As you probably have guessed, I’m not the only one out there who loves a good American Whiskey. Because whether you’ve been following the specifics or not, our nation’s re-birth in the whiskey world is in full-out growth mode and the obsession with small batch, craft distillation has followed suit. It really blows me away to see projections like those in this article from Serious Drinks that predict the number of American craft distilleries to balloon to over 400 by 2015. But with all the competition sure to brew (or should I say distill), I really love the model and suggestion brought out referencing true elegance in the liquor industry.

The Scotch business years ago, much like the current American Whiskey industry, grew like wildfire as the techniques and processes were perfected with local and regional practices taking shape in the form of Single Malts. But as competition grew, and “master blenders” began to tout the beauty of  blended scotch, the single malt distilleries needed to adapt to remain in business. As the article suggests, many of these single malt distilleries sell up to 90% of their output to those same “master blenders”. And the outcome is really ideal for all of us. The pressure to produce high quality single malts keeps the distilleries in business with the blenders and in parallel, allows them to remain focused on their uniqueness; the very thing that got them into business in the first place.

So looking forward, as a number of craft distilleries take form in the states, will a similar model be adapted? I think certainly some aspects will have to. Brands will have to capitalize on the quality of small batches to offer up highly marketable blends to keep a leading edge in the industry. But there is an interesting wrinkle taking shape that may provide for even more stateside excitement. As more of our craft distilleries begin production, more of them are looking to break the mold of what we know as a traditional bourbon or rye. By differentiating from the classic designations, we are in line for some pretty exciting stuff. The times of ordering just any “bourbon” are coming to an end (or probably already have) and we all stand to gain on this one. It’s time to get on board!

When a new friend of the Nobler suggested I try the W.L. Weller, it didn’t take much convincing. For one, he told me how at $16.99 a bottle (at least at Warehouse Wine and Liquors), it was one of the best values he had ever had. But more importantly, the dude’s from Alabama…

Seriously though, the Weller is pretty damn good. It’s origin and subsequent uniqueness comes from the “flavor grains’ used in the bourbon making process. Traditionally, bourbon, a majority corn based liquor contains some small percentage of rye to help flavor the mash and the final product. William Larue Weller, the company’s namesake, is said to have been the first to break from that tradition, in 1849 when he used wheat in place of the rye. The effect is a smoother, more rounded flavor profile which is now a distinct characteristic of this and other “wheated bourbons”.

I think it’s silly not to own a bottle of this W.L. Weller. It’s perfect for some easy drinking. But I have to admit I found myself missing the complexity of the Rye. Either way, I’m glad to have added the Weller to my overflowing collection…

I’m gonna need to have more gatherings!

I may often paint my fellow Noblers as booze-fiending, loyal followers of the experiment but…Well that’s true. However, some of them can write…

I’m set in my ways.  I’ve been so used to drinking beer as an after-work wind-down.  It’s actually become a bit of a “habit” if you may, but recently something I’ve revisited has changed my outlook on the clichéd liquor drink after work.  In an effort to create a special Valentines Day dinner my lady and myself scoured the annals of Epicurious to find the perfect recipe that might add a delicious segment of our night.  While searching Epicurious I stumbled upon a delicious pasta dish that included a generous dash of sweet vermouth.  I was hoping this Epicurious dish would get my girl drunk enough to make her bi-curious, but that didn’t happen.  What did happen was the vermouth made a delicious cream sauce that went well with shrimp I was forced to de-vein, since she decided to buy fresh shrimp to save $4.  But while I was ripping the shit out of 30 shrimp the vermouth was staring me in the face.  I had a plan.  

The next night I sat down with some Gentleman Jack (because I’m obviously a gentle man) and that sweet sweet vermouth and made a Manhattan that reminded me of a bygone era when men drank whisky on goddamn weeknights…and weekdays without letting anyone tell them otherwise.  I’ve watched enough Mad Men to know that a highball contains enough gravitas to make a man act on bold thoughts he would rather keep to himself in less-manly situations, so it sounded seductive enough to try out.  As I stood at the “bar area” I have been allotted in the kitchen I had to think to myself “Am I being a bitch?”  Why must I add a mixer (although it has alcohol) to a refined bourbon.  Here is my thinking: So the cocktail didn’t exist until Prohibition since all the proletariat could find was bathtub gin and basement distilled whisky to lubricate their nights.  They were forced to mix these toxics liquors with other beverages to create a palatable cocktail that would get them sufficiently drunk.  In this day and age corporations and (still) basement distillers are churning out delicious variations on American classics, specifically bourbons and whiskeys, which proves that we live in much better times, at least for our palates.  But why add vermouth to a drink that is so refined it is given the name “Gentleman”? I’ll tell you why. 

