Bill Owens of the American Distilling Institute traces what he calls the “renaissance in distilling” to the work of Jorg Rupf, currently at St. George’s Distillery in Amameda, California, beginning about twenty years ago. Rupf’s Hangar One vodkas, especially his fruit infusions, did indeed change the definition of vodka in the U.S. and broke the price barrier that favored imported vodkas over domestic ones.
Looking at changes in the spirits market over the past 20-30 years, we see that the popularity of vodka in the U.S. can be traced back to the very successful Absolut advertising campaign, which started in the early eighties. Bellvedere’s introduction of the super-premium bottle and matching product followed in the nineties and started the upward trend in price expectations. Then came flavored vodkas produced by the large-scale manufacturers, which promised more than they delivered in sales and new directions. This, I believe, was the point at which the opening for real change occurred.
These trends in the vodka market brought the discerning American drinker to the point where high-priced, flavored vodkas could be appreciated, and Rupf’s work was there and ready to fill the opening. His hand-distilled fruit infusions cannot be produced on a large, industrial scale. They continue in the tradition of European, small-scale, highly-skilled eau-de-vie production, and thus began the movement in American artisan distilling.
The next step in this development is illustrated quite clearly by Vermont Spirits. This involves using the techniques of artisan distilling, namely small-batch, labor-intensive methods to bring out the special character of the substrate from which the vodka is made. The substrate is the substance from which the alcohol is fermented and can include various grains, potatoes, grapes, apples, cane, and in the case of Vermont Spirits, milk sugar and maple sap. This most recent step in the denelopment of the vodka market requires a fundamental change in the perception of what vodka is and how it can be made. It requires, first, that we debunk the myth that vodka is “flavorless and odorless” which has been the basis of the ATF, now TTB, definition of vodka for many years. And second, it requires that we question the assertion that it is only the water that gives distinct character to any particular vodka.
We know now that there can be Character with a capital “C” in spirits distilled above 190 proof. So, the technical definition of vodka as any spirits distilled over 190 proof should replace the old definition based on lack of flavor and odor. We also know that the water is important, because the clarity of good vodka allows the water to express itself. But, we know also that the substrate is at least as important if it is given the proper expression in the final product.
To anyone who has worked with different substrates in beer and wine making it is obvious that the result product is distinctive. Indeed, this should be obvious to anyone. But, carrying these distinctions through to the bottle in spirits making in a way that highlights their special and salubtious characteristics requires special special distilling techniques and a matching set of characteristics in the distiller and the taster. By meeting these requirements, the final product is elevated from an industrial commodity to a work of art. For this transformation to be successful, the distiller, the taster and all those who appreciate the resulting spirits need to cultivate a new set of skills.
For vodka distilling to be an art – for this is what we mean by artisan distilling – three conditions must be met:
- the distillery itself must be an instrument that can express the art;
- the distiller and taster must possess some of the characteristics of the artist;
- and, the particular quality of art that involves keeping the production process alive and senstitive to change must be present.
Let me briefly discuss these conditions.
Looking at the distillery as an instrument for the art, scale and precision are most relevant. The finishing still should not be too big. It should easily handle small batches that can be monitored and evaluated. There should not be too much at stake if a batch needs to be rejected or re-distilled. Continuous distillation at the final stage is out of the question, because this would necessarily involve too much compromise between quality and expedience.
Nor should the finishing still be too small. A home-still is not the best size. Like a toy piano or ukulele it can produce modest results, at best, in the hands of a master. This is because the medium (namely, the spectrum of major and minor compounds of alcohol) and the technique (which involves selecting and rejecting parts of that spectrum) do not lend themselves well to a pallet that is too small.
In addtition, the distiller needs to be in touch with the fementation process and the early stages of the distillation process. One cannot simply be a rectifier and accomplish the desired results. The raw material for the art is formed in the fermenter. Knowing the range of results from the fermentation and bringing them to the finishiong process intact, is essential to good results.
