Wow! I had no idea how much I didn't know about barley. And even more so, I had no idea how hard it would be to find barley in Central Florida.
So let's take a half step backwards, and perhaps a little to the aside. Why exactly am I obsessing over barley?
Easy, The sole ingredient of Irish and Scotch whiskies is malt, and malt is made from barley. Duh! I had no idea. And actually, fundamental difference between Irish Whiskey and Scotch Whiskey is how the malt is made. Irish whiskey distilleries bake the malt in kilns. Scotch is made from malt that is dried in hot smoke from a peat fire. It is this use of this smoke that gives Scotch its distinctive peaty flavor. So Irish whiskey and Scotch really are all about malt, and therefore (by extension) barley.
Malt is made by germinating barley until the small primary root is about the same length as the kernel of barley. The germination is then stopped by heating the malt. After the malt is dried, it is soaked in a mash tun to create the sugar water that is fermented to distill. This sugar water is called wort. Simple, ja?
Not knowing anything about barley and little about fermentation, I rather assumed the barley was malted simply to make it more flavorful. Nicht so sehr. As it so happens, the starches in barley do not convert to soluble sugars without an enzyme that is released by the barley as the seed is germinated. Interestingly, I found that even when barley is used as animal feed, it is not particularly good for the livestock unless a percentage of the barley is sprouted, or the enzyme is otherwise added to the feed. So the wort can only be created from malted barley.
As I looked into malt even more, I found that malt is not simply malt. Instead, there are many types of malt, categorized by how darkly it has been roasted. You see, once the barley has been malted and malting has been halted, the malt can by roasted in a hot oven to caramelize the sugars within the malt. The hotter and longer the malt is roasted, the more caramelizing that occurs.
Malt is graded by not only how it is dried or roasted, but also by the darkness of the roasted malt using a scale called the Degrees Lovibond Scale, or simply the L Scale. It measures the color of the roasted barley from a light amber color (0) to black (560). A comprehensive list can be found at http://www.hogtownbrewers.org/brewschooldocs/malt-chart.pdf.
Since we are looking for sugar to ferment more than flavor, a basic malt such as a pilsner works fine. But tossing in a little darker roasts for the fun of it can't be all bad.
So, as I figure it, the very first step in making a fine whiskey in the traditions of Ireland and Scotland is to make a good malt. While numerous malts are available through home brew supply stores, what fun is there in that?
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Then Until Now - Part III (It's All About Differences - Reflux)
So the key to the difference between artisan whiskies and mass-produced whiskies is the type of still. That's cool. That must mean that one artisan whiskey is pretty much like another. Au contraire mon frére. The differences do not end with whether the whiskey is distilled with a columnar still, a continuous still, or a pot still. In fact, they really just begin.
Alembic pot stills are like women (or like men for those of you that prefer men), they come in as many shapes and sizes as there are imaginations. Each and everyone of them have their unique traits, characteristics, and quirks which uniquely combine to be the favorite of the person that loves and defends them over all others.
The most common still we picture when thinking about moonshiners is something akin to a large kettle with a worm-shaped coil coming out of the top. In modern times these are made from anything from stainless steel kettles to milk cans to pressure cookers. The process is simple. You heat the fermented mass in the kettle, the steam collects in the condenser tube, and the distillate drips out the other end. Quick and efficient, by pot still standards.
The problem is, quick and easy is not the road to a good whiskey, or any other distilled spirit. Simply, if you want quick and easy, get a columnar still and at least make it as quick and efficient as you possibly can. But if you want the full symphony of flavors in your whiskey, you need to step it up a notch from the simple kettle-type pot still. This is where we start seeing the vast differences in pot stills and the additional onion-shaped pictured on the banner of this page.
The differences come down to reflux. Not the kind you get when you eat too much dairy, eat too many habanero peppers, or drink too much cranberry juice, although the concept is similar. While the basic process inside a pot still is heating the fermented mash until the desired alcohol evaporates off, which is then condensed in the condenser and collected in the collector, as with anything, there are many more subtle and no so subtle actions and cycles occurring within the still. The most obvious when you think about it a bit is that some of the evaporated alcohol hits the side of the still before it gets to the condenser. If the side of the still is sufficiently cool, that vapor will condense and fall back into the fermented mash. That is reflux, and in general, the more reflux you have in a still, the more purely the ethanol separates from the undesirable alcohols and other volatile ethers.
So if you ask 50 master distillers what pot still design in optimal, you likely will get at least 60 different answers. Everyone has their preferences as to how much reflux they achieve, which also is a trade off of how quickly the still will run. If you do a search of pot still images, you will find ones that resemble a typical onion shape with a neck drawn up to the condenser, but you will also find dome shaped pot stills, ones with various sized bulges in the neck, and everything in between. Each is specifically designed from experience of the master distiller to tweak the amount of reflux and thus the flavor and purity of the final distillate.
