Crown Royal Vanilla is a great iteration of the venerable Canadian Whisky brand that is as smooth as always except with strong vanilla kick surrounded by subtle oak notes. This whisky drinks great both on the rocks and neat, but it really shines as the base of a vanilla whisky-coke, which brings visions of days sitting at the soda fountain decades ago. The vanilla makes the already superbly smooth whisky even more accessible and flavorful, giving new dimension to an old favorite. Crown Royal Vanilla is a fantastic whisky on its own but I would argue it truly shines as the centerpiece of the boozy vanilla desert shake.

I used the recipe for The Very Vanilla Shake created by Mixologist Brian Floyd for this decadent desert. Simply add 1.5 oz Crown Royal Vanilla, 2 scoops vanilla ice cream, and 3 dashes Mole Bitters to a blender and mix until creamy. Be sure to get a very high quality Vanilla Ice Cream, I got my favorite Tillamook Vanilla Bean. The resulting shake is a sublimely smooth experience as the vanilla base dominates with hints of a cocoa spiciness opening up the flavor palate due to the Mole Bitters. The Crown Royal Vanilla adds only minimal bite that parlays perfectly with the cool ice cream.

Making an amazing end of day treat after a great day at work and a hard lifting session. @factorytwofour @crownroyal #crownroyal #whisky #canadianwhisky #milkshake #boozymilkshakes #boozydessert #desert #crownvanilla #vanillasogood

A post shared by Nick (@truenortherncolorado) on Aug 15, 2017 at 7:37pm PDT

Be sure not to miss this perfect way to wind down after a long summer day with this spectacular boozy milkshake with Crown Royal Vanilla in its soul.

The post Cool Down With A Whisky Shake appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

We are at an unnamed mezcal distillery high in the mountains of Oaxaca, Mexico. The tiny distillery consists of a dirt yard, the pit, and a shed that contains an old copper still, a holding tank brimming with fermenting agave fiber, and an immense stone wheel. Beyond the enclosure, fields of spiky agave, or maguey, stretch up into the forested slopes.

This yard is one of hundreds of mom-and-pop distilleries that dot the mountains south of Oaxaca City. A far cry from the modern autoclaves of the big tequila distilleries, these operations work with fire, dirt, stone, and the age-old art of fermentation. You want artisanal booze? Try something burro-powered. Yes, the stone wheel that crushes the maguey fiber is actually pulled by a burro.

Making Mezcal (the traditional way)

Here’s the process: Men and women harvest agave from the surrounding fields and mountains. Jimadores (professional agave harvesters) cut off the spiky leaves and bury the agave hearts, or piñas, in a giant roasting pit. After roasting for about a week, the smoking agave hearts are removed from the pit and ground to fiber. Next the palanquero (distiller) settles the fiber in vats, where it will ferment for a week or two. At the end of the fermentation period, the viscous liquid is ready for distilling in a copper or clay still. Mezcal is typically distilled twice.

Tequila and Mezcal: What’s the Difference?

Mezcal is a distilled liquor made from the agave plant, a member of the botanical order asparagales, which includes asparagus and narcissus. Historically, mezcal was a blanket term for any type of agave spirits, meaning that tequila is technically a type of mezcal, albeit one made in a specific region (Jalisco and parts of four surrounding states) and from a specific type of agave, agave tequilana.

Today, tequila and mezcal are considered separate designations. Taste-wise, tequila differs from traditional mezcal because tequila distilleries employ industrial processes, replacing pit roasting with modern ovens or autoclaves. Good mezcal is smokier, earthier: these distinct flavors stem from artisanal methods: the smoke of the pit, the use of diverse species of agave (including wild plants) and, sometimes, from the clay of the traditional still. (That said, mezcal doesn’t need to be super smoky in order to be good — some quality mezcals don’t taste particularly smoky.)

Mezcal was once tequila’s wild, unregulated cousin, but these days Mexico has gotten hip to the cultural and economic value of its heritage liquors, and mezcal is now its own denomination, with its own sets of rules, regulations, and certifications. If a bottle is officially designated “mezcal artesanal” and labeled as such, it means that the spirits were made in a specific region by a specific process that may include either pit roasting or the use of masonry ovens.

Varieties of Mezcal

Like tequila, mezcal is sold “fresh” and aged. The current mezcal designations are as follows:

Blanco or Joven — unnaged.

Reposado—rested for a minimum of two months in a wooden container.

Madurado en vidrio — rested in a glass container for a minimum of twelve months. (This has a wonderful mellowing effect.)

