My Popes

 

The seven popes so far in my lifetime.

My first pope was Pius XII. He died a few months after I took my First Communion. Our catechisms were old and the picture on the title page was of Pius X (1903-1914), but we also saw pictures of Pius XII and they looked about the same. As six-year-olds, we weren’t taught much about his history. 

What I remember most about my second pope, John XXIII, is not his elevation so much as the events surrounding the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), which John called but he died before its completion. It was presided over by my third pope, Paul VI.

Everyone in my world was excited about the modernization coming out of Vatican II and about our new Catholic president, also named John. 

Paul seemed bland compared to John, but he faithfully carried out the changes instituted by the Council. I was an altar boy. (I believe “server” is the gender-neutral term.) The prayers we had to learn were all in Latin. We faced the altar during mass, not the congregation. I remember well the transition to the mass in English, facing the congregation, and other changes. I was in high school by then, still serving occasionally, but more frequently doing readings. Instead of suits and ties we wore turtleneck sweaters and love beads.

I also sang in the choir, in the loft at the back of the church, with the pipe organ. I was kicked out, ostensibly because I got caught shooting spitballs, but mostly because I’m a terrible singer. Then we started to have guitar masses, initially playing in the loft with the choir, but eventually in front. I’m not very good at that either but was, apparently, good enough. I was, however, very good at the readings, so I was asked to do that more and more.

In the parish school we had the sisters of St. Francis from Joliet, and diocesan priests from the Diocese of Toledo. The parish had a Monsignor and three priests throughout my time there. They all taught at the school. We also had lay teachers, but all religion classes were taught by a priest or nun. 

I would characterize our education as humanistic. 

The school and parish were completely integrated. My parents were both from big cities, so they told us big city Catholic schools weren’t like that. Almost everything I did was connected to the church and school, like my Boy Scout troop, for instance. School dances were held either in the school’s gymnasium or the church basement.

What I remember most about Paul’s papacy was Humanae Vitae (On Human Life), his encyclical on contraception and reproductive ethics. I was, after all, a teenager at the time. My parents practiced the "rhythm method," the only form of birth control sanctioned by the Catholic Church. They wanted to stop at two kids but had six. After my sisters were born, I learned that Catholic birth control also involved finding a sympathetic Catholic gynecologist to prescribe a hysterectomy when a couple decided their family was complete. 

Paul had a long papacy, 15 years. By the time of his death, I had drifted away from the church. I was living in Kentucky then. I don’t recall ever entering a church while I lived there. 

Paul’s long tenure was followed by one of the shortest, John Paul I, who barely made it a month. His successor, John Paul II, my fifth pope, served for a phenomenal 26 years. I had mostly left the church by then but was never hostile to it and followed developments as they occurred. If I saw the inside of a church, it was back in my hometown for a wedding or funeral. After I moved to Chicago, I checked out the cathedral. It was close to my office. It reminded me of my church back home.

Benedict XVI was my sixth pope and Pope Frank was my seventh. New guy will be number eight. Let’s hope for another good one.

What Happens When America's Major Distillers Jump on a Trend?

 

American malts from the biggest producers.

America has always been able to make malt whiskey, we just didn't. But with the bourbon boom maturing, American distillers have branched out. 

One branch, rye whiskey, nearly dead when the bourbon boom began, has grown even faster than bourbon in the 21st century. Most bourbon brands now have a rye counterpart. Heaven Hill introduced the world to straight wheat whiskey (not to be confused with wheated bourbon) more than 20 years ago. Now Suntory has a wheat whiskey, produced at Maker's Mark under the new Star Hill Farm brand.

The latest branch is American single malt (ASM). Brown-Forman launched a Jack Daniel's ASM in 2023, at about $100. Suntory created a new brand, Clermont Steep (about $50), for its ASM rather than use Jim Beam, Maker's Mark, or one of its other American whiskey brands. Brown-Forman also has a Woodford Reserve malt (about $40), but it's not an ASM. Diageo's is an ASM, sold under the Bulleit label (about $65), but Diageo didn't make it. To the best of my knowledge, neither Heaven Hill nor Sazerac sells an American malt yet, but I know both have made them experimentally.

American single malt has been discussed for years but only became TTB-official recently. 

