They're invisible and smell like acorns.

Well, we did Harpoon Brewery, so it was about time for a post on Boston’s other big brewery, Samuel Adams. Strap in, this is a big one.

I’m going to go ahead and assume most people have heard of Sam Adams. It’s one of the largest domestically-owned breweries, either just ahead of, just behind, or tied with Yuengling, depending on your source. They each produce around 2.5 million barrels of beer. That’s nothing compared to the 10 million Miller cranks out in Milwaukee alone, but it’s a lot more than the 125,000 bbls from Harpoon Brewery. However, Harpoon is the largest brewery IN Boston, a point I’ll explain later.

Samuel Adams Boston Lager, the flagship beer, was born in founder Jim Koch’s kitchen in the mid-1980s. Well, kind of. What he brewed was Louis Koch Lager, an old family recipe; Koch’s family had been brewers before Prohibition. He rebranded it as Samuel Adams, named for the “brewer and patriot” of Colonial America, and publicly released the beer on Patriot’s Day in 1985. Then it started winning awards. Lots of awards.

Basically, Jim hit it at the right time. Craft beer was just starting to take hold in America in the mid-80s, and Sam Lager was a powerful tasting beer compared to the macrobrews on the market. However, it was still drinkable, and tasty enough to convince people to give it a try. Boston Beer Company, doing business as Samuel Adams Brewery, has been cranking ever since, all the way to 2.5 million barrels in 2011. The trick is, that beer isn’t coming from Boston. Sam Adams owns two other breweries in Cincinnati, OH and Breinigsville, PA; the facility in Boston is only for R&D and tours. That’s why Harpoon is the biggest brewery in Boston, though Sam is much bigger as a whole.

So, let’s get to the tour. First of all, Sam is located in Jamaica Plain, a neighborhood of Boston south of the city (not to be confused with South Boston). The Boston Beer Company facility resides in the old Haffenreffer Brewery, which was in business from 1870 to 1965. They started up in JP because of the Stony Brook aquifer, which provided them with fresh water to brew with. Haffenreffer’s remaining legacy (aside from the smokestack that reads “Fenreffer Brewers”) is Private Stock malt liquor, which is currently brewed by MillerCoors, though the family also had ties with Narragansett Brewery. The current site is only a part of the previous brewery complex, and old solid brick buildings are scattered throughout the area. It’s a few blocks from the Stony Brook T stop (on the Orange line) but the past couple times we’ve been able to find street parking in the area. Occasionally you can score a spot in the Sam lot, but I wouldn’t count on it.

The tour is free, with a suggested donation of $2 to local charities. Get there EARLY, especially if it’s nice weather, if there’s a local sporting event, if it’s a holiday, in spring, in summer, in fall and sometimes winter. Given the national familiarity with the Sam Adams brand, it’s a popular Boston attraction, even if you have to go to the wasteland of JP to get there. I’ve been several times, but this time we got up there nice and early, and scored a spot on the 10:20 “Nobel Pils” tour. After showing ID, you get a hand stamp and a beer label which acts as your ticket and corresponds to the time of your tour. While our tour was the Nobel Pils label, the next one might be Alpine Spring or Cherry Wheat. Just a simple way of keeping people on the proper tour. Naturally, the later you get there, the more the tours fill up, so around noon they might be booking the 2pm tours. Plan accordingly.





The first stop on the tour is in the back where our very chipper tour guide, Katie, gave a brief history of the brewing process and passed around samples of hops and barley. Breakfast! Sam is big on their connection to Reinheitsgebot, the German beer purity law of 1516 which states that beer can only be made from water, hops and barley. Back then, they didn’t know about yeast yet, so that didn’t make the cut (it was later added into the law). Sam uses two-row barley (Harrington and Metcalfe) because it’s “plumper and juicier” and they can get more fermentable sugars out of it. The barley is toasted mainly in three varieties: pale malt, for lighter beers, caramel 60, which gives Boston Lager a darker amber color and slightly toasted flavor, and chocolate malt, for their darker beers, such as black lager and chocolate bock. The primary hop used is Hallertau Mittelfrueh, a noble hop from Bavaria. Each year, Jim travels over to Germany to personally check out the hop crops. Sam’s water source isn’t JP’s Stony Brook, but rather the Quabbin Reservoir that supplies all of Boston’s fresh water, though Sam also filters onsite.





