Best of the Browns

Today's discerning drinkers are returning to sturdy, aromatic world-class whiskeys. These rich liquors, known in the trade as "brown goods," range in hue from tawny to a deep, lustrous mahogany. They're spirits of taste and character, with unmistakable organoleptic impact; one sip tells you you're into something special. Taken neat, over ice, with a splash or in mixed drinks, these whiskeys retain definition and individuality.

Popular wisdom notwithstanding, whiskey has never been out of style in the United States, nor has it been superseded by vodka. Surprised? Just run your eyes along the back bar of any decent tavern and note the array of whiskey labels. If you need further convincing, the latest edition of Jobson's Liquor Handbook, an authoritative liquor-marketing annual, says that Americans still consume more whiskey than any other spirit category, and total whiskeys outsell total vodkas--the next largest category--by a two-to-one margin.

Whiskey originated in the British Isles, though its beginnings are rather murky. Most accounts credit Moorish alchemists with contriving the first distilling equipment. Termed an alembic, it was used for the production of rare perfumes. Christian missionaries took the apparatus back to Ireland and Scotland, where it was applied to the use God had obviously intended--the distillation of potable spirits.

As 1987 is the 200th anniversary of the Constitution, it's a singularly appropriate time to celebrate bourbon, a distinctive product of the U.S., so designated by an act of Congress in 1964. It amuses liquor historians to ascribe the origin of bourbon to a man of the cloth--the Reverend Elijah Craig. However, many men besides Craig were distilling whiskey in Kentucky toward the end of the 18th Century, all drawn to the blue-grass region by the same natural resources--clear limestone water, an abundance of maize and large stands of white oak--ingredients they found conducive to making exemplary whiskey. But it wasn't bourbon, not yet.

Well, what makes bourbon bourbon? "More than any other factor," says Bill Samuels, president of Maker's Mark, a small, highly regarded Kentucky distillery, "it's aging in new charred-oak casks." Just as drying the grain over peat fires gives Scotch its distinctive tang, aging in new charred-white-oak barrels gives bourbon its distinctive vanilla bouquet.

Most of today's prominent bourbon brands--Jim Beam, Ten High, Ancient Age, Old Crow and Old Grand-Dad, among them--have been around since repeal or longer. (Jack Daniel's, one of our most successful brands, is usually included in the group, though it's not technically a bourbon, because it's strained through charcoal before bottling.) Does that mean we're drinking the same type of whiskey today that we did more than 50 years ago? Not on your Pianola! Bourbons of yore were burly, potent and sometimes hot and biting. They saturated the nose and mouth with outrageous flavor. Today's bourbons are more laid-back, smooth, fragrant and lighter in body and hue. With notable exceptions, they're not as rich as the prototype but tend to better balance.

The mint julep is the drink generally associated with bourbon. Bourbon men also have other pleasures: bourbon and ginger, bourbon on the rocks and the fabled bourbon and branch, which is simply cool spring water mixed with bourbon.

If whiskey's beginnings in the New World were turbulent, its growing pains in the British Isles were tantamount to war. For centuries, distillation in Scotland and Ireland had been a cottage industry, producing spirits for local consumption. But the major activity, it would seem, was battling the ruling English, whose efforts to tax, regulate and, in fact, eliminate whiskey making were strenuously resisted. Illicit distillation, known as smuggling, was the norm rather than the exception, and tales of outwitting the excisemen became part of the folklore on both sides of the Irish Sea. One yarn concerned a smuggler who was warned of an impending raid on his cache of moonshine. When the taxmen burst into his house, they found the family kneeling and sobbing around a cloth-draped, coffin-shaped box. When a mourner turned to them and murmured "Smallpox," the uninvited guests left in a rush. The tears vanished as the box was opened and a round poured for all present.

In the early 19th Century, Parliament overhauled the whiskey laws, making it feasible at last for licensed distillers to operate profitably. It was at that point that the modern Irish-whiskey and Scotch-whisky (note the difference in spelling) industries were born and began to follow divergent paths. The Irish took prompt advantage of the changed situation. Dublin became a center for large distilleries, with John Jameson and John Power leading the way. In the north, Bushmills, which had been operating as a licensed distillery on and off since 1608, was now firmly legitimate. The new Irish-whiskey industry developed uniform standards for its product, achieving a reputation for quality and reliability.

