Alcolog

It's not every day you get to taste a piece of history, or at least a piece of history that's unaged. But it's hard not to be grandiose about tasting a gin that hasn't been available in the Unites States for over a half century. Old tom gin was once the most popular gin in the world. It was the original gin of England as genever transformed into the gin we know today. For this reason, it's seen as the missing link of the gin world.

Why Old tom? When gin came into prominence in England, the gin houses would put black tomcats on their signs. The "old" is a nod to it being the old standard gin of its time. It's also why so many gin cocktails have "tom" in their name. So, in a way, today's London Dry could be called "new tom" gin. But as London dry gained in popularity, old tom suffered. Then, as vodka started to supplant gin in drinks like martinis and gimlets, old tom faded from view.

But now it's back, thanks to the transformation of the American bartender. There's a growing set of bartenders who are seen more as mixologists than drink slingers. Within that population, there's a subset known as the historical mixologist. They research the drinks that were popular a century ago, and finding that the ingredients aren't around anymore. Old tom came back because these mixologists wanted to make the original Tom Collins, and more importantly the martinez, widely considered the progenitor of the modern martini.

Enter Eric Seed of Haus Alpenz importers. His young business focuses on importing rare and niche liquors like old tom. He was able to secure import rights to Hayman's Old Tom Gin, and its been gradually coming into markets around the country. It's a bit ironic that Eric is based in Minneapolis and I've been in search of this gin for months now. Not until late last month was it possible for places here to buy it, and Town Talk Diner happened to be the first place to offer it on-sale.

So I'm sitting here, at the bar, staring at seven bottles of gin. Old tom is sitting on the end, with representation from all stripes of gin and genever lined to the left. I gotta say there's a reason why it's back - none of these gins taste like it at all. Well, Bluecoat from Philadelphia is close, but only because it has such a bold profile. The obvious closest relatives are the Boomsma jonge or the Old Raj, but I can't make the link. This gin really does belong in a class by itself. A class that has sadly been under-attended for decades but, hopefully, will expand as people try it again, for the first time.

Recently, John Hansell opined about a bad reaction to his giving a whisky a low score. There wasn't any indication on who did it, but it was evident that it happens enough times to give him trouble. People's bad reactions to scores below their expectation is not surprising. It's like lowballing a seller when you're buying a house: the seller is taking it personally that you don't think his home (note the emotional attachment) is worth as much as the seller feels it should be. The buyer has no attachment to the house so his price is probably more accurate, but that doesn't mean the seller's feelings aren't hurt.

So this is one of the major reasons I don't score alcohol: No matter how objective the scoring system, someone is going to take offense at it. I might not care if they get offended, but why make up a system that, by design, causes such a negative emotional reaction?

Along the same lines, I don't actually make tasting notes. Sure I'll throw some together for a tasting event, but that's largely because they're expected. But I find comparative analogies to be more helpful. People know what they like, and tend to like things similar to their existing tastes. Do you like Irish Whiskey? You'll probably like Springbank more than Lagavulin. Big fan of Macallan? Try a Glenfarclas, and you'll probably be happy. Not a big fan of the "pine cone" gins? Try G'vine, it's the anti-gin gateway drink.

This comparative approach feeds into the closest thing I do to an actual score: suggesting something is or isn't a good buy. Any liquor that's not as good as its closest comparison AND costs more money just isn't worth the money. On the flip side, if there's a liquor that's better than its closest rival and costs less, then it's a good buy. Why pay $25 for something that isn't better than something that costs $15? Call it a different approach to buyer's remorse, but knowing that something is both good and cheap is a delight.

My point in all of this is that we all have our own versions of tasting notes and they're internalized memories of what we've had in the past. We all rate these drinks in a massively subjective way because smells cause such emotional reactions. This is why comparative analogies work so well when you're talking about alcohol. The "tastes like" comparison is rarely so far off the mark that people will think you're smoking crack. But if you say something has a "leathery" texture and someone else thinks that it tastes like "wet dog playing in mud", they're going to think the first person is off their rocker. Even though, really, they're probably the same taste.