Once the barley had been munched, and everyone’s hands reeked of hop, the group moved to the second portion of the tour, the brewhouse, flanked by towering fermenters and conditioning tanks. It’s here that the beer is brewed, fermented, conditioned (Boston Lager takes five weeks to condition) and kegged. There is no canning or bottling in the small Boston facility, and the kegs go to one of three destinations – local bars, beer competitions, or the tasting room. Here’s a handy tip: when the group moves into the brewhouse area, hang near the back. You’ll still be able to hear, because the tour guides are miked, but once their little speech is done, it’s an about-face into the tasting room. By staying near the back of the brewhouse, you’ll be first in line for the tasting room.





On the way into the room, you’ll get a 4oz tasting glass, with one of the qualities of beer tasting printed on it, like aroma, color, and taste. Pitchers are poured and passed down the tables, starting with the Boston Lager, an amber, medium-bodied (“heavier than water, lighter than cream”) brew. Tour Guide Katie went on to tell us of Sam’s commitment to fresh beer, which in all honesty is important. Sam gets a “best by” date on the side of the bottle, and will buy back beer from retailers if it’s past that date. The old beer gets dumped, although once a year it goes into a dunk tank with Jim Koch in the hot seat. The quote was that “Jim would rather put himself in old beer than put old beer in you.” The importance of this struck home the very next day, when I “borrowed” a Sam Lager from my dad’s stash in his basement, only to find out it was dated “Best By April, 2010.” Two year old Sam Lager. It’s still drinkable, just not very good. The hop character is COMPLETELY gone, leaving a malty sickly ale flavor behind. It tastes like mediocre homebrew. Fresh Sam Lager however is mighty tasty. Incredibly flavorful compared to most light pilsner-style lagers from the macrobrewers.





The next sample is generally the current seasonal, which meant that Sam Summer was on tap. It’s an unfiltered weizen (wheat) beer flavored with lemon peel and Grains of Paradise. Seasonal beers aren’t my favorite, and Sam Summer is no exception, even though that statement might put a bounty on my head. It’s got a fanatical following in Boston, but I don’t really like lemony beers. I’ll take the lager any day. I like hops, not fruit in my beer. One question from the crowd was something I’d been wondering: are the seasonal recipes tweaked? Many people, including myself, feel that some of the seasonals, especially the summer and winter offerings, taste different year-to-year. The “official” answer was that the recipes are not tweaked, though there may be variances in the crops, like lemons. So… the taste DOES change. They were also quick to point out that you can’t “remember” a flavor accurately, but I suspect there’s a fair amount of variation going on. This year’s summer, for example, is not quite as lemony as I recall.

The final sample was a new offering, Boston 26.2 Marathon Brew, which was created in conjunction with Sam’s sponsorship of the Boston Marathon this year, and served on tap only in Boston. This one doesn’t conform to Reinheitsgebot, as it contains coriander and kosher salt. It’s a 4.5% abv session beer with a light, fruity aroma, and tangy, fruit taste with a candy-like finish. There’s a gummy-snack fruitiness going on in there, but overall tasty. Might make a refreshing way to rehydrate after running 26 miles.


While tasting the Marathon Beer and thinking how happy I was to not be running a marathon, Katie launched into the story of Sam’s “perfect pint” glass. Jim was over in Germany, in a bar (shocking!) and ordered a beer. The server came back and said they couldn’t give him that beer because they were out of the proper glass for it. Anyone who’s been to a decent beer bar in Europe can attest to that: it’s a big deal over there. Ever wonder why there are so many beer glasses with brewery logos on them? It’s because the breweries contract companies to produce glasses specifically for their beer, which are shipped to bars for serving. The proper beer goes in the proper glass. Jim saw this and thought “Why don’t I have a glass for MY beer?” So he contacted a company in Lexington called TIAX to design a glass for Boston Lager. Two years and many free “sample” kegs later, they developed the Sam Adams glass.

With the final sample quaffed, the tour was over. You get your tasting glass rinsed out, and exit through the gift shop chock full of Sam gear. But the adventure doesn’t have to end here. For the past several years, the brewery has been running a promotion with local JP establishment Doyle’s Cafe, which was the first bar to carry Sam Adams in the city of Boston. So they’ve been buddies for awhile, even though Doyle’s has been there since freaking 1882. It’s an Irish bar full of history well worth stopping into for a pint, and Sam makes it even easier: there’s a trolley that runs from the brewery to Doyle’s for free (it also makes a stop at the Stony Brook T station). If you order a Sam Adams beer (they were $6) at Doyle’s and show your hand stamp or ticket from the brewery tour, you get to keep the perfect pint glass. Highly recommended.





