Four Roses OBSV 20 Year Visitor Center Private Selection

So, how do I say this. Sometimes you get lucky. Better yet, sometimes a friend gets lucky and you undeservingly reap the benefits. Sometimes things that happen are simply a bit… uncanny. There is more to the story than can be told here but, long story short, the Four Roses distillery opened a new visitor center this year. The governor of Kentucky was one of the first to take the podium on opening day. Guests were invited to celebrate a new face for the >120 year old brand history and visitors were given the opportunity to purchase a special single barrel release. For those who have been to the distillery it is seemingly common to find single recipe, single barrel, barrel strength releases. These have flown under the radar to some extent (but sadly no more) and on this special day a number of bottles were released. All came from the OBSV recipe (high rye, yeast strain V). All had been aged for 20 year. I cannot find the exact number but something like 20-50 barrels had been marked and dumped for the occasion. So, I ask myself - how many 20 year old, single barre bottlings of bourbon are out there? I don’t really want to know the answer but if I had a hand in the greater scheme of all of creation I would say lots. I have no such say, which is for the best. Elijah Craig continues to put our 18 year single barre offerings and some guy named VanWinkel has a 23 year bottle of the same sorts. Rumor has it that clicks in around 90 proof or so. This particular bottle - 58.1% ABV (116 proof) was raised in warehouse FS and stored on the third of six floors, right in the middle - a place where air, in theory, doesn’t move much. Some 20 years later, let’s dive in. The nose is oak. Surprised? It is splendid though and reminds me of Wild Turkey’s 17y BiB Masters Keep. There is varnish. There are notes of old library books, lamp oil and dark tobacco. A sweet aroma, again akin to tobacco is there with bits of royal icing. The taste? Much like the palate, there is an immediate, gripping, tissue-penetrating tannic sensation. It is full of dark sugar but without the bitterness of molasses. There is a spice that reminds me of tasting a dark cigar wrapper before lighting up. The oak is there as well and is hard (for me) to describe but I suspect tastes like the inside of my dresser drawer that is (well over) 20 years old and has seen cycle after cycle of things that come and things that go. It doesn’t fade either. The tip of my tongue still stings an hour later. This might not be good for my health. But wow. At some point bourbon goes from grain to wood. This is past the point of grain. If I could have stolen a drop or two I and rubbed it on my hands I might have gotten corn and rye but possibly not. Possibly something closer to furniture polish. This is full of spice, tannins and a dark sugar that might be a sorghum of sorts. It is absolutely wonderful - although not for everyone. As someone who is moving more into scotch for its tremendous variety (thanks largely due to the multiplicity of barrel types used to age and finish it, as well as the smoke used to malt the barley, and the ocean, and so on) this still brings about some uncanny elements that only time, water, grain and once-upon-a-time new wood can. For most scotch, that is a no-go as many barrels are re-used or “recharged” but have lost many of the chemical components that actually, physically and chemically, wind up in bourbon. There you have it. Sorry for the rambling, and no - please don’t try to charge an arm and a leg for this if you have one and hope to profit off of it. Open if. Think about it. Consider what it is as a whiskey, and what it isn’t. Embrace what liquid wood - mingled with water and organic solvent, sugars both large and small - tastes and feels like. This is the beginning of virtually all whiskey (unless you age your malt in French Oak or ex-wine barrels) and it is pretty damn impressive to see what happens. Share it with friends - as a friend was so kind to do with me. You won’t regret it (unless, of course you wind up hating what old bourbon tastes like, in which case at least you’ve learned something about yourself). Yes, and there you have it. Cheers!