Tastes

I tend to write tomes here in my tasting reviews, primarily because this platform serves as a place not only to keep my tasting notes, but to help me retain a whisky diary. You see, I like to remember my experience of a bottle as well as what the whisky tasted like. For example, Maker's Mark is dear to my heart, not only because they make solid bourbon, but because one sunny afternoon back in 2005, with the spring coming on, my buddies Peter and Luke and I killed a bottle of your standard 90-proof Maker's Mark over the course of what I remember being just a wonderful afternoon, sitting on Peter's front porch, conversing on all manner of topics. What did we talk about? Not sure I can remember now. Not sure I could remember the next day, but the memory of being with my friends and drinking whisky and laughing a lot has stuck with me and added to my fondness of Maker's Mark. So, if you'll bear with me, this is part of the explanation of why my "tastings" are so involved. In any case, this review should (I hope) be shorter. It's been a while since I've laid out money for a budget bourbon. Maybe six months ago, I picked up Evan Williams Bottled in Bond to give it a taste test against Jim Beams Old Tub, and Old Tub was solidly the winner there, but these days I tend to go higher end, so I tend not to dip into the $20-$30 category too often. This Evan Williams 1783 was an impulse buy. I was walking past the Spirits store and popped in, and this was on the shelf for $19.99, and I thought, why not? Again, wondering if there's a budget bourbon out there that could displace Old Tub in my heart. And this gives it a go. If you're familiar with the Evan Williams lineup, this 1783 Small Batch is much better than Black Label and slightly better than Bottled in Bond (otherwise known as White Label); I have a bottle of Single Barrel that I haven't opened yet in my collection, so I don't know if it's better than that, but it's certainly worth the $20 price tag. The nose is oaky and sweet, but not cloyingly so. I can see why the expert review compares it to an oatmeal raisin cookie, because the sweetness has something of raisins and nutmeg/cinnamon in the aroma, and the flavor profile is undemanding but satisfying if you're expecting this to be what it's marketed as. If you go in expecting more, you'd be disappointed, but if you expected more...well, what can I say? This isn't a whisky that's going to rock your world, but it will satisfy those who like fairly standard and straightforward bourbon flavors without breaking the bank. Because I can get Old Tub for $17 and because I like it a slight bit more, that's still the king of bourbons under $25 for me. But I could see myself buying this 1783 again, especially when the stores run out of stock of Old Tub. As a side note, while drinking this I started to think, you know how you're always seeing 10 best lists on whisky review sites? One of them you never see is 10 best whiskies to put in a flask when you're headed out to a concert, say, or a show where you know you'll be able to sneak one in. With a flask, of course, nose doesn't particularly matter since you're not going to be sniffing it before it hits your palate. And the nose on this is decent but I'd put this high on a list of flask whiskies, given it's price and strength and the fact it goes down smoothly for what it is. So how about the rest of you out there? Ever use a flask, or is that sort of frowned upon once you start taking whisky seriously? And if you use one, what would be your top flask whiskies?

This is the last bottle in my collection that I currently have open that I haven't "tasted" here, and I figured I should write a review before opening something else (that something else here being the Laphroaig Cairdeas 2021 Pedro Ximenez I'll be cracking during the Eagles-Lions Halloween game this Sunday with my dad and my brother-in-law). Of course, saying I haven't tasted this is disingenuous because the bottle I have open is actually the second of Overholt 114 I've consumed. I just wasn't a member of this forum when I had the first bottle open, so I didn't provide my thoughts. Obviously, if this is my second bottle, I either bought two or went back to dip into the well again, and I'll just be clear, it's the later. In fact, when I went back to buy more, I bought four bottles. Word on the street is that this is limited edition, and since it's $30, my assessment was that it was good enough to stock up on. Also, since it's only available in PA and OH, it feels kind of like a special event, a once in a while happening only in my region (which naturally means they're probably going to make it a part of their core lineup going forward, right?...honestly I wouldn't complain if that were the case). Old Overholt is my favorite of the "Old" names. Old Tub sounds like something prohibitionists made gin inside. Old Forester is what I have in my garage, but Old Overholt sounds like that grizzled crusty guy who sits at the end of the bar by himself who never says a word but who you're sure has seen a thing or two in his time. The inevitable comparison given the proof here and the "Old" brand name is Old Grand-dad 114, which is the only other budget barrel proof whisky I can think of. But Old Grand-dad is a bourbon, so the comparison is merely in proof and price, and since I've never had Old Grand-dad, I can't speak to whether it's any good (though my understanding is that it's decent for the price). That's the case here, too, with Old Overholt 114. If you're looking for a decent tasting rye with some pow behind it as far as proof goes and you're not planning to taste it against a Single Barrel Cask Strength Knob, this one is going to deliver. It's rich on the nose with fairly standard rye aromas, veering toward the spicy side of rye rather than a sweeter or floral profile, though there's maybe the slightest hint of cheery in there. The palate follows the nose and doesn't really expand or grow in complexity, which is all right with me. For the price, I wasn't expecting it. It's got a nice satisfying medium finish that mixes in a flavor that almost reminds me of peanut butter on whole wheat and actually found me saying the first time I sipped it, "Oh, yeah, that's nice." For a 114, this is relatively smooth, not too much alcohol bite. The expert review here says there's something missing in the middle, which I think I'm seeing here also described as thin, and I get that, but I generally think you'll only really miss whatever it is that's missing if you start thinking about other cask strength ryes that are better crafted/longer aged but those also cost $30 more. My verdict here is a simple one: for the price, I really like this, which is why I still have 3 bottles of this in my collection to look forward to.

