HISTORY: Becoming the Colonel – Part I

Becoming the Colonel:
E. H. Taylor and the Making of a Bourbon Aristocrat


This series, Becoming the Colonel: E. H. Taylor, Jr. and the Making of a Bourbon Aristocrat, will cover the life, career, and legacy of Edmund Haynes Taylor, Jr. in four installments. Along the way, we will explore the family history and social connections that “made” Taylor and helped him rise to the top of the distilling world. We’ll also assess how broader patterns within American capitalism and collisions with other titans of whiskey lore (such as the Pepper family and George T. Stagg) factored into the rise, fall, and rebuilding of Taylor’s business empire; and, we will ultimately take stock of how Taylor’s legacy continues to influence the contemporary bourbon industry – not just in Kentucky, but across the globe.


Part I: The Double Meaning of “Bourbon Aristocrat” in Gilded Age Kentucky

On July 27, 1863, Governor James F. Robinson of Kentucky released an official statement concerning the death of John J. Crittenden. The governor didn’t typically recognize the passing of constituents, especially in time of war (when many more were passing than the governor had time to commemorate), but Crittenden was no ordinary citizen; he’d twice served as Attorney General of the United States and had represented Kentucky in both the Senate and the House of Representatives. Better still, Crittenden was Kentucky’s seventeenth governor, in office from September 1848 to July 1850. Of the deceased’s robust political career, Robinson had this to say:

When a great man dies, a nation mourns. Such an event has occurred in our midst, in the death of the Hon. John J. Crittenden, Kentucky’s longest tried statesman in her public service, a man faithful to every trust, one who has added, by his talents and character, to the fame of the nation, and has pre-eminently advanced the glory and honor of his native Kentucky.

Not surprisingly, the mourning festivities swelled to match Crittenden’s larger-than-life resume. A public service at the Presbyterian Church on Second Street in Frankfort would be followed by an immense procession of military escorts, political officials, business magnates, family members, close personal friends, and throngs of curious onlookers. As the governor had already hinted, it wasn’t every day that such a famous man died. So, one way or another, everyone wanted to witness, if not play a role in, Crittenden’s grand sendoff.

Given the scope of the ceremonies—which no less than three high-ranking army officers were appointed to organize and oversee—serving as one of Crittenden’s pallbearers constituted an extraordinary honor. These men would march near the front of the procession with the collective gaze of thousands glued to their every step. Only ten were selected for duty.

It was in this capacity that E. H. Taylor, a wealthy Lexington banker and land trader, and Jacob Swigert, a lawyer, county judge, and clerk of the Court of Appeals, together found themselves on the morning of July 29. The two men weren’t strangers; far from it, in fact. The Taylor and Swigert families had become closely intertwined over the years through ventures in business and at the altar. (Years earlier in 1825, the duo had even helped host a reception held in the Kentucky state capitol for the Marquis de Lafayette.) But as they shuffled alongside Crittenden’s hearse, neither likely could have imagined the critical, combined role their bloodline would play in the development of America’s national spirit—the distilled variety, that is—and the rise to power of its most influential, controversial, innovative, litigious, and ruthless “bourbon aristocrat.”


Almost anyone who knows even a little bit about bourbon has seen or heard the name E. H. Taylor, Jr.—and no doubt many have sampled the label’s Small Batch and Single Barrel offerings. (A much luckier few have laid hands on the scarcer E. H. Taylor Jr. Double Oaked or the ultra-rare Warehouse C Tornado Surviving.) The figure for who these spirits are eponymously named, Colonel Edmund Haynes Taylor, was born in 1830 in Hickman County, Kentucky. His father, John Eastin Taylor, died in 1835 and, after living for a time with his “great-uncle” Zachary Taylor (yes, that Zachary Taylor — but he was actually a second cousin, twice removed), Edmund was eventually “adopted” by his own namesake and uncle, the aforementioned E. H. Taylor of Crittenden’s funeral procession. E. H., Jr. received an education at the Sayre School in Lexington and followed E. H., Sr. into the banking industry. (Though not technically father and son, the younger Edmund took to calling himself “Jr.” to avoid confusion with his uncle as their business dealings comingled in the late-1850s; however, his name wouldn’t appear that way on a Federal Census until 1910.) The late-1850s weren’t a particularly easy time for financiers and E. H. Jr.’s first two private firms, Taylor, Turner, & Co. and Taylor, Shelby, & Co. both struggled to stay afloat.