The future of American single malts is by no means assured. One of the leaders in the movement to make ASM legit was Oregon's Westward Whiskey, which recently filed for bankruptcy.

The fact that several majors have jumped on the bandwagon doesn't mean ASM will succeed. Back in 2013, there was a similar trend that started with craft distilleries, but which the majors jumped on quickly: white whiskey.

Craft distillers had created the white whiskey category a few years earlier, ostensibly as a way to generate revenue while their whiskey aged. If they were making a bourbon or rye mash, that's what their white whiskey was. Mixologists praised their bold, spicy character as a great cocktail ingredient and their clear appearance appealed to people for whom vodka is the quintessential cocktail base.

At the time, an informal survey of whiskey enthusiasts showed that while most found white whiskey interesting, few drank it regularly. No one reported buying a second bottle.

Although all whiskey must, by law, have minimal contact with wood to be called 'whiskey,' it can be for as little as five minutes, too brief to affect flavor or appearance. Unlike Europe and most of the rest of the world, the U.S. has no minimum age requirement for whiskey. It just says the spirit must be 'stored in oak containers' in order to be called whiskey. It doesn't say for how long.

Over the years there have been efforts to get the TTB to add an age requirement, without success.

The rap on white whiskey was that it was simply white dog, whiskey distillate straight from the still, too hot and harsh to be truly enjoyable, especially neat or on-the-rocks, the way most whiskey enthusiasts drink. This continued to be true despite the sometimes hyperbolic claims of micro-producers for whom it was bread and butter.

Then both Jack Daniel's and Jim Beam jumped in. Although both products were bottled at a mild 40% ABV, they approached the subject differently, from the micros and from each other.

Beam's product was called Jacob's Ghost, after 18th century family patriarch Jacob Beam. It was standard Jim Beam bourbon, aged one year, then heavily filtered to remove the color and harsher flavors. The result was still raw, but much milder than white dog, with significant amounts of corn body and barrel sweetness. 

Beam called its product white whiskey, Daniel's did not, because it was not whiskey.

As the press materials said repeatedly, Jack Daniel's Unaged Tennessee Rye was the first new grain bill used at Jack Daniel's since Prohibition. "While many rye products only contain the required 51 percent rye in their grain bill, Jack Daniel’s Unaged Rye consists of a grain combination of 70 percent rye, 18 percent corn and 12 percent malted barley."

Jack Daniel's Tennessee Rye was not whiskey; it was neutral spirit. Essentially, Jack Daniel's vodka. Or so the label said.

Jack Daniel's Tennessee Rye and Jacob's Ghost had similar tastes, but both were very unlike the typical craft white whiskey of the period, or any vodka.

The terms 'neutral spirit' and 'whiskey' are mutually exclusive. A product can't be both. You can't put neutral spirit into a barrel and someday harvest whiskey, although Daniel's implied that was what they were doing with the phrase, "it's just a taste of what's to come."

The whole saga of JD Tennessee Rye got weirder and weirder until they changed the classification to "Spirits distilled from grain." 

But that was its own little drama. Today, Jack Daniel's sells its mature rye whiskey and has created another new mash bill for its ASM. It sells no white whiskey. Neither does Suntory. Jacob's Ghost once again sleeps with the angels. About the only white whiskey you'll find today is corn whiskey, which always was the exception to the aging requirement.

Most of You Reading this Should Be Reading Something Else

 

The New Reader is on its way to the Post Office.

The Bourbon Country Reader is a one-of-a-kind newsletter from the same source as this blog. But it is not the same content. The Reader is news, history, and analysis of American whiskey you won't find anywhere else. It is the oldest publication devoted entirely to American whiskey.

If you enjoy the writing you find here at The Chuck Cowdery Blog, there is a good chance you will enjoy The Bourbon Country Reader too when it arrives in your mailbox about six times a year. It is modestly priced and advertising free, unlike virtually everything else in your life. Subscribe now to rediscover the pleasure of old-fashioned words on paper, savored perhaps with a well-aged bourbon or rye.

The Reader itself is a bit of bourbon history. It debuted in 1994 with something like 17 subscribers. It has grown a little bit since then. The Reader has literally tracked the Bourbon Boom from beginning to now, when it seems to be entering a new phase. This new issue is dated as March 2025, even if it did get mailed a week into April. (It says right on the front page, "Always Independent & Idiosyncratic.") This new one is issue #1 of Volume 23.