Be prepared: Jason, the driver, runs a party trolley, complete with lasers, disco ball, fog machine, bubble machine, brass poles, music blasting, and pumping the brakes to make it bounce. We started off with a Neil Diamond singalong to “Sweet Caroline” followed by “Cracklin’ Rosie” before arriving at the bar. An order of potato skins, two Sam Adams Latitude 48 IPAs and free glasses later, the Lady Friend and I reboarded the rolling dance party to the strains of “Fire Burning.” Over the pumping beats, Jason, a Boston tour guide for 15 years, shouted out some fun facts such as “30 years before they thought of Fenway, they were partying at DOYLE’S,” and “DOYLE’S has the best chowdah in the city. I eat chowdah like cereal in the morning,” and that Doyle’s burgers are “…a cut above Five Guys,” which drew jeers from the crowd and a comment of “That’s a bold statement!”





So, the Sam experience is a giant draw for good reason. One of the biggest craft brewers in the country in Boston’s backyard, with an informative (free) tour and samples. The tie-in with Doyle’s is a highly recommended experience of its own, and will get you a souvenir pint glass to keep with your tasting glass. I personally feel that Sam brews their beers as crowd-pleasers, and while they have a WIDE variety of brews, they’re mostly stepping stones into the different styles. While I love the Boston Lager, their Campfire Rauchbier (smoked beer) has just a hint of smoke, especially compared to a REAL rauchbier, and their Latitude 48 IPA is like a hoppy version of the Boston Lager. I always feel they could do so much more, but that would be at the risk of hurting sales. You don’t get to 2.5 million barrels of production by alienating people, and there’s plenty of smaller breweries pushing the boundaries so Sam doesn’t have to. As long as Sam keeps making good beer, I’ll forgive them. Go take a tour.

This week’s Bacchanalian bounty comes courtesy of 12 Bottle Bar, a post from about two years ago. The Fitzgerald is, essentially, a gin sour. Apparently created by legend Dale DeGroff, 12 Bottle got the recipe from DeGroff’s OTHER cocktail book, The Essential Cocktail: The Art of Mixing Perfect Drinks. If I owned that particular tome, I likely would have made this one long ago, as I am generally a fan of sours. Sours are a certain family of cocktails, like slings, cobblers, flips and collinseses. The sour is a mixture of spirit, sugar, and citrus juice, usually in similar ratios, and is one of the most popular styles of mixed drinks. Here’s a few examples:

Whiskey Sour: whiskey, simple syrup, lemon juice

Daiquiri (Rum Sour): rum, simple syrup, lime juice

Margarita (Tequila Sour): tequila, triple sec, lime juice

Sidecar (Brandy Sour): brandy or cognac, triple sec, lemon juice

Kamikaze (Vodka Sour): vodka, triple sec, lime juice.

Pisco Sour: pisco, simple syrup, lime juice, egg white, Angostura bitters

Traditionally, a whiskey sour also contained egg white, which gives the drink a frothier, creamier mouthfeel, though I don’t really care for it.


So, the Fitzgerald is a gin sour, with some Angostura bitters added in. Here’s how to make it:


The Fitzgerald

- 1 1/2 oz gin (Bombay London Dry used)
- 3/4 oz lemon juice
- 3/4 oz simple syrup
- 2 dashes Angostura bitters

Shake with ice, strain, and serve in a cocktail glass. Float a lemon wheel as garnish. Sip quietly among the violets whilst contemplating the Violet Hour.








The two dashes of Angostura give the liquid an orange hue, rather than the usual pale lemon yellow sour. The nose is rather gin-y, with a botanical perfume wafting up from the surface, despite the lemon wheel lazily drifting about the coupe. There is a slight Pledge quality from the citrus, though the gin certainly dominates the aroma.


The taste is a lovely floral mixture of gin and lemon, but sweet. After being spoiled by tasty Rehorst Gin, I find the Bombay London Dry to be a bit on the perfumey side, like funeral homes and plug-in air fresheners. It’s certainly a lemony drink, and the Angostura lends a much-needed dark spice to the background. Without the bitters, this would likely be too sickly-sweet, but the cinnamon clove zest of the Angostura certainly livens up the party. It’s quite nice, but I’d like it better with a different gin and an extra dash of bitters.