Born in 1833 in Franklin County, Kentucky, Daniel Swigert was the son of Jacob and Emaline Swigert (nee Miller). Though less has been written about Daniel’s early years, we do know that he didn’t inherit his father’s knack for the law; or, if he did, he chose not to make a profession of it. Instead, he turned to distilling. Luckily for Daniel, the family already had significant holdings in the industry. In 1838, Jacob Swigert and his brother, Philip, had purchased a parcel of riverine property known as the “Buffalo Trace” for $600—it came with a pre-existing operation, the Leestown Distillery, once managed decades earlier by the likes of Harrison Blanton. In the late-1850s, while E. H. Taylor, Jr. was taking his lumps in the financial sector, Daniel threw himself into work at Leestown.

If the late-1850s constituted a hard time for E. H. Taylor, Jr.’s business enterprises, the Civil War gave them an unexpected boost and helped make him the Colonel–though not in the way you might expect. (Spoiler: his “colonelcy” was entirely honorific and bestowed after the war.) Taylor managed to avoid military service (not a surprise given the influence of his uncle and friends); instead, despite his pro-slavery leanings, he profited by loaning money to the state (Union) government and served as a special cotton envoy in Tennessee, where he inevitably had a chance to conduct his own business on the side. In other words, Taylor didn’t just survive the war, he came out of it financially stronger and ready to break into the bourbon business.

E. H. Taylor, Jr. got his start with the distilling firms of Gaines, Berry, & Co. and W. A. Gaines & Co. In 1866, Taylor made a grand observation of European distilleries; in 1868, while employed by the latter, Taylor oversaw construction of two Frankfort distilleries, Old Crow and the Hermitage (now lost to urban sprawl in Frankfort), before finally purchasing the Lee’s Town Distillery from the Swigert family around 1870. He later renamed it O. F. C or “Old Fire Copper” and constructed the Carlisle Distillery on adjoining property. (Daniel Swigert quit the distilling business, founded the famed Elmendorf Stock Farm, and died very rich.) Taylor gradually consolidated control over distilling in the area, even acquiring the Oscar Pepper Distillery—today the home of Woodford Reserve.

Economic troubles stemming from the Panic of 1873 put Taylor’s over-leveraged distilling empire in harm’s way; it changed the trajectory of both his career and Kentucky’s bourbon industry as a whole—but we’ll take a much closer look at this period of Taylor’s business timeline in Part II, Casualty of Credit: The Fall and Rebirth of the Colonel. For now, we simply need to know that the bust allowed George T. Stagg, then of St. Louis, Missouri, to buy the distillery in 1878-9. Stagg kept E. H. Taylor, Jr. on to oversee operations. As it turned out, though, Taylor and Stagg didn’t get along so well (read: at all). In 1886, the former left O. F. C. entirely (it was later renamed the George T. Stagg Distillery in 1904) and partnered with his sons Jacob Swigert Taylor (named for Jacob Swigert) and Kenner Taylor to form E. H. Taylor, Jr. & Sons. E. H. Taylor, Jr. managed the firm—known nationally for its Old Taylor label—until his death in 1923 at the age of 93. (Secondary literature is conflicted on Taylor’s date of birth. In The Social History of Bourbon, Gerald Carson suggests that Taylor lived to be 90; and, in Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey, Michael R. Veach mistakenly offers 83 as Taylor’s age at death but means 93. Government records are also frequently in conflict, but Taylor himself listed February 12, 1830 as his birthday in a 1919 S.A.R. application. It’s possible even he didn’t know, but the majority of available evidence suggests 1830.)


