More White Dog

Even as it draws derision from some whiskey purists, the white dog trend shows no sign of abating. The latest out of the gate is Kentucky distiller Heaven Hill, which is releasing not one, but five different white whiskeys. Here's my item from the New York Times' Diner's Journal:

The Palette of Moonshines Expands

By ROBERT SIMONSON

In the past two years, many an American distillery has hopped on the moonshine bandwagon, releasing its own unaged, just-off-the-still “white dogs.” But few are taking it as far as Heaven Hill, the large, family-owned, Kentucky outfit that produces a wide line of whiskeys. They are going to have five different versions of white lighting. Why? Because they can.

“We’re the only distillery who can realize a new make of every kind of American whiskey,” said Larry Kass, longtime spokesman of Heaven Hill. By that he means that the company produces five distinct mash recipes: a rye-heavy bourbon; a wheated bourbon, which substitutes wheat for the usual rye; a wheat whiskey; a rye whiskey; and a corn whiskey.

Two of the white whiskeys, which are being bottled as the Trybox Series of New Make Whiskeys, were released in April, and are just reaching stores, priced at around $25. They are the rye-accented bourbon distillate (which is still dominated by corn, which must, by law, make up 51 percent of a bourbon’s mash bill) that results in such familiar brands as Elijah Craig and Evan Williams; and the rye recipe that produces Rittenhouse Straight Rye.

“This whole phenomenon is the result of mixologists,” said Mr. Kass, “who are finding new and novel ways to use it and take advantage of its attributes. The other market is retail sales. But I don’t think it’s the type of product someone is going to buy and use cases and cases. You get connoisseurs buying it as an educational tool. In bringing out these different versions, it puts a few more arrows in the quiver of mixologists and connoisseurs.”

The other three Heaven Hill white dogs — the wheated bourbon (which ages into Old Fitzgerald), the wheat whiskey (Bernheim Original) and corn whiskey (Georgia Moon and Mellow Corn) — will be rolled out slowly, with the next arrived sometime this coming fall. All will be bottled at 62.5 percent alcohol, or “barrel proof.”

White Dog Has Its Day

I first tasted white dog at the Labrot & Graham distillery, where Woodford Reserve is made. I remember everyone else around getting very excited about tasting this just-off-the-still clear joy juice, and my thinking it was moonshine and was going to blow the roof off my head. I was surprised when I tasted a delicate, fruity, multi-faceted liquor that I almost preferred to the aged Woodford.

Soon after that visit, I began to see commercially released white whiskeys on the market, first, and most commonly, Death's Door from Wisconsin. That Buffalo Trace recently got into the game is a sure sign that white dog has hit the big time, and that this spirit is never again going to be a secret caviar savored only by liquor geeks who either make their own or sip it on the sly during distillery visits.

I just wrote an article on the phenomenon for the New York Times:

Moonshine Finds New Craftsmen and Enthusiasts

By Robert Simonson

IN early April, Kris Comstock, a representative for the Buffalo Trace distillery in Kentucky, conducted a seminar on bourbon at Char No. 4, a bar in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, that offers 150 kinds of American whiskey.

Among the bourbons he poured were Buffalo Trace, Eagle Rare and Blanton’s. But his students weren’t interested in those.

“The first thing that everyone wanted to taste was the white dog,” he said. “We make products that win amazing awards all around the world, and they want to taste the white dog.”

Cocktail-Glass Aging, or, Turning White Dog Tan

I recently met a bootleg distiller from upstate New York. We'll call him Laird. He's been making his own booze for about 30 years, and his knowledge of the craft is vast. I happened to have in my possession a few of the new white dogs that are on the market. I was curious what he thought of them, being a maker of white lightening himself, so I let him sample a couple.

After noting the presence of a paraffin flavor in making of the craft distillers making white dog out there, and generally disparaging the kind of cheap, Dutch stills he was sure each maker was using, he led me through an interesting science experiment. A friend of Laird's and mine—at whose home we met—is an amateur winemaker. He had some French wood chips on hand. Laird suggested I put a few of these in a glass of the Buffalo Trace White Dog (which has an alcohol content of 62.5%) and watch what happened. I was astounded. The whiskey started to take on the wood immediately. Within a minute, it was darker and tasted markedly different. In five minutes, it began to taste vaguely like aged whiskey. I had no idea such things could occur so quickly. "It only works with French oak," said Laird. "The French stuff is great for that. With American oak, it's a slower process." (Here's a photo of the whiskey in question, below.)

And that was that. Until I visited that same friend this weekend. He had an idea—wouldn't it be kinda cool to do the wood-chip thing, but in the context of a cocktail? Light bulb! It would indeed.

My friend gave me a small stash of French wood chips. I went home and prepared myself a white dog Old Fashioned, using Death's Door white whiskey. (Death's Door seems to be the white dog that works best in most standard cocktails.) I muddled a sugar cube with some Angostura, then threw the wood cube in there and stirred it around some more. I added the whiskey, stirred; ice, stirred.