If you find yourself coming here, to the blog, for straight talk about the American whiskey industry, you probably should be reading The Bourbon Country Reader too.

Give it a try. A six-issue, approximately one-year subscription is just: 

$25 for mailing addresses in the USA. 

$32 for everybody else. (That is, addresses on earth but not in the USA. Interplanetary service is not yet available.)

The links above take you directly to PayPal, where you can subscribe securely using PayPal, Venmo, or any major credit card.

If you are unfamiliar with The Bourbon Country Reader, click here for a sample issue. 

In the current issue:

We think of small, local distilleries proliferating in the 21st century as something new but they echo, in many ways, the pre-Prohibition history of Tell City, Indiana and towns like it, at a time when drinking locally-made whiskey was normal.

In 1856, a group of German-speaking Swiss immigrants met in Cincinnati to organize the Swiss Colonization Society. They acquired 4,000 acres on the Ohio River between Louisville and Owensboro in Perry County, Indiana. They named their new town "Tell City" after the mythological Swiss hero, William Tell.

Distilleries came and went in Tell City. The biggest and most important one was there for 100 years, in one form or another, on both sides of Prohibition, despite the arrest and conviction of its owner for Prohibition-related crimes.

To get the whole story, subscribe!

Why Do Whiskey Makers Have Only Two Seasons?

 

Spring is one of whiskey's two seasons, fall is the other one.

One little-known aspect of the bottled-in-bond rules is that the whiskey must be made by one distiller at a single distillery in one season. One distiller and single distillery are pretty clear and unambiguous, but what does "one season" mean? Does it refer to astronomical seasons or meteorological seasons?

"Astronomical" is the most common method, where the seasons change on or about the 21st day of March, June, September, and December using the dates of equinoxes and solstices. According to the meteorological definition, seasons begin on the first day of those four months.

Whiskey makers use neither system. They divide the year into just two seasons. Spring runs from January first through June 30th. Fall begins July first and ends December 31st.

This system became part of American law when the Bottled in Bond Act was passed in 1897, but it wasn't arbitrary. Historically, distilleries got going after the grain harvest, typically in late summer or early fall, and kept going until the grain ran out or it got too cold. If there was grain available, they resumed distilling when the weather warmed up and, again, kept going until the grain ran out or it got too hot. 

Even after American agriculture advanced to the point where grain was available year-round, most distilleries shut down during the coldest part of the winter and, especially, the hottest part of the summer. Even today, it can be pretty miserable in a Kentucky or Tennessee distillery in August. Shutdowns are also necessary so workers can have vacations and needed maintenance can be performed.

This has become an issue with the rise of bourbon tourism, since so many people vacation in August. The distilleries still provide tours then but if you want to visit when the distillery is actually distilling something, don't go in August. Another issue is the current whiskey surplus. Distilleries typically adjust their production by lengthening or shortening their shutdowns. Again, if you're planning to visit, check the distilleries for their production schedules. Expect longer-than-usual shutdowns for the next few years.

Producers rarely will skip an entire season. Even if they're reducing production, they like to have some whiskey from every season in the warehouses. Historically, distilleries evaluate their needs twice each year but as the business has gotten bigger and more volatile those evaluations have gotten more frequent.

Back in the days of tax stamps the season and year of distillation and the season and year of bottling were imprinted on the stamp, but that requirement was eliminated in the 1980s. Bottled-in-bond spirits must adhere to the rules regarding seasons, but they don't have to disclose them on the label. Producers may disclose that information voluntarily, as Suntory has done with the Old Grand-Dad expression shown above. Putting that information on the label also tells you this is a one-off and not a permanent addition to the portfolio.

The one disclosure that remains is to identify the distillery by its Distilled Spirits Producer (DSP) license number. If it matters to you that the whiskeys you buy be 'singles,' i.e., the product of one distillery, and you'd like to know the identity of that distillery, stick to bottled-in-bond releases.

How to Win in the Brave New Whiskey World

 

As seen on the TTB website.

