The Shiso Julep

The Shiso JulepSince my first visit to the Hawthorne in Boston, finding new Julep recipes has become one of my favorite hobbies. The ultra-exclusive atmosphere and astutely ambitious cocktails at New York’s Angel’s Share didn’t make it seem like it was going to be the place to find one, at first.

Like the Old Fashioned, the Julep is an elemental technique. The classic cocktail was only minimally modified to suit the dog days of summer. Instead of aromatic bitters, muddle a cooling, aromatic herb with your simple syrup and then add your whisky and a hefty pile of ice. It’s a drink that preaches the gospel of the minimalist; one of the few where the whisky can really shine through, despite being bound to other ingredients.

Where The Hawthorne‘s Katie Emmerson switched out the classic Bourbon for a heady Islay malt, Angel’s Share‘s director, Shingo Gokan, in true form, opted to change everything. Instead of Bourbon, he uses a Japanese whisky, Hakushu 12 yr. Where there was mint, now there is shiso. Lastly, instead of commercial white sugar, Shingo has sourced the elusive Japanese wasanbon toh for its subtle earthiness and vibrant fruit.

Like the Lagavulin Julep, the Hakushu has some peat to add to the mix, but is far more balanced. It adds more of a savory, richness at the base and less of the blast of bog water that the juggernaut Lagavulin rolls through on. 

Japanese whisky is also milder than Bourbon, making mint’s subtle, more complex cousin, Shiso, a perfect match. It’s floral and green enough to add the aromatic layer, and still cooling enough to enjoy on a hot summer day. The citrus-y side of the shiso also adds a bit of sweetness to the liquor, like a deliciously perverse whisky gimlet, though maybe not quite that sweet until you add the wasanbon.

Wasanbon sugar rounds out the mix with a subtle molasses flavor and light fruity notes not found in commercial sugars. It is manufactured in Japan from a rare sugar cane plant that is much thinner than the cane we think of in the US. It’s all made by hand so the care and skill that goes into making it, makes it a rare treat, even for those living closer to the source. Typically, wasanbon is pressed into molds and shaped as candies, or used in wagashi, the Japanese equivalent of petit fours. People use it in coffee or cakes, too, but try not to cover the flavor up with too many other ingredients.

Gokan came up with the idea of making a Japanese-style Julep while visiting the Hakushu distillery in Japan. He was also kind enough to share his recipe with us, here. The one hold up to making this at home, however, will be finding wasanbon sugar, as it is extremely rare. Despite the language barrier, I managed to find a big bag of it on Rakuten but immediately after buying it they ran out of stock. If you’re lucky you can buy a smaller bag, but if that stock runs out next, then you may have to find another way to source it. Good luck! It’s amazing stuff.

Shingo Gokan’s Shiso Julep

  1. First make a simple syrup with two bar spoons worth of wasanbon sugar and 60mL of mineral water.
  2. In a Julep Cup, add a small amount of shiso leaf and the syrup. Muddle lightly.
  3. Add 60mL Hakushu 12yr and fill cup with crushed ice. Carefully stir until chilled and the outside of the cup is frosty
  4. Garnish with aromatic shiso leaf and serve.

Thank you to Angel’s Share for the recipe. If you haven’t been yet, you should get there soon and check it out! The cocktails are so delicious that the first time we went, I had a mid-life crisis as we were leaving. This isn’t just a must-try cocktail, this is a must-see speakeasy.

Village Yokocho
8 Stuyvesant St
New York, NY 10003

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Whisky Jewbilee 2014 Recap

Whisky Jewbilee 2014You may have noticed I disappeared from the blog for three months. I hate when that happens. Blog silence is like nails on chalkboard to me. It seems like this just happened, too.

Truth is, when I saw this year’s new venue for the Whisky Jewbilee, I was so excited that I funded a time travel experiment to get there faster… and it worked! I didn’t have to wait to go to the show!

So you may see the large gaps between postings here and begin to think that I don’t take whisky blogging very seriously, but I assure you, on the contrary, I take everything I do, very, very seriously.

(1658). Beaver. Topsell's The History of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents Woodcuts. Special Collections, University of Houston Libraries.

Like my blog, this beaver is completely fucking serious.

