Alcolog

There are a few different spirits that claim to be the "Water of Life". The most popular form is whisky, whose name is derived from the gaelic "uisge beatha" which literally means the water of life. French brandies have "eau de vie" that are more pure brandy infusions of fruits. In Scandanavia, they have avkvavit: a starch distilate flavored with seed spices.

This regional pre-dates the current trend of flavored vodkas by about 500 years. What started as a folk remedy for ailments in the 1500s has become a shibboleth spirit for those from Scandanavia or those who have enjoyed their visits to that region. Its taste, more like a sausage than a drink, is dominated by the seed spices of caraway, dill, coriander, fennel, or anise. These flavors are steeped in a low spirit, distilled a second time and then aged for a period of time.

These steps make akvavit more unique than any mass-market option. It's not like gin because the spices are steeped in the spirit during distillation rather than hanging within the vapor while distillation occurs. It's also not like a flavored vodka because the spices are steeped between the first and second distillation rather than the more common flavoring that occurs with vodka after the spirit has its final run through the still. Once it's off the still, the spirit is aged for a period of time in casks. This makes it a lot like tequila, only its mother carbohydrate is a grain rather than tequila's fructose-based agave.

Are you thinking of buying a bottle to try it? If you're fortunate enough to have access to Akvavit, take heed in the comment that its spices are used to make sausage. The cheaper options will taste like it. My introduction to avkavit came from three offerings from V&S of Sweden. The youngest tasted like breakfast sausage. The middle-aged bottle reminded me of Wrigley's Gum; not any specific flavor but rather the taste one detects in all of their gums to tell you it's a Wrigley's product. The eldest avkavit tasted like a respectable rendition of Captain Morgan's spiced rum. No disrespect to avkavit in any of these comparisons but just a realization that the spices are the dominant flavor when drinking these spirits.

Would the average drinker appreciate a sip of akvavit? Not very likely. The spirit does not lend itself to mixing; though I could imagine it being used as a base for a "Sausagetini". Gin and vodka drinkers are unlikely to appreciate the spices involved: they just aren't something people drink. No, I expect that akvavit will remain a drink for people who experience it in the element of Scandanavia. A rare treat for someone who shops at Ikea for the asthetic rather than the price... someone who appreciataes salmiac-flavored licorice.... someone who doesn't think "lutefisk" isn't the butt of a joke. In other words: a native.

It took about twenty minutes for me to realize that I was not the primary audience of last night's party. There was a Jameson event called The Bartenders Ball, and I tagged along with a friend for the evening. The offerings for the night started as just Jameson but then expanded to Stoli, Beefeater, Chivas, Wild Turkey, and Kahlua after midnight.

"Oh. Pernod."

The evening was an attempt to promote Pernod Ricard's key brands to the influential members of the hospitality industry. I'm not sure how necessary that was, since Jameson is the preferred spirit of the hipster class in Minneapolis. Irish whiskey in general does nicely in this market, heavily marketed by the local Irish pubs like O'Gara's and the Kieran family's bars. This weekend managed to clean out Zipp's liquor store of Jameson, Powers, and Bushmills. Those first two are the primary staples of Pernod Ricard's Irish offerings.

Pernod isn't just marketing Jameson these days. In their "white spritis" area, there's a three-pronged marketing of their top brands. Stolichnaya is reconnecting with its Russian roots by opening a faux Stoli Hotel in Los Angeles. Nobody can sleep there, but they can admire the architecture and connect Stoli the drink with the Hotel Moskva that's pictured on its label. Beefeater, the quintessential English gin, is getting a makeover to reconnect that drink with its London roots. The ad campaign and new packaging are hoping to make it less about the gin and more about the place. The third white spirit, Havana Club, is getting its own inadvertent boost from the courts of justice and public opinion. Bacardi's drive to displace Pernod's Havana Club is only drawing more non-US drinkers to the Pernod version. To extend upon an aphorism; Bacardi gave Pernod the lemons, then had to take them back to make the lemonade for Pernod to drink.

Pernod's Scotches are doing quite nicely as well. Their top-line single malt (Glenlivet) and blend (Chivas) are brand staples in their markets, so Pernod is pushing lesser known Scotches in their portfolio. Ballantines received its own makeover earlier this year and a multi-media advertising push in a few markets. Pernod is hoping to improve people's opinion of the blended Scotch it acquired from Allied Domeq in 2005. Their single malt Scotch Longmorn is slated for a redesign and a marketing push to make it an equal to Glenlivet's success.

So what does an alcologger do at a party designed for bartenders? Enjoy the music, mingle a little, and think about how much cold hard cash fills the marketing budgets of the big drinks companies.

Most lectures about Scotch and its fine qualities will include a blurb about The Scotch Whisky Act. That law and its corresponding acts in the European Union and World Trade Organization set a relatively high bar for what can be called Scotch Whisky.
Intuitively, the first restriction is that it must be a whisky produced in Scotland. Correspondingly, The Scotch Whisky Act prohibits the making of any whiskies other than ones outlined in The Act. What does this mean? First, only malted barley, water, and yeast are allowed in the fermentation process. Second, it cannot exceed 94.8% abv during distillation. Then that spirit off the stills must be barrel aged for a minimum of three years. Said barrels cannot exceed 700 liters in size. Then bottling must be at least 40% abv and only caramel color can be added outside of the aged spirit.
Normally this little education in UK law is supposed to impress people. But there's a flip side to it - specifically that it makes bottling of dirt cheap Scotch rather hard. All drinks have some range of price and/or quality, and so there must be a cheap end to Scotch.
So once you have a spirit that can be called Scotch, then what? Bottling prices are largely fixed, so the cheaper the bottle the higher the percentage paid in just packaging. Then there's shipping costs which also do not discriminate based on price. Tack on an exchange rate that makes export to the US unfavorable and you end up with the bottom end for price for Scotch in Minneapolis weighing in at $10.99 per liter.

But this isn't all doom and gloom, for a quick shopping spree uncovered seven different brands of cheap Scotch available at that price in Minneapolis: Crawford, Claymore, Tyler & Lloyd, Old Smuggler, Scoresby, Bulloch Lade, and Cluny. So either these are all just names for the same stuff or there's actual competition at the bottom of the barrel.

As it turns out, each of the seven do have their own distinct tastes. The Claymore, for example, tasted a lot like a middle-of-the-road Canadian Whisky. All of them had a weak peat, salt, and malt taste to them. If any of them were mixed with soda or sour, you'd be hard pressed to taste the difference between these and a higher end Scotch like Whitehorse, J&B, or Cutty Sark.

And that's really the primary motivation for these Scotches. They really are intended to be mixed into cocktails or served over the rocks. These aren't brands people seek, but countless numbers drink them every night and don't know their names. To them, they're all "Scotch".

To be clear, I am not about to pour any of these down the drain. Once I assembled the bottles together I realized that by the end of tonight I could have seven liters of alcohol, each bottle with a quarter shot poured from each. I don't expect to drink these quickly, but I do plan to drink them. They're actually not that bad, and definitely some of the better cheap drinks out there. In a way it's almost a backhanded compliment to The Scotch Whisky Act for ensuring that even the cheapeast Scotch is at least minimally drinkable.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Old Smuggler left and I intend to drink it.