top 100 Spirits in 2021.

In short, I love it. If you’re a fan of American Single Malt Whiskeys, you just might too.

Sláinte, y’all!

In My Glass

Whiskey Del Bac Classic Bottled-in-Bond American Single Malt Whiskey

Hamilton Distiller/Whiskey Del Bac – Tucson, Arizona

50% ABV; 4 Years Old

On My Desk

Royal Futura 600 Manual Typewriter, c. 1960

January 15, 2025