When approved labels appear on the website of the Treasury Department's Alcohol Tax and Trade Bureau (TTB), that doesn't necessarily mean those products will be released. This one, however, with the bottling date right on the label, seems like a pretty good bet.*

If it seems like only a few years ago that everybody was dropping age statements, it was. Although Wild Turkey 101 lost its 8-year age statement in the 1990s, and Evan Williams lost is 7-year statement in 2005, Knob Creek's decision in 2016 to drop its 9-year statement was one that really hurt, since its age was always a key part of its brand positioning. Reaction was such that, less than three years later, they restored it.

But an age statement like this, appearing as a new expression of an existing and very mainstream product, seems to auger something else. I mention Wild Turkey because they have 'restored' the 8-year age statement on Wild Turkey 101 for special editions, such as the current one celebrating Jimmy Russell's 70th anniversary, at special edition prices. This, I believe, is not that.

We don't know yet what the pricing will be on 7-year Grand-Dad, but if Suntory plans a high price, they are badly misreading the room. I suspect the suggested retail will be a modest upcharge over the standard BIB and will come out of the box heavily discounted. I predict this, in part, because they chose to do this with Old Grand-Dad and not Basil Hayden, which uses the same liquid but has more premium positioning.

This, I believe, is the beginning of a trend, the purpose of which is to blow out excess inventory.

I've been thinking about how regular, everyday whiskey drinkers here in the USA can take advantage of the current situation. Watching for this sort of thing is one of the ways.

First, where we are. I said "in the USA" because most of the recent noise has been about tariffs, if and when they go into effect. The more immediate and predictable situation has nothing to do with tariffs. It is the decline in sales that seems to mark the end of the bourbon boom.

Let's not overstate it. American whiskey sales declined in 2023 for the first time in more than 20 years, and 2024 was even worse. The 'boom' was a period of growth that was not sustainable. The recent talk from industry leaders touting illusory export opportunities is a good indicator that growth has slowed, and the industry has overproduced. Other factors affecting whiskey sales include ongoing post-COVID supply chain distortions, the effects of cannabis legalization and of weight loss drugs that seem to also suppress the appetite for alcohol, and what appears to be a younger generation with less interest in alcohol than previous cohorts. 

So, is there a whiskey glut? 'Glut' is an ugly word. 'Surplus' sounds better. Because of the aging cycle, producers know one thing for certain. They never get production planning exactly right. They always make either too little or too much. We just went through a long period of too little and are entering a period of too much.

But that doesn't mean the sky is falling. Don't bet against alcohol. It has survived worse, like being entirely illegal for 13 years. More specifically, American whiskey's gains over the last two decades are not disappearing. Growth may be slowing or even flattening, but double-digit sales declines like the industry saw in the 1970s and 80s are not on the horizon.

Probably.

On the positive side, the United States has gone from having about 50 active distilleries in 2005 to more than 3,000 today. Most of those 3,000 are small, but several hundred are not.

Ten years ago, eight companies distilled virtually all of America’s whiskey at thirteen distilleries. Three years later, there were ten companies operating fifteen distilleries. The additions were at the low end of the scale. Today, 16 companies operating 26 distilleries control about 94 percent of America’s whiskey production capacity. 

Again, the newest companies have come in at the low end. Meanwhile, the Big Four (BF, Suntory, HH, & Saz) have only gotten bigger and still have about 65 percent of industry capacity. They can deal with this downturn. I worry about the folks who are just getting started, whose plans did not anticipate tapping the brakes this soon.

But about tariffs, the European Union is and has been the largest American whiskey export market. When tariffs were on between 2018 and 2021, exports plunged 20 percent, from $552 million to $440 million. The EU suspended its tariffs in 2021, enabling exports to surge back even higher — to $699 million last year. 

Tomorrow? Who knows? Just as disruptive as tariffs themselves is uncertainty about tariffs.  

If exports decline that will mean more whiskey for us in the U.S., but that means we won't have help reducing the surplus. The industry needs to correct by reducing production and blowing out some inventory. I'm confident if we drinkers do our jobs and drink like I know we can, the surplus will be absorbed in no time. 

If your drinks portfolio includes other types of spirits, your scotch, tequila, and brandy budgets will probably go further buying American whiskey instead.

Yes, data shows that America's pantries are already overloaded with spirits, but I know people who have built room additions so they could buy more whiskey.

