Ninety-five percent rye, five percent stubbornness. Barrelled at 110 proof, left alone, bottled when the wood says so — not the calendar.
EST. WAREHOUSE C · NO. 118 DUMPED THIS SPRINGRye is a difficult grain that makes a difficult spirit — spice first, sweetness late, no apologies anywhere. We chose it on purpose.
White dog goes in angry. The char takes the edge off first — twelve months of the barrel doing the arguing.
Fifty-five seconds of open flame, until the oak alligators. The char is a filter, a pantry, and a clock — everything the spirit becomes, it takes from the burn.
Every barrel keeps its own diary. We publish it; most don't.
Floor three, south wall — the warm corner. Runs sweeter than its neighbours and we do not know why. Bottled this spring at 96 bottles.
Ground floor, north — ages slow and mean. Marked for year six; do not ask us to hurry it.
Same mash, toasted head instead of char on one end. Either a mistake or the next label — the wood will tell us in two winters.
Bottled at 100 proof, non-chill filtered, the colour entirely the barrel's doing. It will louche a little over ice; that's the fat we refused to strip out, behaving exactly as it should.