Añejo — rested for a minimum of twelve months in a wooden container.

Abocado con — mezcal that directly incorporates additional ingredients for flavor. See fruit, herbs, flowers, honey, vegetables, or insects.

Destilado con — mezcal that’s distilled with additional ingredients, which may range from plums to the famous pechuga, or chicken breast.

Agave must mature for between four and ten years before harvest, which distinguishes agave spirits from all other forms of liquor. More than any other spirit, mezcal is influenced by the plant itself. Thus, mezcal labels often reference the type of maguey used in production. For example, tobala mezcal is made from A. potatorum, a small wild maguey that grows in the extreme highlands. While tobala is sought after, it’s not the holy grail: Tepextate mezcal costs upwards of $200 a bottle because it’s made from a wild agave so rare that a maestro mezcalero might find only five or ten plants in his lifetime.

The politics of mezcal

Mezcal was once the drink of Mexico’s working class, and derided as firewater. These days it’s the hippest thing on the menu from Mexico City to Brooklyn. Unfortunately, the boom in popularity isn’t necessarily helping the rural people who make traditional mezcal.

Many small distilleries don’t have any way to get their product to a bigger market. Big distributors will pay small distilleries a pittance for their quality mezcal, label it, and then sell it for $100 a bottle.

This year, the Mexican government issued a new labeling law: Norma Official Mexicana 177 (NOM 177). Ostensibly mezcal designations allow small producers to differentiate their product from big industrial producers. But the NOM also allows industrial nontraditional producers to label their bottles as mezcal. Mezcal made by old school methods will be labeled “mezcal artesanal” or “mezcal ancestral.” Here’s the breakdown on the new labeling standards:

Mezcal

This broad designation covers “mezcal” produced using the same industrial processes that are used by major tequila manufacturers.

• Agave hearts or juice may be cooked in autoclaves.
• Crushed by basically any method.
• Fermented in wood, concrete, or stainless steel tanks.
• Stainless steel column stills are permitted.

(This doesn’t mean that all mezcals that fall under this label are using totally modern methods. For example, a mezcal may use some traditional methods but fail to meet one requirement for the artesanal label and thus be relegated to the underclass.)

Mezcal Artesanal

• Agave hearts may be roasted in an underground stone oven or above-ground masonry oven.
• Crushed by traditional or industrial methods.
• Fermented in stone, earth, wood, clay, or animal skins. Agave fibers mandatory.
• Distilled with direct fire on a copper alembic or clay pot still. Agave fibers must be included.

Mezcal Ancestral

• Roasted in an underground stone oven.
• Crushed by hand, with a tahona, or with a Chilean or Egyptian mill.
• Fermented in stone, earth, wood, clay, or animal skins. Agave fibers mandatory.
• Distilled by direct fire on a clay pot still. Agave fibers mandatory.

What to drink?

We asked renowned mezcal expert Clayton Szczech of Experience Mezcal to weigh in on a few of our favorite brands. In choosing producers for his tastings, tours, and “mezcal camps,” Szczech considered politics as well as taste. “Right now there’s a real need for people to understand why mezcal costs what it does,” he says. “What I’m trying to do is look at these brands and figure out where more of that money is getting back to the producer.” With that in mind, he came up with four recommendations for delicious mezcal that is produced with respect for the environment and culture of rural Oaxaca.

Tosba

“This is a (rare) producer-owned brand. Mezcalero Edgar González is single-handedly reviving the mezcal tradition in his remote Zapotec village of San Cristobal Lachirioag. He’s produced espadín, tobalá and pechuga from the beginning, and many of his experimental plantings of maguey from other regions are about to mature, and all will be worth seeking out. This is one of the best mescals you will find at such an accessible price point.”

Real Minero

“Real Minero is a family-owned brand of delicious clay-pot distilled mezcal from Santa Catarina Minas. The distillery is run by Graciela Ángeles. She’s a unique combination of traditional (having learned mezcal from her late father) and modern (being a rural sociologist by training) and they maintain one of the most traditional processes of any mezcal you can buy in the US. As demand for wild agave grows, the survival of many species is under threat. Real Minero is doing more than perhaps any other brand to preserve and repopulate over a dozen wild varietals.”

Vago

“I unabashedly recommend this as an awesome artisanal mezcal. Vago was started by Judah Kuper, a gringo surfer who fell in love with and married the daughter of an old-school, traditional mezcalero, Aquilino García, in the remote village of Yegolé. Some Vago expressions are produced by Aquilino, and the even more old-school clay-pot distilled expressions are made in Sola de Vega by “Tío Rey” Rodriguez. Vago’s labels are meticulously detailed, so you always know exactly what you are buying, down to the date it was produced.”