Don't think this means unicorns like Van Winkle will suddenly be plentiful and cheap. If that's your jam, though, be on the lookout for liquidations from folks like Penelope and Barrell. Just don't buy them intending to flip them for a profit on the secondary. While that probably won't go away, I expect it won't be as robust as it has been in the past. If you see something you want to drink, however, the price might be right. 

We probably won't see bargains on anything genuinely collectible or flippable, but expect good deals on drinking whiskey. Some of it will be on brands you know, like Old Grand-Dad, but some will be on brands you've never heard of because they were created for this purpose. Read the labels, especially age and proof statements. As usual, avoid products whose labels are obtuse or misleading. They are a poor bargain at any price.

All we know about this Old Grand-Dad expression comes from the TTB. Suntory hasn't said anything. But we'll keep our eyes open.

* According to custom, and TTB rules, 'spring' runs from January 1 to June 30.

Predicting Bourbon's Future, 13 Years Ago

 

The digital version.

On Christmas morning of 2011, the front page of Section BU of the New York Times featured a 2,500-word article about a phenomenon it called "the bourbon boom."  

"...today’s bourbon boom represents a triumph of salesmanship," wrote reporter Mickey Meece. "At a time when many American industries are struggling, distillers here are thriving, hiring and expanding. They are cashing in on an American renaissance in whiskey-based cocktails, as well as a growing thirst for bourbon around the world."

The lengthy article quotes Larry Kass of Heaven Hill, Mike Keyes of Brown-Forman, Fred Noe of Jim Beam, and many others, but it gives me the last word.

"...many distillers in Kentucky have been expanding. In five to 10 years, will their products be in such high demand? The industry is banking on big growth in India and China, said Charles K. Cowdery, author of Bourbon, Straight: The Uncut and Unfiltered Story of American Whiskey. 'If those markets develop as has been anticipated, no one will have made enough,' he said. 'If they don’t, everyone will have made too much.'”

I have remembered that quote often over the years, each time some industry analyst or executive waxes earnestly about the potential for export sales. Inevitably, their optimistic predictions feature India, China, or both.

"There’s still a big world out there for us to grow the industry in,” said Greg Hughes, president of Suntory Global Spirits, maker of Jim Beam and Maker’s Mark, at Monday's James B. Beam Institute industry conference at the University of Kentucky, as reported in today's Lexington Herald-Leader. 

“India’s a huge opportunity market for the spirits industry," said Hughes. "... there’s a bunch of beer markets out there ... that we can source volume from. ... If we can get 5 (percent) of the Scotch market in India, we’ll have all the distilleries in Kentucky full.”

On the Leadership Panel with Hughes was Kate Latts, co-president of Heaven Hill Brands. “We’ve all increased production to catch up with demand and now we’ve caught up," said Latts. "So now we’re ready. We’re ready. And when these tariffs go away we’re ready to experience ... the unknown demand that exists across the entire world. If we could just get, as Greg said, a little bit of that Scotch and beer consumption, we’re going to be in a place where we don’t have enough. So first we need to get rid of the tariffs and then we can make that all happen.”

The point of this walk down memory lane? Massive international sales to India, China, and other undeveloped bourbon markets have been predicted and touted for at least the last 13 years. While exports have increased, the top five export markets for American whiskey today are the European Union, Australia, Japan, the United Kingdom, and Canada, in that order. That's about how it looked in 2011 too. Then as now, India is essentially closed to distilled spirits imports. Why? Because of tariffs, up to 200 percent, but those tariffs have nothing to do with the current government in Washington. They have been in place forever. China is even more restricted. 

Those markets can't develop if they don't open up and there is nothing to suggest that will happen anytime soon. As the Herald-Leader article's always astute reporter, Janet Patton, put it, industry leaders, "may not agree on everything but they agree on this: There is no whiskey glut. Or at least there wouldn’t be if they could sell more bourbon overseas."

So, in other words, there's a whiskey glut.

The First Commercial Whiskey Distillery in America (Maybe)

 

The colony of New Amsterdam (1664 map).

The earliest report of a commercial whiskey distillery in what is now the United States places it on Staten Island, in the colony of New Netherland, in 1640. It says they distilled using “Indian corn” and rye. 

The event is not documented beyond a single reference, but the claim is plausible. The Dutch colony’s largest town, New Amsterdam (today’s New York City), was nearly 20 years old by that time and had a population of about 4,000 people. 