Another impotant element of the instrument is location – location in various senses. Perhaps the most important sense is “terroire”, the geographical position and place of the distillery. The particular source of water and the availability of substrate play important roles in the enjoyment of the process and ther quality of the product. The space inside the distillery is also important. A basement or closet is not the best place for a still, despite the legal pressures that have put many of them there. A light, airy space for working and tasting is necessary.
Regarding the distiller, let me preface my remarks by saying a few words about myself. The first thing I would like to say, is that I backed into this profession. My wife and daughter and I found an old farm in Vermont and fell in love with it. We set up a tent fifteen years ago, and almost immediately started working on schemes for how to live there full-time. It took ten years to come up with the idea of using maple sap from our trees to make vodka. We quit good jobs with promise of early retirement to return to the farm an begin this new life on the land. From this experience, I can say that being at a place that we loved and having a dream we wanted to live helped us greatly to overcome some of the hurdles and hazards of starting the distillery.
After a year and a half of building and working on the product, the distillery burned to the ground. This felt like the end of the world at the time. The building was made of trees from the land and most of our resources had been spent. We were devastated. But, this turned out, of course, to be a blessing in disguise. I can say now that having a second chance to build the distillery was essential to its eventual success. The third one will be better yet.
I should also say about myself that I spent thirty years as an anthropologist working with rural people in Southeast Asia, studying their efforts to eke out a living under difficult circumstances. This turned out to be excellent training for our attempt to eke out a living in northern Vermont. But, more important than this, as a young student at the University of Chicago Lab School, I was told that I should pursue a career in the sciences. It took something fun like this to finally bring me around to it. But, I would say, in general, that an aptitude if not a proclivity for the physical sciences is essential for success as a distiller.
To be an artisan distiller, however, one must also possess some of the qualities of the artist. What I mean by keeping the production process alive is not letting it become too routine and not allowing the results to be too safe from error. A healthy curiosity that seeks continually to improve the process is perhaps the most positive way to describe the quality that leads to these results. A convenient lack of rigor might be the some other would choose to describe it.
But, let me switch the focus now to the taster and appreciator of the spirits, because the qualities I am trying to describe must be embraces by all of us if we are to participate in the development of artisan-distilled spirits. The key to our success here requires a change in perception about what vodka is and what it can be.
We need to view these new vodkas more like wine than like medicine. Medicine was the underlying and usually unspoken metaphor for defining vodka. We want our medicine to be unvarying, precise to the point of boredom so as to predictably perform the desired result. This is how vodka has been perceived. The Absolut metaphor, the idea that vodka should be nothing more than pure water and pure ethanol, points to this medicinal root metaphor. It is safe, and the desire for safety is understandable in an environment where prohibition and moonshine presented clear dangers. But, it is also boring!
When we think of wine, oth the other hand, we want our wine to be able to be surprising. We want it to be sensitive to micro-changes in climate and place, to vary and change from the moment the cork is put in place au domaine to the moment it is pulled. And, after the cork is pulled, during the period of our appreciation we keep our senses alive to its continuing change. Good vodka, really good vodka, is not very different.
So, how can we look at vodka in this new light. Let me illustrate with two brief examples from Vermont Spirits Gold and White vodkas.
Maple fermentations are characterized by sweetness at the head, unlike apple, where the flavor of the apple appears most clearly at the tail. Cutting the heads too deeply in a maple distillation can cause the loss of this desirable quality. Cutting too close to the head can make the resulting spirits too sweet. This question of sweetness is, of course, a matter of taste. My position has been that we need to overcome the idea of maple as a sweetener. So, I worked to make this inherent sweetness as subtle as possible without eliminating it all together. Another characteristic of maple fermentations is a natural bite. I chose not to eliminate or disguise this “burn” with heavy filtering, but to let it come through as a distinctine quality of Vermont Spirits Gold.
Vermont Spirits White is a milk vodka. Lactose fermentations have a stronger head than maple, rich in light alcohols, including acetone. It would not make a suitable beer for drinking, whereas maple as an old reputation as a substrate for beer among maple producers in Vermont. Cutting deep into the lactose ferment one still finds subtle flavors of vanillaand an extraordinary smoothness probably expressed by residual complex sugars. Catching a hint of these characteristic is the art of making Vermont Spirits White.