El Jolgorio

“This is a Oaxaca-based brand. They’ve done more than anyone to bring previously unknown magueys to the marketplace. The El Jolgorio line is mostly wild magueys.”

(Still thirsty for more? Consider planning your next trip around mezcal. See Experience Mezcal for details on tours  and camps.)

Looking for a great Cognac for your next event? We have you covered on crafting a tasty Old Fashioned.

The post Mezcal Isn’t Just Cheap Tequila: Here’s What You’re Drinking appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

But as much fun as a night out on the town can be, I’m referring instead to a more private and solitary experience, the kind of night where you can curl up with a few drinks and listen to an album from start to finish. Maybe you’re focusing on the music, or maybe your thoughts drift someplace else. The only thing that really matters is listening to every track, and sipping on your drink throughout.

Here’s a list of great albums to listen to while enjoying a drink. So pop your top and muddle your mint, and we’ll see you on the other side.

If You’re Drinking Beer

Let’s get one thing straight: I love beer. It’s my go-to drink while listening to albums because of its unique ability of putting me into a wistful state. These albums pair perfectly with a cold six pack and an hour or so to yourself.

“As much fun as a night on the town can be, I’m referring instead to a more private and solitary experience, the kind of night where you curl up with a few drinks and listen to an album from start to finish. The only thing that really matters is listening to every track, and sipping on your drink throughout.”

Beck – One Foot in the Grave: Probably the best Beck album ever produced, and certainly my favorite one. The album has a consistent vibe of melancholy punctuated with manic highs and soul-searching lows. There are examples of the trademark sound Beck is famous for, but the album demonstrates a simpler songwriting and more raw approach to music. You’ll know from the first song, right away, if it’s for you.

Kyle Craft – Dolls of Highland: I walked into a concert last November and this guy was opening for the headlining band. He instantly cemented himself as one of my favorites. Clever and tight musical arrangements and incredibly powerful vocals make for an album worth rocking out to. Prepare to be told a series of stories by Kyle Craft, all with a quality seemingly written to be listened to with a beer in one hand.

Marcy Playground – Leaving Wonderland in a Fit of Rage: Most folks are surprised to learn that Marcy Playground, the band behind the 90’s hit “Sex and Candy,” continued producing albums. This particular gem demonstrates some of the band’s best songwriting and contains the killer tune “Devil Woman.” It’s one of my favorite albums for reminiscing and kicking back.

If You’re Drinking Wine

Wine is the drink of poets, philosophers, and bored housewives, all of which are fine company. For me something about the aroma and heady highs of wine pairs well with the following albums.

Asteroids Galaxy Tour – Fruit: The first album released by the band, Fruit is a collection of over-stuffed sounds with an intoxicating lead singer powering through every song. This is an album to move and dance and groove to, even if you’re sitting in your chair with a glass — just try not to spill it. The best part of Asteroids Galaxy Tour is that they are so damned difficult to fit into a category.

Simon and Garfunkel – Sound of Silence: This is definitely the album to listen to when you’re aching for something unapologetic. Most everybody knows the album’s title track, but it’s the rest of the album that makes it a spectacular listen. Prepare yourself for a walk down memory lane with this musical accompaniment.

Tool – 10,000 Days: I’ve listened to this album about 10,000 times, and it’s never sounded as powerful as when I’m drinking some wine. This is an album perfect for listening to through some high-quality speakers or headphones with some rich red wine in hand. The operatic, guitar-driven music is balanced perfectly with musicians of incredible skill and talent. The lyrics for each song are just as powerful. Fair warning: This record is considerably louder than anything else on this list!

If You’re Drinking Cocktails

I’ve never been big on liquor of any sort, but a few drink combinations feel just right, at least when listening to music and drinking.

Tom Waits – Mule Variations: No list involving music and drinking should ever be considered without adding something by Tom Waits into the mix. Mule Variations catches a little bit of everything Waits is about. It’s impossible to listen to it and not catch the groove. This is my go-to album when I’ve had a good day and want to relax to some great storytelling — after all, that’s what Waits excels at. This pairs perfectly with a Jim and ginger (2 oz. Jim Beam bourbon and 10 oz. ginger ale).

eels – Blinking Lights and Other Revelations: Prepare for one hell of a show with this one. The eels really reach into the ether for this album, experimenting with new sounds and songwriting. There are plenty of hits in the mix, but enough gambles to keep the listener tuned in to the unusual sounds and combinations. Speaking of combinations, the eels have been a lifelong-favorite band of mine, and my circle of closer friends have agreed that the only drink to enjoy while listening to the eels is the classic Tom Collins (2 oz. gin, 1 oz. simple syrup, 3/4 oz. lemon juice (I use most of a single lime for mine), soda water, lemon wedge and cherry for garnish).