Although he authorized the distillery, the colonial governor complained about the town’s dependence on businesses that sold brandy, beer, and tobacco. He claimed fully 25 percent of New Amsterdam’s commercial enterprises were so engaged.

Some liquor was imported from Europe, as New Amsterdam was primarily a port, but most was locally made. There were European immigrants all over the area by 1640, in what is now New Jersey as well as New York. The Dutch colony shared Long Island with a British colony of several thousand additional people. 

Most colonists in the surrounding countryside were farmers who grew as much grain as they could. Their surplus was traded in New Amsterdam in either solid or liquid form. Indigenous people living in the area grew grain too and traded it alongside the newcomers, but mostly they were in the more profitable fur business.

Whether or not the product of that Staten Island distillery was whiskey as we know it is not important. If it was spirit distilled from a fermented mash of grain, as reported, it was whiskey for our purposes. If they distilled Indian corn (maize), it was proto-bourbon. 

The population of New Netherland was diverse. The first settlers were French-speaking Walloons. The first enslaved Black African workers arrived two years later. A significant number of the inhabitants were Germans, Swedes, and Finns. Local Indians were also diverse, representing many different tribes. Everyone tried to get along, more or less, but there were always conflicts between and among the various communities. 

Everyone had a reason to drink.

Willem Kieft was the governor who commissioned that Staten Island distillery and complained about the proliferation of vice shops. 

Calling Kieft ‘governor,’ as all histories do, gives a misleading impression. He was primarily a businessman, a merchant, not a politician or soldier. The colony was a business of which he had a piece. He ran it for the financial gain of himself and other shareholders, directed by a headquarters thousands of miles away. 

Kieft’s skills were not political, nor was his mission. He was there to move product and make a profit. His status vis a vis the colonists was vague. He certainly was not their leader; they didn’t choose him. He was more like their landlord. His limited legitimate authority was fortified by the small army he employed.

The business that was New Netherland began as a series of trading posts seeking beaver pelts. Rodent fur was the first American product Europeans went crazy for. Rodent fur, then tobacco. Further south, coffee and sugar. 

Europeans have only recently grown fond of American whiskey.

Technically, New Netherland began in 1615 when a Dutch company set up shop where Albany, New York, is today. Its purpose was to barter with local Indians for pelts. The site was selected because Indians already went there to trade with each other. By Kieft’s time the business had diversified, but animal fur was still its most profitable part. What Europeans most often exchanged for furs was alcohol, typically rum.

After Albany, additional posts were established up and down the Hudson River, but New Netherland wasn’t a true colony until those Walloons arrived a decade later. 

Then the trouble started. 

The first crisis was a skirmish between some Mohawks and Mohicans that didn’t involve the Walloons, but scared them and sent them running back to the coast. Peter Minuit, the ‘governor’ then and a Walloon himself, made a deal with some of the local Indian leaders that allowed construction and settlement of New Amsterdam, a town for Europeans at the foot of Manhattan Island. 

Much has been made of Minuit’s ‘purchase’ of the site for $25 worth of trinkets, but what he really did was establish terms for an extensive and generally equitable trading relationship between Indians and Europeans that led to a period of peace. Both sides understood the value of the goods exchanged was in their symbolic sealing of that mutually-beneficial agreement. That was how Indians did business and Minuit was smart enough to do it the Indian way. Only in later years was their transaction portrayed as superior Europeans fleecing gullible savages. 

For the Indians, it wasn’t so much that the Europeans got Manhattan, but that they agreed to stay there. In a pattern repeated for the next two centuries, Indians welcomed trade with the newcomers but did not want them moving in next door. 

Peace was good for business, but didn’t last. When Kieft’s tenure began a decade later, everyone was fighting with everyone else. The colonial administration was trying to run an increasingly complex political entity like a private business, and it wasn’t working. The colony was ceded to Great Britain in 1664.

Although the New World and its lucrative fur trade was abandoned by the Netherlands, French and British traders quickly filled the gap. Most Dutch traders already on the ground simply signed up with the new administration. The trade was still mostly furs for alcohol.

Most colonists stayed too. Day-to-day life changed little but the ancient, now global competition between France and Great Britain meant crucial decisions affecting North Americans, immigrant and native, were now being made on the other side of the ocean.