The last time I was on FaceTime with my favorite long-distance drinking buddy, this topic came up: what are some good "come down" whiskies? I'm not sure if we're using the right language here or if this is a common topic in the whisky community, but essentially, what he was asking me is, "When you start the evening with your best bottle but don't want to deplete it too fast, what are some good mid- to lower-priced whiskies to switch to that are still tasty?" Now, I'll admit, the answer to that question likely depends on what top shelf bottle you started with. If you're drinking a cask strength Islay, it's a lot harder to figure out what "come down" whisky to switch to. If you're drinking Ardbeg UIgeadail, it would make sense to switch to Ardbeg 10, but the 10 is still pretty expensive, so do you switch to the Beastie, which is around $40 in my region, but has an SRP of $48 and so isn't exactly cheap in most places? And can you transition from Islay to non-Islay easily? But we're not talking Islay here, we're talking rye. And the first thing that crossed my mind when I opened this bottle last night, watching my abysmal Philadelphia Eagles lose in an extremely embarrassing fashion to the LV Raiders, was that Lot 40 would make a great "come down" whisky from most top tier bourbons or ryes (and maybe even scotches if you find one that has a similar flavor profile, something that's rum cask finished maybe). I'm going to be honest, I've never seen a more accurate expert review on this site. Palates aren't entirely objective and when I read reviews, I sometimes like to sip at the same time and play that game of what am I tasting that they're tasting. What am I not getting that they're saying is there. (And again, being honest, my favorite part of that game is reading the outlandish things certain reviewers write, like the fact that Whisky Advocate's review of this states that there's the faint trace of bicycle tire rubber in this, that makes me think that particular reviewer is just making things up). But here, what you get is exactly what's described, cherry, salted caramel, and brown sugar. It's on the nose and palate and on the finish, which isn't long, but frankly, what about that flavor profile doesn't sound absolutely delicious (I'm not getting the bicycle tire rubber, but I also have to cop to the fact, I've never tried tasting a bicycle tire). This isn't a complex whisky, but the point of a "come down" whisky isn't the complexity but the price and the degree of deliciousness. I've had my eye on Lot 40 for a few years now. And I'd always intended to pick up a bottle, but never seemed to get around to it. I guess waiting paid off because it just went on clearance in our area and the price dropped from $40 to $32. Of course, the bad news is that with this going on clearance, I managed to pick up the last bottle in Philadelphia (hitting the store on 1515 Locust right before closing after a phenomenal Doug Stanhope comedy set at Helium). So, I'm not going to be able to get another unless the company releases a new batch, and let's face it, when companies release new batches they often jack up the price, which might put this out of good "come down" whisky range. But for now, I'll drink up. This is good stuff, better than most, not quite as good as the best out there, but the best out there isn't what "come down" means anyway. (P.S., of course, if this is the best bottle you've got, there ain't nothing wrong with that either, because this is tasty stuff. If you need a "come down" whisky recommendation from Lot 40, I'd suggest Old Overholt Bonded, which is available widely, or, if you can get your hands on it, JP Wiser's Triple Barreled Rye).