Another big variable in reflux, flavor, and purity is the angle at which the condenser comes off of the top of the still. The more steeply upward the condenser comes off the still, the more reflux will occur (the more vapor that will re-condense and fall back into the still to be re-evaporated. Similarly, condensers that slope downward as soon as they leave the still will increase the rate of production, but will result in minimal reflux. So once again, the subtle differences result in subtle differences in flavor, and the interaction between the shape of the still and the characteristics of the condenser combine to create the character and complexity of the final product.
Finally, the basic model of a alembic pot still begins with the fermented mash being heated. Even the simple act of heating the fermented mash changes the flavor and characteristic. While we traditionally think about some sort of open flame heating the bottom of the kettle (again from the images of our moonshiners), this method of heating a still is not only extremely dangerous, but also results in the introduction of burnt components into the final product. Keep in mind that the fermented mash that is inside a still is not filtered sugar water. It contains various amounts of solids that tend to settle to the bottom of the pot. As anyone that has ever cooked something on the stove knows, when things are heated on the bottom and things settle to the bottom, you must keep stirring to keep from scorching the solids in the mixture.
The same happens in a still, as the bottom heats faster than the volume of liquid inside the still, the solids in the fermented mash settle to the bottom and scorch to the bottom, then eventually burn. This decreases the heat exchange in the still, releases burnt flavors into the rest of the mixture, is very hard to clean out, and is very hard on the relatively soft metals of the still. Because of this, if the still is heated from the bottom, some method of stirring the mash is needed to keep it from burning. But still, some of the mash will "cook" more than the rest. So once again, how much cooking occurs prior to evaporation alters the flavor of the final product.
Because of the hazards of using an open flame when producing a very flammable alcohol, most distilleries today utilize either electrical induction heating coils, or steam coils inside the still to heat the fermented mash. Again, each method produces a different flavor in the final product. The higher heat of the electrical induction heating coils will heat the mash more rapidly, but you also get more cooking occurring on the hot coils. Hot steam or water are slower, but result in less cooking.
The exciting thing about all of these variables in pot still design is that there are no right or wrong designs. Each design component combines with the others to create a specific characteristic in the final distillate. Because of this, old distilleries that still utilize alembic pot stills have their replacement stills carefully crafted from the designs of their existing still to match the final characteristics as much as is possible.
So the design of the still all comes down to personal taste, which is precisely why artisan distilleries are so exciting. The quality and flavor of the final product is so incredibly variable that there quite literally is an infinite number of possible unique products that can be produced by the industry as a whole.
Alembic pot stills are like women (or like men for those of you that prefer men), they come in as many shapes and sizes as there are imaginations. Each and everyone of them have their unique traits, characteristics, and quirks which uniquely combine to be the favorite of the person that loves and defends them over all others.
The most common still we picture when thinking about moonshiners is something akin to a large kettle with a worm-shaped coil coming out of the top. In modern times these are made from anything from stainless steel kettles to milk cans to pressure cookers. The process is simple. You heat the fermented mass in the kettle, the steam collects in the condenser tube, and the distillate drips out the other end. Quick and efficient, by pot still standards.
The problem is, quick and easy is not the road to a good whiskey, or any other distilled spirit. Simply, if you want quick and easy, get a columnar still and at least make it as quick and efficient as you possibly can. But if you want the full symphony of flavors in your whiskey, you need to step it up a notch from the simple kettle-type pot still. This is where we start seeing the vast differences in pot stills and the additional onion-shaped pictured on the banner of this page.
The differences come down to reflux. Not the kind you get when you eat too much dairy, eat too many habanero peppers, or drink too much cranberry juice, although the concept is similar. While the basic process inside a pot still is heating the fermented mash until the desired alcohol evaporates off, which is then condensed in the condenser and collected in the collector, as with anything, there are many more subtle and no so subtle actions and cycles occurring within the still. The most obvious when you think about it a bit is that some of the evaporated alcohol hits the side of the still before it gets to the condenser. If the side of the still is sufficiently cool, that vapor will condense and fall back into the fermented mash. That is reflux, and in general, the more reflux you have in a still, the more purely the ethanol separates from the undesirable alcohols and other volatile ethers.