The Manhattan is a drink that can only be defined by the experience (but I will try with words, which will surely fail).  The rush of liquor upon each sip is tantalizing.  It hits you hard and leaves you a bit confused because you realize you have a fairly large glass of this concoction that is currently shocking your mouth that you must finish, because, well, you’re a man.  A second later it finishes with an amazing smoothness that can only be lent to the interplay between the vermouth and bourbon.  It’s velvety but with enough bite to remind you that you did not fuck around when you made that drink.  Vermouth is the Costello to Bourbon’s Abbot.  For the young kids, it’s the Charlie Murphy to the bourbon’s Dave Chapelle.  It just makes it that much sweeter.   Who’s on first?  I’ll fucking tell you.  It’s sweet vermouth.

- Dan Sicina

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A few weeks back I spoke of the somewhat glorious combination of fried chicken and Basil Hayden’s. Since then, I’ve been putting quite a bit of thought into the notion of meal time liquors and nothing seems to be more conducive to a perfect pairing then a good bourbon. The delicate sweetness and strength of the bourbon lends itself to heartier meals of comfort and flavor. Take for example this duo of corn, my not so subtle attempt at humor:

I seriously dialed in the corn in my chowder to play off the bourbon by blending a small portion of yogurt with an entire bag of frozen corn and honey to act as my “cream”. The richness and soulfulness of the chowder was tempered and complimented by my consistent favorite, a few fingers of the Bulleit. But as I enjoyed the pairing, an unintended and welcomed consequence also came to light. Rather than charging through the meal as I too often find myself doing, sipping on a glass of bourbon had me throwing on the brakes as I enjoyed the night spoon by spoon, sip by sip. It was a contemplative meal, like all good meals should be.

So what about you guys? Any other liquor and food pairings I should be trying?

BBQ is as regional as it comes. Throughout America, arguments erupt over what is right and what is wrong: Sauce or no sauce. To rub or not to rub. Beef or Pork. It is all a matter of region.

So not so surprisingly, as Brooklyn has started to create some waves in the BBQ world, they had to claim stake in something. Luckily for us, it seems they have chosen bourbon and rye. I’m just thankful it wasn’t Tempeh…

But seriously, you can’t find a better American liquor list than at the more recent additions to the BBQ scene. It’s an amazing place to try varieties that you most likely won’t even find in your local liquor shop. So with that in mind, I came up with this soon to be hipster favorite combining all the glory of BBQ in one ice-cold glass. The pickle juice may sound a bit off-putting but you’ll be shocked at how refreshing it is. Feel free to substitute a little lime juice for some of the briney goodness, but don’t stray too far. It will surely lose some of that irony…

The “How Ironic”

2 oz bourbon

3 oz pbr

2 oz pickle juice

1 splash of ginger ale

In a tall glass with ice, mix all of the ingredients and garnish with a pickle spear and some Polaroid photography.

Since the Nobler Single Malt Tasting, I couldn’t stop thinking about that Phantom Peat. The Laphroaig’s complexity and bad ass peatiness had been following me around for days after consumption and the 1/4 full bottle had been tempting me each and every night.

Yet despite my new-found affinity towards the Laphroaig, for me, it’s a situational drink. That is until last night, when friend and fellow nobler @scientistmike suggested a fantastic combination of ingredients that I imagined could work perfectly with the bold Laphroaig and mellow out some of the intensity. The “penicillin” was a cocktail he had at The Jakewalk and the mix of blended scotch, Laphroaig, lemon juice, and ginger syrup sounded frigging fantastic.

But I’m allergic to penicillin…

For my version, The “Erythromycin”, I went with the same basic flavor profile but substituted in some ginger beer for the syrup to give the drink a little fizz. The blended scotch helps carry the strong flavors of the Laphroaig, and the lemon juice cuts through the sweetness and peatiness of the drink perfectly. With the new Jack White 7 inch playing in the background, this cocktail was perfection.

The “Erythromycin”

1 oz Laphroaig

2 oz Blended Scotch

1 oz lemon juice

2 oz ginger beer

2 dashes lemon bitters

In a rocks glass with ice mix all of the ingredients. Garnish with a lemon peel and serve with a little “love interruption”.

As I was growing up, our family had one of the greatest dogs ever to live. Brisby, was part mutt, part human and her life was filled with joy. She loved cheez-its, but only tolerated me. And I never really blamed her. She was a veteran member of the family, and I was the newbie. My unflappable excitement for her eventually won her over, but to be honest, I was still too young when she enjoyed her last box of those delicious cheez-its. Which is why, despite the time it took to recover from her passing, I was 100% on board for the arrival of our new puppy.

Odie, a Jack Russel, with a funny twist in her ear (just like me), was a friend like no other. From the day she came home as tiny as the tennis balls she grew to love chasing, to her last days as a loyal Mama’s girl, Odie loved nothing more than to sidle up real close and spend the day at your side. I will always love thinking back to the days we spent rollerblading (me, not her) as she sprinted up and down the streets as if we were training for a competition. Or the days she chased us around in the yard, playing catch with anything and everything, until we would finally force inside for a rest; otherwise she would have gone on forever.

Later in life, her love for coziness became borderline hysterical. We would find her casually resting in the basket of laundry or tucked deep within the covers of our beds, but without question her favorite spot to lay was anywhere on top of us. Only Odie could fall asleep half standing up, half leaning on my Mom’s lap.