This placard featuring Colonel E. H. Taylor oversees operations in the mash room at the Buffalo Trace Distillery.

According to biographical literature from Buffalo Trace Distillery (the current owner and producer of the E. H. Taylor and Old Taylor labels), Colonel Edmund Haynes Taylor, Jr.’s upgrading of the O. F. C. Distillery and his innovative work at Taylor & Sons “sealed his own prestigious legacy as the ‘Father of the Modern Bourbon Industry’.” Moreover, owing to his penchant for blending old techniques with new technologies, Taylor helped usher distillation into the twentieth century and ought to be “remembered as the last of a breed, a true bourbon aristocrat who was responsible for linking the classic and modern eras of bourbon making.” Those doubting whether or not Taylor represented a marriage of Gilded Age panache and modern business sense—apparently the fundamental elements of bourbon aristocracy—may look no further than the ruins of the Old Taylor facility, where state of the art equipment once cooked mash and distilled spirits amid ornate fountains, extravagant gardens, Roman columns, and a full-on turret.

So what are we to make of Taylor’s legacy? On its surface, this plot has all the makings of a classic American rags-to-riches story: a young boy loses his father, is adopted by his wealthy uncle, and gradually ascends to fame and fortune. Historically speaking, though, things weren’t nearly that simple.

In reality, the classification of “bourbon aristocrat” had a dual-meaning in the second half of the nineteenth century. In addition to tracing his ancestry back to ex-President Zachary Taylor, E. H. Taylor, Jr.’s wife, Francis (or “Fannie”), was a scion of the influential Johnson family of Henderson County. Fannie was also a relation through marriage of the Swigerts—Jacob Swigert was her step-father, which made Daniel Swigert the (step) brother-in-law of E. H. Taylor, Jr. Col. Taylor’s eldest son, J. Swigert Taylor, married the granddaughter of John J. Crittenden while Kenner, the Colonel’s second oldest son, married back into the Johnson family. These linkages, among many others, situated the Taylor family at the nexus of a kinship matrix that included several of Kentucky’s oldest, most prevailing surnames: Crittenden, Ware, Hay, Johnson, Saffell, Speed, Rankin, and Swigert. Together these relations banked, speculated in land, bred, raced, and traded in horseflesh, leased railroads, and distilled bourbon together.

The Old Taylor Distillery in Millville as it sits today. (The grounds are currently being renovated in anticipation of a new distillery beginning operations here for the first time in decades. Check back for commentary on these renovations in the coming months!)

So on one hand, yes, it’s fair to say Colonel E. H. Taylor, Jr., should be considered a bourbon aristocrat for his seminal role in the growth of Kentucky’s bourbon industry at a time when old and new practices collided. As an entrepreneur, an innovator, and as a savvy businessman, E. H., Jr. was among the best of the best. On the other hand, though, a much more literal meaning can (and should) be applied to the title when we consider that the cultivation of fine bourbon didn’t simply transform men into aristocrats—equally important to achieving Taylor’s astounding level of power was hailing from an aristocratic lineage. This pedigree equipped him with an elite education, social connections, political influence, access to capital, and personal confidence; it helped keep him safe during the Civil War and strengthened his business position at a time when most men were simply thankful to be alive; and, it ultimately helped enable the Colonel to reign over Kentucky’s bourbon kingdom from his castle (pictured above) in Millville.