Neil Young – In Concert (BBC 1971): Alright, this one isn’t actually an album, but it’s a single show Neil Young played more than 40 years ago. It’s worth actually watching, too, if only to enjoy the fact that there are no cell phones in view recording the show. This album is the quintessential Neil Young experience, and may be the only “required listening” on this entire compilation. It’s a straight-up, no-frills performance, and as such deserves a straight drink. I recommend whiskey neat.

The post Music and Drinking: Here are Some Perfect Pairings appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

“It’s probably just a flock of wild turkeys, like that time in California,” I said, taking a swig from the bottle of Siete Leguas and handing it to Rich.

We were scrambling down the side of a volcano in the dark because I’d had a romantic notion that it would be fun to watch the sunset from the rim of the Tequila volcano while drinking tequila.

Inland Jalisco is the epicenter of Mexico’s tequila industry. Agave, or maguey, is everywhere—the spiky blue-green plants cover the rolling hillsides and grow around houses. Some farmers even take advantage of extra space and plant right up to the shoulder of the highway. Every town boasts a distillery or two hundred, and the main streets are lined with folksy liquor stores.

We were three days into an open-ended road trip through the region. Our goal was to get off the beaten path, and enjoy  Jalisco’s famous birria, tacos de barbacoa, volcanoes, lakes, and, of course, tequila. Our first stop was Atotonilco el Alto, just east of Guadalajara on Highway 90. The town was  devoid of tourists and beautiful in a distinctly Mexican way, the market pungent and bustling, the plaza hemmed by colonial buildings painted in saturated colors: sky blue, lime green, burnt orange, violent purple. More beautiful yet was the sight of the giant signs heralding the home of one of my favorite tequilas: the estimable Siete Leguas. I felt like Charlie on his way to the chocolate factory.

Siete Leguas headquarters is not a distillery, but contains a liquor store that reminded me of the duty-free shop at the airport. The woman behind the counter was impeccably made up and seemed confused by our request for a distillery tour. We’d stupidly neglected to make an appointment.

“The tour started at 11,” she said in Spanish. “It’s already over. Just one today.”

My heart sank. We’d driven 3,000 miles to get here, and Siete Leguas had been one of my major goals for our trip to Mexico. We had to be in Guadalajara that evening for a baseball game (Charros de Jalisco v Tomateros de Culiacán), so this had been our only chance to tour the distillery. We were forlornly standing  in the shiny gift shop when an elegant older woman breezed in. She wore her black hair long and loose, and a slouchy black-and-white scarf accented her silk blouse and black capris.

“You’re here for a tour?” she asked, in very good English. I suddenly realized how scruffy we looked, but she gazed upon us with absolute warmth and courtesy.

“Yes. I’m sorry we didn’t make an appointment. Siete Leguas is my favorite tequila.”

“Is it?” she smiled with genuine delight. “I think we can work something out. In fact, I’ll give you a tour myself.” I got the impression that giving tours wasn’t really part of her job description, but she was completely gracious about the interruption.

She led us to a pick-up truck and a mustachioed driver chauffeured us to one of the company’s two distilleries. Due to our negligence with reservations, we were able to see the facility that isn’t a showcase. La Vencedora, our guide explained, is the less-traditional of the two distilleries. At the show distillery, El Centenario, they grind the agave with a traditional stone wheel pulled by mules (a tahona), while La Vencedora uses a roller mill. Tequila from both distilleries is mixed to make the final product.

For a distillery that wasn’t designed as a showcase, La Vencedora was surprisingly old school. We walked into a cavernous building filled with mountains of maguey. Jimadors hacked at the agave hearts with coa de jima (flat-bladed knives attached to wooden poles), and then tossed the piñas into nifty shoots that drop to the room-sized brick ovens, where the agave steams for days.

The overall impression is of a straightforward and meticulous operation. Siete Leguas isn’t cutting any corners. Instead of the speedy stainless steel autoclaves used by bigger distilleries, Siete Leguas slow cooks in brick. We sampled dark pieces of cooked maguey that reminded me of caramelized pumpkin. The distillery also practices open-vat fermentation, which  likely contributes to the flavor of the tequila.

