Navazos Palazzi Malt Whiskey Cask Strength [Palo Cortado Single Cask] Review

The Whiskey Tribe review of Navazos Palazzi Malt Whiskey (Palo Cortado). Spanish malt finished in a unique and rare style of Sherry cask.

‘We Stand for Non-Bullsh*t Products’: Why Blended Whiskey Makers Are Openly Discussing Their Spirits

From Barrell Craft Spirits to Mic Drop, a new wave of NDP's talk eschewing "tradition" to make unique bourbons.

Joe Beatrice spends his day tasting whiskey, assessing the character of the contents of barrel after barrel throughout his multiple maturation warehouses. It’s one of his jobs, along with his two full-time blenders, to know the flavor profiles of the over 10,000 casks of bourbon and rye they own. But while this is standard work at a distillery, what’s different about Barrell Craft Spirits, the company Beatrice founded in 2013, is that it’s never distilled a drop.

Barrell is one of the most celebrated of the new wave of non-distilling producers, or NDPs. In and of themselves, NDPs are nothing new; if you drink American whiskey, you’ve probably enjoyed many of them over the years, perhaps without even knowing it. Bulleit, for example. Or Redemption Rye, Templeton or Angel’s Envy. The list goes on.

Historically, NDPs haven’t been eager to highlight the fact that they don’t make their own whiskey. Bourbon, it was believed, was all about tradition, so there was an incentive to invent a fanciful yarn to suggest authenticity. But Barrell tells you as much as it can about what’s in the bottle, which might include where the whiskey was purchased and how old it is. “There’s no fake backstory,” Beatrice says. “I didn’t come across the blending recipe in my grandfather’s trunk. I didn’t get it from a Conestoga wagon.” The company simply buys barrels of liquid distilled by others, then employs in-house expertise to blend them into something exciting and new. “The notion that it can only be good if you make it yourself is crazy,” Beatrice says.

Since 2007, a distillery called High West in Park City, Utah, has been quietly leading the way on the concept of honest sourcing. Master distiller Brendan Coyle ranks transparency at “the top of the values list of the company.” High West, along with other pioneers such as Smooth Ambler, distills its own whiskey but also sources it from others (largely from the massive MGP plant in Indiana), using blending and imagination to concoct something unique, such as A Midwinter Night’s Dram, a blend of two types of rye finished in French-oak port barrels and released every fall to eager drinkers and collectors. Coyle likens blending to art; this hybrid approach, he says, is akin to having more colors with which to paint.

From left to right: Barrell Bourbon, A Midwinter Nights Dram whiskey, Mic Drop. Barrell Craft Spirits/High West Distillery/Mic Drop

Wherever you look in the NDP market these days, you’ll see a new transparency that feels radical, whether it’s the hyper-limited Mic Drop—its website diligently recounts every minute decision that went into the bottle—or the enormous Bardstown Bourbon Company, which literally prints the pedigree of its purchased and blended Discovery series right on the label. Bardstown is sitting on thousands of its own distilled barrels, still too young to use, but Dan Callaway, the company’s VP of product development, says that even when its barrels come of age, Bardstown will continue to purchase whiskey for blending. “Discovery series is an opportunity to create something new and special,” he says. “Our story is our team. We want to show people the whole process.”

Nicolas Palazzi, creator of Mic Drop, puts it more plainly still: “We stand for non-bullshit products,” he says. “To be honest, it doesn’t sound very radical to me.”

In Search of the Ultimate Freezer Martini

We asked 10 of the world's best bartenders to submit their finest recipe for the pre-batched Martini—then blind-tasted them all to find the best of the best.

It’s been nearly a year since PUNCH conducted a new edition of the long-running “ultimate” blind-tasting series. In the age of COVID-19, such close gatherings of drink judges, sipping from successive versions of the same cocktail, all prepped by a guest bartender, were strictly a non-starter.

So, with COVID Nation still very much a thing, what drink could safely bring the series back to life? The prebatched, prechilled Martini, naturally. The prefab format of the classic—which was an established trend and served in many bars before the pandemic arrived—is perfectly suited to this new at-home era.

On a recent Monday, I was joined by PUNCH editors Talia Baiocchi and Chloe Frechette and bar owners Meaghan Dorman (Raines Law Room, Dear Irving) and St. John Frizell (Fort Defiance, Gage & Tollner) via Zoom to taste through 10 batched Martinis submitted by bartenders from the United States and England. The drinks had already arrived via contactless delivery. Judges were instructed to keep the mini-bottles in the freezer until tasting time.

