Jet Set Tramp

Whiskey Tramp 026: Michter’s

With this post, we’re going to try and revise slightly the way we do whiskey reviews. Whether or not I will sustain this remains to be seen (probably not), but we’re going to try and provide a little more information about what we’re drinking — not just how it tasted, but also the history of the distillery or bottler, and any other pertinent nonsense of which we can think. After all, if you wanted to drink whiskey just for the whiskey, you probably wouldn’t be coming to websites and reading about the stuff. The whiskey nerd in all of us is what brought us here, and collecting esoteric facts are almost… almost… as much fun as the drinking itself.

Michter’s. Seen it on the shelves plenty of times. Had it on a list of things to try, possibly buy, if the price was right. And I never got around to it, for no particular reason other than we are spoiled for choices and my list of things to taste is long. Then a friend brought a bottle of Michter’s 10 year old bourbon to my birthday party this past summer, and between three of us, we managed to drain the bottle in relatively quick order. Quick enough that I didn’t actually remember to take note of particulars, and whatever notes I would have kept would have probably been useless anyway, as the Michter’s was not the only nor even the first thing we drank in moderately excessive quantity that night.

Luckily, this past weekend, there was a Michter’s tasting at Crush Wines in Manhattan, and after a quick detour to the wrong train (getting on the downtown 6 is such an automatic after-work function for me that I do it even when I’m supposed to get on the uptown 6 to go do something instead), I swept in all out of breath and ready to sip some whiskey. The lad who was pouring was nice enough, but his knowledge of the product in particular and whiskey in general was suspect. But you need to learn to roll with these things and pepper your corrections and lectures with honey, provided you can pepper things with honey.

The only thing I knew about Michter’s beforehand, other than that I drank about a third of a bottle in one sitting over the summer, was that it had, at one point, been a Pennsylvania whiskey. So I decided to learn more, especially since Michter’s claims, among other things, to be America’s oldest whiskey, dating its founding way back to 1753. Such claims are always dubious, mostly marketing spin, and occasionally outright bullshit. Some time ago, we did our best to trace the convoluted claims of Rebel Yell bourbon, and also similar to how it seems like every bourbon in existence was “one of only four bourbons that was legally distilled during prohibition.” Michter’s claims to a heritage dating back to 1753 are just as dicey… perhaps even more so.

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Tags: Bourbon, Michter's, Rye, Tasting Notes, Whiskey, Whiskey Tramp

Peter Wyngarde Sings…ish

It’s been several years now that I’ve been searching for the elusive album by British actor Peter Wyngarde. Around these parts, Wyngarde is revered for his role as Jason King, the swingin’ international man of mystery, adventure novel writer, and part-time espionage agent he played on the series Department S and, later, in his own spin-off series, Jason King. The man spent his days solving unsolvable mysteries, penning potboilers, wooing ladies, drinking champagne and scotch for breakfast, and puzzling over which of his many puff ties to wear with his silk lounging robe.

This despite the fact that Jason King was, shall we say, something less than a Greek god to behold. But he carried himself with such panache, such style, and such biting wit and arrogance that it’s hard not to see his charms, if only from a somewhat campy aspect. Anyway, if King wasn’t your style, there was always his Department S colleague, Stewart Sullivan (played by Joel Fabiani). And we can’t really say enough about his other colleague: analyst, computer wiz, and second most beautiful woman in espionage (Emma Peel is secure atop the heap, after all), Annabelle Hurst (Rosemary Nicols). But none of them had the bizarre yet undeniable appeal of Jason King, who was the perfect blend flamboyant dandy and hard-drinkin’ lady’s man — it’s the sort of thing that might happen, say, a screenwriter come sup with a swingin’ Romeo superspy then gives it to a gay man to interpret — which is what Wyngarde was, and what he did.

Riding the tide of popularity his portrayal of Jason King brought him, Wyngarde was approached by RCA with the prospect of recording album. Getting popular TV personalities to record albums was all the rage, and when they promised Wyngarde complete creative freedom, he agreed. And thus we start down the road toward infamy.