We climbed up metal stairs to check out this step in the process: the fermentation of the baked hearts. Pond-sized vats bubbled with fibrous liquid. With delight, I breathed the sweet, yeasty air. I sniffed the spicy notes of tequila blanco emerging from the tall stills. The entire building was suffused with intoxicating smells.

The copper stills were manned by stern-looking men in work clothes. We watched tequila pour, sparkling, into a metal vat the shape of a giant tea cup. Our gracious guide filled us snifters directly from the spout. The tequila was smooth yet complex, sweet yet spicy, mellow yet vibrant. I must have looked appropriately appreciative, because she looked pleased. “It’s her favorite tequila,” she told the distillers, who actually grinned and seemed genuinely gratified, as though they were surprised to hear that some random gringos would have ever even heard of Siete Leguas.

When we left, our guide casually handed us two bottles of Siete Leguas reposado.

“Two free bottles of some of the world’s finest tequila?” I said in wonderment as we walked back to our dusty Hyundai. “That can’t be typical. Plus, the tour was free.”

“Yeah,” Rich agreed. “I don’t think we’re going to top that.”

Instead of touring more distilleries, we decided to go camping and explore the countryside. We’d do wholesome things like visit ancient ruins, swim at the local water parks, and hike. Which was how we ended up getting lost on the side of a volcano in the dark with a bottle of tequila.

On our first attempt, we’d driven from our camp in Etzatlan to the town of Tequila, which sits at the base of the verdant Tequila volcano. As we drove in circles looking for the road up the mountain, we were hit by a sudden and torrential rainstorm, the kind that turns streets into rushing brown rivers in mere minutes. Visibility was terrible, and we were forced to park the car and wade to refuge: a bar on the Tequila town square, where we drank overpriced palomas and listened to the drunken flirtations of hipster gringos and rich kids from Mexico City.

The following day we toured the ancient Guachimontones ceremonial site, sampled the local pulque, and wandered through a cemetery. In the afternoon, we headed to the volcano. It took us nearly an hour to even find the cobblestone road that ran out of  town and up the side of the  Volcán de Tequila. And then it took us an hour to drive up the  17 kilometer road, which started out bad and got worse gradually, insidiously, until I worried that our axles would snap. We traversed potholes the size of ponds and drove over rubble piles that jacked the passenger side up so far that I worried that we’d flip. But we’d persevered. Because, in addition to have romantic notions, I’m extremely stubborn.

I peered anxiously at the setting sun. “I think we can still make it,” I said. “We’re only a couple of kilometers from the top.” We rounded the corner to face an imposing gate and a number of no trespassing signs.

As we were taking this in, a gang of boys roared down on motorbikes, riding through a narrow gap in the fence. They skidded to a stop and stared at us.

Hmm…A motorcycle gang on the side of a volcano. This was the stuff of B movies. But I tried to keep things nonchalant.

“Hey, is it still possible to get up to the rim of the volcano?” I asked in passable Spanish.

He grinned. “Yeah, don’t pay any attention to the signs. It’s just a little way. You can still go up on foot. It’s not a problem!” He then issued directions in the typically Mexican rapid-fire style, and he and his buddies roared down the mountain.

The sun was sinking low, lighting up lakes like mirrors on the floor of the valley 8,000 feet below. Despite the late hour and my brand-new fashion huaraches, we squeezed past the gate and set off on foot.

“A little way,” turned out to be two or three kilometers straight up. We weren’t even in sight of the top when the sun set, but we paused to stare at the tangerine ball of fire sinking into skeins of clouds over fields so far away that they’d faded to blue. Against the bright sky, the oak and pine trees were sharp black silhouettes. We passed the bottle of Siete Leguas and contemplated the land from whence it came.

We never did see the spine of hardened lava at the center of the volcano. We got lost and we got blisters. When we finally found the car again, it was well into the night. We jolted back down the mountain and drove through the warm Jalisco night. Off the beaten path indeed.

The post Off the Beaten Path: Adventures in Tequila Country appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

IF YOUR FATHER IS AN EXPLORER

IF YOUR FATHER LOVES WINNING

 IF YOUR FATHER IS A WHISKY CONNOISSEUR

IF YOUR FATHER IS STEALING FROM THE COOKIE JAR

IF YOUR FATHER IS A PIRATE (OR WISHES HE WAS)

IF YOUR FATHER IS INTENSE

IF YOUR FATHER IS ALL ABOUT PRESENTATION

That’s it for our booze guide. Hopefully you found something that will do your pops proud and you two can share a quality drink together this Father’s Day.