For the past two years, late-summer, either August or early-September before the season officially changes, Fine Wine & Good Sprits has received bottles of both Rebel Distiller's Collection and Ezra Brooks Distiller's Collection, and since I noticed them, the idea of picking them up has been kicking around in my mind. In particular, the Ezra Brooks appeals to me because I enjoyed Old Ezra 7 Year back when I picked up a bottle at the tail end of 2019, but Rebel appeals to me too, since I've enjoyed Rebel 100 as a budget bourbon. Thing is, they always come down the pipeline when I have more enticing ways of allocating my whisky budget. Even at $34.99 for Ezra and $39.99 for Rebel, there just always seems to be something else I'd prefer, but this year, I bit the bullet and picked up both in one go. There are a few reasons for this. The first is that Old Ezra's back in stock, but not in the same way. By this I mean, when I picked up the Old Ezra in 2019, it was right at the announcement of its appearance on the Whisky Advocate top 20 and it's price was $39.99. And I guess what appearing on that list means is a bump in price, because now, a mere two years later, the FW&GS has it for $59.99. Now, when I say I liked it, I don't mean I liked it at $60. Plenty of reviewers tout how they don't judge a whisky based on price, but I'm not that reviewer. I don't get sent free samples, I pay for my whisky myself, and as such, the tag has to be worth the experience. And given that $59.99 is also the price of the Maker's Mark Wood Series and Knob 12, do you see where I'm going with this? But I'm talking about Rebel here and not the Old Ezra, really I just wanted to get this off my chest (though since both of these are made by LuxCo, I figured I'd throw this up here if they have someone monitoring social media and they're wondering why no one's buying the latest batch; seriously, bring the price back down and I'll be more than happy to return). When it comes to the decision to pick up the Rebel Distiller's Collection, it's all about the wheat. Going back ages, my favorite bourbon in my 20s was Maker's Mark's standard 90 proof bottling. I didn't know at the time that part of the reason I liked the flavor profile was that it was a wheated whisky, but since learning this (in addition to learning Larceny is wheated, and I love some Larceny), I've started to seek the wheat. And at this price, a barrel proof wheated bourbon just makes sense. Sort of. I say sort of there because so many of my tasting reviews here are a combination of me reacting to what I've read previous reviewers say of a particular bottle and me comparing said bottles to bottles I've had in the past. And I say sort of because, as someone mentions elsewhere in their tasting, this is good, but not quite as good as a bottle of Marker's Mark Cask Strength. Now, in the past that wouldn't have meant much because Maker's Mark Cask Strength was $59.99. But this year that price has dropped to $39.99, the same price as this Rebel, and around here, the Maker's Cask Strength has been going on sale for $36.99, so it strikes me, is Rebel Distiller's worth it when you can get Maker's for the same price or cheaper if on sale? The answer isn't a definitive "no." It's not a strong "no." Because this Rebel Distiller's Edition isn't bad. And when I say it isn't bad, I'm not saying that in the sense of trying to convince myself I didn't waste my money (like I did with my recent tasting of Elijah Craig Barrel Select). I don't regret picking this up, it's just...not quite as good as the Maker's is. I mean, they're similar in profile. The nose here is strong with cherries and cinnamon, and at cask strength you do get a hint of ethanol here that I remember being on the batch of Maker's, but I can dig on that. The palate here is standard wheated with more cherry and cinnamon and the occasional bubblegum note coming through that's also nice, but where this differs from the Maker's is that there's this underlying plastic note that doesn't ruin the experience but mars it ever so slightly and makes me wonder after my atrocious experience with the Elijah Craig Circle Liquors Barrel Select Pick if I'm just not having very good luck with the barrel select bourbons I've been getting my hands on. In a game of would you rather have, I don't necessarily see this coming out on top against Maker's, but I'd rather have another bottle of this than that Elijah Craig (I'm still a little ticked off at dropping my cash on that stinker). I'm giving this a 2.75 because I gave Writer's Tears that rating and I'd rather have another bottle of this than that (at least this was interesting), but obviously I'm not comparing flavor profiles there because this and that are apples and oranges. This tastes good enough to go down relatively easily (I drink enough cask strength whiskies now that the proof isn't that hard on the palate), but it's not particularly memorable. Here's to hoping the Ezra Distiller's Collection will prove better. I guess I can't complain too much: at this price, to get a barrel proof bourbon that tastes this good isn't bad, but it doesn't have me waiting for next year's batch with bated breath either.