The album was completed, released, then yanked from shelves almost immediately, in an air of blistering controversy. Expecting, one assumes, some frothy concoction of easy listening and perhaps go-go rock, RCA execs and fans must have been taken aback when they spun the record and found it to be a bizarre collection of musical cues in multiple styles accompanied by Wyngarde — or more accurately, perhaps, Jason King — rambling on and occasionally talk-singing about a variety of topics. Sex, mostly, though. There was indeed some easy listening cocktail groove thrown into the mix, but he doesn’t restrict himself in any way. At the center of the controversy was the song “Rape,” which would be offensive if it wasn’t so goddamn weird. In it, Wyngarde/King babbles semi-coherently about how the style of rape differs from one country to the next. Not content to simply offend in that aspect, it throws a ching-chaw-Chinaman bit in for good measure.

The rest of the album really veers into left field. The “song” “Hippie and the Skinhead” begins with Wyngarde, accompanied by some music, opening the paper and reading a letter written by a couple skinhead girls explaining various factual errors in the paper’s recent article about skinheads. As the letter draws to a close, Wyngarde suddenly launches into a country-western style song about queer bashing. The rest of the album is just as strange, with Wyngarde talking and pseudo-singing, occasionally flying into fits of boiling rage, occasionally adopting bizarre character voices.

Even in the permissive atmosphere of 1970, the album was considered too much to bear — not so much because of the one song, but because of the whole thing just being to artistically confounding. RCA pulled it off shelves and did their best to pretend the thing was never recorded. Collectors searched for it. In 1975, Wyngarde was “outed” as a homosexual — even though his homosexuality was well-known amongst his peers, where he occasionally adopted the name Petunia Winegum. The ensuing scandal and predictable “moral outrage” saw the man shuffled to the margins of the public consciousness, much like his album. In 1980, he appeared behind a metal mask as Klytus in the spectacularly awesome Flash Gordon, but his career never fully recovered from the 1975 scandal.

Collectors have been searching for and trading the elusive album for years. I joined the hunt not terribly long ago and quickly discovered that while finding the album for was not that difficult (the Internet makes it all so easy), affording the album was well beyond my means. Although there were labels looking to re-issue the self-titled record, contractual wrangling, cold feet, and other tangles always got in the way.

Until this year.

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Tags: Jason King, Music, Peter Wyngarde

The Word on Honest McGee

Our whiskey has secured its first review: http://drwhisky.blogspot.com/2009/11/malt-mission-2009-370.html

Tags: Bourbon, Honest McGee, Rye, Whiskey

Merry Krampus Day

Forget Halloween. Forget New Years. Even Christmas. My favorite holiday of the year? December 5th. Krampus Day. The lazy quote, from Wikipedia:

“Krampus is a mythical creature who accompanies Saint Nicholas in various regions of the world during the Christmas season. The word Krampus originates from the Old High German word for claw (Krampen). In the Alpine regions, Krampus is represented by a demon-like creature accompanying Saint Nicholas. Krampus acts in conjunction with Saint Nicholas; the latter gives gifts to good children, while the Krampus gives warnings and punishments to the bad children. Traditionally, young men dress up as the Krampus in the first two weeks of December, particularly in the evening of December 5, and roam the streets frightening children and women with rusty chains and bells. In some rural areas the tradition also includes birching by Krampus, especially of young females.”

In the Alpine regions of Austria, I’ve seen some photos (stolen and included) and video of Krampus celebrations and costumes that are absolutely insane. Switches, demons, fire, loud bells — not to mention rampant public drunkenness — these things are the hallmarks of a quality holiday. Though I suspect if I put on an ornate Krampus costume and roamed the streets of New York, breathing fire, clanging bells, and swatting women on the ass as I loped by, it would be seen as something other than “all in good fun.”

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Tags: Krampus

A Giant Among Men

In honor of the flamboyant and ridiculous shoes I intend to buy today, allow me to pay proper photographic tribute to one of the great icons: Peter Wyngarde as Jason King. For a brief period in the late 60s, early 70s, Jason King was among us. We, all of us, walk in his shadow.

“A bit too early for coffee; I’ll have a Scotch.”

“I would offer you a glass of champagne, but it’s very bad for you in small quantities.”

