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.)
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.
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.
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.
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
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
There are only five days left until the U.S. Tax & Trade Bureau’s ratification of American Single Malt Whiskey goes into effect. If you’ve been following along around here or on The Whisky Type Instagram account, you know that we’ve been celebrating since Sunday, counting down to January 19 with Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskeys.
Our chosen spirit this afternoon is a little bit different than the first two. It’s an American Single Malt, of course, but this particular distillery prefers the e-exclusionary spelling of whisky. Plus, it’s not just one bottle we’re opening. It’s four.
As one of the founding members of the American Single Malt Whiskey Commission, Virginia Distillery has been making its 100% malted barley whiskies in the Blue Ridge Mountains since 2011. The name Courage & Conviction comes from their late founder, Dr. George G. Moore, and his oft-repeated expression, “Have the courage of your convictions.”
Courage & Conviction is not a singular whiskey. It’s a brand, a range, and a varied experience, all rooted in the same core values: malted barley and natural Blue Ridge spring water.
I first tried Courage & Conviction last February while attending the ASMWC’s convention in Denver. If memory (which is a little fuzzy after quite a bit of whiskey and time), I tried the single barrel Cuvée Cask expression—and loved it.
I wanted to know more, and particularly to experience the Courage & Conviction’s core range of whiskies. Back in July, I ordered the four pack featured here along with a full-sized bottle of the Signature Malt whisky. Thanks to a shipping issue, a quick email, and a follow-up phone call, I found myself attending the Bourbon Women Sip-osium as a guest of the distillery a month later.
And they say drinking whiskey won’t get you anywhere in life.
Virginia Distillery’s afternoon event during the Sip-osium took me and several other guests to Clayton & Crume, an artisan leather shop in Louisville. We drank, we snacked, and we made leather sleeves to fit on rocks glasses, each one embossed with the Courage & Conviction logo.
More importantly, we learned about the art of blending from Virginia Distillery’s Lead Blender, Amanda Beckwith.
The core range of Courage & Conviction consists of four whiskies, each 46% ABV and aged for a minimum of four years. The difference lies in their finishing. There’s the Bourbon Cask, the Cuvée Cask, and the Sherry Cask. The fourth core whisky, Signature Malt, is a blend of the other three.
You can buy each ready-made expression on its own, or pick up a 50 ml sampler like I did. And you could drink them as they come, sipping on each separately.
But Virginia Distillery has a unique approach to their consumer engagement strategy, which might change how you enjoy their whisky: this is a distillery that believes in audience participation.
The sampler pack of Courage & Conviction whiskies comes with a QR code. You can scan it to enjoy a virtual tasting experience with Amanda, deepening your experience of each sip.
Plus, with each of the three core component whiskies on hand, whisky enthusiasts can create their own blend of Courage & Conviction, selecting the specific amounts of each component whisky to include in their glass. Sometimes, whisky fans like me can even order a bottle of their own unique blend. This special offering, called The Draftsman, comes with a special label indicating the percentages of each whisky contained within. It also bears the name of the person who “drafted” it.
Let me just say from experience: it’s really cool to see your own name on a bottle of whisky.
My version of The Draftsman is 40% bourbon cask; 20% cuvée cask, and 40% sherry cask. I chose and ordered that particular blend in Louisville. After telling us about the distillery’s history and the basics of her trade, Amanda gave each of us small amounts of the three base whiskies along with pipettes, a place to take notes, and instructions to play.
As someone who was never really into science, it was the most fun I’ve ever had with a pipette. The fact that I was sampling my experimental blends along the way probably helped.
Unfortunately, I can’t find The Draftsman on the Courage & Conviction website right now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t blend your own at home if you have all the necessary parts. Plus, VA Distillery’s audience participation options don’t stop there. They also offer a free online education program to learn more about American Single Malt Whiskey, called the ASM Academy.
Oh, and how are the whiskies? Fantastic.
The Bourbon Cask is light and creamy, with hints of vanilla and malt a pinch of spice. The Cuvée Cask is comparatively dark and rich, digging deeper into the baking cabinet to pull out notes of brown sugar and even more spice. The Sherry Cask hits the tongue with a bold blend of fruit and leather. The Signature Malt pulls notes from all three, with a gentle layering of flavor that has earned it several 90+ point ratings.
The good news is this: for an amateur blender…you pretty much can’t go wrong drinking or mixing these whiskies.
