Overproof Overkill

A month or so ago, I was invited to a tasting of the Abelour Scotch line. The highlight was Aberlour A’Bunadh, an overproof expression which chimes in at 59.8 percent. Shortly after, I attending a tasting of the new cask strength version of the Irish whiskey Redbreast. It was held at the New York Distilling Company, which last year introduced a new "Navy Strength" gin.

While the liqueur and flavored vodka people flood the market with enough product to ensure that the general abv of available spirits is slowly decreasing, drip by drip, there's no denying that the whiskey world is currently crushing on the idea of cask-strength spirits. And in increasing numbers, the Cognac, gin, and rum folks are getting in on the act, recognizing the category's hypnotic effect on both the mixologist and the booze collector. I predict the next year will see a small rush of cask-strength tequilas. (There's only one at present.)

In general, I applaud this trend. The good ones—the Redbreast and Abelour included, as well as the soon-to-arrive Plymouth and Hayman's Navy Strength gins—are distinct, beautiful spirits. Others are simply more-alcoholic versions of their 40% brothers, but still good. But still others are simply fire-breathing excuses for distillers to milk the customer's wallet. (DeLeón cask strength tequila is very nice, but it costs $300.) Certainly, there's room for consumer abuse here. But, for now, the view is quite lovely. 

Here is my New York Times article on the subject:

Lowcountry, Where the Martinis Are Made With Bourbon

From the Times: 

Bourbon All the Way at Lowcountry

By ROBERT SIMONSON

A “Wild Negroni,” made with bourbon at Lowcountry.Leah Linder

With the arrival of its new executive chef, Oliver Gift, Lowcountry, the West Village restaurant specializing in the comfort food of the American South, has revamped its food and cocktail menus.

Always bourbon-focused, Lowcountry takes its love for America’s own whiskey to new extremes on the new list. You expect a julep to have bourbon in it, and no one blinks when a Manhattan or Old Fashioned does. And such is indeed the case here.

But Lowcountry’s Sazerac, traditionally a rye cocktail, is also bourbon-based, giving it a milder bite that usual. So are the Dark and Stormy and the sweetish Margarita, with bourbon and Jim Beam’s black cherry-infused bourbon liqueur Red Stag, respectively, kicking out the usual rum and tequila. The house Negroni cuts the bitterness of the Campari by finding room for a little Wild Turkey American Honey, a bourbon-based honey liqueur. And Wild Turkey 81, blood orange and walnut liqueur are the components of something called the Winter Martini. (As of yet, there are no bourbon gimlets.)

As on the previous menu, there is a wide selection of bourbons by the glass, as well as bourbon flights. For $25, you can purchase bourbon pairings for your appetizer, entree and dessert.

“We are a bourbon bar and southern restaurant, and it’s important to us that we stay true to this specialty in our cocktail menu,” explained Chad Harper, Lowcountry’s bar and floor manager. “We offer classic drinks like martinis, margaritas and negronis, that are familiar to customers, but give them our own twist by making them with bourbon because it’s an indigenous American spirit, that’s very popular in the South.”

Nine-Decade Whiskey Flight to Be Sold at Plaza

The nine whiskeys from the Brown-Forman library—dating from the 1930s to the present day—which I wrote about in a previous post, will be sold as a flight at The Rose Club at The Plaza.

The limited-time offering (The Plaza has only one bottle of some of these Bourbons) will be available for the month of February (or while supplies last). The ridiculously low price of the flight is $25—absolutely crazy cheap when you consider that all but three of these bottles are no longer available, and you get 1/2 ounce of each. 

Once again, here's the line-up:

King Blend 1930's
Old Forester 1940's
President's Choice 1950's
Old Forester 86 1960's
Frost 8/80 1970's
Jack Daniel's 1980's
Woodford Reserve Batch #1 1990's
Master's Collection - Seasoned Oak Finish 2000's
Early Times 354 - 2010's

Nine Decades, Nine Whiskies

Prohibition Era whiskey.

Those are three words that will easily secure a spirits journalist presence at a liquor event.

The other day, the folks at Brown-Forman invited a select group of booze journos to taste through a collection of whiskies from their library, the earliest dating from the 1930s. The event was meant as a way to publicize the distillery's latest release—the return to full-Bourbon status of Early Times. (I've written about this everything-old-is-new-again product here.) But the tasting had a historical appeal all its own.