The post The Definitive Booze Guide for Father’s Day appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

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Eighty years, three months and twenty-three days ago, the 21st Amendment to the US Constitution was ratified. This amendment repealed the 18th Amendment and marked the end of Prohibition, a 14 year period where the manufacture, transport, and sale of liquor was outlawed in the United States.

To commemorate this important moment in our booze loving country’s history, Cutty Sark recently released a new blended Scotch whisky which they call the “Prohibition Edition”. Here is a bit more information about this new expression which was taken directly from their website:

Released 90 years after the end of the era which it celebrates, Cutty Sark Prohibition Edition has been crafted as a salute to the notorious Captain William McCoy, who smuggled Cutty Sark blended Scotch whisky into America during the Prohibition era of the 1920s.  Captain McCoy’s impeccable reputation for fairness and dealing only in the finest, genuine and unadulterated liquor gave rise to Cutty Sark being referred to as “The Real McCoy”. Prohibition Edition is bottled at 50% ABV (100 Proof – USA Measure), whilst our regular Cutty Sark blend is 40% ABV. This is a “small batch” blend of the finest single malts and top-quality grain whiskies.  Hand-selected American oak casks give subtle signature flavours of vanilla and citrus fruits, whilst the overall flavours and finish are extremely smooth and thrillingly complex. The black glass bottle has a cork seal – reflecting the traditions of the time.

And now for our thoughts on this whisky…

• Appearance: Golden yellow with a slight amber tint.
• Aroma
  • Limpd: Astringent and buttered toffee. Hints of butterscotch, mint and cough drops.
  • G-LO: Lightly sweet and fruity when I first stick my nose in the glass. Vanilla, almond paste, orange zest, coconut, some light brown sugar, and a touch of dried fruit. If you give it a bit more time, a hint of tobacco and menthol comes through.
• Taste
  • Limpd: Not overly sweet with a bit of citrus tartness (orange zest) and some pepper. A bit like a scotch-soaked Red Hot. Mid-palate, the flavors cascade more than blend to form an interesting procession of sugars, cinnamon and heat. This ends with a long, warm, caramel finish.
  • G-LO: Medium bodied with a touch of oiliness. All of the flavors are concentrated on the front third of my tongue. A touch of sweet smokiness at the start with a warming spiciness of the cinnamon variety that builds slowly as you approach mid-palate. Definitely getting a Sherry vibe on this one with lots of dried fruit coming through. It all comes together at the finish with some sweet tobacco, dried fruit, and cinnamon flavors.
• ABV: 50%

The Verdict

Limpd: In a bit of a panic purchase, my mom had grabbed a bottle of Cutty on her way to my house one Christmas. While this might not have been my preferred blend, suffice it to say the contents were thoroughly enjoyed and the bottle properly recycled. That said, the Prohibition edition is leaps and bounds beyond Cutty. Maybe it was the higher ABV; maybe it was the healthy pour, but this was a surprisingly good blend. Not overly sweet or peaty or briny, just a nice blend of flavors and a really nice finish.

G-LO: I gotta admit, my expectations weren’t very high for this whisky. While there’s nothing really wrong with standard issue Cutty Sark, it’s a bit too light for my taste. Thankfully, the Cutty Sark Prohibition Edition is a completely different animal. Given it’s suggested retail price of around $30/bottle, I’d say that this is one hell of a Scotch whisky bargain. And when you factor in the relatively high octane and smooth, rich flavors, this is an absolute steal! I really like this whisky and would definitely buy a bottle.

The post Whisky Review – Cutty Sark Prohibition Edition appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

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Not all that long ago, Mrs. G-LO left me home alone with The Boys (aka our two sons) on a Saturday night so that she could attend a bridal shower / bachelorette party for my future sister in law in Atlantic City. As luck would have it, The Boys were a bit tired that night, so both of them were asleep by around 9PM. Since I knew that Mrs. G-LO would be out for quite some time, I decided to take advantage of the situation and sat down to finally review the two Papa’s Pilar Rum samples shown in the above photo which I received from RoBro Marketing.

Although I have always been a fan of a well crafted Rum cocktail, I can’t say that I’ve spent much time drinking it straight, so when I started to do a bit of research about these Papa’s Pilar Rums (i.e. a bit of Googling), I was curious to see how they would hold up on their own. Here is what I was able to find out:

• Pilar was the name of Ernest Hemingway’s boat, a customized 1934 Wheeler Playmate Cruiser.
• The Papa’s Pilar Rum brand was co-created in 2009 by Miami advertising agency Crispin Porter + Bogusky.
• There is no Papa’s Pilar Rum distillery. The Rums used to make Papa’s Pilar are sourced from distilleries in Florida, The Caribbean, and Central America.
• Papa’s Pilar Blonde and Dark Rums are created using a Solera aging and blending process that involves aging in Bourbon barrels and Port wine casks followed by finishing in Spanish Sherry casks.