Yet another travel series that I never seem to finish. This one tells the tales of our Milwaukee adventures in late March of 2012. We went there to do some serious drinking. Oh, and also Trevtastic got married. Yeah, some girl actually married that boy. But still, it was a good excuse to show the Lady Friend the various drinking landmarks of Milwaukee, so that’s what we did. Wistful wanderings in Wisco. Part 1 is here.
Yah dere hey.

Friday morning was rather dreary and damp, but we had drinking to do. The first stop of the day was the behemoth complex of the Miller Brewing Company. Obviously, I’m a craft beer fan, but with many friends in the Midwest, and several trips to Milwaukee, I’ve had my fair share of Miller Lite as well. I insisted that the Miller tour was a mandatory part of our trip for the Lady Friend, so she can truly appreciate the SCALE of these macrobreweries. The facility in Milwaukee produces 10 MILLION BARRELS of beer every year, and that’s just one of their 11 breweries across the country. By comparison, Harpoon Brewery in Boston produces 125,000 bbls a year. Miller makes 80 TIMES more beer from ONE facility. It’s absolutely mind-blowing.


So, we started our tour. It’s free, but has a number of rules and warnings. Nothing too scary, but yes, there is walking involved, and yes, there are a number of stairs to climb in the brewhouse. It’s not the most fun tour on a rainy or cold day, as you hoof it down the road and in and out of various buildings, but totally worth it in the end. No smoking, no bathroom breaks (this was a concern for the Lady Friend), and no strollers, though if you’re the sort of psychopath that thinks it’s cute and fun to bring very small children who wail incessantly on a public tour, then I hope you develop an ear infection that makes you drastically more sensitive to sound, rendering the cries of your little stinkcritter as unbearable to you as it is to everyone else around you. This goes for airplanes, restaurants, and movies theaters as well. No one likes your horrible offspring except you, so just stay home to raise your brood where you won’t bother the rest of us.

Yes, there were some children on this tour… what makes you ask?


Anyway, they start off by taking your picture in front of a painted Miller mural in the lobby that you can purchase later, packaged with a keychain, for about $20. A nice Disney-level scam to add to the magic. The actual tour begins with a little propaganda film that tells a brief history of Miller Brewing so the tour guides don’t have to. They changed the film since the last tour I took, where the slogan “It’s Miller Time!” was flashed so many times on the screen that it was laughable. I stopped counting at 15 references in a 10-minute film. However, that’s gone now, and they focus instead on a Katy Perry-wannabe dressed as the Girl in the Moon logo from the Miller High Life branding. According to the film, the brewery was started in 1855 by German immigrant Frederick Miller, when he purchased the Plank-Road Brewery. They brewed 300 bbls in their first year, and really expanded the brand in 1871, when they provided beer to the citizens of Chicago following the Great Fire. Ownership of the company finally left the family when Miller’s anti-alcohol granddaughter sold the majority to W.R. Grace and Company in 1966, which was later purchased by Phillip Morris in 1969. Miller Lite came along in 1973, creating a new horrific category of “low-calorie” beers. In 2002, Phillip Morris sold Miller to South African Breweries (SAB) to create SABMiller, similar to Budweiser’s Anheuser-Busch InBev conglomerate. In 2007, SABMiller and the Molson Coors Brewing Company combined to create the MillerCoors joint venture, which is currently where the branding remains today. So, Miller Brewing Company is actually SABMiller in a joint venture with MillerCoors. Big business.

