New Beam 11 Year Olds

With the American limited release whiskey season in full swing, the least-anticipated expressions are finally here! Oh wait, I said "least-anticipated." It's true: the Signature Craft editions of Jim Beam Bourbon are never things that get your blood pressure pumping or send your heart racing with excitement. Beam usually casts too wide of a net to get all that geeky. Yet, like with this year's Maker's Mark Cask Strength edition, Beam is showing some signs of revitalization with these two newbies below. They are both huge steps forward in the right direction. I was completely taken aback with their quality. And, because of Beam's size and production levels, you can actually get these.

Like the Maker's Mark Cask Strength, these are also 375ml half bottles. Check them out:

Jim Beam Signature 11 Year “Brown Rice” Straight Bourbon 375ml (1 bottle limit) $44.99- Using brown rice instead of rye as the flavor grain has only enhanced the sweetness of the corn and the intensity of the vanilla. It’s a big bold wave of barrel spice and rich Beam flavor. The finish does have a different sort of note, however; a bit of a grainy, maybe “ricey” character that I can’t quite put my finger on, but integrates beautifully into the wood. I was really impressed with this. A very distinct Bourbon that stands out from the group in terms of sheer balance and deliciousness.

Jim Beam Signature 11 Year "Red Wheat" Straight Bourbon 375ml (1 bottle limit) $44.99- The Beam 11 year old “soft red wheat” is exactly what you expect it to be: like a combination of Beam Signature 12 with Weller 12.  It’s a soft, creamy, deliciously delicate whiskey from Beam—maybe the most exciting Beam I’ve ever tasted just for its incredible crossover potential. It’s not cask strength and it’s not inexpensive, but what it lacks in specs it makes up for in flavor. You might hesitate in buying one, but you won’t regret it once you open the bottle. Good stuff, with that little flurry of baking spices and cinnamon on the finish that Bourbon fans go crazy for. Yet again, the best wheated Pappy/Weller-alternative this year comes from Jim Beam.

-David Driscoll


California Pioneers – Part III: Hubert Germain-Robin

When I trekked up to visit Germain-Robin distillery this past October, hoping to get more insight into their extended archive of incredible aged brandies, I set up my appointment with the man I've come to know well over the years: Ansley Coale, pictured above to the left. Ansley continues to operate the company today and expand on the original foundation he created with his partner, the man sitting to the right, Hubert Germain-Robin. While Hubert's name is on the bottle, he's been retired from the distillery since my partnership with the company began, so I've never had much of a relationship with him. I met him once at a small gathering in Sonoma, but it was so informal we never had much time to chat. Therefore, my recent visit to the hallowed Ukiah grounds involved a meeting with the current staff members, and not with the man who actually broke the ground himself.

Then, a few weeks ago, an email showed up in my inbox from Hubert. He wanted to know why I had written an article about him (calling him a "pioneer") without ever bothering to actually talk to him about it. "That's a very good question," I wrote back to him. "I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know how to get a hold of you!" It did seem silly to talk about the incredible legacy of Germain-Robin without ever speaking with Hubert Germain-Robin himself, but ultimately I didn't know the man. Hubert still owns part of the company he helped to build, but is no longer a part of the production team; more involved now with education and consulting than distilling. However, with Hubert now reaching out, I made sure to carve a chunk out of my hectic holiday schedule and rectify this gaping hole in my reporting. When a man like this sends you an email and says, "Let's talk booze," you don't fool around. So without further ado, I give you part three of the California Pioneers trilogy: a conversation with one of the great founding fathers of American craft distillation.

David: You obviously knew how to distill before setting up Germain-Robin in California. What was your background in France and where exactly are you from?

Hubert: I was born a few kilometers from Cognac on my family property and I lived there for first ten years of my life. Eventually we moved to Cognac proper. My family has been distilling in the region for centuries and we have properties in the area. I started working when I was a teenager—on the bottling line and painting the hoops around the barrel, just to make some money—but I was not interested in the product itself back then. It was strong and I didn’t understand it at the time. When I was in my early twenties, however, I did a distillation course at the Bureau Distillation de Cognac where you learn how to distill on two small alembics; one heated with propane and one heated with coal. The teacher was able to spark something in me, an interest that hadn't been there before, and when I left school he found me a place where the distiller had just passed away. It was for Martell style distillation. In the following years I worked at different distilleries as I wanted to learn from the different areas in the region and provide distillates for different companies; to learn the different techniques. I also did courses that involved tasting twice a week, to help learn about the different regional characters and to be able to taste the defects in distillation and the wine-making processes.