At around 9:30, I started nosing the Papa’s Pilar Blonde and was instantly intrigued by the aromas. As I have already mentioned, I don’t have any experience with Rum tasting, so I quickly decided to recruit Limpd for some help and a second opinion. After a quick round of back and forth text messages, Limpd popped over at around 10:30 to assist with the review.

Here are our results…

Papa’s Pilar Blonde Rum

• ABV: 42%
• Appearance: Pale blonde color that reminded us of a Pinot Grigio or perhaps a Ginger Ale. Lots of thick slow moving legs form after giving it a swirl in the glass.
• Aroma
  • Limpd: Slightly medicinal with a witch hazel or menthol like quality. Once you get past the alcohol, it turns sweet with hints of simple syrup, vanilla, and caramel.
  • G-LO: Very sweet and citrusy with lemon and lime zest, vanilla, whipped cream, and light brown sugar.
• Taste
  • Limpd: A fair amount of cinnamon and black pepper spice at the onset. Syrupy sweetness kick in at mid-palate. Ends with a lingering Red Hot candy finish.
  • G-LO: Light and somewhat watery mouthfeel. A bit of alcohol burn at the start. Once you get past the alcohol, you get a vanilla buttercream sweetness. Lemon zest shows up at mid-palate along with a mild chile pepper heat. It all comes together in the end, i.e. vanilla creaminess, citrus, and a bit more heat. Medium finish with a lingering light brown sugar and vanilla sweetness.

Conclusion: We both found the Papa’s Pilar Blonde to be much more interesting than we expected. Most white Rums that we’ve tried straight tend to be a bit one dimensional, but this stuff has a delightfully layered flavor profile which we’re sure has a great deal to do with the Solera process. We could totally see ourselves sipping this Rum on occasion, or using it to create a really delicious cocktail.

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Papa’s Pilar Dark Rum

• ABV: 43%
• Appearance: Antique copper or chestnut color. Again, lots of thick slow moving legs form after giving it a swirl in the glass.
• Aroma
  • Limpd: Medicinal at first followed by toffee, cinnamon, and vanilla.
  • G-LO: Rich and aromatic with hints of dark brown sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, allspice, and dried fruit. Very Banana’s Fosterish.
• Taste
  • Limpd: Tastes a lot like the aged rums that I’ve sampled. The Port Wine and Sherry influence is readily apparent. A little woody with sweet vanilla, cherries, and then a little licorice showing up in the finish which doesn’t last very long.
  • G-LO: Somewhat thicker mouthfeel with a touch of oiliness. Very sweet with an almost nutty quality. I’m thinking roasted hazelnuts. Mellow and easy drinking with just a hint of cinnamon bite showing up in the finish. Picked up some dried figs in the aftertaste.

Conclusion: It’s funny how expectations work! We thought for sure that we would have preferred the Dark Rum over the Blonde Rum, but it turns out that the opposite is true. While there was absolutely nothing wrong with the Papa’s Pilar Dark Rum, we both found it to be a touch too sweet for our taste.

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I guess when it comes to Papa’s Pilar Rum, the gentlemen preferred Blonde.

The post Papa’s Pilar Blonde and Dark Rums appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.

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I married a rocket scientist. Ok, not really. She’s a satellite engineer. Same difference. Well, not exactly, and Exactly is an art form for engineers. Numbers and formulas and complex algorithms are buzzing in her head constantly. She won’t admit it but she talks in her sleep and recites Fibonacci sequences. Or maybe they’re Poisson distributions. I get them confused at 2:00 am. The point being that her brain is always fermenting and distilling concepts in highly organized, numerical ways, I assume keeping satellites up in the atmosphere sending signals out and also not falling on our heads. (How’s that for a potential tie-in to something on a booze blog?). It’s a special mind that works that way.

Chip Tate has that kind of mind too. Chip is the maestro behind the artisanal orchestra that is Balcones of Waco, Texas. He recently led a LA Scotch Club tasting of his mighty whiskies in Los Angeles at the Village Idiot on ultra-hip Melrose Ave where the tattoos and piercings meet Kosher-Mexican restaurants and noisy gastropubs while bacon-wrapped hot dog stands warm the air in front of chic clothing boutiques that have valet parking for ten bucks. Beats a parking ticket when you just have to have those $300 pair of kicks. It almost doesn’t compute thinking about Balcones in this environ but then again, it does. Wild, wacky and experimental, Chip is Wile E. Coyote and Bugs Bunny morphed into one except the dynamite doesn’t blow up and light his lengthy beard on FIRE, but if it did, he’d only see it as another desert road to drive down for one of his projects.

