Every great American whiskey has a story- the legend of Bulleit Rye’s vanishing maker, Four rose’s southern bell, Jim Beam’s seven generations, Maker’s Mark red seal, and many more.
The owners have shared their stories of the brands they love and now it’s time to hear what the drinkers have to say.
So, for the love of whiskey (and a $150 gift card) let’s hear your story and how it all began. Tell us the American whiskey you’ve pledged your allegiance to and why you will remain ever faithful.
Details:
- Submit your whiskey story in the comment section below by 5:00pm on Friday May 4th
- Include your name and email address (don’t worry it wont be displayed publicly)
- Must be 21 or older & a resident of the U.S. to enter
The winner will be announced in the comment section below as well as notified by email, on Monday May 7th and will receive a $150 gift card to the bar of their choice.
Cheers to great storytelling.
Knob Creek. It’s taste is consistent throughout every bottle. 9 years…what a perfect number of years to age. Even their single barrel, though higher on proof is still a smooth glass to accompany my three cherries. Always neat, always a double.
Jim Beam (white label, in case there any nancies thinking that Red Stag garbage):
From wing-man to most loyal friend to hell-raiser, Jim Beam has been with me since my very first sips. He is always ready for the occasion, whether it is celebrating an achievement, forgetting disappointments, or just looking for something to do. Jim knows what you need (even when you don’t) and gets to work quickly. He can show you the way when you are lost or confused, bring you back to earth when you are arrogant, and can take a secret to the grave.
Jim is comfortable at a frat party or chilling on some rocks in an old fashioned crystal glass. He is best alone, but can adapt himself to the situation – in a coke, Manhattan or frozen sour. His corn mash is far superior in taste and value to any (Tennessee) whiskey that may think itself the better. Give the man four more years in that oak barrel and he achieves nirvana.
People, places, women and money – they have all come and gone over the years; Jim Beam remains.
Maker’s Mark…I was probably only 21 the first time I tried whiskey. I don’t remember what kind it was but it was in a seedy bar and an older gentleman had bought me a shot of it. I threw the shot back, swallowed it down, and nearly threw up. It was terrible! I thanked the man kindly, and promptly swore to never drink whiskey again.
Fast forward a year or two, and I was having a conversation with the off-and-on man in my life, Mark. He was a few years older than me, far more worldly, and just about everything I wanted in a man, and always had. We were talking about what we liked to drink, and he described his favorite whiskey to me. I had been teasing him, saying he only drank it because he and this whiskey shared a name. He smiled and explained that there was much more to it than that. “It’s not the most expensive whiskey I’ve ever had, it’s not the least expensive, hell it’s not even the best,” he explained. “But it’s the best for what it is. Not pretentious, not cheap, and not what everyone else is drinking. It’s always good, I can always afford it, and I never feel like I’m drinking the same thing everyone else is drinking.” He smiled again. “I like to be different.”
The next week, I had a cooking date with a male friend and he asked me what kind of wine he should pick up. I told him to skip the wine and get me a bottle of Maker’s Mark. “You do know that’s whiskey, right?” he asked me. “We don’t even DRINK whiskey.” I smiled and told him, “We do now.”
We started out the night mixing it with Cokes, trying to get a feel for the flavor and adjust our palette. By the end of the night we were good and drunk, and drinking it on the rocks.
Today, Mark is long gone from my life, but Maker’s Mark has stuck around. It’s still the only whiskey I’ll drink, and I always drink it on the rocks – I don’t like anything else diluting the flavor. Every time I take a sip of it, I can hear Mark’s voice in my head saying, “I like to be different.” And for that moment, for that sip, I feel just that – different, in the best way possible.
I got into bourbon through my wife, who’s been a bourbon drinker her whole life. Back in 2009, she convinced me to take her on a trip to the Bourbon trail in Kentucky. I thought I was being super-romantic by calling up a bed and breakfast in Bardstown and asking for “best room you got.” Well, we got the best room, but it happened to be directly above the bar. Right, the bar, which also happened to be the best (only?) bar in town. The pictures on the wall were vibrating from the band playing until 2 a.m. Not. so. romantic.
That said, we did get to visit Maker’s Mark, Jim Beam, Woodford Reserve and Wild Turkey. All of the distilleries were fantastic–making whiskey is truly a craft.
I’ve been drinking 4 Roses lately (unfortunately we missed the 4 Roses distillery on our trip), but I always say that I’ve never had a bad bourbon–just ones I like less than others.
Wild Turkey–strong enough to stand up to ice.
