In 2012 the unthinkable happened. A single malt whisky made in Waco, Texas won the prestigious Best in Glass Award. Dubbed the Judgement of London, craft distillery Balcones’s Texas Single Malt defeat of Scotland and Japan’s denizens was just the ticket: the brave new whisky world of the very small, the different and the other had finally arrived.
Which is a slightly dramatic way of saying that the last two or three years have seen some of the excesses of boomtown whisky come home to bite producers on much fattened behinds. While the actual volume of the last thirty years’ worth of Scotch whisky sold isn’t nearly what one might assume, there’s no doubt that demand has resulted in a real quickening up of the whisky-making process, the choice of grain, the shortening of fermentation times, the ramping up of highly automated facilities, the faster distillations, all designed with one thing in mind: higher yield. Not everyone, of course, and not just Scotland, but enough for the old guard to suddenly seem much more about line graphs and numbers than they are tradition and innovation.
True or not, this general sense of some of the larger producers having lost touch with their roots has allowed for new-old ways of thinking about whisky making, the gaps left by the giants suddenly filled by an entirely new breed of maker, be that the likes of micro-distiller Corsair or the much larger set-up at Taiwan’s Kavalan.
At the turn of the century, America’s whisky was made almost entirely by 13 distilleries, the infinitesimal remainder by a clutch of micro-distilleries. There are today over 500 distilleries in the US, a revolution built off both the back of the craft beer movement and the championing of alternative and traditional visions of consumption, such as the green and slow food movements.
America’s where it’s at, although to a lesser degree craft and small scale enterprises are springing up across the world, and nearly all share the wonderful precariousness that marks a revolution in the making. These distilleries are often loud, always passionate and are generally vulnerable to the very costliness of making whisky.
This strange mix of noise, brilliance and vulnerability couldn’t be better exemplified by Balcones itself, which was founded by Chip Tate, but saw him lose a majority share to investors and eventually having to accept a buyout – this despite a slew of world class awards. A personal tragedy, but also predictable, if not in Tate’s case, then certainly generally speaking.
However meaningful, craft and micro-still whisky distilleries are exceptionally exposed, given tight margins, low volumes and the length of time it takes to get a whisky to market.
THE MEANING OF CRAFT, NEW WORLD AND OTHER REVOLUTIONARY TERMS
A craft distillery is defined by the American Distilling Institute (ADI) as being capable of an output of no more than 100,000 proof gallons. It should be 75% or more owned or controlled by industry members who are ‘materially involved in the production’. In this respect, craft is a form of production that has at every stage, and every creation, the mark or hand of its creator. Lateral thinking, speed, surprise and living outside of the box are its calling cards.
While not necessarily labelling themselves as such, the many so-called new world distilleries are comparably small enterprises, and value the same working practices as their self-defined craft cousins. Together, they marry the forgotten to the new, champion locally sourced and exotic varietals of grain and yeast, the pot over pure column, detail over spirit-making pace, and insist on controlling every aspect of production. Quality over yield is their baseline modus operandi.
It would be wrong, however, to suppose all new world distilleries are either small or defined by a craft ethos. A good few are modelled on large Scottish productions, their capacity bigger than anything that might be considered craft, their facilities mechanised, their set-ups overwhelmingly industrial. Common to all, though, is the fact that they are new and largely located in parts of the world with no great tradition of whisky making. Borrowing from the old, and from a whole range of other traditions, be they spirit or wine production, they operate in a geography – physical and cultural – entirely of their own, one that is as different and unexplored as it is new.
Seen this way, and much like craft, new world whisky has the fantastically oxymoronic character of both respecting and reinventing tradition. It’s a new useful art form. It pays its dues and it cocks a snook – sometimes in the same breath. As such, and as is always the way of the sudden and rapid spread of a form of making, the idea of what constitutes the drink whisky is on the super move – and we’re very much better off for the fact that it is.
A QUICK WORD
This being a brave new world, with certain distilleries approaching or passing capacity, and much needed investment bringing both relief and a fundamental loss of control, craft as a specifically defined entity continues to evolve. One of the fastest growing sectors in American whisky, it’s clearly a mighty popular bandwagon, with less than welcome fellow travellers including producers who fail to disclose not making the distillate themselves and those for whom the word gargantuan was invented. The revolution continues.