By contrast, the small distilleries tucked away in the corners of Scotland responded to legitimacy more slowly, not lightly relinquishing their long-standing antagonism to English regulation. George Smith of The Glenlivet was the first to apply for a license, in 1824, and other distilleries followed gradually. In any case, there was no great market outside Scotland for their whisky. Distilled from malted (germinated) barley dried over peat fires, it had a smoky, pungent rasp that took getting used to. Aeneas Coffey's invention of the column still in 1831 was to have a profound effect on both the Irish and the Scotch whisky industries. This device distilled mild, high-proof whiskey from a mix of grains and did it economically and quickly. It wasn't too long before shrewd Scottish distillers hit on the tactic of combining this new muted spirit with their full-throated pot-still malt whisky to cut both cost and flavor--creating blended Scotch as we know it today.

Current Scotch blends encompass both light, bulk-shipped whiskies and premiums--such brands as J&B, Cutty Sark, Johnnie Walker Red, Dewar's, Johnnie Walker Black and Chivas Regal. Premiums are sophisticated, complex mixtures that may include as many as 42 or more malts in addition to grain whiskies. The blenders who assemble these whiskies make their choices by nose rather than taste, and each has his own technique for isolating the nuances of flavor and style every whisky will contribute. Some use the winetaster's trick of swirling the glass and sniffing. David Howie, Dewar's master blender, shakes his glass and then spills some of the whisky onto the floor to "raise the bouquet."

Jim Milne, master blender for J&B Rare at its Blythswood facility, has been known to challenge visiting experts to come up with an approximation of his blend of 42 whiskies: Lowland, Highland, Campbeltown and Islay malts and grain spirits. Milne is hospitably generous with hints, but the actual formula remains a closely guarded secret.

While blends absorb most of the production of the 100 or so malt distilleries in Scotland, many also bottle a limited amount of unblended single-malt whisky. At a time when demand for blended Scotch is less than robust, the market for malts is growing rapidly. Malt aficionados are turned on by the diversity and subtleties of taste available. Highland malts run the gamut from the moderately peated fruity/flowery brands such as The Glenlivet, Glenfiddich, Mortlach and Glenmorangie to the deeper, rounder Knockando, Cardhu and Macallan. Talisker, from the Isle of Skye, is more forthright, while Laphroaig and Bowmore, from Islay, are heavily smoked, almost camphory. "You have to be verra determined to get that stuff down," one Highland distiller observed dryly. Single-malt fever reached a peak when a bottle of 60-year-old Macallan was recently sold in London for the hefty sum of more than $7500. Purists prefer their malts neat, though these whiskies certainly have the body to stand up to ice. Glenfiddich's David Grant advises adding a tot of water to the glass to "liberate the aroma."

While whisky has been enjoyed before and after dinner since the first bagpiper skirled Annie Laurie over the Highland glens, such elegant single malts as 12-year-old The Glenlivet are now being taken with a meal--especially of hearty game or salmon. Single malts, in fact, are superbly versatile. On a recent trip to Scotland, a group of editors from various magazines, including Playboy, had the pleasure of spending a few days in the Highlands, trying their hands at some serious salmon fishing and tasting their catches at Revack, a country lodge, where The Glenlivet was served with the (concluded on page 164) Best of the Browns (continued from page 122) main course. They found the fish and the single malt to be a superb marriage, with the Scotch adding a lingering smoky tang.

"The word whiskey derives from uisge beatha, Gaelic for 'water of life.' We'll drink to that--any time."

Meanwhile, back in Ireland, only four distilleries in the republic survived the lean years when Irish whiskey was edged out by Scotch. They joined forces in 1966 and, in 1976, operations were consolidated in a huge new distilling complex in Midleton, County Cork. Old Bushmills joined the group later but retained its own facilities in County Antrim, Northern Ireland.

The Irish use a mixture of malted and unmalted barley in what they call their flavoring whiskeys. Unlike the Scots, they dry the malt without smoke, and the resultant whiskey has a mellow, grainlike taste. But taking note of the popularity of blended Scotch, the Irish-whiskey industry also lightened up. A vice-president of Irish Distillers, John Ryan, claims that "whereas the key to Scotch whisky is in the blending, the key to Irish is in the distilling." At Midleton, pot stills and column stills stand side by side, all operated from a computerized control panel. In Ryan's metaphor, the stillman "plays it like an organ" to achieve the combination of flavoring and grain whiskeys that gives each of the dozen or so labels its distinct style.