But the real reason I haven’t posted in so long is cool enough that it doesn’t actually need a sarcastic cover story. I passed clumsily through allergy season and then joyfully into a mild barbecue season. So, in the beginning, it was pollen and delicious pecan smoke taking up all the free smelling-abilities which I usually allot to whisky. Then, there was a quick vacation to Vermont. My wife and I did some hiking. I built a chicken coop for fun and we bought some chickens. I did a lot of stuff, and most importantly, I recharged.

We all hope to return from our sabbaticals with new inspiration and the ability to become better than we were when we left, so it’s fitting that donning the press pass for the 2014 Whisky Jewbilee would serve as my reintroduction; admirably, the Jewish Whisky Company’s show just gets better and better every time it comes back.

blending class view from the penthouse

View of WTC 1 from the penthouse

This time we trekked out to the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, first, for a pre-show hands-on blending demonstration by High West’s David Perkins. The Jewish Whisky Company also collaborated with Perkins for this year’s festival bottling, a blended whisky assembled from punchy, 6 year old rye; stony, 8 year old Bourbon; and buttery, 11 year old light whisky. Attendees to the blending class were given samples of the three components and got to play with measured beakers, pipettes and water, attempting to create their own blend.

blending kitI wished I had 50 more beakers, as once I started to play with the ingredients, it became clear that, even with only three whiskies, there were far too many variables for me to approach it, methodically. I settled on a cask strength 8:7:1 blend of rye, Bourbon, light whisky.

While I walked away feeling like I knew even less about blending than I did when we started, the wisdom Perkins shared was actually very enlightening. Attendees left with the knowledge, all of the equipment, and the leftover whisky, so it was also possible to play around with blending at home. I was especially excited to take home the sample of cask strength light whisky, a spirit that almost never sees the market undiluted and unblended… though I should mention, you can plan to see a cask strength light whisky from the Single Cask Nation very soon, and membership costs just went down to a very affordable $36.

The tasting portion of the show started a few hours later. Some of the spiritual event goers were wearing sparkly, branded yarmulkes they picked up at Highland Park’s table, but my wife noticed that many people in the crowd were also wearing tassels around the bottoms of their shirts. At one point in the night, she leaned over to a complete stranger and asked about them. The man she asked happened to be a rabbi and explained that they were called Tzitzit and that it was commanded in the Torah to wear them. He then went on to explain that Judaism is steeped in ritual, and that to him, the tassels formed a frame. This gesture was just one of the ways he remained mindful, every morning; preparing a frame for himself, a spiritual mindset through which he would choose to view the world. It didn’t matter if there was a reason, it was the act of reverently acting out the intention. That put a surprisingly Buddhist spin on what was already shaping up to be a very zen experience.

Elijah Craig 23 yearLike the conversation, the hypnotic, white-everything decor of the venue framed the whisky brilliantly. The space was comfortable and inviting. This was one of the most relaxing shows I’ve ever been to, and while I would guess a lot of the mellow vibe had to do with the visual environment, it would be criminal to neglect the smartly capped attendance and the neighborly crowd.

Back to the spirits, the night was a whirlwind of delicious whiskies. The Hibiki 21 was a divine meeting with the buxom goddess, Asherah, eating a plum. The port-finished blend of ryes titled A Midwinter Night’s Dram, was a prophetic glimpse of a product you can only buy at High West’s Utah distillery. A single barrel Bourbon bottler from Connecticut offered the crowd a few bottles of their first batch of unfiltered, cask-strength, Barrell [sic] Bourbon. Highland Park’s 15 year old, buttery, ex-Bourbon release, the falcon-cloaked goddess Freya, made an appearance. A celestial, Bowmore 25 year, Purple Valley Imports’ Blackadder Raw Cask 23 year Strathmill, and the Russell’s Reserve Single Barrel made it hard to choose which whiskies to taste then dump, and which to enjoy. The Heaven Hill table had my favorite American whiskies at the last show and kept the tradition alive this year with an Elijah Craig 23 year old.

Le Nez Du Whisky

There was also a really cool nosing kit set up, called Le Nez du Whisky, with four different aromas set out to try and guess. These kinds of kits are great (if you can afford them) to test your abilities. Even if you don’t drink whisky, nosing things is a fun way to learn to be more mindful and sharpen your perceptions. Of course, nothing beats smelling real world examples of things, but making it easy to test yourself by consolidating the aromas like this is really cool.