Odie leaves behind a family that she helped bring back to life after Brisby was gone and her slightly younger brother Einstein. He’s always had a funny way of showing his love towards his older Sister (mainly being a giant pain in the ass), but I know just like the rest of us, he will miss her!

You may think it’s silly that one of my first inclinations was to name a drink after her but one of my favorite Odie memories includes a glass of red wine and what I can only imagine was the greatest dog nap of all times. I think she would have loved this mix of chamomile, cointreau, and calvados (apple brandy) for these cold days. A mug of this and a lap to lay on would have been all she needed.

The Odie:

6 oz chamomile tea

1/2 oz cointreau

1 1/2 oz calvados

But you know what. I really like Jäger. And maybe even more surprising…I always have! I doubt the Germans who invented the digestif /cough-remedy back in 1935 envisioned the fist pumping nation declaring the liqueur their drink of choice but then again, if this unintended (I can only assume it was not by design) branding had not occurred, I wonder how much Jäger would be sold in the States.

Interestingly enough, if you took a look at the ingredient list which includes citrus peel, licorice, anise, poppy seeds, saffron, ginger, juniper berries and ginseng, you might think you were grabbing a box of health inspired tea. And for those who have tried it, which I’m sure is the majority, the overwhelming flavor is of licorice (anise). But after further contemplation, you really start to pick up on the nuances. That is of course, assuming you aren’t slamming shots.

Lastly, I’m a big advocate of bad ass names. Jägermeister translates to the hunt-master. The unmistakable logo is a reference back to the Patron Saints of Hunters and well…I better stop…somewhere, someone is about to turn this into another continued branding effort…I can see it now…The bar is the “forest”, the man, unable to “hit his target” sidles up to the bar in defeat. That is until the wise older bartender (the Hunt Master) pours an icy cold shot of Jäger…drops it in a red bull…and queue the bad ass music…

Damn!

Well despite all this, I still really do like the stuff…

As I mentioned a few weeks back, for the fourth Nobler Gathering the plan was to take a little spin around the distinct regions of Single Malt Scotch. But after some extensive research and some help from single malt lovers, it became increasingly clear we needed to start off a bit more simple.

The uniqueness from region to region and even more so from distillery to distillery is what makes the Single Malt world so fanatical. It’s also why imbibers tend to find one they like and stick with it. So for our Nobler introduction we decided to go with two distinct single malt scotches, the Highland, Glenmorangie and the Islay, Laphroaig, and paired it up with a seriously hyped newcomer to the single malt world, the Japanese Yamazaki.

With some Cow Thieve’s ale acting as our palette cleanser we made our way through the three varietals taste by taste and in some cases, being bombarded by the major differences between the three. The Glenmorangie and its light body, straight forward maltiness was a flavor everyone could wrap their minds around. It’s why so many of these Highland scotches are made and so many of them are considered favorites. But the Laphroaig was without a doubt our favorite. The Islay Scotch was complexed with peat and smoke and based off of a few texts and tweets from the morning, it seriously made it’s mark. I can attest that right now, my tea tastes like peat!

And then there was the Yamazaki. I was really pumped for this one. Because I’ve been hearing a non-stop pile up of praise for the Japanese who have decided to get into the single malt game. Remember, these aren’t single malt scotches because well, they aren’t made in Scotland. But regardless, we were unanimous in our criticism of this underwhelming 12 year version that seemed to lack complexity and richness. I’m committed to giving it another shot (not within the same 48 hours of drinking some of that peat monster, Laphroaig) but all in all, I think we’ll stick with the years of experience and variety coming out of Scotland.

You’ll notice I’ve been quiet about the Nobler eats for this Gathering…That’s because Scottish food isn’t exactly my strong suit and cooking up a batch of haggis wasn’t exactly on my bucket list. But luckily, Alu, an active Nobler came up with a loop-hole. It turns out, Chicken Tikka Masala, was first created by an Indian chef while in….Scotland. Boom! Good enough for me…and good enough for the Noblers…

Until now: For the first time in my whiskey loving life, I found a bourbon that just isn’t for me…

Booker’s is another member of the “Small Batch” grouping of bourbons distributed by Jim Beam and just like the Basil Hayden’s, the Knob Creek, and the Baker’s, the Booker’s is meant to offer unique and distinguishable characteristics separating the brands from the masses. And I’m all for that notion. But to me, the Booker’s misses the mark. It was a bit abrasive on first sip and there was almost an acidity to the overall flavor profile. At the time I hadn’t known much about the Booker’s but after a little research the flavor profile started to make some sense.

Booker’s is said to be one of the only uncut and unfiltered bourbons bottled right from the barrel between 121-127 proof; talk about packing a punch! It’s clear that intensity is part of the equation in flavor and in effect. Because even after a little melted ice, the flavors at the forefront were of the oaky tannins more so than the richness I prefer. But honestly, it was kind of refreshing to find a bourbon that really didn’t do it for me. Maybe I’m not just a lush after all!

But what about you? Anyone out there a fan of Booker’s?