Sláinte, y’all!
In My Glass(es)
Courage & Conviction American Single Malt Whiskies
Bourbon Cask, Cuvée Cask, Sherry Cask, and Signature Malt
Virginia Distillery Co. – Lovingston, Virginia
46% ABV; Min. 4 Years
On My Desk
A still-new-to-me Royal Quiet De Luxe in its dining room debut.
Just six days to go until American Single Malt Whiskey goes into effect as an official TTB category!
Today is Day Two of SEVEN DAYS OF AMERICAN SINGLE MALT WHISKEYS, my personal celebration of this momentous occasion and the amazing ASMW whiskeys being produced from coast to coast.
Today, I pulled out—and freshly uncorked—a bottle of Westland Beer Cash Finish American Single Malt Whiskey, Batch No. 1.
I visited Westland Distillery‘s Seattle-area headquarters about three years ago, and have had a soft spot for the distillery ever since. It was the first time I really got a sense of the community of whiskey, and especially the community among ASMW distillers and fans. I was working as a tour guide at Whiskey Del Bac at the time, and I casually mentioned it when we arrived, just to say how excited I was to be there.
The distillery didn’t yet have tours up and running after COVID, but my companion and I were immediately treated to a mini tour of the facilities, even taking a tiny sip of still-developing whiskey products in the distillery’s lab. Two weeks later, when our impromptu tour guide happened to be in Tucson, I connected her with my colleagues to ensure she got the same warm welcome.
We walked out at the end of the visit with two bottles: their flagship ASMW (the original version) and a “Cask Exploration” bottle featuring whiskey aged in a cask that previously held Redhook Brewery’s Stratosphere Barley Wine Beer.
The distillery has grown and changed significantly since then, sharpening their focus on a refreshed core range of whiskeys in 2024. I got to revisit the Flagship Single Malt with my whiskey advent calendar in December, but I also recently picked up this bottle of Beer Cask Finish American Single Malt Whiskey.
According to the label, this whiskey “celebrates the Pacific Northwest’s long tradition of craft brewing by integrating saison, stout, scotch ale, and doppelbock casks” to finish the whiskey. A total of seven different breweries partnered with Westland to provide (or perhaps return) barrels for the inaugural batch.
There’s no age statement on the bottle, but the distillery notes a minimum age of 8 years, more than double the Flagship’s 40 months.
At first sip, it’s whiskey, malty and true with hints of fruit and vanilla. Of course, it’s whiskey all the way through, but the finish? Oh man, that’s a saison. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a saison beer, but that crisp, lingering, straight-from-the-earth influence is absolutely unmistakable.
It’s nuanced, layered, and delicious. It’s also a whiskey that could only be “thoughtfully produced” in the PNW, crafted and infused with the terroir and culture of that region.
Sláinte, y’all!
In My Glass
Westland Beer Cask Finish American Single Malt Whiskey, Batch No. 1
The Tax & Trade Bureau’s official definition of American Single Malt Whiskey goes into effect on January 19, 2025—just one week from today. As most whiskey people already know, the category’s ratification was announced in December. It marks the first new American whiskey category defined by the TTB in more than half a century.
For ASMW distillers, this ruling is monumental. It marks a coming of age, placing American single malt whiskeys at the proverbial table alongside the long-established categories of bourbon and rye.
The ruling is equally important for American Single Malt Whiskey enthusiasts. The publicity, momentum, and legitimacy made possible through this ruling is expected to increase interest, access, and production of ASMW across the country and the world.
A rising tide lifts all boats, as they say.
I am excited to see where the ASMW category goes in the coming months and years. The distillers who pioneered and defined this category are already known for their innovation and their grit. Despite being an underrated, unofficial, and largely unknown category for decades, ASMW distillers have persevered to craft incredible spirits out of equal parts barley malt and passion.
To celebrate the elevation of ASMW to official status, I’m counting down to January 19 in the best way possible: with whiskey. Today kicks off a brief series I’m calling Seven Days of American Single Malt Whiskeys. Over the next week, I”ll be opening, drinking, and enjoying a different ASMW every single day.
As a note, these are all whiskeys currently residing in my liquor cabinet. A couple of the bottles are already open, known, and loved. Several, however, are not yet familiar. They were purchased but not yet uncorked and explored.