Mark Gillespie and I

Enjoying a quick conversation with Mark Gillespie

Of course, for the die-hard whisky fans, the show didn’t stop at the whisky. There are always loads of industry people to chat with. Among the local and itinerant whisky nobility this year, I met WhiskyCast’s resident Malt Maniac, Mark Gillespie. G-Lo, Limpd and WCO from It’s Just the Booze Dancing; Joshua Gershon Feldman, from The Coopered Tot; and Stephen from The Malt Imposter, all made appearances, too.

As I said before, the Whisky Jewbilee gets better each year, but still, it’s hard to imagine getting much better than this. I’m already excited for next June. Cheers!

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Lost Spirits – Umami (59%)

Umami, destroying San Francisco14:46 JST, Friday, March 11, 2011, the most powerful earthquake to hit Japan shook the island. At the bottom of the ocean, something woke up; something that had been sleeping for a very long time. The jolt triggered a tsunami that caused the meltdown of three nuclear reactors at the Fukushima Daiichi Power Plant in Ōkuma. Thousands of gallons of radioactive water spilled into the ocean. People scrambled as their cars and pets were washed away. Homes and lives were destroyed… and the Sleeper grew.

For three years, the Sleeper fed on other monsters of the Mariana Trench, waiting, biding its time, and growing in the increasingly radioactive waters there. When it outgrew its home, it began to journey east. Sometime in March of 2014, the Sleeper made landfall in Monterey County, California. It quickly cut a swath 200 miles north to St. Helena, where it laid waste to Charbay Winery and Distillery, stopping along the way to ravage Anchor distillery in San Francisco and St. George’s in Alameda. No distillery is safe from its fiery breath. No human is prepared to face the monster. Humankind is not ready for this. This whisky is a giant beast, the likes of which we couldn’t tame… but I mean, this is Lost Spirits we’re talking about here. Sounds like all systems normal to me.

Distiller Bryan Davis is still using Canadian peat and local barley, and he’s preserved his nefarious house style, but he’s taken the way he crafts his whisky in a new direction since the last time this blog visited him. Now, all his whisky mashes are fermented with salt water. He used brine from the nearby Pacific Ocean at first, but later opted for the convenience of Pacific sea salt. Why salt? Yeast can’t multiply in salt. Doesn’t that sound counter intuitive?

For starters, salt helps facilitate the separation of alcohol and water in the still. Salt raises the boiling point of the medium it’s dissolved in, and is around 500 times less soluble in alcohol than water. That means it has little effect on the ethanol while causing the water to take more energy to boil. As the distillation progresses, the salt concentration rises in the water, exponentially raising the boiling point, making it even harder for the water to evaporate, allowing for an easier cut of the alcohol.

Lost Spirits Umami

On a biological level, the salt provides a hostile environment for the yeast, causing it to build up its cell walls, up to eight times thicker, to withstand the barrage of cell-moisture stealing saline. The thicker walls mean the yeast is less able to split and multiply in the mash, so you have to grow your yeast to where you need it while it’s outside the mash first, but it also means that the yeast have more armor and thus can survive and continue producing alcohol to a higher percent by volume without dying from exposure to lethal concentrations of ethanol. This means more alcohol per batch with more yeast produced congeners in the mix, as well.

Most of the yeast’s processes happen through these cell walls, changing the dynamics of how it lives and functions. This affects how it creates different compounds, among which Davis hopes are a more complex series of mono sodium complexes, various salts with a bouquet of new salty flavors.  Among the eponymously umami compounds he hopes to create, are sodium acetate, sodium lactate, and sodium propionate, all compounds commonly used as food additives with mildly salty flavors. The second of the bunch, sodium lactate, is commercially manufactured by neutralizing lactic acid and can be used to treat arrhythmia and hypertension but can also cause panic attacks in those prone to having them; I defy you to find someone making whisky this bad-ass; a spirit that may just cause fits of existential terror. Awesome!

While I appreciate the bold new approach, the thing I admire most about this distillery and its team is the honesty. A short Godzilla-stroll to the north, Charbay hijacked a few hundred year old practice and claimed it for themselves, saying they were the first to distill a hopped beer as a mash, despite a precedent dating back to the 1700′s of people doing just that. These folks are part of the California craft whisky movement, zealously lauded by bloggers for pushing the envelope, but how far are they really pushing it? A couple hundred miles to the south, Davis asks himself, “what could I mix with my whisky mash that might kill a man on the cusp of dehydration? Eureka! Sea water!!!” As I write this, even, he’s still evolving, fermenting milk dunder for rye and harnessing the power of the sun in some bizarre, alchemical fashion. I can’t even keep up!