David: Did that give you a better appreciation of Cognac; when you were able to taste distillates that were poorly made in comparison?

Hubert: Oh yes, I could understand more about what was going on and what it took to make a successful product. After that I went on to agriculture to learn about growing grapes, in order to get the full spectrum. I actually started working with the finished product before going back to the vineyards. I eventually went back to learn about other types of distillation as well; whisky and so forth. I had the bug for distillation at that point.

David: So how did you end up in the United States?

Hubert: Distillation starts in November and goes until March, which was good because you work hard, you make good money, and then it allows you the rest of the time to travel. That’s how I came to Canada with my wife. We traveled across the country to British Columbia and then went down the west coast. That’s where, as you know, I met my partner Ansley, and we spent a few days on his ranch with his wife, and talked about things. I was looking for a place to start a distillery and he had the place. The location was great—in Mendocino—and it was a good start. There was a diversity of grapes in the region and they had good acidity. The people were nice and helpful, and it didn’t have the snobby atmosphere of Napa. We enjoyed the community. That was in 1981.

David: What were the immediate differences you noticed using the grapes from Mendocino, as compared to ugni blanc in Cognac?

Hubert: It was so different. In Cognac you’ve got only the one grape—the differences all come from microclimate and terroir. Here I had to relearn how to distill almost because you have to adapt to each vineyard and each varietal. You have to try new things—malolactic (fermentation) or no malolactic, different yeasts—and that was unbelievable. The first year we distilled some pinot noir from Redwood Valley, and that surprised me very much. I was very excited about the flavors; everything about the pinot noir—like in the wine: the nobility, the complexity, it’s racy and feminine at the same time. You concentrate those flavors when you distill the wine. And colombard, I knew more about it because I had distilled some in Cognac, but I checked around and found some different types. We had some growing at the top of a hill that I called my yellow colombard, and the one growing down the river I called my green colombard—it never got completely ripe and ended up with intense flavors of hay and honeysuckle after aging. I really liked that—the differences that each location played.

David: And then you had to learn how to blend those different brandies, which must have been an entirely different experience as well.


Hubert: The way you build a brandy in California, it’s quite different. You have to revise the proportions of the body, the structure, and the aromatic compounds. It was very different for me, but it was great. Each year I would go back to France and bring samples with me that I would taste with the people at Martell and Courvoisier, for example, as well as restaurateurs, sommeliers, all types of people. Their feedback and impressions surprised me because they did not at all agree on what they liked. When I brought them the samples they didn’t know exactly what this spirit was. The different varietals—palomino, chenin blanc, colombard—it threw them off because their minds are always thinking Cognac.

David: It’s always ugni blanc for them.

Hubert: Yes. All the aspects of the Cognac. Here in California you had to relearn everything. Even the aging process. Whereas in Cognac it’s always limousin oak, here I tried using gaja, eastern european, and oak from all the different forests in the U.S., so it was a challenge. I was working for future generations to help give them a basis of understanding; hopefully they would learn from some of the barrels I had made to know which types they should and should not use, so it’s kind of a treasure. I’ve been lucky enough to distill with no restrictions on my grapes, location, and which wood to use. To have the opportunity to build an inventory like this, it’s exceptional. I’m so thankful for all the people who helped me.

David: It’s an incredible portfolio now. With the new small blends that are being released and the variety of the single barrels—getting to taste those varietals separately—it’s one of the most incredible inventories of American distillates ever; if not the most.

Hubert: Absolutely. It’s exciting, but you have so many parameters and possibilities today with the origin of the oak, the number of yeasts on the market, the decisions in the distillery. It never ends, really. It’s unbelievable. After a certain point, with the revolution in craft distillation, I got to the point where I explored everything I could do over there, so I wanted to take what I had learned and help others start their own distilleries. I had been lucky enough with my opportunities, so maybe I could give back a little bit.