Tags: Jason King

Whiskey Tramp 025: Proof on Main

Spent the past week back home in Kentucky, which means lots of bourbon drinking and buying. No distillery tours this trip — had to see the grandparents and my new nephew, plus watch the Florida-FSU game — but we did manage to hit the swanky bar/restaurant/art experiment Proof on Main in downtown Louisville. There we got a great bartender who was more than willing to take us on a tour of some whiskies I’ve been wanting to try.

Wathen’s Single Barrel Bourbon
No age statement, 94 proof. The first whiskey of the evening. Been curious about it since it popped up not too long ago in New York stores. Nose is caramel, apples, a bit of oak and char. A bit of nuttiness. Really nice to sniff. And really nice to taste as well, with corn sweetness, caramel, vanilla. Lightly spiced bread. Smooth for a high proof bourbon, but still manages to slip a little zing into the mix. Finish is smooth and creamy, with maybe a slight hint of my grandma’s banana pudding - vanilla, bananas, and Nilla Wafers. Liked this one quite a bit. I’ll add a bottle to my collection, to be sure.

Vintage Bourbon
“Kentucky Bourbon Distillers? Who’s that?” my dad asked as he read over Proof on Main’s whiskey list. I didn’t really know. Luckily, the bartender we had knew his whiskies. KBD is an independent bottler that buys up others’ whiskies and turns them into their own product. Among others, they make the unspectacularly named “Vintage” whiskies — two bourbons (a 17 and 23 year old) and two ryes (21 and 23 year). So why not give it a try? 17 years old, 94 proof. Nose is sweet and very vanilla. Apricots, maybe? Some fruit, but it disappears. Tastes much smoother than 94 proof, with very little alcohol burn — though there is a little. Very thick, syrupy, chewy, like a bowl of oatmeal. There’s some oak, leather, and chocolate. Chewing it comes naturally. Finish is chocolate and char, oak and more of that thick vanilla. I’ve seen this one for years sitting on the shelf at local stores and never picked it up. Mistake. It’s big and thick and stays with you. Skip dessert and just have this.

Vintage Rye
21 years old, Having polished off the bourbon, the bartender offered us up a taste of the Vintage Rye. If I was “probably going to buy a bottle” of the bourbon, I’m definitely buying a bottle of the rye. Nose is nut and rye, though the rye is surprisingly understated. The taste was mellower than I was expecting from a rye, though the nose should have clued me in. There’s still big rye sharpness in the mix, but it’s low key. Actually reminds me of the High West Rye we had at WhiskyFest a couple weeks ago. It’s a very bourbon tasting rye. Caramel and oak. The finish lingers, heats up, and gets a bit leathery. If you want a rye that will kick you in the head, this one isn’t going to fit the bill. But if you are looking for something a bit more subdued but still exceptionally delicious, Vintage Rye is a must-try.

George T. Stagg
141.6 proof (!). Both my parents were curious about this one after hearing Ellie and me talk it up as being surprisingly smooth and easy to rink while being of insanely high proof. And the bartender was more than willing to pour us a sample. Nose is toffee and marmalade. A whiff of alcohol, but it transforms into something pleasant and sharp. Taste is surprisingly laid back, as I said — for a 141 proof bourbon, that is. Which means it still packs a huge wallop. Chocolate, heat, and spiced orange. Finish develops some hints of mint, spice, and sweetness. Still can’t believe just how strong this bourbon is. Just plain dangerous! One of my favorites.

During dinner, we decided to take the Proof Flight, which included three Proof on Main selected barrels of Woodford Reserve, Old Rip Van Winkle 12 Year Old, and Old Forester Signature. I’ll review those later, but to summarize: the Woodford reserve was surprisingly unpleasant, Old Rip was delightful, and cheap ol’ Old Forester Signature was fantastic.

Also managed, between here and there, to stock up on a few more bottles for the home bar: Old Forester Birthday Bourbon 2009, Woodford Reserve Master’s Collection Spiced Oak Finish, Thomas P. Handy Sazerac Rye, George Dickel Barrel Select, and a bottle of Ian Fleming’s beloved Pinch blended Scotch whisky.

Tags: Bourbon, Buffalo Trace, George T Stagg, Kentucky Bourbon Distillers, Proof on Main, Rye Whiskey, Tasting Notes, Vintage Bourbon, Vintage Rye, Wathens, Whiskey, Whiskey Tramp, Whisky