So if you ask 50 master distillers what pot still design in optimal, you likely will get at least 60 different answers. Everyone has their preferences as to how much reflux they achieve, which also is a trade off of how quickly the still will run. If you do a search of pot still images, you will find ones that resemble a typical onion shape with a neck drawn up to the condenser, but you will also find dome shaped pot stills, ones with various sized bulges in the neck, and everything in between. Each is specifically designed from experience of the master distiller to tweak the amount of reflux and thus the flavor and purity of the final distillate.
Another big variable in reflux, flavor, and purity is the angle at which the condenser comes off of the top of the still. The more steeply upward the condenser comes off the still, the more reflux will occur (the more vapor that will re-condense and fall back into the still to be re-evaporated. Similarly, condensers that slope downward as soon as they leave the still will increase the rate of production, but will result in minimal reflux. So once again, the subtle differences result in subtle differences in flavor, and the interaction between the shape of the still and the characteristics of the condenser combine to create the character and complexity of the final product.
Finally, the basic model of a alembic pot still begins with the fermented mash being heated. Even the simple act of heating the fermented mash changes the flavor and characteristic. While we traditionally think about some sort of open flame heating the bottom of the kettle (again from the images of our moonshiners), this method of heating a still is not only extremely dangerous, but also results in the introduction of burnt components into the final product. Keep in mind that the fermented mash that is inside a still is not filtered sugar water. It contains various amounts of solids that tend to settle to the bottom of the pot. As anyone that has ever cooked something on the stove knows, when things are heated on the bottom and things settle to the bottom, you must keep stirring to keep from scorching the solids in the mixture.
The same happens in a still, as the bottom heats faster than the volume of liquid inside the still, the solids in the fermented mash settle to the bottom and scorch to the bottom, then eventually burn. This decreases the heat exchange in the still, releases burnt flavors into the rest of the mixture, is very hard to clean out, and is very hard on the relatively soft metals of the still. Because of this, if the still is heated from the bottom, some method of stirring the mash is needed to keep it from burning. But still, some of the mash will "cook" more than the rest. So once again, how much cooking occurs prior to evaporation alters the flavor of the final product.
Because of the hazards of using an open flame when producing a very flammable alcohol, most distilleries today utilize either electrical induction heating coils, or steam coils inside the still to heat the fermented mash. Again, each method produces a different flavor in the final product. The higher heat of the electrical induction heating coils will heat the mash more rapidly, but you also get more cooking occurring on the hot coils. Hot steam or water are slower, but result in less cooking.
The exciting thing about all of these variables in pot still design is that there are no right or wrong designs. Each design component combines with the others to create a specific characteristic in the final distillate. Because of this, old distilleries that still utilize alembic pot stills have their replacement stills carefully crafted from the designs of their existing still to match the final characteristics as much as is possible.
So the design of the still all comes down to personal taste, which is precisely why artisan distilleries are so exciting. The quality and flavor of the final product is so incredibly variable that there quite literally is an infinite number of possible unique products that can be produced by the industry as a whole.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Then Until Now - Part II (It's All About Differences)
So what is it about artisan or craft liquor that make it different from the ubiquitous mass-produced liquor found in every bar and package store. Simply, it is the differences, little and big that make the difference.
First and foremost are the stills. But who knew? Before I started studying stills, a still is a still is a still. Boil some liquid, collect the condensate, drink it. What's the difference? Of I couldn't have been more wrong.
Before proceeding with the differences between stills, let's take a half step back to discuss briefly the differences in alcohol. Probably not surprising, there are different types of alcohol. In the most basic sense, there is ethyl alcohol and methyl alcohol. Ethyl alcohol is the good stuff that lies at the heart of all beer, wine, and liquor. Ethyl is good, although tasteless. Methyl alcohol on the other hand is like ethyl's evil twin. Commonly called wood alcohol, consuming large quantities can cause blindness, other neurological problems, and death. Methyl is bad, although it has a taste.
The key to non-lethal distillation is to separate the good ethyl alcohol from the bad methyl alcohol and a few of its bad cousins. Fortunately, methyl alcohol is smaller, lighter, and therefore evaporates at 149 °F, whereas ethyl alcohol is heavier and evaporates at 172 °F. This difference in boiling temperatures results in the distillation of methyl alcohol before ethyl, although chemistry is never quite as simple and easy as one would like.
Anyways, back to stills, there are two basic types of stills, the alembic pot still or pot still, and the column still or reflux still. When most of us think about a still, it is the alembic pot still that comes to mind. There are ancient Egyptian painting that depict stills similar to alembic pot stills, and the alembic pot still as we know it today was invented in the 9th century in the middle east. It functions by boiling the fermented beer or wine in a sealed container with a tube leading off the top to a collection vessel. As the materials in the pot heat, different chemicals boil off at different temperatures (and therefore different times) allowing for the separation of compounds. As I summarized earlier, the bad methyl alcohol evaporates 23 °F cooler than the good ethyl alcohol. Therefore, by collecting and disposing of the first distillates from a run, also called the heads or cuts, the distiller is able to isolate the good ethyl alcohol from the bad methyl alcohol.
