American Single Malts | 45/46% ABV

Score: 7/10

**Very Good Indeed.**
***TL;DR***
*A good Speyside homage by way of Arizona*

As the prophet Ringo says: I get by with a little help from my friends

I am whiskey curious but I’m not alone. I mean that in the global sense that I am but one of millions that enjoy whiskey (and whisky) and am looking for new bottles and new experiences. I also mean that in the personal sense in that I’ve found supportive people helping and guiding me at every step of my journey.

My passion for single malts and blended malts began with the liquid produced in Scotland. I started with easy Speysiders and along the way a few buddies suggested I invite some malty Highland bottles to the playlist. Once I’d dipped more than a toe into the water, I began meeting and chatting with more like-minded whiskey folk. Through my whiskey community and interactions with other whiskey folk that meandered into my sphere (or I into theirs), I was introduced to Irish, Canadian, Japanese, and Indian malts. The wide variance of styles and tastes continues to amaze me and I compare and share my experiences with other people.

At the start, as I was learning more about regions and styles, I inevitably began to ask about, and search for, single malt distilled here in the United States. I heard about so many different countries that were making stellar spirit and I also saw these malts from non-UK countries on the shelves. At that stage, I’d not tasted any American single malts. Sure, at that time, I was reading about up-and-coming American single malt distilleries, and – let’s be frank – anyone who had been watching The Whiskey Tribe on YouTube three to four years ago knew about Balcones from Waco, Texas. All that said, I personally never saw any evidence of American single malts at any store local to me. When would I start seeing them?

This question became more irksome and over time I became a bit more impatient. The heritage and history of American distilling – particularly bourbon and rye whiskies – is deep and lengthy. Go into any American liquor store and you’re faced with a veritable cornucopia of bourbon and rye bottles of countless labels and expressions. Some rye have been continually produced since the Revolutionary War and many labels of bourbon started before the Civil War. And yet, no single malt here.

As with all steps of my journey, there have been like-minded people around me. When we were able to find an American single malt in my area – roughly two or three years ago – we would share the experience. It started with a Balcones Texas 1 Single Malt. Over the past three years I’ve discovered the state of American single malt is bright and healthy, as evidenced by more quality expressions reaching my neck of the woods.

While we still wait for the United States government to formally adopt regulations for, and certify official status of, American single malt, the availability of these labels and expressions is starting to increase. My nearest Total Wine store now has a section for American whiskey. Though it’s largely populated by bottles that are not single malts, it’s a good sign of things to come. For those not familiar with Total Wine, it’s a “big box” liquor store chain in the US – like a warehouse of liquor.

This brings me to a road trip back home a few weeks ago as I made my return from a work function. On my return from Hartford, I made a stop at the Total Wine in West Hartford. So many Grangestone offerings (Total Wine’s in-house label of sourced malt from various, un-named distilleries) choked the shelves. My personal experience with Grangestone has not been positive, so I passed on those. Moving beyond Grangestone, there are many bottles that are $100, $150 and north of $200, which I was not inclined to spend. Filtering out the Grangestone and the high-priced bottles, the remaining items were the usual suspects; the standards. Another Ardbeg 10? Replace the Craigeallachie 13? Both delicious, but no. I’m more keen to find and try new distilleries rather than replace bottles. And, again, where are all those new American single malts of which I keep reading?

I looked across the aisle and there was the American whiskey section – tucked away to the left of a very lengthy selections of bourbon. Unfortunately it was populated by a span of bottles ranging from peanut butter-flavoured whiskey and ryes, to craft distillery bourbons. I only found five bottles of single malt. Of those, one bottle I already have in my cabinet. As to the remaining four, one was a label I’d sampled (and barely survived) its bourbon expression which was, basically, paint thinner mixed with gasoline. The second was from a southern distillery which I’d read about some time ago, but I didn’t recall the general verdict of the quality of their single malt. Also, there was no information on the bottle other than the name, that it was 45% ABV and a litany of hyperbole-marketing tasting notes. Not a recipe that entices me to part with my money. As to bottles three and four, they were from the same Texas distillery – one finished in oloroso casks and the other finished in sauternes wood. I had no knowledge or information about the distillery or its products. Moreover, the labels were relatively devoid of information. That, combined with each bottle being 43% ABV made me, again, wince a bit. In summary – other than the paint thinner-gasoline variant – while I may have heard of the distilleries or read blurbs about them in articles, I had no guidance to give some assurance as to whether I should give any of them a try. So, I got back in my car and continued the drive back home.

