A Load of Sour Mash

It’s a terrible shame that most bourbon is drowned under several inches of refrigerated Coke, diluted further with frozen water, before being slurped down entirely without a sceric of ceremony. Either tha, or it’s sucked up through a straw. I can’t help wondering if those doddering old guys in the bourbon ads, who seem to have nothing more to do with their lives than to play poker and smoke in dangerously close proximity to immense stacks of maturing and volatile spirits, really know what happens to the stuff once it’s passed out of their tender and unhurried care?

Do they really care?

And what about the people who have described the taste of bourbon in lyrics more suited to the score of a light opera – what would they do if they knew that most bourbon-drinkers barely even tasted the stuff and only measured the quality of the product by the proof on the label?

One writer, whose name has fortunately been lost in time, was moved to describe the water from Kentucky’s limestone mountain-springs as ‘leaping from rock to rock, laughing in its wild career until it found its haven of rest in the bosom of a mash tub – to come forth as pure nectar in the shape of bourbon’. Ponder that next time your next Jim Beam arrives, sadly emasculated in its graveyard of Coke and crushed ice.

Another bourbon enthusiast once waxed: ‘It wakes delight with a rich and magical plenitude of overtones and rhymes and resolves assonances and a contrapuntal succession of fleeting aftertastes.’ Of course it does, as I’m certain you’ll agree. In Australia you can’t exactly get the branch water from the same districts the bourbon is made, with which the real afficionados from Kentucky take the stuff, but why not a splash of still local mineral water instead?

So what, exactly, is bourbon? Bourbon is the benchmark US straight or unblended whiskey. It’s named after Bourbon County, Kentucky, one of several places in the state which lay claim to be the first place it was made. Quite surprisingly, given the drink’s present reputation, the first bourbon was allegedly stilled by a clergyman, the Reverend Elijah Craig, who happened to come from nearby Scott County.

Bourbon is a full-flavoured, full-bodied whiskey with a touch of fruit in its bouquet. It tastes sweet from the corn – for the mash must be at least 51 corn by law – and develops flavours of vanilla, caramel, butterscotch and coconut from oak barrels, in which US law states that bourbon must remain for at least four years old before bottling.

That’s why bourbons can sometimes be quite a problem head-wise the following morning. Oak casks, especially new ones, impart to the liquor a range of extracts, some of which are known as congeners. These are in essence impurities and can wreak havoc with the brain cells. So if you’re a committed bourbon drinker, expose yourself to as narrow a range of these congeners as possible and stick with the one brand all night.

Generally speaking though, the higher the alcoholic strength of the bourbon for sale, the older, richer and fuller – for which you could read better – they are.

There’s a lot of hogwash said about the sour mash process, which is actually used for most bourbons. This particular term merely refers to the practice of starting the fermentation of the mash, being the extract of grain, with part of the previous batch. It is similar to the procedure for making sourdough bread and has no effect on the taste of the final product whatsoever. Distillers like it because it helps create consistency between the batches. You’d be pretty concerned, wouldn’t you if the lastest bottling of Turkey didn’t taste quite so Wild?

It stands to reason that the best bourbon should be of at least some interest to the committed Scotch drinker. Mellow, mature drinks like Johnny Drum, Maker’s Mark, George Dickel or Bonded Beam well deserve their ranking in the ‘de-luxe’ category. They’re distinctive and complex, sweetly flavoured and easy to drink.

Of course there are the heavyweights, with whom some caution might be advised. Punters with an eye on the chemistry must surely realise that more value is to be gained with Wild Turkey, which being nearly 37 stronger than the standard JB, is generally only 50 cents a nip more costly. Paul Traynor at the Geebung Polo Club, one of Melbourne’s great pubs, says that people show some caution, however. ‘They know Wild Turkey can do some damage,’ he observes. Personally, I rate the Wild Turkey 8-Year Old, even above the 12-Year Old of the same brand.

Diehard bourbon bibbers show quite an unbelievable brand loyalty. Jim Beam is streets ahead as Australia’s biggest selling bourbon. At the Geebung, they sell nearly as much JB as they do the house scotch. Mostly with coke, sometimes neat and occasionally with soda.

Jack Daniels, an over-rated, acrid and medicinal Tennessee whisky allegedly favoured by showbiz personalities, runs a distant second in the American whiskey stakes at most pubs.

All this in spite of expensive nationwide campaigns to turn the Jim Beam drinkers away from their tipple and onto Rebel Yell or Sam Cougar. Marketers take note. It just doesn’t work. They might put up with it while it’s free and served on a tray by some busty western-style hostess sporting spurs, Stetson and little else, but the moment you’re not looking, they’re all back on the JB wagon. For the record, although JB 74 proof does taste rather young, it is quite fragrant, fruity, laid-back and spicy – whereas Rebel Yell does tend to be more pungent and aggressive, with obvious hot and dirty aromas.

Of some others around, the Sherman T. Cooper Kentucky Straight 74 proof is fragrant, clean and delicate; the Wild Turkey 101 Proof is rich, grainy and charry with hints of moccha and vanilla; and Early Times 74 proof is a fine mature and aromatic bourbon, with a light char and very clean spirit. Please login to post comment