Unfortunately, as I said earlier, chemistry is never that simple and easy. Ethyl can combine with water to create compounds that evaporate at a lower temperature than methyl. There also are other minor volatiles that evaporate hotter and cooler than ethyl. The result is impure distillation of ethyl alcohol using an alembic pot still. To compensate for this shortcoming, it is necessary to redistill the ethyl alcohol rich distillate numerous times to further separate the good ethyl alcohol from all the other compounds in the beer or wine. Each subsequent distilling increases the percentage of ethyl alcohol inn the distillate up to near the theoretic maximum of about 90%. This process takes time, and therefore, is not the most efficient.
Column stills date back to the very beginning of the 9th century. They consist of a column (duh) in which the various volatile compounds collect at distinct heights based on their mass. By selectively drawing off the vapor from the different heights, ethyl alcohol is able to be separated from it's bad cousins efficiently in a single step in concentrations approaching the 90% theoretical yields. How the vapors are generated differentiate the type of column still. In it's simplest for, the column is affixed to the top of the alembic still. As the beer or wine inside the pot begins to boil, the vapors rise up the column and separate along the column by their mass. When the beer or wine was stripped of it's ethyl alcohol, the run ended and the still was cleaned. This type of column still commonly is referred to as a reflux still.
In the mid-19th century, an Irish distiller invented the continuous column still. It allowed for the continuous distillation of alcohol by removing the source of the alcohol from the pot. Instead, purified water was added to the pot, and the beer or wine was injected in a small continuous stream into the side of the column. The column is packed with material not unlike kitchen scrubbies. The hot steam from the water rises through the packing material and heats it. As the stream of beer and wine mixes with the steam and comes into contact with the warm packing material, the volatile compounds are stripped and they separate within the column by mass, with the lightest ones rising to the top and the heaviest settling towards the bottom. Again, in this single step, ethyl alcohol can be extracted to near the theoretical yields, but now in a continuous process that can run 24 hours a day without stop.
The vast majority of commercial, mass-produced liquor (excluding single malt scotch whiskies) are distilled today using the continuous column still technology. It allows for an efficient production of consistent quality ethyl alcohol. But the problem lies in the little fact that pure ethyl alcohol is flavorless. And good liquor is anything but flavorless. So what give?
The differences in the flavors of liquors are the result of the other volatile compounds that are captured along with the ethyl alcohol. Commercial, mass-produced distilleries compensate for the purity of their distillate by adding flavors after the fact. This is the reason we now see so many "flavored" liquors filling our store shelves. But added flavors typically ( to go back to my music analogy) contain only the major melody of the song. The minor melodies and supporting notes typically are lost. Another way to think of it is to think of the difference between smelling s rose, and smelling a rose-scented fragrance. The fragrance may still be identifiable as that of a rose, but the subtle nuances of a real rose are missing. Simply, expensive perfumes are expensive because they contain more body, more of the subtle undertones than do cheap perfumes. Similarly, what differentiates good whiskey from bad whiskey is not only the intensity of the major flavors, but also the subtleties and completeness of the undertones, the changes in flavor as it volatilizes on your tongue and up your nostrils.
As the Scots have not forgotten, the only true way to achieve the full symphony is to rely on the traditional ways of preparing the beer or wine, and to distill it in an alembic pot still.
Then comes the fun part. What differentiates one spirit distilled in a alembic pot still from another. Oh my gosh, you would not believe, and honestly, I think I shall wait to go into those differences until the next time.
First and foremost are the stills. But who knew? Before I started studying stills, a still is a still is a still. Boil some liquid, collect the condensate, drink it. What's the difference? Of I couldn't have been more wrong.
Before proceeding with the differences between stills, let's take a half step back to discuss briefly the differences in alcohol. Probably not surprising, there are different types of alcohol. In the most basic sense, there is ethyl alcohol and methyl alcohol. Ethyl alcohol is the good stuff that lies at the heart of all beer, wine, and liquor. Ethyl is good, although tasteless. Methyl alcohol on the other hand is like ethyl's evil twin. Commonly called wood alcohol, consuming large quantities can cause blindness, other neurological problems, and death. Methyl is bad, although it has a taste.
The key to non-lethal distillation is to separate the good ethyl alcohol from the bad methyl alcohol and a few of its bad cousins. Fortunately, methyl alcohol is smaller, lighter, and therefore evaporates at 149 °F, whereas ethyl alcohol is heavier and evaporates at 172 °F. This difference in boiling temperatures results in the distillation of methyl alcohol before ethyl, although chemistry is never quite as simple and easy as one would like.