The seven whiskies pulled from the Brown-Forman stores were: King Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey from the 1930s; Old Forester Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey from the 1940s; Old Forester President's Choice Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whisky from the 1950s; Old Forester 86 Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey from the 1960s; Frost 8/80 Dry White Whiskey from the 1970s; Jack Daniel's Old No. 7 from the 1980s; Woodford Reserve Distillers Select Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey from the 1990s; Woodford Reserve Masters Collection Seasoned Oak Finish from the 2000s; and the new/old Early Times, representing the current decade.

Early Times Is a Bourbon Again

In the early times, Early Times was a Bourbon.

Then, in 1983, Brown-Forman, which purchased the old label back in the 1920s (that's right, during Prohibition), started called the stuff "Kentucky Whiskey." This is not because the formula had changed at all. Rather, Brown-Forman began aging the liquor in used barrels, rather than the new charred American oak barrels required by law if one is to use the name Bourbon. No doubt this was a cost-saving measure.

Now, Brown-Forman is rolling out the new barrels again. There will soon be two Early Times whiskeys on the shelf: the Kentucky Whiskey we all know; and  Early Times 354, a full-fledged Bourbon with a flashy new bottle. 

One can easily tell the difference between the two. The old Early Times is smoothly and more innocuous. The new stuff has more spark, spice and depth. The 354 is not exactly Earth-shattering, simply a decent bench-level Bourbon. But I definitely prefer it, and it makes a decent Manhattan or Old Fashioned. 

Back in 1958, Early Times was actually America’s number one selling straight Bourbon whisky and Brown-Forman’s biggest seller. Don't know if history will repeat itself itself now, but anything's possible. 

Master Distiller Un-Retires to Make Angel's Envy

Movie stars come out of retirement. Rappers and baseball players, too. Why not a Bourbon distiller?

Lincoln Henderson—who was instrumental in the rise of Woodford Reserve as one of the leading small-batch Bourbons and was in charge of all Brown Forman whiskies, including Jack Daniel's, until retiring in 2004—has returned to the rickhouse to create Angel's Envy, a new Bourbon he calls his "life's work," for the Louisville Distilling Company. 

The first batch nursed along by Henderson, using triple-distilled Bourbon whiskey, was finished in a mix of Vintage and Ruby Port barrels "shipped directly from Portugal." (Where else?) The name is a play on the term "Angel's Share," the amount of whiskey that evaporates during the aging process, and the stylish bottle is made from "perfume-grade glass," about which I can tell you absolutely nothing.

It certainly has a beautiful color, a vibrant amber-orange. The nose is heady and perfumes, the winey notes of the Port intermingling with the spice of the grain. Plenty of vanilla, too. The palate has a similar mix of finesse and spice, caramel smooth overall but with a tangy, tingly hit in the mid-palate. More vanilla, woody notes, maple syrup, some orange but generally not to big on fruit. Austere and silky simultaneously. Just a hunch, but good Old Fashioned material here.

Angel's Envy is available in Louisville, Chicago, San Francisco, Miami, Austin, Washington, D.C. and Boulder and Denver. So I guess I should feel lucky to have my sample here in little 'ol NYC. It goes for $45. 

Hell Freezes Over

Or, put differently, Maker's Mark has come out with a new bourbon.

For years, nay decades, Maker's Mark has made hay out of the fact that it makes one thing, and one thing only. Why mess with perfection, they trill. It's like a religion with them, this single-minded attending to The Great Waxy One. I was out there in Loretto, Kentucky, and heard the line when I asked them why they didn't  bottle an "over mature" bottle of Maker's, which I tasted and liked. Because the original is so good, they said. Why divert stock from a product the demand for which they can't even begin to satisfy?

Little did I or the world know that all that time—or at least the past few years—they've been working on a line extension. It's called Maker's 46, and it will be unleashed in June, with 10,000 cases shipping.

More Than You Ever Wanted to Know About the Knob Creek Bourbon Shortage

This month, I make my debut in Malt Advocate, the nation's leading whisk(e)y magazine, with an article on last year's Knob Creek shortage. The article's probably the closest I've come to a piece of quasi-investigative journalism in a while, and it was fun to put together, and a please to talk to (and in some cases, visit) the folks at Knob Creek, George Dickel, Jack Daniel's, Maker's Mark, Buffalo Trace and Heaven Hill. 