Brands coming into the U.S. include the very light Dunphy's and Murphy's, Jameson (with a bit more body and finesse), Paddy and Power (somewhat fuller) and Old Bushmills, whose hint of smokiness is imparted by water from St. Columb's Rill, which flows over peat. Jameson 1780, a rich, full 12-year-old designed to woo Scotch-malt fanciers, is in the superpremium category; so is Black Bush, a round, redolent product that's aged in sherry casks. Double B has been called the cognac of Ireland and is customarily offered in a snifter. But for those who insist on ice, Bushmills suggests the Perfected Black Bush: 1 1/2 ozs. Black Bush in a tall glass filled with ice, stirred 6 times to the left, 6 times to the right, 5 times up and down and then strained into a snifter. A touch of drollery there, but it does chill the whiskey without overdilution.

At the lighter end of the brown-whiskey spectrum, we have Canadian whisky--light in color, flavor and body. They're often referred to as ryes, but this is a misnomer, since little of that pungent grain is used. As a matter of fact, the mash is primarily corn--American-grown at that.

Canadians neatly fill the gap between vodka and the bigger brown whiskeys. They give you the taste of whiskey but not the aftertaste. At one time, Canadian whisky meant two prestige labels to the American consumer: Canadian Club and Seagram's V.O., both bottled in Canada. But in recent times, so-called bulk goods, shipped in barrels and bottled here, have caught on. They're cheaper than bottled-in-Canada whiskies, largely because of less aging and lower shipping costs. Canadian Mist, Windsor Supreme, Black Velvet and Lord Calvert lead the bulk parade, offering good value and the cachet of an import.

Canada's most respected whisky is Crown Royal, which comes in a regal velvet sack. For years, this subtle, sophisticated product owned the ultrapremium Canadian market. It is now being challenged by a new superwhisky, Canadian Club Classic, from you-know-who.

"Canadians and American blended whiskeys are in the same family. The technical difference between the groups is slight," says Seagram vice-president for quality management Russell W. Mc-Lauchlan, a Houdini of spirits responsible for all Seagram brands. Rating relative flavor intensities on a scale of one to ten, he gives bourbon a ten, American blends a five and Canadian whiskies a three.

In many ways, American blends are more strictly regulated than Canadians. They must have at least 20 percent straight whiskey; in practice that's bourbon. The rest of the mixture may be light whiskey, which has far less character than bourbon, or grain neutral spirits. If the latter are included in the blend, the percentage must be shown on the label. If no listing of components appears, it indicates that the contents are all whiskey. Seagram 7 is the only major blend that is all whiskey, which may explain its popularity. Kessler, Calvert Extra, Fleischmann's Preferred and Imperial are the other top sellers in the group.

Canadian bulks and American blends are amiable mixers in cocktails and highballs; the premiums, V.O. and Canadian Club, do nicely on the rocks; and the superpremiums, Canadian Club Classic and Crown Royal, warrant snifter treatment.

Although tastes in whiskey, as in most things, are subjective, there are absolute standards by which you can make judgments. A well-made whiskey should reflect the signature of its category in taste and bouquet. Bourbons are quite aromatic, with a full bloom and body. The bouquet hints at vanilla, caramel and wood. Scotch immediately says peat and smoke, with a counterpoint of grain and wood; malt Scotch is nectareous. Irish whiskey has been refined over the past two decades but still reflects the taste of its glorious ancestry. Canadian whiskies are gentle and understated. However, delicacy must not be confused with blandness. American blends are formulated to the perceived taste of the consumer. It's a middle-of-the-road taste, combining the best of bourbons, ryes and light whiskeys. Like oenophiles, whiskey tasters sniff the bouquet, which should be clean and immediately identifiable. Tactile sensations contribute to the over-all pleasure. A mature whiskey will be smooth and rounded, and will leave a warm, pleasant aftertaste.

The word whiskey derives from uisge beatha, or usquebaugh, Gaelic for "water of life." The name was given to the newly discovered ardent distillate by our progenitors, who saw in it magical properties. When taken in moderation, it appeared to increase vigor, sharpen wit and lighten the heart. We'll drink to that--any time.