Anyways, back to stills, there are two basic types of stills, the alembic pot still or pot still, and the column still or reflux still. When most of us think about a still, it is the alembic pot still that comes to mind. There are ancient Egyptian painting that depict stills similar to alembic pot stills, and the alembic pot still as we know it today was invented in the 9th century in the middle east. It functions by boiling the fermented beer or wine in a sealed container with a tube leading off the top to a collection vessel. As the materials in the pot heat, different chemicals boil off at different temperatures (and therefore different times) allowing for the separation of compounds. As I summarized earlier, the bad methyl alcohol evaporates 23 °F cooler than the good ethyl alcohol. Therefore, by collecting and disposing of the first distillates from a run, also called the heads or cuts, the distiller is able to isolate the good ethyl alcohol from the bad methyl alcohol.
Unfortunately, as I said earlier, chemistry is never that simple and easy. Ethyl can combine with water to create compounds that evaporate at a lower temperature than methyl. There also are other minor volatiles that evaporate hotter and cooler than ethyl. The result is impure distillation of ethyl alcohol using an alembic pot still. To compensate for this shortcoming, it is necessary to redistill the ethyl alcohol rich distillate numerous times to further separate the good ethyl alcohol from all the other compounds in the beer or wine. Each subsequent distilling increases the percentage of ethyl alcohol inn the distillate up to near the theoretic maximum of about 90%. This process takes time, and therefore, is not the most efficient.
Column stills date back to the very beginning of the 9th century. They consist of a column (duh) in which the various volatile compounds collect at distinct heights based on their mass. By selectively drawing off the vapor from the different heights, ethyl alcohol is able to be separated from it's bad cousins efficiently in a single step in concentrations approaching the 90% theoretical yields. How the vapors are generated differentiate the type of column still. In it's simplest for, the column is affixed to the top of the alembic still. As the beer or wine inside the pot begins to boil, the vapors rise up the column and separate along the column by their mass. When the beer or wine was stripped of it's ethyl alcohol, the run ended and the still was cleaned. This type of column still commonly is referred to as a reflux still.
In the mid-19th century, an Irish distiller invented the continuous column still. It allowed for the continuous distillation of alcohol by removing the source of the alcohol from the pot. Instead, purified water was added to the pot, and the beer or wine was injected in a small continuous stream into the side of the column. The column is packed with material not unlike kitchen scrubbies. The hot steam from the water rises through the packing material and heats it. As the stream of beer and wine mixes with the steam and comes into contact with the warm packing material, the volatile compounds are stripped and they separate within the column by mass, with the lightest ones rising to the top and the heaviest settling towards the bottom. Again, in this single step, ethyl alcohol can be extracted to near the theoretical yields, but now in a continuous process that can run 24 hours a day without stop.
The vast majority of commercial, mass-produced liquor (excluding single malt scotch whiskies) are distilled today using the continuous column still technology. It allows for an efficient production of consistent quality ethyl alcohol. But the problem lies in the little fact that pure ethyl alcohol is flavorless. And good liquor is anything but flavorless. So what give?
The differences in the flavors of liquors are the result of the other volatile compounds that are captured along with the ethyl alcohol. Commercial, mass-produced distilleries compensate for the purity of their distillate by adding flavors after the fact. This is the reason we now see so many "flavored" liquors filling our store shelves. But added flavors typically ( to go back to my music analogy) contain only the major melody of the song. The minor melodies and supporting notes typically are lost. Another way to think of it is to think of the difference between smelling s rose, and smelling a rose-scented fragrance. The fragrance may still be identifiable as that of a rose, but the subtle nuances of a real rose are missing. Simply, expensive perfumes are expensive because they contain more body, more of the subtle undertones than do cheap perfumes. Similarly, what differentiates good whiskey from bad whiskey is not only the intensity of the major flavors, but also the subtleties and completeness of the undertones, the changes in flavor as it volatilizes on your tongue and up your nostrils.
As the Scots have not forgotten, the only true way to achieve the full symphony is to rely on the traditional ways of preparing the beer or wine, and to distill it in an alembic pot still.
Then comes the fun part. What differentiates one spirit distilled in a alembic pot still from another. Oh my gosh, you would not believe, and honestly, I think I shall wait to go into those differences until the next time.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Then Until Now - Part I (Thou Shalt Not)
Over the past six months, I have learned more than I ever expected to know about making whiskey, the operation of a still, the types of stills, barley, and state & federal liquor laws. Over the next few installments, I will attempt to bring you up to speed on what I've already learned.