David: Is that what you spend most of your time doing now? Consulting?

Hubert: Yes, I sell alembics, advise people, and teach classes. I work with the American Distilling Institute and UC Davis, so I’m always educating. I just taught a class in Portland a few weeks ago and there were people from Puerto Rico , Texas, and Vermont there. It’s very exciting to see people from all those places getting involved in distilling. Some start in their garage with no money and just a few tanks, and some are very rich and they buy the very best equipment. It’s quite interesting, all the diversity. Some people who come to my class don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about (laughs). And you have other people who have fifteen years of experience, but want to learn more and take their distilling in a new direction. It’s a great experience and I’ve been very fortunate to be a part of it.

David: You’ve done so many different things in the industry at this point. What are you most proud of from all your various accomplishments?

Hubert: To be able to bring the old methods of distillation to the forefront and to have worked with more specialized grapes and fruits. What I like to teach people is that you can use an alembic still for any type of spirit, and quality-wise it’s the best way to distill. It’s slower and it’s more expensive, but it’s the best way in terms of quality. I like to bring back old recipes and common sense. Too many people in the craft industry—after only two or three years of distillation—consider themselves a master distiller and it’s very scary.

David: (laughs)

Hubert: I have seen and tasted so many products—from judging on various panels—and they are making progress. From ten years ago to now, it’s constantly continued to get better and it’s exciting. But people still make stupid mistakes, like aging in small barrels where the extraction of the oak is very fast and the quality of the wood isn’t very good. They also tend to keep these barrels in the wrong place; near a draft or by their pot still, so I try to bring a little common sense when I am teaching. I try to keep people on the right track and not spend money stupidly. It’s more important to put money into better ingredients, a good still, and high-quality oak. The rest you can manage. I try to focus on the essentials. If you start by doing things right, you can understand why it’s right later on down the line. You can’t go back ten years down the road to clean up early mistakes.

David: And that’s become apparent on the craft market today. There are people who have maybe made mistakes, yet can’t afford not to sell what they’ve produced.

Hubert: Well….(laughs). You can’t be shy in presenting your products. It’s a good way to learn.

David: From the resulting criticism, you mean?

Hubert: Oh yeah. I have one dog who sometimes doesn’t want to smell what’s in the glass. He runs out of the distillery. Then I have another dog who is drinking it out of his bowl at seventy percent alcohol. They both have great noses, but they don’t always agree on what they like (laughs).

David: How do you feel about the fact that some of your own early distillates are on the market right now in these new old and rare releases?

Hubert: The difficult part is that they are like my babies. It’s like a separation from your children. I worry sometimes that they are not quite ready, but that’s part of the process. You have to taste samples from year to year and decide if you are going to keep them for ten years, or as part of a single barrel expression, or blend into an XO. You have to have a passion for the spirit.

David: Are you worried about how they’re being used now that you’re no longer doing the blending?

Hubert: No, no. Not at all. Joe Corley (who does the blending now) was a great assistant for me. He was there every day, he was honest, and I really like him as a person. I think it’s tough to give up control when you’re as passionate as I am about distilling. Again, like when you're talking about your own child, I don't think that anyone—even Ansley and Joewill ever understand how to nurture these brandies the way I once did. It's something that still makes me uneasy to this day. But, of course, that's what every parent will say. Every little decision can jeopardize the quality, the complexity, and the value of the inventory, which is one of the most unique in America. 

David: Which Germain Robin release do you think best speaks to your vision as a distiller?

Hubert: I like the Havana cigar blend very much. I really enjoyed working on that. I smoke cigars sometimes, so to build a blend that goes with them, it takes a long time. I did a special blend for Ashton Cigars, so I did a special VSOP and a barrel to pair with their cigars—at that time there was a craze for them. They wanted something unique and I came up with the Havana blend, which was an incredible learning experience for me. For single barrels, I like the semillon very much. I like the fleshiness and the fatness on the palate. It has a beautiful structure, and it takes time to come around. The first time I distilled it I made three barrels and I used two of them in a blend. The one barrel I had left completely changed after eight years. It was incredible. Of course, I love the pinot noir, too.