“Every problem is an opportunity.”

Those are Chip’s own words that speak volumes about the Balcones culture and not-so-urban mythology that has grown amongst the lovers of his award winning Texas style whisky. His brain is working much like my better half’s. You can see the chemistry and possibilities bombarding inside him endlessly. I wonder if he sleeps or just lays in bed writing equations and recipes on the ceiling with a laser pointer. Damn, I probably gave the missus an idea. He speaks of “things in his head” which for the Balcones fan base can only mean crazy (good) experiments with who-knows-what grains, fruits, elements, waters, woods, and fire in some (im)possible bottling they can hope will be available one day. He assures the group that now that his distillery is tripling in size in Waco, most everything he’s ever bottled will be made again in the next 4-5 years so the endless searches on spirit websites will lessen hopefully calming the adoring legions. No doubt, there is a spreadsheet, little black book or massive whiteboard with all of these scribbled formulas, and maybe they’re locked away in an ironclad gun case buried in the central Texas desert which would just add another level to the Balcones legend. So, if there is a Whisky God in Waco, 300 bottles of one of Balcones’ signature, classic cask strength corn-crazy spirits infused with whatever is floating in Chip’s imagination that years(s) before, might become 900 bottles one day and available at your local spirits shop still bottled in that distinctive Balcones manner. In 4-5 years. Sigh.

His is a brain of a chemist and of a chef balancing and massaging equations and flavors as the ingredients and processes change in a logic that he only knows. Figs, sugar and honey all from Texas become Rumble in what sounds like a grandmother’s old recipe for some long lost dessert, except his fingers and mind flips everything backwards and upside down into something so beautiful and clean and rich that a friend told me after smelling it that she wanted to just bathe in it. Is that a compliment for a great spirit or for the essence of what Balcones is all about? The sum of the parts is what chemistry is, like grandma mixing a little of this and a little of that together and it becoming something so wondrous that the smell filled the house, and the taste filled the mouths and tummies with a goodness that lasted and lasted but still left you wanting more.

Maybe Chip is not so much a unique distiller as much as a new version of that cook in our past that filled us with tastes and flavors and memories like no one else could. And that Balcones essence comes from the heart of Texas which Tate rightly points out covers a lot of territory where oaks, mesquites, cottonwoods, walnuts, pines and alders come in varieties too long to list. Texas is big, you may have heard. And for Chip who wants his spirits to be oh so Texan in every bottling, the palette of potential flavors stretches as long as Interstate 10. One flavor that one wouldn’t seem to be Texas specific is smoke, and smoke is an important element in Chip’s periodic chart ranging helium light to atomic weight heavy. It’s a constant presence in all of his spirits with subtle to ka-pow effects. It’s Texas barbeque, scrub brush over a campfire, and forest fire in the mountains of West Texas. He plays with the Texas fire and wood smoke to enhance his whisky in ways never seen or tasted before.

“Resurrection is Octomore that went to Texas.”

That’s how Chip describes the “big mistake” in his laboratory, er, distillery that resulted in one less intern and the massive, fiery, bold Brimstone Resurrection that scorches the earth with burned molasses and caramel, smoldering oak and cinnamon, and ashy Texas corn. The devil may have went to Georgia but he surely stopped in Waco for a night cap of this one. There may be no real mistakes at Balcones. Every trial balloon is floated and goes into the book of experience and the pieces are used in future test flights. The learning goes on with each chemical reaction, good or bad. Of course, bad can mean undrinkable swill or a huge inferno. Either way, Chip tucks it all away back into his head for future use.

Eye to I
Reaction burning hotter
Two to one
Reflection on the water
H to O
No flow without the other
Oh but how
Do they make contact
With one another?

– From “Chemistry” by Rush

This may be the fundamental organic question for Balcones. Their mission question, as it were. Can we connect similar and seemingly dissimilar elements into something more; more being a unique whisky, bourbon, rum, rye or something without a name yet. From the aromatic Rumble to the apocalyptic Resurrection, Chip Tate and Balcones are imaginatively distilling spirits, taking chemical engineering and Texas passion and creativity to places the world of whisky has never gone.

The post Chip Tate’s Formula for Balcones appeared first on FactoryTwoFour.