But make no mistake, Davis doesn’t try to take credit for being the first to distill on salt water. He’s actually doubtful that he’s the first. He stumbled onto the idea of using salt water while pondering a map of Scotland and trying to figure out how a barrel aged in Glasgow takes on an oceanic quality being so far from the ocean. Even barrels aged by the sea were perplexing, as salt can’t penetrate the pores of the cask. So where is it coming from? Are they pumping sea water into the fermenters?

One more curiosity, in Scotland, the stills are fixed or replaced every ten years as the distilling takes its toll, while over in France, there are Cognac stills that have been running solid for 90 years. You know what can cause metal to wear out faster than normal, don’t you? Salt. It was the possibility that ocean-side and island-dwelling distillers may be using sea water in a more direct way than they let on, which lead Davis to investigate. Eventually, after he finishes piecing together his forensics lab at the distillery, he plans to see if he can find the tell-tale chemical markers that would give away the secrets hiding within. Saying that I’m eager to hear about his results is a colossal understatement.

As for the whisky itself, this bottle of Umami shows significant growth in the Lost Spirits house style. I’m definitely digging it. I can’t quite figure out if Davis is a scientist or a madman. Perhaps he’s a little of both, but either way, whether or not the world is ready for what he has to offer, I have a feeling we’ll see his name associated with the discovery of some wild advance in whisky, soon. Stay tuned!

Nose: Youthful with lots of that dusty, Salinas terrior they’re known for. Kodak film in the little, black, plastic containers film used to come in. Drift wood smoke and heaps of smoldering sandalwood incense. Cedar planks and salted cashews. Oddly lemony with an extremely light malt, oatmeal cookies, and dry seaweed.

Palate: Fiery and resinous with the drift wood from the nose. It sticks with you for a long time and eventually finds itself seeping through every cell in your body, until you can practically taste it with your skin. Fistfuls of lovely pipe tobacco stuffed into a sun-baked bike tire. Savory eggplant, tomato skins, and musky cologne. The finish is raw capsaicin on the sides of your tongue with loads of sandalwood, and just as the monster trails off, it leaves you with a hint of cocoa powder.

Rating: Recommended but EvilThis is the new badge and category I’ve created especially for the Lost Spirits team to celebrate what I would call their best batch yet: “Recommended but Evil”. Life is short. Live a little and leave no room for regrets. Grab the beast by the horns and confront the terrors of the world, because really, nothing will ever be as terrible as the monsters within. Plus, once you’ve seen what the depths have to offer, you may be surprised to find yourself coming back for more.

Many thanks to Bryan Davis for the bottle. Cheers!

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Tincup – American Whisky (42%)

TINCUP“At 22, Jess Graber packed up his bags and moved to Colorado in hopes of finding himself and inspiration. A volunteer fire fighter, Jess fell in love with the mountains and discovered his love for distillation. And Colorado’s TINCUP whiskey was born.”
-Tincup’s neck tag

Strange. Even ignoring the weird sentence fragment and the end, that blurb seems disjointed… like it’s missing something. Oh, that’s right. In between the firefighter thing and TINCUP, Graber established and then sold Stranahan’s to Proximo Spirits. He’s not completely free of Proximo, though. Now he’s lent his name to a sourced spirit under their stewardship. Red, White and Bourbon’s Josh Chinn nailed it when he postulated the exact mix of MGPI mashbills used. Less than two months later they would officially confirm what Chinn surmised on his own. Nice job, Josh! 

I’m not sure Proximo intended to reveal their source, though. It seems like Josh might have blown their cover and forced them into damage control mode. Like many bloggers before me who tried to jump on the story when Tincup first became available, Proximo never returned any of my emails and the Stranahan’s people were mildly annoyed by my queries. There was a vacuum of information.

Their more recent and painfully cheesy website seems to imply that they were working hard on the Colorado angle up until the flurry of interviews where Jess Graber gave away the game. Look at this ranch. Elk good. Water cold. Jess Graber not single. We make whisky. No. I’m sorry, Jess, but you don’t. Not anymore.