Are Redbreast and Green Spot the Beatles and Stones of the Irish whiskey world? One producing great records of gooey pop goodness after another while their rival produces raunchy balls-to-the-wall singles year-after-year, making it near impossible to decide with any finality which is better. When my wife and I first moved into our house well nigh ten years ago, my uncle gifted us a bottle of Redbreast 12 at our housewarming, and until that time, it was the best Irish whiskey I'd ever tasted (though granted my experience theretofore had been Jameson and Tully). Since then the Irish repertoire has expanded to include bottles of Writer's Tears and Knappogue, but tonight, I added Green Spot, and if we're keeping with the rock parallels, Green Spot is the Beatles to Redbreast's Stones. Seriously, where had this Irish whiskey been my whole life? The amusing admission: I still haven't had regular Green Spot, which might be why I'm calling this one the Beatles. The Chateau Montelena, having been finished in Zinfandel casks, piles on the fruity sweetness like a McCartney piano ballad, but whereas I hate Paul's piano ballads, I love this flavor, this nose. And like a Paul ballad, it was something of a Long and Winding Road that led me to this Green Spot's door. By which I mean, it was #16 on the Whisky Advocate Top 20 in 2018, which put it on my radar, and my good friend from Chicago (who I've mentioned before in my whisky tasting review as a big influence on what I'm drinking) picked up a bottle of the regular Green Spot this past St. Patrick's day when we had our FaceTime call and raved about it. So at that point, I knew It Won't Be Long until I picked up my own bottle, though it was sort of fortuitous that Montelena became available as an online only pick in our local stores and I noticed it and snapped it up. The nose is as lovely as wandering through Strawberry Fields, the aroma heavily influenced by the wine to make the berries prominent, if not the most prominent note, but there's also vanilla and a bit of spice. The palate is rich and creamy (the creaminess being my favorite part), though of course, being Irish, there's also apple/pear and cereal grains in the mix. In the finish, I even get something like vanilla milkshake, which might be what the bottle profile is calling marzipan, which I've never had but my wife tells me is a sweetened almond paste. It's a nice whiskey to sip and sit with with no rush to finish the glass but let the experience linger as long as possible. I cracked this bottle with my wife tonight on the back deck since my wife, when she drinks whiskey, drinks Irish whiskey, and we sat and had a glass together as dark came over the house, enjoying the glow of the hanging lights above us. Now I'm at my parents' house, drinking it with my dad and preparing to watch our football team get our rear ends handed to us (because they're playing last year's Super Bowl champs; though update: they did make a game of it and lost by a smaller margin than expected), but at least the whiskey is good. I've seen this going for $100 in some states, but I'd never give them that much of my money for this. I nabbed it for $64.99, and at that price, I'd strongly recommend picking it up. Here the stock ran out within 2 weeks (I pulled the trigger when there were only 12 bottles left online), so my advice is don't hesitate. If you're an Irish fan, you won't regret it.

By Wee Beastie, they're implying, of course, a "little beast," but with a 5 year old scotch, I'm thinking, "Weeeeeeeeee, Beastie!" Because that's the true sound of a 5 year old. Going down the slide, being tossed about in a tilt-a-whirl. But I'm also thinking, we BEASTIE! As in, this is the beast in Ardbeg's core lineup. As in the untamed, the unhinged. As in the slightly sharper, less refined, gruffer version of its older siblings. An apt comparison here, if you're familiar, would be the Highland Park Magnus to the Highland Park 12. Magnus sounds like Beastie, and true to Beastie form, it's got more edge as well. Don't get me wrong, if refinement is what you're looking for, the Park 12 and Ardbeg 10 are better whiskies. But sometimes, don't you want a little stank, a little sweet and lowdown, a little nitty in your gritty? I do. Not always, but enough that I appreciate the option being available. If Ardbeg 10 is the country club, this is the bluegrass hoedown. If Ardbeg 10 is the Foxtrot to Sinatra, this is getting freaky in the club to whoever people get freaky in the club to these days (I'm 8 times as old as the whisky I'm reviewing here, so I don't know). I love the boldness of putting a 5 year age statement on it. It's like putting rims on 1984 Ford Escort. Young whisky risks too much grain, but that's not the case here. There are plenty of people who love this, don't get me wrong. And those who love it can contextualize it the way I'm doing now. But I've see others who hate it, and while I'd like to say that's okay, when I look at the haters, what I see are that stodgy guy in the back of his Royce rolling down the window asking for Grey Poupon when this is Gulden's Spicy Brown and trying to judge it as though it should be something more is...well, go ahead. I'm just not sure I see the point. It's Ardbeg, so the brass tacks here are peat smoke, sea salt, iodine. But where this differs from the 10 (and I've tasted them together) is that you get a strong butterscotch flavor with the youth of the Beastie. But what we're working with when I say butterscotch is really like a Werther's Original. And true to the stank theme here, it's like a Werther's Original that's mellowed in your grandpa's pocket on a hot summer day, and he's bequeathed it to you, and while you might like ice cream better (read: Ardbeg 10), grandpa is on a pension now, and this was the best he could do on his budget. And so, you get the Beastie. Now if only what they meant by Beastie could have included an advertising campaign with MCA (r.i.p.), Ad-Rock and Mic D. Maybe some archival footage from those first three records to really get at the nature of the Beast. A shame that no one thought of it really, but even without the ad campaign, I picked up 4 bottles on sale for $36.99/bottle. List price here is 43.99, so really, what are we complaining about? Party with the beast while you can.