Today’s selection falls in the former category, as a whiskey that has become a near-daily drinker over the last several months: Stryker Texas Smoked Single Malt Whiskey from Andalusia Whiskey Co.
I received my first bottle of Stryker a little over a year ago as a thank you gift for dog sitting. It took me several months to open it (largely due to my cross-country move). The bottle’s contents have steadily dwindled, doled out into regular drams, since then.
I absolutely love this whiskey.
Stryker is produced in Blanco, Texas, a small town in the state’s picturesque Hill Country. I spent my 20s in the nearby city of Austin, and so I felt a connection to this whiskey before even pouring it into the glass. The distillery opened a year after I left Texas, and so the connection is definitely not direct, but sentimentality is real, y’all.
If there’s anything Texas knows, it’s flavor. The state is renowned for its barbecue, with an emphasis on smoked meats and brisket so juicy it melts in your mouth. Even this mostly-vegetarian was known to pick at a pile of BBQ’d meats back in the day.
Stryker draws on this tradition, kilning its malted barley over a fire of oak, apple, and mesquite woods to produce a unique flavor profile rich with the terroir and culinary traditions of Central Texas.
The resulting spirit is double-distilled and aged for three years in charred oak casks, which impart a sweetness to balance and introduce the heavy smoke flavor. It stands up at a respectable 50% ABV in the bottle, with a rich mahogany color.
For me, every sip is transportation, taking me back to late nights in the honky tonk bars of Austin. That city is where I learned to love whiskey and to two-step, tripping over a pair of boot-clad left feet while the smoke of an outdoor barbecue lingered in the air.
My nostalgia aside, the whiskey is well respected in its own regard. In 2021, Whiskey Advocate awarded the whiskey an enviable score of 93 points, placing it near the top of a pile of incredible American single malt whiskeys.
Stryker has quickly become one of my favorite whiskeys. It’s also one of the first options I offer to ASMW-curious friends when they visit my home and whiskey cabinet. Unfortunately, that means that my bottle is now just a quarter full, and the end is looming.
Because I’ve put myself on a whiskey-buying diet in 2025, I can’t replace the bottle just yet.
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
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:
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.
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
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!
It is officially fall 🍁🍂 in Kentucky, and, after 7 years of autumn-free desert living, I am loving every single second of it.
Maybe it’s the cooler weather or the changing colors, but I’ve been in the mood for all the rye whiskies lately. Neat or in a cocktail, I want to taste spicy, warming notes.
That makes it a perfect time to pop open this bottle of @sirdavis, the new(ish) rye whisky from @beyonce.
On the whole, I’m generally skeptical of celebrity spirits. It’s nothing against the famous faces behind them—it’s just that this whisky could taste like horse slobber and still sell. Beyoncé is just that big of a deal.
But then I learned how Queen Bey worked with Dr. Bill Lumsden (of Glenmorangie and Ardbeg scotch whisky fame) to craft her introduction to the whisky market. She also thoughtfully aged it in a Pedro Ximénez sherry cask (my favorite). And, according to early reviews, this whisky is actually really good.
So I bought it, and I can confirm: this whisky is really, really good.
“We have crafted a delicious American whisky that respects tradition but also empowers people to experience something new and unique in the category.”
SirDavis Rye is a dark mahogany color, sold in a stunning fluted glass bottle. Sources say the spirit is made with 51% rye and 49% malted barley.
In the glass, the official tasting notes suggest Seville oranges, clove, cinnamon, ginger, and toffee on the nose. There is definitely something almost old fashioned-esque in the aromas, with hints of flamed oranges and spice.
On the palate, the whisky is smooth and rich, but not overpowering. It’s well-rounded and thick with a short finish.
At first, it’s like a blanket at a bonfire, wrapping your tongue in cozy warmth. Then the baking spices come through, adding a flash of cinnamon and pepperiness to the fire.
This is not a rye that I would necessarily put in a cocktail; the whisky’s barley content softens the bold flavors of rye that typically punch up a Manhattan or an old fashioned. Plus, it’s just 44% ABV—respectable but less sturdy than I prefer in my mixed drinks.
That’s perfectly fine; this whisky doesn’t need anything else. SirDavis American Rye is a gorgeous sipper all on its own.
Slàinte, y’all!
In My Glass
SirDavis American Rye Whisky No Age Statement; 44% ABV USA
The Whisky Type 