Jess Graber's Tincup

from tincupwhiskey.com

I have to admit, I’m pretty annoyed by people who buy from MGPI at this point. Trying to find new, American whisky has become a chore. These guys in Indiana are flooding the market. Now, I have to spend twice as long scouring labels looking for the word Indiana, or even better, the phrase distilled by followed by anywhere else, and it’s getting harder to avoid buying into it. There have been points where the open part of my whisky shelf had been inadvertently taken over by MGPI products. Not that all their stiff is swill, some of it is very good, but I’ve walked into smaller stores where they didn’t even have anything else other than the regulars (Johnnie, Jack, & Jim) and MGPI wares. That’s crazy!

Many of the non-distiller producers have the same lame excuse, too: I wanted it to be affordable. Well, sourced-whisky vendors, I wanted it to be different. I didn’t want my whisky shelf to be an MGPI collection. As if they knew people would eventually come to the same disappointed conclusion, they expanded their line-up last year, to include more rye mashes, along with a new wheat and a barley mash… sigh.

I have to give the Tincup team credit, though. This is a really cool looking bottle. The hexagonal shape makes me want to carry it with me and watch the spirit slosh around. Where Stranahan’s left it’s cup to be held on by gravity alone, and was often lost immediately after opening, the tin cup on top of Tincup actually screws onto the bottle, integrating nicely.

Nose: Smells more like rye than a Bourbon. Sunflower, carpenter’s pencil, cinnamon candies and 80′s ski lodge. Guava and salvaged barn board. Lime, celery stalk and sweet, virgin, pool liner. As it airs out, the graphite swells. It’s a little sharp but not very complicated.

Palate: Cherry cough drops with a tiny smudge of black licorice. Like the nose, the start of the palate screams rye, but as it progresses it let’s some Bourbon out. Blindfolded, I would have had a very difficult time guessing whether this was rye or Bourbon. Graphite with some cinnamon spice. Not a huge complicated whisky with a simple finish to match.

Rating: RecommendedI give this rating very timidly and with one caveat: for the $27 I’ve seen stores sell it for, awesome, but for the $35 I see on a few websites, I’d hesitate.

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Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey – batch 92 (47%)

Stranahan's Colorado WhiskyBefore the distillery was officially founded, George Stranahan let Jess Graber use his barn to experiment distilling his whisky. At the time, Stranahan was not only a bootlegging accomplice, but owner of Flying Dog Brewery, so Graber began distilling leftover kegs and any odds and ends he could get Stranahan to give him. Eventually, Graber “crafted his own recipe from barley” and tasked Flying Dog to brew it for them, essentially outsourcing the mash he would use for his whisky.

The official distillery was founded in 2004 by Graber and Stranahan. Graber quickly brought amateur distiller Jake Norris into the fold to help with production as a minority partner. In 2007, Flying Dog moved to Maryland so Stranahan’s switched to Oskar Blues for their wash. Two years after that, they bought a new space and started making their own wash. Finally, in 2010, Graber sold the whole thing to Proximo spirits. Norris was the last of the trio left working the floor when he departed in 2011. He’s hinted in interviews that he has a side project he’s planning, but nothing has surfaced yet. Thus concludes the journey of Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey from craft to corporate in six short years.

Knowing the genesis of this brand, I suspect there are some hops in the mash. Flying Dog makes a lot of very hoppy brews. Proximo is notorious for its reluctance to comment, though the official reply I received from Stranahan’s very plainly denied the addition. The website claims it’s “straight Colorado whisky”. If it were straight whisky, that would rule out any adjuncts like hops, but the only declaration on this bottle uses the word straight to describe where it came from, “straight from the Rocky’s,” and I have a suspicion that the word Colorado in between straight and whisky on the website may provide them disingenuous cover, as well.

Nose: White wine, dry cave and hops over a malty base. Given lots of air there’s evidence of a beautiful single malt in here. Sliced almonds and raspberries. Woody like a Bourbon. Slightly under-dried apple chips. Socks and boiled egg whites waft in between milk chocolate.

Palate: Hops dominate all for the first few moments before retreating to offer a little footing for traces of other flavors. IPA on the middle of the tongue and stout in back. Bright with bitter grapefruit, cola and heaps of ripe apples. Numbing. A little of the chocolate in the finish implies there may be some darker roasted malt in the mix.

Rating: Try itI love the nose but find myself less enamored with the palate. The roar of its cult status is hard to muffle, though. It doesn’t suffer from lack of character but I’ve had much better bottles. I do find it strange that WhistlePig receives so much criticism for being 10 years old and costing upwards of $60, while Stranahan’s rolls in with no age statement and a verbally marketed age of 2-5 years for the same price without commotion from the peanut gallery.

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