In the table of contents, I'm referred to as "new writer Robert Simonson." Funny to be called "new" after 20 years in the biz. But I'm new to MA, I guess. And who knows? Maybe people will think I'm 26 or something and start hiring me "youth-oriented" articles.

In order to give the folks over at Malt Advocate a chance to sell a few magazines, I'm just going to print a teaser of the full article here. Once the next issue is out, I'll print the whole thing.

When Knob Creek Went Dry

By Robert Simonson

Press is hard to come by in the whiskey trade. Unlike wine, which has a new vintage to talk about every single year, spirits, once established, get few opportunities to net additional ink. "Jack Daniel's: Still Here" does not a headline make. So publicity opportunities must be created. The most common way to do this is to release a limited edition whiskey—a strategy that has become increasingly prevalent in recent years. 

There's a new technique in town, however, and it draws on the inverse phenomenon: instead of a new product making its debut, an old one goes missing. 

In June 2009, Knob Creek had it's biggest media splash in years crowing over a temporary shortage of its 9-year-old, Jim Beam-produced bourbon. Full-page, full-color print ads in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal showed an upturned bottle of Knob Creek dispensing its last drop. "You may experience may experience something of a shortage at your local liquor store very soon," read the copy. "But not to worry, the next batch will be bottled and on the shelf in November." Some liquor journalists were sent empty Knob Creek bottles in expensive packaging, and consumers could buy t-shirt bearing the line, "I survived the drought of 2009." The news resulted in a wealth of stories, both in print and on the web, and the Knob Creek website reportedly saw a 69% increase in traffic from June through September 2009 over the same period the previous year.

The Sipping News

Chartreuse takes advantage of its current popularity, hoisting up the price. [Alcademics]

The Alcohol Beverage Control in California suddenly decides to let San Francisco bars that all infusions are actually illegal. [San Francisco Chronicle]

Prepare to have your head removed from your shoulders if you mention a Vodka Old-Fashioned in some circles. [eGullet]

Chilean wine industry suffers following earthquake, with tanks busted, barrels broken and buildings collapsed. [Dr. Vino]

Beam releases Old Crow Reserve, an extension of a very old brand. [Cowdery]

An Alternate Theory on the Origin of the Term "Bourbon"

Why is called Bourbon called Bourbon?

The assumed information has always been that it was because the whiskey was primarily producer in Bourbon County, Kentucky. Even today, you'll meet people who insist that Bourbon can only be made in Bourbon County. That's not true and hasn't been for some time. What's more, there are actually no Bourbon distilleries inside the borders of the modern Bourbon County. That's partly because the Bourbon County of today is hardly the Bourbon County of yesteryear. The modern county is a farily dinky thing, where the old Bourbon took up geography now divided up by 34 counties. As Chuck Cowdery wrote in "Bourbon, Straight: The Uncut and Unfiltered Story of American Whiskey":

When American pioneers pushed west of the Allegheny Mountains following the American Revolution, the first counties they founded covered vast regions. One of these original, huge counties was Bourbon, established in 1785 and named after the French royal family. While this vast county was being carved into many smaller ones, early in the 19th century, many people continued to call the region Old Bourbon. Located within Old Bourbon was the principal Ohio River port from which whiskey and other products were shipped. "Old Bourbon" was stencilled on the barrels to indicate their port of origin. Old Bourbon whiskey was different because it was the first corn whiskey most people had ever tasted. In time, bourbon became the name for any corn-based whiskey.

Chris Morris, master distiller at Woodford Reserve, has come upon another theory as to Bourbon got it's name. Morris is a smart guy who does a lot of independent historical research out there in Kentucky. On a recent visit to Woodword, he caught my dear when he began talking about some siblings called the Tuscara Brothers, who controlled the flow of river traffic along the Ohio River back in the early 1800s. I couldn't gather the whole gist of his argument at the time, so I asked him to e-mail the basic theory to me:

Before 1803 travel/commerce west of Louisville was non-existent because Spain/France controlled the territory. Therefore barrels of whiskey were not being shipped down the Ohio River, nor east upriver and over the mountains. There were no barrels of whiskey (a general statement) because the whiskey tax (1791 - 1802) taxed spirit directly off the still - so it was sold and consumed immediately. Once the world changed in 1803 (Louisiana Purchase and tax repeal) distillers began to barrel whiskey for shipment west - ultimately to New Orleans and on to the East Coast markets. Every barrel of whiskey had to pass the Falls of the Ohio at Louisville (named for France's Bourbon King). Distilleries were located in many of Kentucky's original counties - among them Jefferson, Nelson, Woodford, Lincoln, Fayette and Bourbon. Barrels from each county ended up at the Falls, were transferred around the Falls, and loaded on new boats to travel west. So why did this unique Kentucky type of whiskey come to be called "Bourbon" instead of "Woodford", "Jefferson", etc? Simple - the Falls of the Ohio were controlled by a community of French ex-pats. A community of 300, called Shippingport (now part of western Louisville) controlled by the Tuscara (sic) Brothers. They were loyal to the then exiled House of Bourbon and chose the promote the name "Bourbon" out of a sense of French pride.

Jefferson, Nelson, Woodford, Lincoln, Fayette and Bourbon countries were indeed among the original Kentucky counties, all founded between 1780 and 1789. (Jefferson, Lincoln and Fayette were the original three counties.) I will take his word on the idea that distilleries were found in many of these counties; he's a precise man not given to comments that haven't been well thought out beforehand. Also, to give credit where credit is due, Morris say his info is a collaboration between Mike Veach of the Filson Historical Society and himself. The Filson has been collecting and preserving stories of Kentucky and Ohio Valley history and culture since 1884.

Could the Bourbon name simply be an example of French chauvinism? I'm no expert in Kentucky history. Anyone out there care to weigh in?

Review: 'Tis the Season

An annual sign that the holidays are around the corner is the new release from Woodford Reserve's's Master's Collection. This year's product, Seasoned Oak Finish, is the fourth in a series of experimental, limited release bourbons, the first three being the Four Grain, Sonoma-Cutrer Finish and Sweet Mash.

I had the good fortune to visit the Woodford Reserve Distillery in Kentucky to sample the new bourbon out of barrel, before it was bottled. The difference with this distillate, as was the case with the Sonoma, is the wood. Altering the wood is a significant move, since much of the flavor and all of the color of bourbon whiskey comes from the barrel. Woodford is the only bourbon maker that created its own barrels. Thus they have complete control over what sort of vessel they store their liquor in. This freedom allowed master distiller Chris Morris to pick up the phone one day and ask the coopers if they had any wooden staves that had been sitting around in the open air for a time. As chance had it, they did. They had some white oak that had been seasoning in the elements for from three to five years. By some stroke of luck, there were enough staves to make the amount of whiskey Morris needed for his Master's Collection.

And so the barrels were raised from the seasoned oak. According to Morris, the Seasoned Oak Finish uses the oldest oak ever employed in making a whiskey. The booze spent eight months in barrels, and, owing to both that and the age of the wood (most wood for bourbon is aged no more than five months), the whiskey came out much darker than is typically the case with Woodford. The method sort of takes a backwards approach to aging. Instead of letting the whiskey sit for years, it was the wood that did the time. The new dram is not technically bourbon, since the barrel is not made strictly to the government codes the rule the making of bourbon.

As Morris drilled a hole in a barrel containing the new brew, the liquid poured out a deep orange-amber. The nose was potent: maple syrup, molasses, orange, fig, pear, dark chocolate and spice. The wood has certainly done its work. The taste was robust. There was the usual spark that you get from Woodford's high component of rye, but also smoke, dark cherries, clove and molasses. The spice at the beginning smooths out at you reach the finish, though the tongue keeps tingling all along.

What I have heard among my media compatriots is that this is their favorite edition of the Master's Collection. I would have to agree that its the most successful (though I still do like the Sweet Mash quite a bit). I can certainly seeing it making a potent Manhattan. You don't even need to add the cherry; it's already in the whiskey. And the overall fruitcakey character of the liquor is certainly in keeping with the season.

Happy Halloween From Maker's Mark!

They'll put wax on anything at that distillery.

Red Stag Doing Just Fine

Jim Beam is doing just fine with its first major launch in Jim Beam Black—the black-cherry-infused bourbon Red Stag.