SOURCES: United States Federal Census 1830, 1840, 1850, 1860, 1880, 1900; U. S. Civil War Draft Registration Records, 1863-1865; Maryland Births and Christenings Index, 1692-1911; Directory of Kentucky Marriages, 1802-1850; Kentucky Death Records, 1852-1963; U. S., Sons of the American Revolution Membership Applications, 1889-1970 (for E. H. Taylor, Jr.); Kentucky: Special Limited Edition (Chicago: The American Historical Society, 1922), 133-135; Mrs. George Baker, “Old Farm and Church Burying Grounds of Franklin County, Kentucky,” Register of the Kentucky Historical Society (Sept. 1918); William E. Railey, History of Woodford County (Frankfort, KY: 1938), 348-351; “Death of Mrs. E. H. Taylor, Jr.,” 15 October 1898, Frankfort Roundabout; Z. F. Smith, The History of Kentucky (Louisville: Courier-Journal Job Printing Company, 1892), 912; Mrs. Chapman Coleman, ed., The Life of John J. Crittenden (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1873), 373-375; William E. Connelley & E. Merton Coulter, eds., History of Kentucky Volume V (Chicago: The American Historical Society, 1922), 592-594; Mrs. Jennie C. Morton, “History of the Frankfort Cemetery,” Register of the Kentucky Historical Society (January 1909), 26-27; “Invitation to Ball in Honor of Gen. LaFayette,” 1825, Kentucky Historical Society, Frankfort, Kentucky; “A Sketch of Col. E. H. Taylor, Jr.,” The Wine and Spirit Bulletin Volume XXX, #11 (Nov 1 1916), 796; Veach, Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey, 52; Carson, The Social History of Bourbon, 88.

Special thanks to the Civil War Governors of Kentucky Digital Documentary Edition for providing Governor James F. Robinson’s comments on the funeral procession of John J. Crittenden (KYR-0003-027-0001). CWG-K is an innovative digital humanities project headquartered at the Kentucky Historical Society in Frankfort; it’s designed to digitize, annotate, and make keyword-searchable all documents related to Kentucky’s five Civil War governors.

HISTORY: Not Your Grandpa’s Sazerac

Not Your Grandpa’s Sazerac (but maybe his grandpa’s):
An Argument for the Historically Accurate Sazerac


The sazerac is, according to some, not only an historic cocktail, but the historic cocktail: a frenglish word for coquetier, the cup that Antoine Peychaud first used to serve his now famous bitters in the Big Easy almost 200 years ago. We know it today as a rye-based drink—indeed, my response to the bartender who asks me upon my ordering one what kind of bourbon I’d like is “I’ll have a Manhattan, please”—but this was not always the case. If the etymology of “cocktail” is most likely delightfully apocryphal, the genesis of the title Sazerac is anything but, and therein lies the basis for the Historically Accurate Sazerac, a drink that takes us to a time of transition in post-Civil War New Orleans.

The Sazerac.

Like the tales told by revelers the afternoon following a night on Bourbon Street, parts of the Sazerac’s history are a bit cloudy. Sources from The Oxford Encyclopedia of American Food and Drink to The New Encyclopedia of Southern Culture’s volume on Foodways disagree on whether it was Sewell Taylor or John B. Schiller who made Peychaud’s concoction of bitters and sugar famous, and the genesis of the absinthe rinse is recalled with about as much precision as you would expect from anyone consuming absinthe. One thing is certain: the reason you don’t walk into a bar and order a “Taylor” or a “Schiller” isn’t because imbibers forgot their bartender, or the fact that neither of these gentlemen actually made the drink that famous, but also because the original cocktail wasn’t known by its maker, but by the main ingredient, Sazerac de Forge French brandy.

It’s easy to skip over Taylor and Schiller, as Imbibe! author David Wondrich does, to focus on the far better known Thomas Handy, who purchased Peychaud’s formula from him in 1870 and paid him a salary to manufacture the bitters. In an attempt to keep up with changing American tastes—not to mention changing availabilities of French brandy—Handy was the first to swap the foreign spirit for the American one, replacing the brandy with rye. After Handy’s death his widow’s company commercially sold the sazerac in bottles bearing his name, which is now most recognizable for appropriately gracing Buffalo Trace’s antique “Thomas H. Handy Sazerac Straight Rye Whiskey.”

