Tasting Notes #3: High West Rendezvous Rye

The third in an occasional series.

Utah and whiskey are two words that do not seem to fit together. After all, as a 150-year old outpost of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints (better known as the Mormons), the state holds a powerful reputation for being dry.

Yet in the nineteenth century, many Mormons enjoyed wine and beer and Salt Lake City sported a number of liquor purveyors. Not until church authorities began emphasizing what the faithful call "The Word of Wisdom" in the early 1900s did Utah-made distillates become a thing of the past.

In the twenty-first century, homemade alcohol returned to Utah. In the 1980s and 1990s, brewpubs made a triumphant return in Salt Lake City, Park City, and Moab. And in the late 1990s and early 2000s, a few scattered vineyards and High West Distilling popped up, taking advantage of the statewide trend toward craft brewing, craft fermenting, and craft distilling.

High West, however, has yet to sell any of their own product. The first production runs of rye whiskey produced in their Utah-based still remain in the barrel. Nonetheless, they wisely decided to build up their market share by connecting a product (procured from other distillers, likely in Kentucky) with their label on it to the long history of rye whiskey consumption in the West.

The name of this rye--rendezvous--is meant to conjure up the supposedly halycon days of the 1820s to 1840s, when American fur trappers wintered in the Rocky Mountains and gathered once a year to sell their pelts to various companies (which in turn transported them to major cities for processing) and gather supplies for the coming year. Most often held in Utah's Cache Valley or along the Green River in what is now southwestern Wyoming, these meetings often turned into raucous, even violent, frolics fueled by cheap whiskey.

Thankfully, this spirit is neither cheap nor frolic-inducing. In fact, it took home a double gold medal in the 2008 San Francisco Spirits Competition.

A mixture of two different whiskeys--a six year old straight rye and a sixteen year old straight rye, mixed with Utah water to bring the concoction to 92 proof--produces a distinct sipping experience. Again, High West did not distill either spirit, instead purchasing from existing stocks while they built their distillery in Park City. Salting away their current distillates for future sales, in the meantime they offer us this unique blended American rye.

Here's how it tastes:

Appearance: The dark, heavy, viscous body of this substantial whiskey becomes clear the second you hold your glass up to any light.

Smell: The first aroma contains mint and licorice, and if you linger over the glass, one feels a cooling sensation through the nose.

Taste: Thin on the front, with a sharp and peppery palate. The whiskey grows much more complex after a few seconds on the tongue, and finishes sweet, with notes of caramel.

Finish: Some burn, with a little bitterness that is actually quite pleasant.

Overall, this is a whiskey worth enjoying straight or on the rocks. It stands out as one of the more distinctive blended ryes on the market. But unless one is independently wealthy, I'd avoid using it in cocktails, where it's distinctiveness will wash out in the face of other flavorful ingredients. And if you don't live in Utah, you can find it at a number of major online retailers.

In the meantime, rye patriots will anxiously await the Utah-made version, coming soon.

Classic Rye Cocktails, #12: The Scofflaw

If, like me, you've been drinking whiskey smashes all summer, you may be wondering what the arrival of autumn portends. Across much of the northern United States, backyard mint plants will not provide their copious bounty during the long, cold, winter.

It's time for another drink. One that reminds the rye patriot of summer, but looks forward to changing leaves and the fresh, crisp air of fall.

That drink is the Scofflaw. The cocktail renaissance has brought this drink back in a big way. Ironically, it belongs to the temperance movement. That's right. Anti-saloon forces gave birth to this drink back in the early 1920s. Apparently, it wasn't enough to outlaw the manufacture, sale, and transportation of liquors. Temperance leaders, seeing that the consumption of alcohol continued unabated--in some quarters, at least--decided that drinkers needed to be defined more sharply as lawbreakers.

In late 1923, a leading prohibitionist announced a contest to create, according to the January 16, 1924 New York Times, "the best word to stigmatize those who scoff at the prohibition law." The requirements? The new word need to start start with an "s," be no more than two syllables, focus on the lawbreaker--not the drinking, apply to all those who broke the law, and finally, fulfill Warren G. Harding's sentiment that "lawless drinking is a menace to the Republic itself." The winner? Kate L. Butler's (of Dorchester, MA) suggestion of "scofflaw." She won $200 for her trouble.

Alone among Americans, the "wets" had a sense of humor. And they proved it by immediately coming up with this concoction. Thanks to the efforts of rye-drinking expats at Harry's Bar in Paris, within three days, this term for an illegal drinker soon became a moniker for a tasty cocktail.

This one balances sweet, sour, and spicy sharpness against a herbal background. It's a winner.

1 oz rye whiskey (100 proof Rittenhouse works best)
1 oz dry vermouth
3/4 oz green Chartreuse
3/4 oz lemon juice
2-3 dashes orange bitters

For the sake of historical accuracy, it's important to note that the original recipe called for grenadine instead of green Chartreuse, but Washington Post spirits columnists Jason Wilson adeptly suggests the replacement. One likes to think that in the absence of good whiskey (the stocks of rye in Paris surely must have been depleted four years after passage of the Volstead Act), the turn to grenadine by our Prohibition-era foremothers and forefathers was one of necessity, not joy.

Historic craft distilling...

Readers of this blog may remember that there was much celebration surrounding the announcement that the stills at Mount Vernon--where George Washington became one of the largest rye whiskey makers of his time in the late 1790s--were not only reconstructed but also producing distillates again.

Well, it turns out that when they fired up the still back in February 2009, the good people at Mount Vernon created a blog to chronicle the event. It's a fascinating look at the reclamation of a historic rye recipe and distilling process. Check it out.

Not just craft distilling, but home distilling...

Here's an article (brand new) on an important variant of craft distilling.

Craft distilling...

One of the best outcomes of the renewed interest in rye whiskey (and for that matter, boutique spirits of every sort) is the advent of craft distilling. New companies are cropping up all over the country and starting to make rye (along with brandy, vodka, and gin). The return of local liquor production in America is a welcome one, given the long history of distillates made democratically, by Americans, for Americans, before Prohibition.

To learn more, check out this article from Time Magazine (January 2008) as well as this Malt Advocate essay (February 2009) on some of the most important small craft distillers in the country.

A video on rye-making...

Here's an excellent video from the good people at Finger Lakes Distilling (Burdett, NY) on the process they use to make rye whiskey in small batches. I can't wait until we get to try their rye (which is currently aging in the barrel).