First and foremost, I have learned how seriously the federal government takes distilling spirits. Fortunately, I haven't learned it first hand or I would be writing this from federal prison with all of my properties seized. In plain and short terms, it is illegal to distill even one drop of alcohol without the appropriate federal permits. In fact, it is illegal to even own, possess, or control a still without the appropriatpe permits and notifications. If you are caught operating an illegal still, you will be subject to time in federal prison and very substantial fines. If more than three other people know you are making illegal spirits, you and them are subject to federal racketeering laws. Wow! Ok then! I won't place that order for two 2000 ml flasks, condenser, and laboratory hotplate.
We've all seen old movies and pictures of the "revenuers" raiding illegal moonshine stills and gin joints, busting up the equipment, shattering the jugs and bottles full of illegal spirits, and hauling away the moonshiners in handcuffs. Apparently, the modern day equivalent is not dissimilar. So who are the modern-day revenuers?
The TTB (Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau), a bureau of the U.S. Department of Treasury (aka the revenuers), is the federal agency charged with the regulation and collection of taxes on alcohol and tobacco. Interestingly, the taxation of spirits seems to be the main purpose for their existence, which I suppose is a major duh moment since the TTB is in the Treasury Department. It turns out, the number of regulations regarding the manufacturing and distribution of beer, wine, and distilled spirits is proportional to the tax revenue generated per unit, which for alcohol is what's called a proof gallon (one gallon of 100 proof alcohol). Following are the federal excise tax for beer, wine, and liquor.
$4.86 per proof gallon of wine (approx 4.00 gallons of 12.5% wine)
$6.18 per proof gallon of beer (approx 8.33 gallons of 6% beer)
$13.50 per proof gallon of liquor (approx 1.25 gallons of 80 proof liquor)
In total, approximate 55% of the cost of a standard fifth of liquor goes to federal, state, and local excise taxes.
Any of us that stayed awake in our high school history and/or civics classes may recall that prohibition was repealed on 5 December 1933 (no, I didn't recall the month and day, I had to look that up). But in reality, the temperance movement that led to the 18th Amendment continued to exercise its influence in the regulations promulgated after ratification of the 21st Amendment. Individuals could consume alcoholic beverages, but the manufacturing, transportation, and sale of alcoholic beverages has remained strictly controlled, ensuring the supply chain of alcoholic beverages was limited to a few large brewers, vinyards, and wholesalers. Not until relatively recently has there been a relaxing of the laws pertaining to beers and wines.
Currently, there are exemptions in the federal laws for the brewing and vinting of beer and wine for personal or family use. If there are two or more adults in the household, the brewing of up to 200 gallons of beer per year and the vinting of up to 200 gallons of wine per year is exempt for personal or family use (half those amounts for household with only one adult). But as I noted above, distilling even one drop of liquor remains strictly verboten. Go figure.
So I am at a loss as to how anyone is supposed to be able to legally develop techniques, formulate recipes, or any of the things you would typically do before starting a new venture.
First and foremost, I have learned how seriously the federal government takes distilling spirits. Fortunately, I haven't learned it first hand or I would be writing this from federal prison with all of my properties seized. In plain and short terms, it is illegal to distill even one drop of alcohol without the appropriate federal permits. In fact, it is illegal to even own, possess, or control a still without the appropriatpe permits and notifications. If you are caught operating an illegal still, you will be subject to time in federal prison and very substantial fines. If more than three other people know you are making illegal spirits, you and them are subject to federal racketeering laws. Wow! Ok then! I won't place that order for two 2000 ml flasks, condenser, and laboratory hotplate.
We've all seen old movies and pictures of the "revenuers" raiding illegal moonshine stills and gin joints, busting up the equipment, shattering the jugs and bottles full of illegal spirits, and hauling away the moonshiners in handcuffs. Apparently, the modern day equivalent is not dissimilar. So who are the modern-day revenuers?
The TTB (Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau), a bureau of the U.S. Department of Treasury (aka the revenuers), is the federal agency charged with the regulation and collection of taxes on alcohol and tobacco. Interestingly, the taxation of spirits seems to be the main purpose for their existence, which I suppose is a major duh moment since the TTB is in the Treasury Department. It turns out, the number of regulations regarding the manufacturing and distribution of beer, wine, and distilled spirits is proportional to the tax revenue generated per unit, which for alcohol is what's called a proof gallon (one gallon of 100 proof alcohol). Following are the federal excise tax for beer, wine, and liquor.