Following the film, the tour guide takes over. Our guide, whose name I didn’t catch, was like an excitable version of a T.G.I. Friday’s waiter on meth. You know that overly-friendly “everything is magical and happy here, all day, every day, never any problems nope nope nope” tooth-grinding forced-smile kind of attitude? Like that. As if he’d be beaten with a pillowcase full of Miller Lite cans for not reaching his smile quota, or having too few pieces of flair. So Chipper McGee led us on a short walk down the street to the bottling plant and distribution warehouse. They put the beer into bottles, cans, and kegs, and ship it out. There’s really not much else to tell about this place, except for throwing out some numbers. Staggering numbers. They package 500,000 cases of beer per DAY, enough beer to fill 30,000 Olympic-sized swimming pools in a year. 60% of the beer goes to cans, 30% to bottles, and the remaining 10% into kegs. It’s pretty quick too: 1400 bottles are filled per minute, while cans can go at 2000 per minute (1.5 cases per second). 15,000 kegs are filled per day, going to bars and restaurants nation-wide. The kegs are stored cool, and aren’t pasteurized like the cans and bottles. The big argument there is that pasteurizing (heating the beer, then cooling rapidly to increase shelf-life) eliminates bacteria in the beer. Well, allegedly, it also decreases flavor, which you certainly won’t notice in Miller Lite, but might notice in a hoppy craft brew. That’s why many craft beers are best drunk within a certain window of time, before the hops and flavors start to diminish, whereas a pasteurized macrobrew can likely sit on the shelf for years with no ill-effects. According to Miller, pasteurizing beer buys them 17 weeks of unrefrigerated storage. Ick.

From the bottling line, we go down to their 200,000 sq ft warehouse, which has a capacity of 500,000 cases. Since they package 500,000 cases per day, there’s a nearly daily turnover rate, which is staggering for that amount of beer. 3% of the product is loaded onto train boxcars (which used to be the primary shipping method back in the day) but the whopping majority, 97%, simply goes into trucks.


Across the street is the actual brewhouse, a multi-story affair with six, 590 bbl kettles that are 18′ deep, producing 26,000 bbls of beer every DAY. It takes 3-4 weeks to finish the brewing process before the beer is packaged. Miller claims to run at 98% waste free, with their spent grain going to livestock feed. A question about the usage of genetically-modified (GM) hops stopped the otherwise chipper tour guide cold, with a forced smile and shaky reply of “I’m not sure, but I will find out that answer for you!” As we descended the stairs, I remarked to the Lady Friend that perhaps a bigger concern would be the use of GM corn, rather than hops, since Miller is a major producer of adjunct lagers. Later on, at the tasting portion of the tour, the guide informed us that yes, GM hops are used, but with a twist: Miller actually owns several patents on specific hops, I’m assuming some sort of proprietary hybrids. I wasn’t aware you could patent a hop. Moreover, the guide confirmed that yes, lots of GM corn was used as well.

The side of the modern brewhouse is slathered with an absolutely immense mural which can be seen for MILES. The tour guide told me it was one of the largest hand-painted murals in the country. Like most things on the tour, it’s mind-blowingly big.

Next, we popped into the “famous caves” built to keep the lager beer cool and happy. Dug into a hillside, the lagering caves were packed with ice to keep the lager yeast satisfied, even in warm summer weather. Ale yeast likes warm (room temp) climates to ferment, while lager needs cooler surroundings. There’s even a “spooky” visitor in the caves: a projected video of the ghost of Frederick Miller, talking about the social, family aspects of his fine German beer. Some of the small children weren’t terribly fond of this portion of the tour, and there was some hullabaloo to that effect.


Following the caves, it’s sample time. You’ll either head across the street to the Beer Garden, an outdoor patio, or into the Miller Inn, depending on the season. Last time was a beautiful sunny September day, but the cool rainy climate of this March visit meant we popped into the Inn. There were three samples provided, with a larger-than-usual pour of about 8oz, in a tasting glass (the Beer Garden serves in plastic cups). We went through Miller Lite, Miller High Life, and a new offering, Miller Valley Ale, with a sweetish malt nose and taste, and reddish amber color, dark when compared to the usual pale straw yellow pilsners. It wasn’t bad, but was especially tasty compared to Lite and High Life. But really, what isn’t?

That’s pretty much the tour. You hike back down the road to the main visitor’s building, and can browse the ludicrous number of logo-emblazoned products in the gift shop. We didn’t linger, because there were other stops to make (more breweries!) and we didn’t need any Miller Lite pint glasses. They’re not terribly exclusive. There are quite a few to choose from, as the MillerCoors venture produces Coors, Coors Light, Hamm’s, Icehouse, Keystone, Mickey’s, Miller Genuine Draft, Miller High Life, Miller Lite, Miller 64 (new! It’s Miller Lite LIGHT), Milwaukee’s Best (Beast), Beast Ice, Olde English, Red Dog, Steel Reserve, Blue Moon (Coors’s “craft” beer), Killian’s, the Leinenkugel lineup (bought in 1988), Foster’s, Molson Canadian, Molson Golden, Molson Ice, Molson XXX, Sharps, and Sparks. Oh, and they contract brew PBR. That doesn’t even include the imports owned by SAB. Here’s the full list.