"You know, Glenfiddich12 isn't a bad little starter Scotch. I've always liked it." "Not at all." "It's somehow always reminds me of walking through a pine forest in autumn. I get some fruitiness, but I get pine. I don't know why, I don't hear pine being prevalent in a lot of whiskies, but I get it in this and a few others." "Yeah, definitely fruitiness." "Remember how I had that bottle of Glenfiddich 14 and I poured out my first glass because I thought I hadn't rinsed it, but the whisky had that soapy thing going on? I get that here, but it's not as intense, it doesn't ruin the 12 in the way it ruined the 14 for me." "Did you end up finishing that bottle or did you dump it?" "I finished it, but it was tough to find ways to enjoy it. I usually poured it later in the evening when I didn't care as much what I was drinking. That soapiness is a thing with Scotches. I looked it up. It's kind of like how some people love cilantro and some people think it tastes like soap. Same thing." "Hmmm..." "I also saw a review where someone was saying they had the same problem with Glenfiddich Fire and Cane and I loved Fire and Cane. When it was on clearance for $25, I picked up three bottles." "Cane? Sounds like cinnamon. Not up my alley." "No, it's smoky and rum cask finished. Part of their experimental series. I liked it a lot. I still have a bottle. Probably the oldest in my collection. From May 2019 or so. I haven't found occasion to open it yet." "Guess you need the right time and place." "Yeah, that's always the case really. The main problem with Glenfiddich 12 is the price really. When it's on sale, it's $47.99 and when Highland Park 12 is on sale it's $49.99 and who wouldn't pay two dollars more for Highland Park 12?" "That's true. I also really liked Dark Origins..." "But they don't make that anymore..." "Yeah, that's a shame." "When they put the Glenfiddich 12 on sale for the 375 mL, it's $21.99. Which, if pricing followed logic, would make a 750 mL bottle $44. I'd pay $44 for this. It doesn't make sense. But it's funny how price makes that difference when you're looking at the shelf." "Yeah it is." "But it's not bad. Been a long time since I've had it." "Cheers!" "Cheers!"

I’ll begin with the most minor of quibbles because it plays a role in my New Riff Bottled-in-Bond Rye journey: the bottle is too tall, perhaps the tallest bottle in whisky. It’s the biggest I’ve ever had in my collection at least, edging out Writer’s Tears by a half-inch. The bottle is beautiful otherwise, with its waxed enamel look (it’s not waxed or enameled; it just appears that way); the black is smoky and smooth, as though someone burned a candle in it and the ash has stained the glass. The only reason I bring this up is that I have one cabinet where I keep my open bottles and a closet with shelving where I store my unopened collection, and the New Riff bottle doesn’t fit in the collection closet; thus, it was moved prematurely to the open-bottle cabinet. And because it was there, I ended up opening it before I was in the mood—on impulse, without the forethought I usually put into what bottle I plan to crack next. By impulse, I mean that I had just opened another bottle of rye that night—Sagamore Spirits Añejo Barrel Finished. It was the first game of the football pre-season, and it had been a while since my dad and I had raised a glass together (Father’s Day), and my dad had brought over the bottle I’d gifted him on that occasion—Knob Creek Rye Barrel Select. So, we started with the Sagamore and moved to the Knob, and because the Knob was 115 proof and I had an open bottle of Old Overholt 114 in the house, we had to pour the Overholt to get a decent comparison (the Sagamore and the Knob being just too different in flavor profiles to offer a fitting or fair comparison). Which means I then had two ryes open, and I generally don’t have more than two bottles of the same style going at the same time. And yet, when I opened the open-bottle cabinet to pour the Overholt 114, I spotted the New Riff Rye just sitting there, staring at me, calling out, “Open me! O-PEN MEEEEEE!!!”And since I was three whiskies in, I gave in to temptation. (I’m sure none of you have the faintest idea what that’s like here, do you?). Now, as far as problems go, this isn’t a major one (you know, boo hoo, I have too many bottles of whisky open, I