Rye Not?

Masterson's Rye Whiskey

When I was a kid, I used to wonder what Don McLean meant when he proclaimed that “Good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye.” Regardless of what it had to do with American Pie, or anything else, at six years old, I wondered perilously about why these supposed “good guys” were drinking booze; more to that, I found the concept of drinking bread as terminably confusing. To this day, I admit, the misunderstanding persists, and there’s probably one thing that has outshone my knowledge of fine wine and spirits. Technically, I would assume the role of someone who would know everything about the subject, but I’m willing for the duration, to remember that I haven’t been as honest about my newly found adoration for a particular whiskey. No, I’m not a avid fan of bourbon, because I find it somewhat debilitating in the long drive towards early morning, and I prefer not to wake up most mornings with the feeling of internal disgust. Also, and there’s nothing wrong with single malts, as there are some that are highly desirable, but I cannot bring myself to have a steak, or for equal parts, will not have my favorite burger with something as peaty, rich, or discernibly floral. I can for the most part, go with that undeniable, scrupulously built piece of still craft that has been well-known, but historically misappropriated. 

I shudder to believe that there’s any real reason to make a gigantic hoot about such a thing as Rye, but as traditions precede, I cannot really dismantle the concept, and say there’s any real reason to ignore the practice of making a Sazerac cocktail, or simply enjoying a straight glass of whiskey. I love when drinks are neat, and It seems that a burgeoning infatuation of mine has me on track with preparations that are seemingly no fuss. I do not temper it with water, and I sure as heck do not launch it into my freezer-refrigerator, but what I do, is sequester it beyond that little corner niche in my liquor cabinet. I feel it deserves some protection, as a good father should always offer, but I do not give it any overt affections that I would grant to say, a puppy, or a mushy housecat. 

Bulleit Rye Whiskey

The prize here, is that you get something with the nutty sweetness of bourbon, with the appropriate finesse and ardor of a well-knit malty scotch. That’s my interpretation, and I risk facing the maelstrom of mass effigies and angry torrents of enthusiasts who would exact punishments on me, shouting: “Take it back! Take it back!” I will not, because I’m entitled to perception, and I think it’s a damn-good one considering that I’ve been through hell trying to figure out what my likes and dislikes are. However, Rye has that untimely character that promotes easy drinking, while not being too brazen for meal pairing. I have found in the lesser, that many of the other Whiskies deserve no favorable mention when it comes to eating, but I haven’t had any one problem with sitting down to an entree and debunking the presence of something much smoother. 

It’s made from the grain of the same name, and is made into a mash, then distilled and barreled like most whiskies. Usually 51% is the actual Rye grain is used, while corn is equally mandated. The distilling and the aging are just a hallmark of the proprietors fancies, whims and overall expertise, but the fact is simple, it’s all worth the money. You can just as much enjoy any other product in family of mash spirits, but why? If you want proof of enjoyment, try the Canadian-born, high-end Masterson’s, or Bulleit from KY, you won’t be disappointed. Both are rich, sumptuous, well-spiced, light, and of course, gentlemanly. They are affordable, giving prompt to sweetness and spice, without the heady, backdraft of alcohol and weight that flicks my gag reflex every time I imbibe something else. 

Truth is, Rye is seeing a resurgence in popularity, and is being hailed as one of the best forgotten beverages of the American kaleidoscopic drinking effect. It is well-made, quite agreeable, and you do not have to worry about appearing thrifty just because you hadn’t the spoils to buy a thirty-year-old bottle of scotch. Prohibition is well-over, and temperance is probably another name for that nagging feeling you get when a beer, or two, or a glass of wine will not suffice. More recently, bartenders and throw-backers have developed a love for the product as a mixer, but I think it deserves more credibility than being honored as a simple base product. Bourbon is great, and some would argue that the Scottish stuff is king, but I’m taking my chances with a simple, mindful, and unpretentious approach to sipping and eating.

If not, there’s always something more complicated. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse 

Visit us @: westchesterwine.com