As a whole, the tour doesn’t sound that exciting because it’s a very corporate, very controlled affair, and they really don’t like it when you wander off the marked path or ask uncomfortable questions. It attracts a LOT of tourists and families, so be prepared for that as well. Still, the tour is WELL worth doing if you’re in Milwaukee. It’s free and there are samples at the end. Even if you’re a craft beer/ anti-macro type drinker, you really need to go on this tour just to see the sheer SCALE of this operation. Miller puts out something like 40 MILLION BARRELS of beer a year, with 10 million coming from this facility alone. It’s simply staggering. Go there and see for yourself.

Whilst stroking the blank space under my nose where my awesome handlebar mustache used to be (the Lady Friend did not approve, and somehow she obtained a large number of electoral votes) I happened across a tasty looking recipe. It comes from The Barkeeper’s May issue of this year. It was just the thing to sip while fondly recalling my days as a facially-follicled gent.


The Mustachio

1 ½ oz Bourbon (Used Old Crow Reserve)
1 oz Cointreau (Used Grand Marnier)
¾ oz Campari
½ oz lemon juice

Shake/ strain/ serve in a chilled cocktail glass. Be sure to include the garnish.

For the garnish: I recommend cutting a large swath of lemon peel away from the fruit, and trimming off the pith. Then, use your paring knife (or Xacto like I did) to slice the proper handlebar mustache shape.


Nose: Well, it’s confusing. It smells like bourbon, Campari and lemon mixed together. Which is how it should smell, I suppose. Like a whiskey sour, but with Campari in it.

Taste: Less sweet than I imagined. The bourbon is certainly in there, and it’s doing freaky-deakey things with the bittersweet Campari. It starts with a dry, tart, herbal bitter from the Campari, but with bourbon’s hot sweet mess. I used Grand Marnier instead of Cointreau, and it adds a bit of dark sweetness which pairs well with the whiskey. The lemon is hanging out in the background, but very subdued. It’s the Campari and the bourbon slugging it out, and the Campari might win. Perhaps a bigger whiskey, like the higher-proof Knob Creek would do it, but the super-tasty Old Crow Reserve goes down swinging.

The Lady Friend’s take: “Smell: bourbon. I don’t taste any Campari.” I think her tastebuds are broken. I belive she’s mistaking the Camapri’s bittersweet for lemon tart. There really isn’t much lemon juice in there to make much impact. She did make her “Campari grimace” face.

I miss my mustache.

For our Bully Boy rum review click here: Bully Boy Rum
For our Bully Boy vodka review click here: Bully Boy Vodka
For our visit to the Bully Boy distillery click here: Bully Boy Distillery

Finally, we come to the the final installment of my Bully Boy product line reviews. That is, until their aged stuff has finished properly aging. Which is taking FOR-EV-ERRRR.

Sidebar: if you can find a way to either accelerate or restrict the aging process, then either alcohol producers or Baby Boomers will pay you uncountable fortunes.

Bully Boy produces a wheat-based, white whiskey, two unusual characteristics that are becoming more popular in the industry. With white (clear) unaged whiskies popping up on shelves labeled as “white dog,” “white lightning,” or even straight-up “moonshine,” Bully Boy takes the trend and adds a bit more craft to the process. Like their vodka, the use of regionally-sourced wheat earns the whiskey a USDA Organic stamp, and an entirely different flavor from most other brands, which tend to use corn more than wheat, rye, or barley.

To be legally labeled as whiskey, rather than “unaged wheat spirit,” you have to age it. Bully Boy ages theirs for eight hours. Yup. Eight. That’s it. They started off with a full 24 hours, but wound up with more of the barrel’s smokey char flavor than desired. Despite the raw, alcohol burn of the young whiskey, this one clocks in at a standard 80 proof, 40% abv.

Time for a sample.


Nose: A bit hot in the nose. Some mild acetone, but with a sweetness lurking underneath. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it sugary, but there’s a very dry, honey candy behind the booze. It’s like the missing link between the vodka’s “wet granite” (couldn’t resist) neutral spirit, and the rum’s molasses sugar wonderland. Being a wheat-based spirit, I’m picking up a lot of banana as well, much like a Belgian beer, though lacking the clove spice that often goes with it. There’s an herbal essence (try the body wash!) reminiscent of Irish poteen, though a side-by-side comparison with both my Bunratty and Knockeen Hills emphasizes the alcoholic nose of the Bully Boy.