I figured the red stuff was performing all right; I've seen it in plenty of back bars around New York (more in standard taverns than in high end bars so far). But the people at Jim Beam recently told me that, in the four or five months since the product was introduced, it's moved 90,000 cases, making it what they call the biggest launch in whiskey ever. For now, the distribution is limited to the U.S, but with that kind of success out of the gate, that policy won't last long.

The mind behind Red Stag is one Tom Wilkins, who, if you believe the story, had been mulling over the idea in the back of his head for years before Beam finally took a stab at it. Many names were played with, but Wilkins' original one is the name they went with. Red Stag is made by infusing four-year-old bourbon with fruit essence; no actual whole fruit is used in the process. I asked the Beams folks about the phrase on the label, "Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey Infused With Natural Flavors," and if they tussled with the government over the exact wording. No, they said. Surprisingly they had no problem whatsoever.

What's not on the bottle is the word "liqueur." For whatever reason, Beam seems averse to calling Red Stag a liqueur, though, technically, as it is alcoholic beverage that has been flavored and sweetened, it is by definition a liqueur. One of the Beam people explained to me that a liqueur bears the connotation of possibly containing suspect ingredients, but that doesn't really pan out. There may be some such liqueurs on the market, but there are also many, many, fine, upstanding liqueurs. Perhaps the word "liqueur" don't register as a positive with their designated target audience. Moreover, Jim Beam invented the drink to introduce non-bourbon drinkers to bourbon, not introduce non-bourbon drinkers to liqueurs.

The Sipping News

Maker's Mark makes one thing and that's the way they're going to keep it. [Chuck Cowdery]

Surplus-plagued Australia is busy ripping up wines. [Adelaide Now via Dr. Vino]

Another Bordeaux vintage that's supposed to be the best ever. [Telegraph]

Eric Asimov wants you to give the Carignan grape a chance. Hey, I always have! Rustic, earthy and wonderful. [The Pour]

Michael Broadbent's libel action against Random House, publishers of Benjamin Wallace's 'Billionaire's Vinegar', has been settled out of court. [Jamie Goode]

Everyone seems to be trumpeting the wines of Jura lately, this time Alice Fiering.

Shocking: The New York State Liquor Authority thinks beer pong is not that great an idea. [Gothamist]

A Visit to the Seelbach Bar

The Seelbach Bar, located just to the right of the soaring lobby in Louisville's grand old downtown Seelbach Hotel, has two claims to fame that make it a worthy visit for the tavern collector. One: F. Scott Fitzgerald supposedly frequented it before he found fame. He found enough favor with the bar that he gave the hotel a solitary mention in "The Great Gatsby." (In the novel, it's where Tom and Daisy Buchanan got married.) The owners of the Seelbach play up this slim connection to literary notoriety shamelessly. There's even a suite named after Fitzgerald.

The Fitzgerald link may be true, but the problem is the Seelbach Bar of today looks nothing like the Seelbach Bar Fitzgerald knew. His bar was opulent and grand, with a lot of white marble along and behind the bar. The marble was all removed during prohibition. Today's Seelbach Bar is a homey, wood-laden cove; welcoming, certainly, and with a curious bi-level charm, some tables placed on a wraparound mezzanine that looks down a mere six feet on the tables in the center. It has a vaguely maritime feel to it. I don't know if I'd call it one of "The 50 Best Bars in the World," as the Independent of London did, but it's appealing enough. Certainly a step or two above most hotel bars.

The Seelbach Bar's second claim to fame is the Seelbach Cocktail, a drink invented in 1917, just before the clock struck midnight and Prohibition began. According to Ted Haigh's book "Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails" (recently rereleased), the libation would be lost today if not for the exertions of cocktail historian Gary Regan. In 1995, the hotel's restaurant director Adam Seger found the recipe for the forgotten drink, and decided to start making it again. Seger intended to keep the formula a secret (always a blueprint for disaster; note all the work Jeff Berry had to go through to discover all the secret recipes to the great tiki drinks of old), but Regan convinced him to let him published it in his 1997 book "New Classic Cocktails."

A Seelbach is made of bourbon, Cointreau, Angostura and Peychaud's bitters, and five whopping ounces of Champagne. I did not order a Seelbach Cocktail, perhaps foolishly, though I did taste one. My fellow journalist Liza Weisstuch was drinking one and gave me a sip. I was rather unimpressed, finding it a bit insipid and weak. I suspect the Champagne was of low quality.