$4.86 per proof gallon of wine (approx 4.00 gallons of 12.5% wine)
$6.18 per proof gallon of beer (approx 8.33 gallons of 6% beer)
$13.50 per proof gallon of liquor (approx 1.25 gallons of 80 proof liquor)
In total, approximate 55% of the cost of a standard fifth of liquor goes to federal, state, and local excise taxes.
Any of us that stayed awake in our high school history and/or civics classes may recall that prohibition was repealed on 5 December 1933 (no, I didn't recall the month and day, I had to look that up). But in reality, the temperance movement that led to the 18th Amendment continued to exercise its influence in the regulations promulgated after ratification of the 21st Amendment. Individuals could consume alcoholic beverages, but the manufacturing, transportation, and sale of alcoholic beverages has remained strictly controlled, ensuring the supply chain of alcoholic beverages was limited to a few large brewers, vinyards, and wholesalers. Not until relatively recently has there been a relaxing of the laws pertaining to beers and wines.
Currently, there are exemptions in the federal laws for the brewing and vinting of beer and wine for personal or family use. If there are two or more adults in the household, the brewing of up to 200 gallons of beer per year and the vinting of up to 200 gallons of wine per year is exempt for personal or family use (half those amounts for household with only one adult). But as I noted above, distilling even one drop of liquor remains strictly verboten. Go figure.
So I am at a loss as to how anyone is supposed to be able to legally develop techniques, formulate recipes, or any of the things you would typically do before starting a new venture.
Monday, October 10, 2011
How It All Began
In the beginning... oh wait, I'm not James Michener, I don't need to go back quite that far. Ok, let's start at 1978. Why 1978? Because before my freshman year of college in Florida, I did not have any desire to drink anything stronger than milk. Hmmmm, why is it that all good drinking stories seem to involve freshman years in college and Florida? ;-)
Anyways, I was first introduced to Jose Cuervo by my roommate. Oh he was tempting, but I wasn't interested. Finally I gave in at a dorm party. OMG! Who knew tequila had such chocolaty undertones? Amazing. Jose and I became pretty good friends my freshman year, especially during the 4-month long Daytona 1979 spring break. Hmmmm, that may have had something to do with me terminating my affiliation with my first university.
Overtime, other friends introduced me to Ms. Disaronno, The Captain, piña coladas (but never in the dunes of the cape), and finally single malt scotches and single pot Irish whiskies. Like people, I found that each had their unique personalities, their quirks, and their baggage. Over time, I found that the cheap stuff is a solo act with one dominant voice with, if lucky, a couple of background singers. The expensive stuff ranged from quartets to small chamber ensembles. For a brief time I tried to become a wine aficionado, but I just couldn't get comfortable with the ostentatiousness of wine tasting. There were just way too many pretentious rules and specific vocabulary to differentiate the connoisseur from the wino.
Fast forward to March of this year (2011). Our family was lucky enough to take holiday in the Emerald Isle. For me, there was no way a trip to Ireland would be complete without a tour of a distillery. I found the perfect one in a small town west of Dublin in County Westmeath called Kilbeggan.
Kilbeggan is home to the oldest registered distillery in the world. From 1757 to 1957, the Kilbeggan Distillery made Irish Whiskey from the local barley. In the 1980's the distillery building was sold to the Town of Kilbeggan and they have since developed it into a museum of traditional whiskey making. In recent years, the original granite warehouse was acquired by Cooley Distillery and is being used to age their Kilbeggan spirits.
The tour was quite fascinating. In most aspects, it looked and smelled like a combination of an old barn and an old factory. We saw the old boilers used to heat the water. We learned how they malted barley and how the used barley was recycled back to the farmers to be used as livestock feed. We saw the massive steel mash tuns, and the equally massive wooden fermentation vats. At the end of the tour was a tasting room to sample a couple of Cooley's Irish whiskies. Ok. Interesting stuff. I didn't appreciate how easy it was to distill whiskey.
As we were leaving the tour, fate stepped up in the form of a young intern distiller working the small pot still for Cooley's "boutique" distillery located on-site. She asked if we would like to taste the spirits coming off the second still. "Sure, why not?" She escorted us into a small room opposite the stills. She opened the collector and drew out an once of the clear 180-proof liquid and placed it into a disposable shot glass. I poured a small amount into my lower lip to allow it to vaporize before I direct it across my tongue, a method of tasting scotch whiskey I had figured out a few years earlier. Oh My God! It was amazing. I had just tasted a full orchestra. The fruitiness of it was indescribable. As the spirit wafted through my sinus and wandered across my taste buds, its multitude of notes combined to create its distinctive melody. I had no idea.