About another 30 minutes further down the road, I pulled off the highway knowing of a particular good local liquor store. I know this isn’t everyone else’s plight, but where I live there are no large liquor stores within an hour’s drive. The more proximate stores are generally small and independent. Because of this, I’ve come to know and mentally map various stores within a 30-minute radius of my house. Where I was stopping was a good independent shop. I’m glad I stopped, as there were several unique (to me) American single malts.

After having had problems previously with unknown bottles (see my Westward single malt review) I am keen to adhere to the recommendations to either taste-before-you-buy or have some prior intelligence about the bottle before you buy. With these thoughts in mind, I paused to examine the three new-to-me choices.

I’ve mentioned I relish being part of a whiskey community that I can rely on and collaborate with. I discuss bottles, expressions, experiences, and thoughts about all other things regarding single or blended malt. Always great to have a give-and-take. But, here I was in a store by myself. Well, not literally. The only other person in the store was the teenage store clerk at the front who, I am sure, would simply stare back at me in a vapid and blank expression if I’d asked him to explain the difference between a worm tub and a copper dog. So, clearly no help there. But, in reality, I wasn’t alone.

Dramface, as you know, is built on the premise to provide unbiased and unfiltered commentary and reviews about whiskey. Not to be a shill, but I truly appreciate this and I also appreciate the dedication and insights brought to bear by my fellow Dramface reviewers and writers. I read their reviews and articles with close interest as I, too, am a consumer looking for guidance.

Among the great things about this community, however – and something that is not discussed enough – is the fact this is a two-way street. Speaking for myself, we read and learn from the comments and feedback from the readers. Whether it is a piece written by me, or Dougie, or Drummond, or Earie, or any of the other great contributors, I always read the article as well as all of the comments. The information, experiences, and opinions shared are often quite helpful. I say this not to blow smoke up your collective skirts, but I say this as a fact, and also as the reason for this particular review.

At that store I had three American whiskey labels in my sights of which I had not previously sampled and I had cursory knowledge about each distillery. Also, I can certainly glean information from labels. But which to buy, if any? Unlike my decision to walk away from bottles at Total Wine, I ultimately plunked my money on the counter to buy the bottles I am reviewing here because of Tom Oetinger. Tom is a Dramface reader and has commented regularly on pieces on the site. I feel as if I have gotten to know him a bit as well as his palate. Based on that, and remembering a prior strong recommendation from him that I ought to try Whiskey Del Bac – that was good enough for me.

Thank you, Tom. And, as described below, I am enjoying two bottles because of that give-and-take feedback.

Review 1/2

Whisky Del Bac Classic, Batch C ‘20-4, 45% ABV
US$50 paid

On the back of the bottle, it clearly states the whiskey is non-chill filtered.

As for added colour, I reached out to the distillery to ask and was told that, in addition to the fact they don’t chill filter: “all the colour of our whiskey is natural, extracted from the barrel it aged in. 15 gallon new white American oak barrels with a level 3 alligator char.”

Score: 6/10

**Good stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*You can see the line created form Speyside to Arizona*

Nose

Fruit and leather. Knowing the back-story of Whiskey Del Bac this is an American homage to Speyside from the hot South-west. Stone fruits, honey and brown sugar. There’s a bit of oak in the background along with heather, some herbal notes and cherries.

Palate

Those cherries are forward. Prunes and dates, leather richness from an old library chair and a slight building of spices mid-palate to finish. Cloves, cinnamon and a slight hint of butterscotch. Ginger, brown sugar and Vanilla. Oak tannins are present, but not sharp nor intrusive. Very nice balance.