feel really bad for you, right?). But somehow, my appreciation of the bottle of New Riff, in the past two and half months, has escaped me. It was just kind of….there? During the initial tasting, during the run of ryes with my dad, New Riff held its own. My favorite of the night was the Sagamore Añejo, if only for how unique and interesting it was. The weakest was the Overholt 114 (though to me it’s still plenty tasty so don’t look at this as a strike against it. It was facing some hefty competition) while the Knob was the most conventionally satisfying (as in, I’d buy this again and have it on hand regularly whenever I can). But the New Riff made a strong showing. It just seemed that every time I reached for New Riff after this, I’d already had something else prior to drinking it, which means it never met my taste buds without the influence of some other spirit lingering in my mouth. Of course, comparisons can open up whisky, allow you to note flavors you wouldn’t have otherwise notice alone. After all, if you have the Overholt 114 by itself, it’s a satisfying whisky and it took the Knob comparison to lead me to the realization that it wasn’t as robust as it seemed on its own. In any case, the level of the New Riff was slowly diminishing almost without my having realized it (pouring out some for my wife, making us Manhattans with it). I glanced at it the other day and realized it was a little more than half gone, and I worried I was going to end up clearing the bottle before I gained an accurate impression of the rye on its own merits. And this rye was special. It was #17 on Whisky Advocate’s 2019 Top 20. And because you can’t get it in here, it was another one of those bottles I picked up outside Ocean City on my yearly visit there, so it wasn’t like I could run down the street and nab another 750, right? I’ll begin the flavor profile by noting that New Riff makes one hell of a Manhattan. It mixes well with the vermouth and bitters but it’s strong enough to stand out as distinctive. I tried the other ryes I mentioned in a Manhattan, and the Sagamore was too distinct in its finish to blend properly and the Overholt’s proof is too high and overpowers all the other elements. But what about the New Riff Rye itself, consumed neat, on its own merits? My first impression was that it reminds me of George Dickel Rye and High West Double Rye (sorry I reference these often, but I do so because of their wide availability and my assumption that wide availability makes others understand what I’m referencing), with a similar strongly herbal aroma and palate. This is solid company to find yourself in, except New Riff is $10 more than High West Double and $20 more than Dickel. Unfortunately, I don’t have a bottle of either of those handy now for a direct comparison, so I can’t say with any certain whether there’s anything about the New Riff that would make it worth the extra Hamilton or Jackson. But I don’t think the New Riff is outrageously priced at $46 for a bottled-in-bond, and as far as bottled-in-bonds go, I’d take this over Rittenhouse, a rye where my one experience with it left me feeling it was flat on flavor and highly overrated (though I wouldn’t rule out trying it again, given it’s around $25, but then again, so many ryes, so little time). The New Riff is herbal with a light touch of mint. And if you linger, you might get a little chocolate and coffee. The palate extends this with a little bit of bitter citrus, not bitter in a bad way, peel I suppose is what I mean, and then, when I let the sip fill my mouth, I experienced this sense-memory of Lipton Iced-Tea, either floral or lemon or a little mixture of both. Is it all in my head based on how I’ve prefaced this that I’m judging it after I’ve let it sit too long? It’s still good, but not quite as good as I remember it being the first night. The finish is nice and spicy, but I’m not sure it’s distinctive enough for me to choose this over other similar-tasting ryes in its price bracket. Not sure I see this as a whisky of the year, but it’s decent. I just don’t see anything making this exceptional. I see that it’s on FW&GS’s list as “coming soon,” but I doubt I’ll be picking it up again. Still, they also list the barrel proof rye as coming soon, and since it’s only $10 more, I’m certain that this is another bottle I’ll have to try.