By the time we were heading home, I wanted to make some of that myself. I have realized over time that I am not a big fan of oak. I felt a bit simple because I prefer silver tequila to gold or anejo. But with my experience of the new-born Irish, I realized exactly how much oak tends to be the 300-pound primo uomo overpowering the rest of orchestra.
Upon arriving back home, I started to research "boutique" distilleries, artisan distilleries, the principles of distilling spirits, and how to make a still. I figured it would be a simple matter to buy some lab flasks and a condenser, and to make me some whisky. Oh, how naive. Yes, I could buy a couple of glass flasks and a condenser, but I also could lose my house, make some new friends in federal prison, and make some rot-gut moonshine. To make what I tasted in Kilbeggan was going to be a lot more complex. Even then, I had no idea how much more complex. This blog will document what I learn, the obstacles I find, and what needs to be done to actually produce a quality spirit in a legal artisan distillery both to store my own information, and to help others afflicted with the same obsession to navigate the process.
Welcome along for the ride...
Anyways, I was first introduced to Jose Cuervo by my roommate. Oh he was tempting, but I wasn't interested. Finally I gave in at a dorm party. OMG! Who knew tequila had such chocolaty undertones? Amazing. Jose and I became pretty good friends my freshman year, especially during the 4-month long Daytona 1979 spring break. Hmmmm, that may have had something to do with me terminating my affiliation with my first university.
Overtime, other friends introduced me to Ms. Disaronno, The Captain, piña coladas (but never in the dunes of the cape), and finally single malt scotches and single pot Irish whiskies. Like people, I found that each had their unique personalities, their quirks, and their baggage. Over time, I found that the cheap stuff is a solo act with one dominant voice with, if lucky, a couple of background singers. The expensive stuff ranged from quartets to small chamber ensembles. For a brief time I tried to become a wine aficionado, but I just couldn't get comfortable with the ostentatiousness of wine tasting. There were just way too many pretentious rules and specific vocabulary to differentiate the connoisseur from the wino.
Fast forward to March of this year (2011). Our family was lucky enough to take holiday in the Emerald Isle. For me, there was no way a trip to Ireland would be complete without a tour of a distillery. I found the perfect one in a small town west of Dublin in County Westmeath called Kilbeggan.
Kilbeggan is home to the oldest registered distillery in the world. From 1757 to 1957, the Kilbeggan Distillery made Irish Whiskey from the local barley. In the 1980's the distillery building was sold to the Town of Kilbeggan and they have since developed it into a museum of traditional whiskey making. In recent years, the original granite warehouse was acquired by Cooley Distillery and is being used to age their Kilbeggan spirits.
The tour was quite fascinating. In most aspects, it looked and smelled like a combination of an old barn and an old factory. We saw the old boilers used to heat the water. We learned how they malted barley and how the used barley was recycled back to the farmers to be used as livestock feed. We saw the massive steel mash tuns, and the equally massive wooden fermentation vats. At the end of the tour was a tasting room to sample a couple of Cooley's Irish whiskies. Ok. Interesting stuff. I didn't appreciate how easy it was to distill whiskey.
As we were leaving the tour, fate stepped up in the form of a young intern distiller working the small pot still for Cooley's "boutique" distillery located on-site. She asked if we would like to taste the spirits coming off the second still. "Sure, why not?" She escorted us into a small room opposite the stills. She opened the collector and drew out an once of the clear 180-proof liquid and placed it into a disposable shot glass. I poured a small amount into my lower lip to allow it to vaporize before I direct it across my tongue, a method of tasting scotch whiskey I had figured out a few years earlier. Oh My God! It was amazing. I had just tasted a full orchestra. The fruitiness of it was indescribable. As the spirit wafted through my sinus and wandered across my taste buds, its multitude of notes combined to create its distinctive melody. I had no idea.
By the time we were heading home, I wanted to make some of that myself. I have realized over time that I am not a big fan of oak. I felt a bit simple because I prefer silver tequila to gold or anejo. But with my experience of the new-born Irish, I realized exactly how much oak tends to be the 300-pound primo uomo overpowering the rest of orchestra.
Upon arriving back home, I started to research "boutique" distilleries, artisan distilleries, the principles of distilling spirits, and how to make a still. I figured it would be a simple matter to buy some lab flasks and a condenser, and to make me some whisky. Oh, how naive. Yes, I could buy a couple of glass flasks and a condenser, but I also could lose my house, make some new friends in federal prison, and make some rot-gut moonshine. To make what I tasted in Kilbeggan was going to be a lot more complex. Even then, I had no idea how much more complex. This blog will document what I learn, the obstacles I find, and what needs to be done to actually produce a quality spirit in a legal artisan distillery both to store my own information, and to help others afflicted with the same obsession to navigate the process.
Welcome along for the ride...
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