Score: 6/10

Review 2/2

Whisky Del Bac Dorado, Batch C ‘22-1, 46% ABV
US$50 paid

Non-chill filtered and no colour added, this is an expression that has smoked malted barley. Instead of peat smoke, Dorado uses mesquite wood smoke to infuse the barley.

Score: 7/10

**Very good indeed**
***TL;DR***
*Mastering a balance between distillate and mesquite smoke*

Nose

The mesquite smoke wafts around flavours of pipe tobacco but doesn’t smack you in the face like an Ardbeg - it’s delicate. When it hits the nose it reminds me of sweet smoke coming from a distant barbecue pit. Pipe tobacco and dark chocolate are present, along with a touch of freshly cut wood from a lumber yard.

Palate

As with the nose, the sweet, woody smoke is present but not intrusive. Those pipe tobacco notes come forward along with dark cocoa and butterscotch. The foundation of the Classic distillate is here. Hints of stone fruits and a heather/herbal note. The mesquite smoke builds from mid-palate to the finish. A few more samples yield cinnamon and brown sugar on the tongue. It’s subtle yet full of flavour. I want to sit with this bottle for a while.

Score: 7/10

The Dregs

Not being alone in my whiskey journey is a great thing and this pays off, once again, with the two Whiskey Del Bac expressions on my kitchen table.

I had read the great piece by Rodric Math last August about his experience with the Dorado expression. I certainly appreciate that whiskey is, by nature, a batch product with batch variation ever present. My batch of Dorado is a later batch and it’s very interesting to compare his tasting notes to mine. They may differ, but we both agree this is a very good bottle to have in the cabinet.

Whiskey Del Bac is made by Hamilton Distilling in Tuscon, Arizona. Its founder is Stephen Paul, who, before venturing into whiskey distilling, had focused his time as a furniture maker using locally grown mesquite wood. In addition to furniture making, he was also a scotch whisky aficionado. As the story goes, he was sipping Scottish malt one evening and was asked what would happen if malt whiskey would be made with the same process used in Scotland but, instead of using peat to smoke the malted barley, what if one would use the smoke from mesquite wood? The rest is history.

Paul researched Scottish distilling techniques, learned how to floor-malt barley and created his own recipe for the Classic based on the unpeated Speyside malts he knew and loved. The Classic, as noted on their website, “is barley malt that is mashed, fermented, copper pot distilled, aged in the American South-west, and bottled on-site.” What he created is an homage to certain fruity Speyside malts, but with a distinct flavour all its own. Maybe Glenlivet and Balcones had a baby? You certainly get the fruity richness of a Speyside and the brown sugar and vanilla of a warm-weather American malt.

After he was satisfied with the Classic, Paul turned to using mesquite smoke on the malted barley. He applied the mesquite-smoked barley to the Classic recipe. Use of mesquite smoke is rare in single malts, and the resulting flavour is something rather unique.

The closest replica I’ve had in another American single malt was Balcones’ Brimstone. That uses smoke from Texas scrub oak to flavour their malted barley. Brimstone is also delicious, but the scrub oak smoke in that bottle is more forward and bold. In the Dorado, the mesquite smoke – while absolutely up front is more tame and has a more herbal, lighter touch. The Dorado is balanced. The combination of the underlying Classic distillate of stone fruits, tobacco, and leather interacts seamlessly with the woody, sweet smoke from the mesquite. It’s lovely. As with peated drams, this is great on cold evenings and I’d also imagine it would be an amazing pairing with some slowly cooked ribs on my grill over the summer.

All in all, both bottles deliver well. I’m very pleased to have them in my cabinet and I can see the line created from Speyside to Arizona. The Classic may be based and formed to mimic a fruity Speyside single malt, but the terroir of Arizona combined with the traditional pot still distilling methods yield a very nice spin-off of the traditional Speyside model. The Dorado, mastering a balance between mesquite smoke and that Classic distillate, provides a great alternative to a peated dram. Rich but delicate.

In the end, I not only speak here about my experience with two whiskies, but I’m glad to voice my appreciation of whiskey folk and a whiskey community that helps me. The prophet Ringo was right: I get by with a little help from my friends. Thanks again, Tom.

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. OS

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