Hudson from Tuthilltown Distillery. Specifically their 4 grain bourbon. They aren’t one of those “been around forever” distilleries, leaving them a small, young operation, with a profound respect for tradition and attention to detail. Theres something to be said about a distillery that hand seals, labels and numbers their bottles. That American tradition of distilling a good bourbon is what keeps me drinking it. Theres a pride you should take when drinking bourbon, and its not that they spent the most money on marketing, but knowing how much care was put into that bottle as your enjoying it. Not to mention its delicious.
Jack on the rocks. My worst enemy. Along side every big mistake of my life sits Jack in the background. He’s a full throttle on a raw pedal. If you’re safeguarding any secret, subduing any desire, or trying to put the cap on a seething rage, Jack is going to crack you open and spill you out. One time I bought a pint midday to grease myself up for an afternoon Jam session with my drummer. As I frolicked gaily through the streets with new bottle in hand I slipped on a wet brick and tossed Jack up in to the air. He hit the ground hard and split his head open, bleeding out in to a puddle. I scooped him up like a fallen baby swallow and took a gulp to save his life. Mixed with the tar, grit, and shit of the city that seeped through his glassy lip he gave me a kiss of death. For the next 3 days I heaved up whatever wretch slept inside me. It was euphoric, it was a cleanse. At the end of my torture I felt supernal, reborn in to the stars. I took Jack with me and we wreaked havoc upon the world. One bleary night to the next we tore down whatever stood in our way. I used to think I was cool because I liked Jack on the rocks, or more just straight Jack chugged like a fiend. I realize now that I’m just a Jack myself. And I can’t escape.
Glad to know we’re not the only ones with a serious whiskey connection.
These stories are great, keep ’em coming!
Cheers,
DIA
Oh spring, big blue skies over jagged snow-wrapped mountains, the white-water torrents where it melts… It’s the end of another ski season in Wyoming, we’re all perched right there next to the Teton Mountains, on the southern rim of that great inverted volcano called Yellowstone. The ski tram trucks itself to the peak one final time where it’s pelted with hundreds of snow-balls vaulted from the waiting mob. Skiers and boarders wrapped in american flags and aviator shades cream the tram and everyone in it, and then with the sun lowering West, making shadows in the chutes and couloirs, we all begin the 4,000 foot slide to the base of the mountain where the party starts in earnest. I untuck the full-size bottle of Crown Royal from its purple velvet sleeping bag and pop out the cork once and for all. I’m crammed in the middle of a rollicking mass of shirtless heathens and the bass drum kicks again and again and I raise up the bottle, take a sip, then pass it to an outstretched hand, sailing it out like a lifeboat on the jumping, laughing masses, we all know how good the snow was this year, we all know it will come again, and now it’s time for summer, when we’ll scatter across the country looking for something just as solid as this snow-running congregation, hoping to once again be an elemental part of something so united.
Since this contest isn’t about my favorite whiskey or what I think the “best” whiskey is, I’ve got to go with a classic- Jameson. Back in my late high school/early college days, I (like most of us) was a TERRIBLE drinker. Cheap beer, plastic-handle vodka and sprite, just the worst. But early on in college, I was introduced to Jameson by a senior at my college in Boston. Jameson totally redefined what I thought alcohol could be- first with cream soda or ginger ale, then on the rocks, Jameson became the first alcohol that I wanted to drink because I enjoyed it, not because I wanted to get hammered at a party. Jameson was my “gateway booze” into the classic cocktails and microbrews that I enjoy so much today. I can’t say I drink much Jameson anymore- I’ve become much more of a bourbon and rye guy, along with craft beer and plenty of shots of Ferney. But without that glorious Irish whiskey, I may have been a Bud Light drinker forever.
My roots also take me back to Maker’s Mark. College. Freshman year. We just finished our first semester and decided to get a bottle and some cigars to celebrate. We ended up on Maker’s Mark because it was one that one of my friend’s dads “loved to drink.” We drank and smoked and reminisced about the “good old days,” even though we were sooo very young. My friend ended up throwing up because he had eaten Chinese mall food right before the outing, but in that moment, we were care-free and had the whole world ahead of us. I always go to Maker’s Mark to attempt to duplicate that one very special evening.
So much whiskey love it’s hard to decide. We’re taking an extra day to make sure we choose wisely.
Check in tomorrow for the winning story.
Cheers,
DIA
We’ve made our final decision, cheers to Sarah K. for her Maker’s Mark story.
Check out the winning post here: https://www.drinkinginamerica.com/greatest-whiskey-love-story/
Raising a glass to all who participated.
Cheers,
DIA
Another reason to love whiskey: a new whiskey based on Sam Adams Boston Lager.
https://www.drinkinginamerica.com/coming-soon-new-whiskey-made-from-sam-adams-beer/
Cheers,
DIA