David: Do you think the pinot noir is ultimately what defines Germain Robin brandy? Is that what ultimately separates it from Cognac?

Hubert: Cognac isn’t about the grapes, ultimately. It’s more about the soil and the terroir. Here, it’s all about the grapes.

David: Are you still inspired by the differences in California grapes after all these years?

Hubert: There are still more varietals I would love to distill, but never got the chance to. I am going to Peru soon, however, to distill pisco, so it will be another situation to learn about new grapes. It’s always going to interest me, I think. Ultimately, what inspires me is inspiration itself. People change sometimes and they forget what the essence of life is. For me, life was becoming a choice between money and integrity, and I wanted to make sure I was on the right side.

-David Driscoll



After a long and busy Saturday during the holiday season, you take it for granted that you're going to sleep that night. Nine hours of lifting boxes, carrying wine out to the parking lot, running back and forth between buildings, emptying shopping cars full of booze onto the shelves, and talking with customers about the perfect holiday gift tends to take it out of a person. It's the type of day that usually knocks you out an hour before your regular bedtime. I killed a beer in the parking lot talking with my colleagues, ordered a pizza for delivery while driving home, and washed that down with a bottle of Champagne when I got there. I also took it for granted that the combination of high-acid bubbly wine with high-acid tomato sauce wasn't going to raise the acidity in my esophagus to intolerable levels of lava-like burning. But that's what happens when you simply erase your stress with alcohol, rather than come down naturally and deal with the day's events before passing out on the couch. That, plus the ping-pong ball bouncing around my head at two A.M. when I wake up dehydrated, my mouth like a desert, wondering if I put the right shipping address on that gift order before leaving. And what about that guy who got the wrong bottle in his delivery today? Am I going to remember to track down the right whisky tomorrow when I wake up? And what about the five bottles that the distributor forgot to drop off yesterday that I was expecting for special orders this weekend? I need to call them in the morning and make sure those get delivered Monday, otherwise we're going to go over our timetable. And now I'm wondering about the five people who asked me for a recommendation today, but at no point seemed convinced that I knew what I was talking about. That was uncomfortable, and I'm wondering if the Mortlach really was the best choice for that one dude's friend. And now I'm dwelling on the email that lady in New York sent me about finding the right Bordeaux for her husband's Christmas present. I forgot to check our inventory and send her a reply. Oh God, then there are the twenty customer service issues that got punted to my inbox because they were all whisky-related and I'm the only one who knows how to answer them. I forgot about those. Maybe I should get up now and knock those out while I'm awake. But if I get out of bed now I definitely will not be going back to sleep anytime soon. I'm supposed to get a haircut in the morning, then my nephews are coming to spend the day with my wife and me. Maybe I can sneak away for an hour to get some of this done while they're eating lunch. It's 3:34 AM right now. If I can pop a few Tums and get back to sleep I can probably make it to 8:00 and at least grab four more hours. Think about something else though. Not work, or you'll never get to sleep.

-David Driscoll


People Be Shoppin'!

Man, we are getting pummelled. Lots of booze action in the sales queue. Just a solid 75 orders of nothing but liquor all in a row, all placed within the last hour or so. No time for blogs today. Gotta go get all those orders ready!

-David Driscoll


Haig Club is Exactly What Whisky Needs Right Now

If you're someone who drinks casually, likes to have fun, and appreciates the aesthetic of flash, then you're going to love the new Haig Club Grain Whisky from David Beckham. If you're someone who hates fancy brand names, thinks all marketing is just a cheap ploy to convince you to buy leftover crap, and would never even think about drinking a Scotch whisky tauted by a major celebrity, then you're also going to love the new Haig Club. Those who have been waiting for a modern and updated take on Scotch—one that actually looks like fun, rather than a stale room filled with old men—are going to love Guy Ritchie's new trailer for Haig Club embedded above. It's almost Skyfall-esque; a Bondian scene of Highland glory, fancy cars, and good-looking actors all headed north to the great home of all things Scotch. Those who poo-poo gimmickry and would rather just get down to brass tacks, you're going to be pleased as well—none of your coveted single malt whisky was harmed in the making of this video.