Taste: Neat, at room temperature. Hot on the tongue, then evaporates cleanly, leaving behind flavors of dry wheat grasses and a mildly antiseptic vodka-like cleanliness. There’s quite a bit of that dry honey again, and even a bit of dry wild herbs, like a very subdued poteen.


Let’s put it in a cocktail and see what happens. Since last week’s Rule 37 was the scotch whisky based Affinity cocktail, I though I’d give it a try with the Bully Boy. The original recipe of equal parts spirit, sweet vermouth and dry vermouth with Angostura bitters tasted much more vermouthy than the scotch version of the drink. The more delicate Bully Boy is washed away in a tipple where even the Angostura makes its presence know in the middle ground. As I suspected, when using a spirit less powerful than a Big Scotch, the recipe needs some tweaking. So tweak I did, arriving at this recipe, which I suppose I’d have to call “An Affinity for Bully Boy.”


An Affinity for Bully Boy
Original recipe on right, updated variation on left.

- 1 1/2 oz Bully Boy Whiskey
- 3/4 oz sweet vermouth
- 3/4 oz dry vermouth
- 1 dash orange bitters

STIR in an ice-filled mixing glass and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish necessary, though a flamed orange peel would likely do wonders.


First off, it’s more of a pale orange than the normal Affinity, and the recipe is closer to a Perfect Manhattan, though not quite there yet. Notes of orange mingle with the Bully Boy’s hot nose, though a bit of the banana wheat eases through.

The taste is very orange-bitter forward, with the vermouth syrup gluing in a dry whiskey element. A bit more on the tart side (I was likely a tad overzealous with the bitters) but very smooth overall, with the fiery whiskey tempered down to a warming glow. It’s much more pleasant this way, though there’s not a terribly strong flavor from the spirit. Rather it mixes in layers with the vermouths and bitters as a lovely complex dance; your tongue constantly tries to decide what it’s tasting at any particular time, as a lovely warmth builds from the spirit. In the aftertaste, that honey poteen flavor of the whiskey loiters at the sides of the tongue, seemingly not in any hurry to be on its way.

It’s a bit like DayQuil, though in a complimentary way. I wonder if a cherry bitter version would taste like NyQuil? A splash of absinthe would in theory yield a green NyQuil licorice flavor, but really, what kind of psychopath likes the GREEN NyQuil? I originally made this with two dashes of orange bitters, but amended the recipe to half that amount, which should be sufficient to add the orange element without overpowering the drink. Still, this concoction allows you to experience the whiskey’s character while toning down the alcoholic burn. The flavor really shines through in the aftertaste, after the vermouth has eased away.

If I had to do it again, I’d likely just make a White Manhattan with it, which indeed was my original plan, though that wouldn’t be nearly as adventurous. See the risks I take for you people?


So, what’s the conclusion? Well, it’s Bully Boy, so you know it’s got the right attitude behind it, and it’s a well-crafted spirit. I’m not as much of a fan of a) wheat flavors or b) unaged, young whiskey, and the Bully Boy is based on both of those. Drinking it neat is not my preference, though a splash of water does WONDERS to tame the alcohol and release more of the flavors. However, I think this makes an EXCELLENT mixer. I have tried it in other cocktails not listed here, and the unique flavors of the spirit really do some interesting things in a White Manhattan (white whiskey, dry vermouth, orange bitters), or even a simple whiskey sour. The trick with this particular whiskey is finding recipes that allow the flavors to shine through without being overpowered by the other ingredients. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this a delicate whiskey, but it is more subdued than the big bourbons and ryes I’m used to. There are many recipe suggestions listed on their website, most created by local bartenders, who have welcomed a new, locally-produced spirit.

There is an aged version of the whiskey that is… still aging. The first batch has been going since last spring (along with some rum) and I’m DYING to try it. In theory, the barrel aging will tone down some of the fresh-off-the-still alcohol heat and add another layer of smokey vanilla flavors to the wheat fruit, which I think will make it a much more pleasing spirit to sip neat.