You ever have a whisky that makes you wonder if maybe you did something to screw up your sense of taste? One that makes you sit there and doubt your buds? The kind of whisky where you have to taste other whiskies that you know much better after it just to check and make sure that everything's okay? Elijah Craig Small Batch is one of those budget bourbons drinkers hold in high regard. For about $30, you apparently get a pretty flavorful whisky with caramel and vanilla, but it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to devote $30 to a budget bourbon. Over the past year, however, I’ve become more interested in the unique whisky experience, bottles that come and go and won’t come again, strangers passing in the night, sharing an experience they’ll remember fondly as one time only, no promises made for the future, no repeat performances. All right, slow down, I’m talking about whisky here. What I mean, of course, is that the words “limited distribution” appeal to me, the words “single barrel” appeal to me, the words “exclusive” appeal to me. And while I know that plenty of stores carry the Elijah Craig Single Barrel Select, and while I know that Elijah Craig Single Barrel Select tends to get released each year, the words “Single Barrel Select” make this stand out for me as something I would be inclined to seek out over a standard “Small Batch” that constitutes the core rage of a brand’s sales. Of course, near me, the FW&GS stores differentiate between the two by charging $13 more for the Single Barrel Select, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend that much for Elijah Craig, even unique Elijah Craig, when for just a small amount more, I could get something I knew I liked more (or if I wanted to spend just $20 more, I could get Elijah Craig Barrel proof). Not every region and every store, of course, charges that much more for their Elijah Craig Single Barrel Select, so when I was down the shore with my family in July and spotted Circle Liquors’ pick for…if I remember correctly $32.99, I snapped it up (along with a few other bottles available there but not here). Since I collect whisky, I don’t necessarily get to everything I buy straight away, but this past weekend, while watching my beloved Philadelphia Eagles struggle desperately against a vastly superior KC Chiefs, I cracked this open with my dad, thinking that, from the description of EC Small Batch (Caramel, Vanilla), this would prove autumnal and suit the transition into October. And…? Well, I wasn’t impressed. To call the nose delicate would be doing this whisky a favor. It’s muddled. Yes, I can tease out caramel and vanilla, really the vaguest of sweetnesses, if I put in the effort and strain my nostrils so much that the veins are sticking out on my forehead, but it’s faint among the grain, which predominates—not to such an extent that the nose is harsh, but to the extent that it’s certainly nothing to celebrate. Light-bodied would also be hyperbole when it comes to describing the flavor. It was so incredibly light-bodied as to have almost no flavor (again, I could tease out caramel and vanilla, but I was hoping this whisky would live up to the hype surrounding other reviews I’ve read of EC Single Barrel Select). Now, full disclosure, when my dad and I drink whisky during football, I usually supply the whisky. Part of this is I put in the time to research whisky more deeply than he does, so I usually find exciting stuff. And part of it is the sense that, after all he did for me in raising me, he shouldn’t have to pay for a drink for the rest of our lives if we’re drinking together; but he doesn’t like to arrive empty-handed, so he’ll often bring something, and this week, we started off with his offering of Wild Turkey 101 Rye. So switching to something lighter like the EC Barrel Select might not have been fair to the EC Barrel Select. It may have affected the taste to have recently had something a little bit heavier on the tongue (and also, I didn’t dry the glasses so thoroughly after rinsing them, so the trace amounts of water might have been affecting the EC Single Barrel flavor?), so I tried to equivocate. Scratch that, "we" tried to equivocate. We kept looking at each other. "It's not a bad whisky," we said to each other. Several times. And you know what it means when you keep saying, "It's not a bad whisky"? If I have to spell it out, it means you're trying to convince yourself that you didn't waste your money. “Maybe a little time to breathe would do this some good,” I said. So, after a glass of this, we shifted to Writer’s Tears Copper Pot because by that point, the liquid in our glasses didn’t matter so much and I wanted to kill the Writer’s Tears since the level was getting low. And now a few days have passed, and it’s had a little more time to breath. And…? The nose remains muddled, and the grain in the whisky has become the most prominent flavor dominating everything. The finish is harsh, raw. I’d read somewhere that Elijah Craig’s predominant whisky used to be a 12 year, but they were forced to go to Small Batch when they started to run out of supply. Apparently these days all the 12 year is used for their Barrel Proof line (correct me if I’m wrong here) while Small Batch blends 7-9 year barrels? I also read that the Barrel Selects are often more engaging, more interesting because they’re predominantly 8-9 years and obviously not mixed with younger stock. So what happened here? If I were to guess, I would say that the Circle Liquors pick was significantly younger. Was that why it was comparatively inexpensive to the stock in FW&GS here, where they state definitively 8 or 9 years on the shelves? I’ve had some great bourbon in my time and I’ve had some bad bourbon in my time, and this, I can safely say, is not working for me (by which I mean, hesitant as I am to admit I wasted money on a dud). Now I just have to figure out if I can use the remained of this bottle for mixed drinks (honestly, given how grainy it is I'm not sure it'll work there unless there are specific recipes on what you can do with grainy whisky). Or maybe I’ll keep trying it every once in a while and eventually something will click, but overall, I’m disappointed. Honestly, I'm having a lot of trouble giving this a star-rating because when you're this turned off, what do you give it? One and a half-stars because it'll get you drunk and it's not as repellant as the worst whisky I've ever tasted (it's not as bad as white whisky)? But that's not really what I'm looking for. I'd love to taste some of the bottles other reviewers here have tasted because it sounds like if you get a good pick, you get a solid whisky, but I'm not gambling with my money on this one again. Picked by: Circle Liquors Barrel Serial No.: 5844241 Rickhouse: HH Floor: 5