I decided, instead, to spend my money on straight bourbon. Like most of the top bars in Louisville, the Seelbach touts its bourbon selection. And it is a lengthy and impressively list. Proof, another bar down the road, had an even more impressive list. But I was perpetually frustrated upon visiting Louisville bars. When I travel, I like to search out the drink, the liquor, the dish that I can't get anywhere else. I'm obsessed with the regional delicacy, the local poison. But, try as I might, I could not find a bourbon in Louisville that I could not easily get (not just by the bottle, but by the glass) in New York. The bartender at Proof suggested Noah's Mill as a whisky unobtainable in Gotham. No. I could think of three places in my neighborhood alone where I could order a dram. He offered a couple other idea. No, and no. Every name was familiar to me.

Getting past my irritation, I settled on Old Forester Birthday Bourbon and was pleased.

Some New Whiskeys

I sometimes find the recent, non-stop onslaught of new, better, rarer, more precious and more prestigious whiskeys to be somewhat overwhelming. But the whiskey industry does not really care about my dizzy spells, so they keep on coming out with new versions of their dark amber product. Chuck Cowdery, who has an estimable blog about American whiskey, was good enough to round up the a list of Yankee-born coming attractions. See if you can keep them straight:

Parker's Heritage Golden Anniversary. A limited edition bourbon to commemorate Parker Beam's 50 years as master distiller at Heaven Hill Distillery. 100° proof, $150, out now.

Jefferson's Presidential Select. A McLain & Kyne bottling of 17-year-old Stitzel-Weller wheated bourbon. 94° proof, $90, out now.

Four Roses Mariage 2009 Limited Edition bourbon. Four Roses is unique because it makes ten different bourbon recipes. This is a mixture of two of them, one at 19-years-old, the other at 10. 112.4° proof, $70, out mid-September.

Buffalo Trace Antique Collection 2009. This is actually five limited edition whiskeys: William LaRue Weller Wheated Bourbon, Eagle Rare 17-year-old Bourbon, George T. Stagg Bourbon, Thomas H. Handy Rye, and Sazerac 18-year-old Rye. Various proofs, prices $60+, out October.

Buffalo Trace Experimental Collection 2009. Two releases, both double-barreled. The 1993 vintage spent 8-years in a new barrel followed by 8 more in another new barrel. The 1997 vintage spent 8-years in a new barrel follwed by 4 more in another new barrel. If you want to experience what that tastes like, buy both. If you just want the one that tastes good, buy the 1997. Proof and price unknown. Out October.

Rittenhouse Very Rare 25-year-old Single Barrel Rye. Heaven Hill has done something very interesting here, they have sold this same batch of whiskey at 21-, 23-, and now 25-years-old. Proof and price unknown. Release date unknown.

When It's Julep Time in Gotham

I wrote up a short little piece for Time Out recently targeting good places to grab a tasty Mint Julep on Derby Day (this coming Saturday, FYI). I focused to two sorts of Derby destinations: the ones where you can find a benchmark rendition of the Derby’s official drink, where the shaved ice is plentiful, the mint is fresh and your drink will be served in the traditional silver cup; and places where you'll find lesser Juleps, but appropriate house-party atmosphere. For the former, I would add to the places listed below Brooklyn's Clover Club.

Bar Hop

Q Where can I get mint juleps on Derby Day?
—Tara Lewy, West Village

A According to lore, the mint julep—a mix of bourbon, sugar, mint and crushed ice—became the Kentucky Derby’s official drink in 1938, when Churchill Downs started selling it in souvenir glasses for 75¢. The price may have gone up since then, but the $10-and-up renditions at Greenwich Village’s Little Branch (20–22 Seventh Ave South at Leroy St, 212-929-4360) and Death & Company (433 E 6th St between First Ave and Ave A, 212-388-0882) in the East Village are textbook. For a different kind of authenticity, try Floyd, NY (131 Atlantic Ave between Clinton and Henry Sts, Cobble Hill, Brooklyn; 718-858-5810) or Union Hall (702 Union St at Fifth Ave, Park Slope, Brooklyn; 718-638-4400), both owned by Kentuckians. On race day, Saturday 2, visit Union Hall for live bluegrass and $3 Maker’s Mark mint juleps. At Floyd, you’ll find free snacks, like pimento-cheese sandwiches, in addition to juleps. And the race. Don’t forget that.—Robert Simonson

The Recession-Proof Bar

I put together this article for Time Out on how to best keep your home bar well-stocked without stinting on quality.