In searching for the above media, I happened to find a few articles not too in favor of Beckham's latest venture. "This is exactly what Scotch whisky doesn't need," one exclaimed. I beg to differ, though. Most of the complaints I hear from serious whisky drinkers stem from the idea that big corporate marketing is attracting deeper pockets from less-experienced drinkers, thereby raising the competition and the prices for the whiskies they like to drink. Many Macallan whiskies, for example, have doubled (or even tripled) in price over the last year due to its respected brand name and global consumer recognition; much to the chagrin of long-time Macallan fans. The new-found popularity of once-insider Bourbons like Pappy Van Winkle and George T. Stagg has also aggravated aficionados in the American whiskey community. But Haig Club is a fancy take on Cameronbridge grain whisky. Who's drinking that right now? No one. Grain whisky is a genre that serious whisky drinkers could care less about, and that many casual drinkers don't really even understand. The fact that Beckham is taking up the reins for a much-maligned category (one that probably deserves more respect than it gets) is fantastic.

An unexpectedly successful Haig Club isn't going to make your favorite single malt more expensive. It's not going to convince soccer fans around the globe to start paying exorbitant sums for collector bottles of Girvan and Port Dundas. It's not going to ruin the market for North British or Inverleven expressions, or convince Nikka to up the price for their wonderful Coffey Still whisky. Diageo isn't taking the last stocks of Port Ellen, dumping them into a crystal decanter, and then charging you $50,000 instead of $1,000. Haig Club is not going to do anything that could be perceived as negative to the general whisky market whatsoever, unless you're offended by modern packaging. If you don't want to like Haig Club with all of its posh (parden the pun) potential, then you don't have to buy it. As John Goodman's Walter Sobchak says in The Big Lebowski when Jeff Bridges objects to him bringing his dog to the bowling alley, "I'm not renting it shoes. He's not taking your fucking turn, dude."

I'm always up for a good time. Personally, I appreciate anything that can get me out of the same old rut. What I like about the Haig Club is this: it's simple, light, easy drinking whisky with marketing that focuses more on the drinking aspect of Scotch than the collectability. It's the type of whisky I could pour for my wife and even she could like (she generally hates whisky). It's a cool-looking bottle that I could bring to a party where my friends and I would pound it out over rocks in a matter of hours. Beckham's team isn't out there, rummaging through independent warehouses, asking: "What's the best whisky we can find and charge a fortune for?" They're taking grain whisky—something easy and fun—and they're marketing it as something easy and fun. Their approach is a welcome change from what I usually see behind the scenes; an over-infested mess of limited releases, once-in-a-lifetime chances, and expectations that are completely out of whack. What does the Haig Club taste like? It tastes like semi-young grain whisky. It's biscuity, grainy, basically-pleasing whisky with a hint of vanilla and a dash of that earthy, herbaceousness that you often find in single grain Scottish whiskies. I'd happily drink it if someone poured me a glass. I'll bet it's even better with ice (as grain whiskies usually are).

Is it worth $60? Not if you're a whisky collector, but you probably already knew that because there's nothing collectable about it. This is a whisky meant for the masses. There's nothing inside this square blue bottle that's going to blow your mind if you've been purchasing our single casks from Signatory, I can tell you that much. Haig Club is simply drinkable whisky that should only encourage young drinkers to branch out and explore the ever-expanding whisky universe. I'm all for that. The greater point is this: it isn't $100 and it isn't removing existing stocks of mature single malt from the market, repackaging them at higher price points, and preventing those of us who love really great mature whisky from an affordable and delicious alternative. I'm all for that as well.

Hate David Beckham's new whisky, if you so feel inclined. He's not a master distiller with hundreds of years of family tradition behind his long-standing company name. Personally, that's what I enjoy about it. Someone has to be out there encouraging people to drink this stuff, rather than simply hide it all away in their closet.  K&L is never going to be a big player for Haig Club, mainly because we cater to a clientele looking for brand alternatives, but I'm still going to carry it in solidarity with the message: Let's drink Scotch, let's drink it out of a fancy bottle, and let's make sure we don't touch the really good stuff while we're dumping glasses of it down our throats. Cheers, David.

-David Driscoll