Experimental Bourbon re small barrels
Source: Buffalo Trace Distilleryhttp://acorkabove.com/index.php?main_page=index&cPath=88_93_155
Sometimes, not all experiments are successful. Buffalo Trace Distillery learned this the hard way with its small barrel experiments started in 2006.
Using 5, 10, and 15 gallon barrels, the company filled each small barrel with the same mash bill (Buffalo Trace Rye Bourbon Mash #1) around the same time, and aged them side by side in a warehouse for six years.
The results were less than stellar. Even though the barrels did age quickly, and picked up the deep color and smokiness from the char and wood, each bourbon yielded less wood sugars than typical from a 53 gallon barrel, resulting in no depth of flavor.
While Buffalo Trace is NOT releasing these experiments, the Distillery did feel it was important to release their findings. The company hopes others can learn from such an experiment, just as they have.
"As expected, the smaller 5 gallon barrel aged bourbon faster than the 15 gallon version. However, it's as if they all bypassed a step in the aging process and just never gained that depth of flavor that we expect from our bourbons. Even though these small barrels did not meet our expectations, we feel it's important to explore and understand the differences between the use of various barrel sizes," said Master Distiller Harlen Wheatley.
Each of the three small barrel bourbons were tasted annually to check on their maturation progress, then left alone to continue aging, hoping the taste would get better with time. Finally, after six years, the team at Buffalo Trace concluded the barrels were not going to taste any better and decided to chalk up the experiment to a lesson learned.
"These barrels were just so smoky and dark, we just confirmed the taste was not going to improve. The largest of the three barrels, the 15 gallon, tasted the best, but it still wasn't what we would deem as meeting our quality standards. But instead of just sweeping this experiment under the rug and not talking about it, we felt it was important to share what we learned, especially in light of the debate about usage of small barrels. It's one experiment we are not likely to repeat," said Wheatley.
These small barrel experiments are part of the more than 1,500 experimental barrels of whiskey aging in the warehouses of Buffalo Trace Distillery.
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How One Man's Aging Whiskey in a Week, Not Years
The aging process is an essential part of whiskey-making. The charred oak barrel gives the liquor its caramel color and imparts rich, subtle flavors. Problem is, this soaking step takes years to complete. But one enterprising distillery has figured out how to ripen sour mash in a fraction of the time.
Cleveland Whiskey is an upstart distillery located in, you guessed it, Cleveland, Ohio. Owner Tom Lix recognized the growing demand for whiskey, as did Makers Mark, and realized that the conventional method of producing whiskey simply wasn't fast enough to meet that demand. But rather than water down an existing recipe, Lix invented a new method of making whiskey.
“I took apart a couple of used barrels, and it didn't seem like the whiskey soaked very deep,” he told Forbes. “So I started experimenting with pressure to get the spirit to soak deeper into pore structure.”
The details behind Cleveland's proprietary system are closely-guarded company secrets but, as Lix explained, the general process is similar to the vacuum marinators you see on late-night infomercials:
The spirit ages in a whiskey barrel like normal for the first six months of its life. Then it is deposited in stainless steel tanks. Meanwhile, the barrel it aged in is cut up, processed, and put into the tank as well. Within the tank, the spirit is agitated, and undergoes a series of differences in pressure to squeeze in and out of the wood pores.
After a week in the tubs, the hyper-aged whiskey is ready for bottling. Cleveland Whiskey hopes to produce 7,000 cases this year and another 20,000 cases in 2014. Check out the Cleveland Whiskey website to see if it's served near you.
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Past Their Prime : When is a superaged spirit too old to drink?
3.18.13 Kara Newman Slate
The first time I tasted a superaged spirit—a rare 50-year-old Glenfiddich single malt scotch—I was taken aback. Not by the whiskey itself, but by the rapturous swooning of the whiskey geeks all around me at a tasting hosted by the whiskey brand. “It’s chewy,” one commented, smacking his lips for emphasis. “It’s kaleidoscopic,” another assessed. “It tastes like cigar tobacco and leather … and then caramel and spice … and then I taste oak … and then … ” And finally: “It’s been almost 10 minutes and I’m still tasting it!”
Their reactions weren’t surprising: In the world of wine and spirits, we’ve
been told that older is always better. Spirits producers and bartenders have
capitalized on this belief, releasing old and rare vintages at an increasing
clip and selling them at premium prices. To a certain extent, the logic makes
sense: unaged “white dog” whiskey can be good, 17-year-old scotch can be great,
and 20-year-old bourbon can be mind-blowing. But to my tongue, that 50-year-old
Glenfiddich was delicious but not awe-inspiring. Are some supervintage spirits
just too old?
“Yes,” Dave Pickerell emphatically says. As a former master distiller for
Maker’s Mark in Kentucky for 14 years and the current master distiller for Hillrock Estate
Distillery in New York’s Hudson Valley, Pickerell has aged his fair share of
whiskeys. “It is possible for a spirit to get too old. Sometimes older is
better—but sometimes it’s just older.”
There’s a lot of debate about optimal aging times—particularly for whiskey—and the ranges vary further still depending on how the spirit is made. But here’s a good rule of thumb: If it was aged in a barrel, those extra years might mean extra flavor. If it wasn’t, age is unlikely to correlate with quality.
There’s a lot of debate about optimal aging times—particularly for whiskey—and the ranges vary further still depending on how the spirit is made. But here’s a good rule of thumb: If it was aged in a barrel, those extra years might mean extra flavor. If it wasn’t, age is unlikely to correlate with quality.