But, again, the dates here remain as suspect as a Huey Long election. While Handy’s famous substitution probably took place sometime in the 1870’s, it’s unlikely that it happened uniformly or overnight. Like any change in a tried and true recipe (New Coke and Guinness’s recent vegan capitulation come to mind), not all consumers were pleased with the new and improved version, and some no doubt continued to order the drink with brandy. Secondly, while rye was an old spirit—far older than bourbon, which was just reaching its stride in the 1870s—given that the legal battles for copyright protections and enforced standards that would ensure truth in labeling and quality were only just getting passed, the rye used in the drink wasn’t necessarily the smoothest, purest, best-aged whiskey available. More likely it was young and rough, and possibly distilled in New Orleans from ingredients purchased upriver, meaning it lacked even the aging that transport on a steamboat or railroad allowed.

The answer would’ve been to blend the traditional with the non-. Using both cognac and rye would’ve satisfied both old tastes and new, stretched the small supply of brandy limited by an agricultural tragedy in France, and mellowed some of the bite from un-aged American whiskey.

So while suggesting to a bartender or guest today that a sazerac be made with both French brandy and American whiskey will garner you denunciations as a heretic, remind your detractors that 140 years ago, their singularly rye-based tipple was the upstart, and you’re simply enjoying the best of both the old world and the new.

Ingredients for the historically accurate Sazerac.

RECIPE: The Historically Accurate Sazerac

Like other variations on the sazerac, from Cure’s antebellum version in New Orleans to the Big Jones post-Prohibition version in Chicago, The Historically Accurate Sazerac embodies a specific time in the drink’s history. It also captures the culture of the city of its birth, a city with which it can never be disassociated. Sweet, spicy, and biting, part French and part southern, rinsed with absinthe and an air of expatriate mystery, the complex ingredients and artful preparation put New Orleans in a glass.

1.5oz Rye

1.5oz Cognac

Peychaud’s Bitters

Angostura Bitters

Simple Syrup


Lemon Peel

2 glasses

Pour enough absinthe in the first glass to shallowly cover the bottom; place in the freezer to chill. Pour the rye and cognac into the second glass, adding 4-6 dashes of Peychaud’s and 2-3 dashes of Angostura. Sweeten to taste with simple syrup (one spoonful will be relatively dry; 3 spoonfuls sweet enough for dessert). Add ice, stir, and let sit. Retrieve chilled glass and rinse by turning the glass at an angle and rotating, coating the sides with the absinthe. Leave any standing absinthe in the bottom of the glass. Strain the second glass into the chilled and rinsed one; drop lemon peel in and enjoy.

A versatile drink, it can be served ice-chilled to temper a steamy bayou afternoon, or room temperature on a fireside winter night. Adjust accordingly.

SOURCES: In addition to those mentioned in the text, consult Carson, The Social History of Bourbon, and “Handy v. Commander” in The Southern Reporter: Containing all the Decisions of the Supreme Courts of Alabama, Louisiana, Florida, and Mississippi, vol 22 (June 9, 1897-February 9, 1898): 230-236.

REVIEW: WhistlePig 10 Year Straight Rye

WhistlePig 10 Year Straight Rye
100 Proof – WhistlePig Farm

In “American Pie,” the now immortal folk dirge from one-hit-wonder Don McLean, we find our depressed troubadour driving his Chevy to the levy where “them good old boys” were drinking whiskey and rye—and singing “this’ll be the day that I die, this’ll be the day that I die.” If they’d had a couple bottles of WhistlePig 10 Year Straight Rye, to quote the slightly-less-immortal but still iconic Uncle Rico, “everything woulda’ been different.” If my pop culture mashup of a song that defined a generation and a man who lived in his van offends you to the extent that you refuse to read further, at least walk away with this wisdom: this stuff is better than good. It’s great.

Lately, there’s been a bit of controversy concerning the real source of WhistlePig: the United States or Canada. At present, it looks like a mix of both. WhistlePig Farm in Vermont is growing hundreds of acres of rye to use for production and whiskey is currently being aged in barrels constructed from Vermont wood. That said, what’s available of the 10 year in stores right now was distilled in Canada before being selected for bottling in Vermont. This has some reviewers crying foul over what is essentially a well-executed PR campaign. Frankly, while I’m an advocate for age transparency, I don’t care much about the controversy here. The age of WP10SR isn’t in question and they’re far from being the only operation that bottles whiskey produced somewhere else. (Furthermore, from the Buffalo Trace Antiques to Maker’s Mark to Diageo’s Orphan Barrel Program, which successful distilling and/or bottling operation hasn’t put a PR twist on its products? Like it or not, whiskey is a business.) My main concern is how the whiskey tastes.