Though batched cocktails can be controversial—many people are attached to the ritual of a bartender making their drink on the spot, particularly when it comes to the Martini—the panel convened with no prejudices. “We’re longtime fans of freezer Martinis,” said Frechette, who added that she thought batching was the way to prepare spirit-forward recipes during quarantine. Dorman agreed that premade drinks are an ideal fit for the current times, when most folks are entertaining at home for themselves and maybe a partner or roommate. “I think you should treat yourself right now and this is the way to do it,” she said.

This particular tasting brought to the table a few new variables that wouldn’t apply in a standard sampling of Martinis. Dilution had to be addressed anew. Since the cocktails are designed to simply be pulled from the freezer and poured, they weren’t receiving their dose of softening water through the usual spin in a mixing glass filled with ice. Instead, water was added directly to the batch and had to be precisely portioned out. Too much or too little could prove disastrous. One Martini in the running didn’t make the cut because the judges thought it too strong—i.e., lacked sufficient H2O. Another suffered from a surplus of added water, rendering it weak and, well, watery.

Temperature, too, was an important factor. Martinis are expected to be cold, naturally, but these freezer-born numbers were particularly icy—a consideration the bartenders had to factor in when choosing their ingredients and honing their ratios. “Martinis in this format dull the aroma and the alcohol comes forward,” explained Baiocchi.

That issue notwithstanding, the panel was surprised by the variety of character they encountered from one glass to the next. And, as would be expected in any sampling of signature Martinis, there were some odd flights of fancy. One recipe called for both sherry and peated Scotch; another included a hefty dose of absinthe. The judges didn’t necessarily dislike either drink; they simply didn’t read as Martinis.

Finding favor was a unique specimen submitted by Orlando Franklin McCray of Brooklyn’s Nightmoves, who put together high-proof, saffron-tinged Old Raj gin, La Quintinye Extra Dry vermouth and orange bitters. The judges liked the concentration of bold flavors but thought the recipe would have benefited from higher dilution.

With the vast changes in bar regulations brought on by COVID, Frizell said that he both hopes and expects to see more prebatched cocktails on the market when the pandemic recedes and bars fully reopen.

“My hat is off to the New York State Liquor Authority for the first time in my life, for freeing up the rules so quickly,” he said. “We’re able to do so many things now that we would have lost our license for before.”

For the time being, however, he’s doing what most every other cocktail lover has been doing for the past year: shaking up his own at home. “I’ve been drinking my own Martini almost every day,” said Frizell.

NEAL BODENHEIMER'S OLD HICKORY

Mastering the Old Hickory With Neal Bodenheimer

The obscure vermouth classic gets retooled with an eye toward more flavor and less dilution.

The “raisinated vibe” and wormwood bitterness of La Quintinye Blanc forms one half of the 50/50 vermouth split.

If you’ve never heard of the Old Hickory, you’re not alone. A simple 50/50 mix of sweet and dry vermouths punched up with bitters, this low-proof classic has long existed in the shadow of the Bamboo and Adonis. Neal Bodenheimer wants to put it center stage.

Though he started workshopping the drink at his New Orleans bar Cure, he “really dug in,” as he describes the process, on the Old Hickory for Dauphine’s, a New Orleans–inspired bar and seafood restaurant slated to open this spring in Washington, D.C.. “It felt modern, and like things I wanted to drink,” he explains of the simple build. However, “it felt like a cocktail that never really got its due.”

Part of the New Orleans canon of cocktails, the Old Hickory first appeared in print in Stanley Clisby Arthur’s 1937 book, Famous New Orleans Drinks And How to Mix ’Em. Supposedly, “Old Hickory” was a nickname given to General (and later U.S. president) Andrew Jackson, a reference to his fortitude as he led troops through the Battle of New Orleans in the winter of 1814-15. Although Arthur writes that the drink was Jackson’s “favorite tipple,” Bodenheimer dismisses the claim: “I don’t think people were drinking vermouth in America in 1850.”

Though his vision for the Dauphine’s interpretation is a pre-batched version, Bodenheimer preserves elements of the cocktail-making ritual. The format coalesced at an event held at New York’s James Beard House in September 2019, intended as a preview for Dauphine’s. For the seated dinner with cocktail pairings, Bodenheimer sought out food-friendly pours, and the vermouth-forward Old Hickory seemed like a natural fit. Yet, stirred with ice, it felt too thin and watered-down. The solution was to pre-batch the vermouths and refrigerate the mixture until ready to serve. Bitters were stirred in at the last minute—“bitters expand in a batch over time, so I keep them out,” says Bodenheimer—and the mixture was then poured over a large ice cube and quickly served. The end result presented like a cocktail, but retained the texture of wine.

“We said, ‘What if we made it like an Old-Fashioned setup, and less like a vermouth cocktail?’” he recalls. “We always had our vermouth in the fridge anyway, so we always had a chilled vermouth bottle.”