Reticent though I am to dampen the enthusiasm here where the community score is running to a 4.6 (with only 4 other tastes, admittedly), I have to be honest and concede that I’m not quite as big a fan of this rye as my fellow tasters. Which is not to say that this whisky isn’t good (stick with me here). It is. It’s interesting, and I might go so far as to say, in the most complimentary of sense, that it’s weird. I first cracked this open last Sunday, watching the Eagles struggle to hold a lead into the half against a strong 49ers team (I’m not a hater, a toast to you San Fran, you played a solid game and earned that "W"), and not to put too fine a point on it but my team’s struggle mirrored my own to get a handle on the nose and palate of this whisky. To my mind, there are three types of basic flavor profiles for rye whisky. First, you have your predominantly sweet ryes, the palate reminiscent of cherry coke, like Sazerac (delicious, delicious Sazerac). Then, you have your ryes that are dominated by baking spice flavors, nutmeg and clove and cinnamon, like Knob or Overholt. Finally, you have those that are herbal, like High West Double Rye, George Dickel, Dad’s Hat, and New Riff BIB. Of course, with some ryes you get a mingling of these types, and what we have here, with Hudson’s Back Room Deal, seems to be a mingling of the first two. At least, I think it’s a mingling of the first two, though there’s also something of the third maybe. The nose is…well, I’d say it’s sweet, but that sweet is imbued with the faint aroma of peat, which to me is coming off as something of a pine scent? Which would add that herbal aspect? Can you see what I mean by this being a difficult whisky to unlock (and certainly one that might not be to everyone’s liking)? And while I like the peat influence and find the nose fragrant and interesting to investigate, the resulting pine if more pine air freshener than it is an autumnal hike through an arcadian New England forest. Would it be better if it was, if it had a fresher scent, something closer to organic? I don’t know. Possibly. But as is, I enjoy it. As I move along my whisky journey, I tend to like the adventure of oddball choices, the anticipating of tasting something experimental that might not work out, or might, at best, have mixed result, or might be successful to an extent but not entirely something that will rock my world eternally (and of these, I would say Back Room Deal is the third of those three). Some people—purists, I suppose—have decried the finishing game as gimmicky (and by finishing game, I suppose they don’t mean sherry casks with their long and storied traditions, but less fundamental types of casks, particularly pointing to the plethora of recent rum barrel finishes). But I can’t help but see it as an exciting way to add complexity to younger whiskies, especially for newer brands that haven’t been around long enough to age their whiskies a decade or more and make a financial go of it. And I celebrate Hudson’s daring choice here (just as I celebrated Sagamore’s Añejo-Finished Rye; though that one was also more successful than the Back Room Deal). As for the palate, the sweetness of the rye is more straightforward, with a bit of baking spice, which is why, earlier in this review, I mention Sazerac. It’s been half a year since I had a bottle of that, but it stuck with me, and tasting this back memories of that. Given the months between the two, I hope you’ll forgive me when I admit that I’m not entirely sure of the accuracy of that comparison (especially when you take into account the peat influence), but the memory made me stop by the local FW&GS to pick up more Sazerac, so a one-to-one comparison is in order in the future. My bias, as far as memory goes, would be to recommend the Sazerac as the better, casual, day-to-day sipping whiskey, especially since it’s $20 cheaper (honestly, the price on the Back Room Deal might be the strongest mark against it; though with a smaller distillery, you're paying slightly more because they can't produce as much as the big boys), but my preference these days runs to the unique, to the unconventional, so I would say that if you’ve enjoyed Sazerac in the past, and you also like peated scotch, this Back Room Deal will be up your alley. So where does the peat fit into the palate? It’s on the back end of the sweetness, emerging as the cherry cola and vanilla fade to clove and cinnamon, mingling in there with a nice spicy finish. My rating here might be a tad below the others, but don’t let that fool you into thinking I’m not a fan. To repeat a few words I’ve used that are characteristic of the Back Room Deal experience, this whisky is adventurous, weird, out there, unique, and I certainly wouldn’t trade that experience. I came out with a win, even if the Eagles didn’t. In fact, the least tasteful aspect of this whisky is the Helvetica font on the label, but hey, they’re trying to tie their brand to the NY subway system to represent the state where Hudson is headquartered. And what better way to say fruitful aromas and full-bodied flavors than reminding people of the NY subway? Fortunately, the liquid in the bottle is strong and good like a Hemingway hero. (And while I gave this the same rating I recently gave Legent bourbon, the Back Room Deal 3.5 is more enthusiastic than that one was. Feel free to disagree. I’m sure plenty of people will. But then, Legent will reach legions more whisky fans, so I feel the need to endorse this one with a post-script. If all of this or any of this sounds good, give your support to an up-and-coming distillery. I don’t think you’ll regret it).