NEWS UPDATE: As of October 2015, a functional distilling facility has been installed on the WhistlePig Farm in Shoreham, Vermont. Current supplies of WP10SR have Canadian origins, but that will be changing in the future, making WhistlePig one of the rare “grain to glass” operations on the market. Click here to read the distillery’s press release in full.

WP10SR Bottle Image.png
WhistlePig 10 Year Straight Rye, 100 Proof

The nose on WP10SR is a bouquet of oak, citrus, sweet vanilla, and caramel. (Note 1: the first time I sat down to taste, the caramel outmuscled the vanilla on the nose quite a bit.) The overall scent profile is sweet, but not “thin”—that is, the 100 proof spirit’s alcohol content doesn’t overwhelm its true flavor with a false sweetness. The first sip was all vanilla on the tongue, which surprised me; this was almost perfectly inverted from the smell test. (Note 2: the second time I sat down to taste, I got much more vanilla on the nose, and a more balanced flavor on the tongue.) Vanilla slowly gives way to a pairing of mellow warmth (lingering vanilla and caramel) and a healthy dose of rye spice in your mouth—the prelude to a long, balanced finish that leaves a pleasant trail of warm vanilla with a final small kick of rye deep down.

I’m typically a proponent of the idea that you paid for the whiskey, so you’ve earned the right to drink it however you’d like. I.e., if you want to mix $60 bourbon with ginger ale, do it, it’s yours and you should enjoy it. That said, this is sipping whiskey at its finest. It’s not cheap in the $75-$85 range, but given WP10SR’s depth of flavor and accessibility for drinkers of all experience levels, this is still a solid value purchase. -MCH

Value: Med-High
Drinkability: High
Overall Rating: 9.1

*Special thanks to Lana Gersten and the folks at WhistlePig for kindly providing a review sample.

REVIEW: Iowa Legendary Rye

Iowa Legendary Rye (White)
80 Proof, Small Batch – Iowa Legendary Rye of Carroll County, Iowa

Don’t let the cover—or in this case, the bottle—scare you away from Iowa Legendary Rye. Distilled in Carroll County, Iowa, this is a white whiskey (meaning it’s unaged) and produced in small batches from a recipe consisting of 100% rye. According to Rich and Lisa Eggers, the proprietors of ILR, their recipe has Prohibition era roots: “In 1920, Prohibition outlawed the manufacture and sale of all alcoholic beverages. Unhappy with this new mandate, the self-reliant and fiercely independent men and women of Carroll County, Iowa, decided to defy that law and began producing their own rye whiskey … The recipe we follow is from one of those original moonshiners.” (Also of note: per the ILR website, the rye used is locally sourced from Iowa farmers—a nice change of pace after the mess that bubbled up concerning sourcing claims made, and apparently disproved, by Iowa’s best-known rye distiller, Templeton.)

ILR bottle.jpg
Iowa Legendary Rye and orange peel cocktail.

Now before pulling the cork on Iowa Legendary Rye, banish any thoughts of the harsh corn liquor your dad and uncles passed around the campfire or of bottom-shelf white whiskeys that might double as lighter fluid; instead, remember that just because it’s clear doesn’t mean it can’t taste good. Unlike other White Dogs, which have gained a small but steadily growing following thanks to popular releases by Buffalo Trace (White Dog Mash #1 and White Dog Rye Mash, both at 125 proof) and Heaven Hill (Trybox Series New Make and Trybox Series Rye New Make, both at 125 proof), ILR is bottled at a much more manageable 80 proof.