When it comes to barrel-aged spirits like whiskey and brandy, Pickerell
points to two key variables: the history of the barrel and the climate it’s
stored in. Bourbon, for example, is aged in brand-new barrels in relatively dry
conditions. By comparison, scotch is aged in previously used barrels in a
relatively humid climate.
What distinguishes these two approaches is what Pickerell refers to as “the
tea-bag effect”: The first time a tea bag (or barrel) is used, there’s more
flavor to draw out. Resting in brand-new barrels, bourbon needs less time to
extract what Pickerell calls “wood goodies”—it sucks vanilla and caramel
flavors, as well as spice-like notes, out of the wood with ease. Many of those
same bourbon barrels, once emptied, make their way to Scotland, where they are
used to age Scotch whisky. At this point, most of the “wood goodies” have been
depleted, so scotch often needs a longer aging time to suck out the remainders.
Evaporation plays a role, too: In the dry climate favored by bourbon distillers,
liquid evaporates more quickly, and the product becomes concentrated more
quickly.
Pickerell puts the ideal aging range for rye (whiskey made with rye as its
primary component, as opposed to corn or other grains) between nine and 11
years, while the “sweet spot” for bourbon (made with corn as its primary
ingredient) is anywhere from six to 10 years. And scotch? “While it depends on
the type and style,” he says, “20 years is a good number.”
But these aren’t necessarily hard and fast rules; there are plenty of
delectable two-decade-old bourbons out there. Pickerell has had his share of
favorites, too. “Pappy Van Winkle 20-year-old is a very tasty bourbon, not too
tanniny,” he says. (Tannins—another byproduct of contact with oak—create that
dry, unpleasantly puckery sensation in the mouth.) “But the 23-year-old is very
tanniny.”
Three years can make that great a difference? “It doesn’t have to be three
years,” he responds. “It can be six months. Sometimes it goes over the cliff and
never comes back because there’s too much wood in it.”
Wood type plays a role, too. Japanese whiskey offers a useful example. Since
Japan traditionally didn’t have access to French or American oak, particularly
after World War II shut off Western supplies, Japan’s scotch-like whiskeys are
aged in Mizunara, also known as Japanese oak. The tight grain of Mizunara,
explains Gardner Dunn, an American representative for Japan’s Suntory Whisky,
means that more time is needed to release flavors from the wood. As a result,
it’s not unusual to see 25- to 30-year-old Japanese whiskeys. Suntory recently
released a 50-year-old bottling, which has been billed as Japan’s most expensive single malt but isn’t available in the
U.S.
The benefits of aging whiskey and brandy in barrels—up to a point—are clear.
But what about spirits that don’t need to suck up “wood goodies” for their
flavor, like vodka, gin, and most liqueurs? A lack of barrel time isn’t stopping
some bartenders from experimenting with “vintage” bottling—but there’s no reason
to think those bottles have gotten better with age. A bottled 80-proof spirit,
if kept in a cool and dry environment, will keep more or less indefinitely,
though “it won’t improve,” according to Pickerell. But bottled liquors below 80
proof are more volatile. What’s more, botanicals (the industry term for herbs,
spices, flowers, and other added flavorings) may change in flavor over time and
not always for the better.
At Pouring Ribbons—the thoughtful East Village bar dubbed by Imbibe
magazine as the “best new cocktail bar” of 2012—co-owner Troy Sidle has
assembled a noteworthy spread of 15 vintage Chartreuse bottles, all
sourced from his own collection and spanning up to 70 years old.
I had the opportunity to sample a 1994 bottling of Yellow Chartreuse
alongside a new bottle, courtesy of Tim Master, a representative of Frederick
Wildman & Sons, the New York-based importer of Chartreuse. Eighteen years
made a big difference: Though still drinkable, the older liqueur had faded from
a trademark sunny yellow to a pale straw hue, and the botanicals were muted. The
older Chartreuse tasted of mellow honey and anise, while the newer one contained
bright cinnamon, vanilla, and mint notes. The discrepancy might have been the
result of oxidization in the bottle or perhaps a sign that the recipe had
evolved over the decades. Probably both.
The effects of aging on Chartreuse may be unpredictable—though not
necessarily unpleasant—but other bottles are always best kept on the shelf. I
found this out the hard way: sipping a 1970s-era “vintage martini” served at a
Tanqueray event to commemorate what would have been Frank Sinatra’s
birthday.
Poured at Mulberry Street Bar in Little Italy, a dark-paneled dive where Old
Blue Eyes was known to enjoy his share of martinis, this one would have
disappointed Sinatra for sure. Left in the bottle for decades, the juniper that
ordinarily gives gin its perky, piney note had blunted (another example of those
unstable botanicals). And mixing that flabby gin with an elderly bottle of
vermouth did it no favors.
Tanqueray rep Angus Winchester conceded that this was essentially a stunt
martini. “After 10 years, we don’t recommend it,” explained Winchester, who
stirred martinis in a gallone, an Italian pitcher used for making
several drinks at a go. “It gets out of balance.” Although there was some magic
to sharing a martini with Sinatra’s ghost, in the end, it was a conceptual drink
better left to the imagination.
And while there’s nothing wrong with the occasional conceptual drink, if
taste is what you’re after, it’s best to regard superaged spirits with
skepticism. I, for one, intend to keep my gin young and sprightly, my whiskey
middle-aged and mellow, and my history in a book—not in my glass.