In the bag

A shrinking liquor budget doesn’t mean you have to drink rotgut at home. Stock your bar without emptying your wallet.

By Robert Simonson

RYE
When it comes to brown booze, single-malt Scotch and bourbon top the list in prestige and popularity. But they are also tops in price. Solution? Try rye, the world’s neglected whiskey. Though rye has recently enjoyed a resurgence, time-honored, quality brands like Old Overholt and Rittenhouse can still be had for under $20 a bottle. Either one makes a classic Manhattan.

BOURBON
For Southern-fried Kentucky Derby lovers who must have their precious bourbon, there’s a world beyond Maker’s Mark. An undersung industry standard like Elijah Craig can be found for around $20 a bottle. The even less celebrated but equally fine W.L. Weller Special Reserve is yours for roughly $17.

GIN
It’s vodka’s world; we just live in it. But there’s both a monetary and gastronomic reward in eschewing high-price boutique vodkas for entry-level gins. The basic offerings from Beefeater, Tanqueray and Bombay (not Sapphire!) are benchmark examples of London dry gin, and run only $18 to $25 for the 750-milliliter bottle. So save money and have a real martini for once.

RUM
If it’s a daiquiri you want, opt for Flor de Caña Extra Dry, a four-year-aged Nicaraguan white rum that puts Bacardi to shame in the flavor department. The floral, fruity rum is a mixologist favorite (it’s the well rum at Death & Company), and it sets you back only $16.

BRANDY
For the budget-conscious, French brandy is basically out of the question. But New Jersey apple brandy is well within your means. (Don’t laugh.) The bonded version of Laird’s applejack is lauded by spirits geeks as liquid gold. (The regular Laird’s is dreck.) And it costs only about $21.

VODKA
If you absolutely demand that your tipple be odorless and tasteless, how about giving the costly Ketel One and Grey Goose a pass in favor of the obscure Belgian brand White Nights? (Only $13 a bottle!) Sobieski, a Polish vodka made from rye, is an even better value: $11 a bottle. Believe me: You and your Cosmo will hardly know the difference.

AND MORE!
Hard times call for experimentation. So turn your attention to intoxicants you used to ignore, such as Pimm’s No. 1, a tasty, spiced, gin-based British elixir that runs around $20; or palate-stretching Italian amari and digestifs like Cynar, Averna and Aperol (most are under $25). They may strike you as bitter at first, but you’ll soon adjust. Sort of like the current economy, huh?

Into the Woodford

Here's an item from this week's Time Out New York about Woodford Reserve's newly released and limited edition 1838 Sweet Mash. I like the bourbon as a change of pace, though I rather understand why, after distillers started adding sour to the mash, they kept doing it.

Barrel fever

It takes a lot to stump a roomful of whiskey aficionados. But at a recent tasting event, bourbon brainiacs—who know everything from the minimum percentage of corn used in legal varieties to how many times different brands char their barrels—were at a loss to explain what “sweet mash” is. Why it came up? Bourbon maker Woodford Reserve had just released a third offering in its Master’s Collection series, the Woodford Reserve 1838 Sweet Mash. Every other bourbon in the U.S. is created using a sour mash, a process in which the detritus of a previous distillation—grains, yeast, water—is folded into a new batch. But long before secondhand mash became the industry standard, the liquor was made using fresh ingredients only—a sweet mash. Woodford’s new product revives this erstwhile method and, according to the distillery, the 1838 is the only such whiskey on the market. “The process is riskier, which makes it more expensive,” says Woodford master distiller Chris Morris, offering his theory as to why modern distilleries eschew the method. The resultant elixir is lighter in body than its status quo counterpart, with a high cinnamon-clove spiciness and unusual fruit notes of berries and apples. If you want to sample this lost breed, you’ll have to hustle. Woodford only made 1,045 cases, and has no plans to make it again. $89 for 750 ml at Park Avenue Liquor, 292 Madison Ave between 40th and 41st Sts (212-685-2442), and Astor Wines & Spirits, 399 Lafayette St at 4th St (212-674-7500)
— Robert Simonson