The nose on ILR is a mixture of spice, grain (not surprising given the rye content), and slight hints of floral sweetness—the latter almost like a fleeting, sugary citrus note. The first mouthful is thick and sweet with a muted alcohol flavor. Very soon after the sweetness dissipates and a spicier, rye flavor settles on the tip of the tongue. Just as the transition happens, the realization will dawn on you that Iowa Legendary Rye is actually a pleasant, and even sip-able White Dog. The finish is what you’d expect from an unaged, 100% rye recipe: long, long, long. But the heat is relatively mild and makes this a nice cold weather, out-on-the-porch drink for folks who aren’t looking to melt their windpipes. (Again, keep in mind that the ABV here is 5% to 22.5% lower than most of the other whites on the market.)

My second sitting with ILR involved some cocktail experimentation. Playing on the whiskey’s natural scents, I decided to mix a hearty pour with a small wedge of fresh navel orange and a single ice cube. After letting the fruit and ice commingle for about five minutes, the sugars of the orange paired well with the natural sweetness of the whiskey while the citrus flavor essentially masked any lingering notes of “raw alcohol.” In the end, the result was like eating a spicy, liquor-infused orange—and would be a great way to introduce more tentative drinkers to ILR. (A tangerine or grapefruit would also make for a solid substitution.)

Priced around $35, Iowa Legendary Rye is well worth your time if you can track down a bottle. Currently available online from Binny’s Beverage Depot and Ezra’s (if your state permits delivery), from various liquor stores in Iowa, or directly from the Iowa Legendary Rye store in Carroll County, this is a versatile rye despite its “youth.” And, if you fancy yourself an aficionado of White Dogs, this will be an especially valued addition to the collection. -MCH

Value: High
Drinkability: High (anyone)
Overall Rating: 7.8

*Special thanks to Lisa Eggers and the folks at Iowa Legendary Rye for kindly providing a review sample.

Welcome to Bowtied & Bourboned!

welcomeWhat do academic historians of nineteenth century America do when we aren’t in the archives or writing? Well, we can’t speak for everyone, but we like to think we know our way around a dram of whiskey. Bowtied & Bourboned will put all of these skills to use at once. Unlike lots of other whiskey outlets, Bowtied & Bourboned will combine reviews of mainstream and craft whiskeys (bourbon, rye, corn, malt, white dog — you name it, we’ll try it) based on value and actual taste, not just name power or scarcity, while also featuring new and unique content on the history of the distilling industry and its “stranger than fiction” cast of characters.

B&B Proprietors

MCH | Founder & Co-Editorhulbert headshot

Historical Expertise: 19th century America, Guerrilla Warfare, Memory, Film.

Currently Pouring: High West Bourye (rocks, 1 cube)

Currently Tying: High Cotton, Brooks Brothers.

RCP | Co-Editor Emeritusrobby headshot

Historical Expertise: 19th century America, Civil War, Smuggling and Illicit Trade, Appalachian History.

Currently Pouring: E. H. Taylor, Jr. Small Batch, Neat.

Currently Tying: Southern Proper.

B&B Review Meridian

Overall Rating Scale

9.5 – 10.0 : Mythical Whiskey

9.0 – 9.4 : Exceptional Whiskey (Genuine Top Shelf)

8.5 – 8.9 : Great Whiskey

8.0 – 8.4: Very Good Whiskey

7.5 – 7.9 : Good Whiskey

7.0 – 7.4 : Average Whiskey

6.5 – 6.9 : Slightly Below Average Whiskey

6.0 – 6.4 : Bottom Shelf Whiskey

0.0 – 5.9 : Save Your Money Whiskey

Intangible Ratings

Value : Assessment of whether or not a whiskey is worth its price tag. (I.e., is the single barrel incarnation of a label worth exponentially more than its small batch brother? A bourbon might be very highly rated, but not necessarily a great value if too expensive.)

Drinkability : This is a composite assessment accounting for the whiskey’s smoothness, flavor, sip-ability, and how accessible it might be to less experienced drinkers. (I.e., a lower drinkability isn’t inherently a bad thing, it could just mean this isn’t a particularly good spirit for beginners.)