If I haven’t convinced you to track down these spirits yet, then I don’t know what else I can do. Get out there and buy some local, handcrafted liquor. That’s an unusual enough situation in itself, but trust me, these are especially tasty. Throw away your Bacardi and put the Bully Boy Rum on your shelf. It’s worlds apart. Add the White Whiskey to your collection of ryes, bourbons, and Scotches. Don’t have a whiskey collection? Well, why not? Start one. If you’re one of those silly vodka drinkers, don’t waste your money on advertising. That’s what you’re really buying when you order Grey Goose like a numbskull. Have you seen any Bully Boy billboards around? Nope. That’s how you know it’s worth buying.

If you live in, around, or anywhere near Boston, you need to try these spirits.

Do it for the Bully Boys.
Do it for Boston.
Do it for AMERICA.

Do it because I told you to.





Squirrel Farts is now accepting solicited product reviews! Send me a bottle and I’ll take a pretty picture and talk it up in the amusing tangential manner you’ve come to expect. Beer, spirits, mixers, whatever. Contact here for details. Note: I will mention that the review was solicited, hell, I’ll even brag about it. Free booze? Damn right. But The Man says I have to say I got it for freebies. I’m excited about free stuff, so whatever. Now, that doesn’t mean that I’ll like it, or that I’ll give it a good review. But chances are if you read this blog, then we’ll get along.
Put it to the test: send me your booze!

Not that I base my cocktail drinking solely on the weather, but it certainly does make an impact. After last week’s 80 degree sunshine, this weekend was a bit more brisk, with temps in the 50s. In other words, proper springtime weather. You didn’t NEED a jacket, but also wouldn’t mind having one along.

As it happened, I read this post from the wondrous blog 12 Bottle Bar earlier in the week. Sidebar: go check out that blog. It’s a wonderfully written and photographed series of articles all pertaining to the self-imposed limit of having only twelve bottles (including bitters!) in a home bar. While I have been busy trying to purchase one of EVERYTHING, 12 Bottle Bar shows the incredible range of cocktails possible with very carefully chosen ingredients. It’s like painting with a selective palette. The Affinity cocktail described seemed tasty, so I put it on my list to try in the future. Well, I didn’t wait too long, so here it is.

So this week’s Rule 37 is a bit less summery, and a bit more savory. The spirit here is Scotch, and if you’re going to use a Scotch, it may as well be a proper one. Having far too many to choose from, after a long, long, look at the bar, I went with Ardbeg 10 year old, an Islay single malt. It’s a big boy. Let’s peat this mother up. I have yet to procure any high-end vermouth, so Martini & Rossi’s bottlings of both Italian/sweet and French/dry vermouths would have to suffice.


The Affinity

- 3/4 oz Scotch Whisky (Ardbeg 10yo)
- 3/4 oz sweet vermouth
- 3/4 oz dry vermouth
- Two dashes Angostura Bitters


Add ice to a mixing glass and pour in the ingredients. STIR for at least 30 seconds. Proper stirring should take a little longer than shaking, but since this is a spirit-only cocktail (no fruit juice) it should be stirred, like a Manhattan or Martini, to keep the drink crystal clear.


Well, I can tell without getting anywhere near this drink that it’s got a Big Scotch in it. The Ardbeg commands attention even at arm’s length. Upon closer exploration of the bouquet, there is a lot more going on under the surface than initially suspected. The aromatic wines add both a dark syrup fruit, and lightly sharpened crispness to the aroma. These were both newly-opened bottles of vermouth, so they should be at their best, as vermouth does spoil once opened. I can’t help but feel there should be a cherry lounging at the bottom of the coupe, but for now we’ll keep it simple.

The taste is, at once, much less formidable than the powerful smoked peat vapors would have you believe. It starts with a syrupy tang of sour fruit, mingling with the background static of the Scotch demanding attention. Surprisingly, the 2:1 ration of vermouth to Scotch forces the old grouch to settle down and await his turn. In the middle, he makes his move, but not before a clove spice from the Angostura is detected. In fact the Angostura is quite prevalent in the middle ground, before all are washed away in a smokey bitter wash. It’s a sweet candy eaten next to a campfire. The flavor lingers in your mouth as syrupy sweet wine, but with a burnt charcoal. A tingle on my gums where the Scotch has washed over leads me to check the bottle, and confirm that the whisky is indeed a higher proof variety at 96°, 46% abv.

Yes, the ingredients are similar to a Perfect Manhattan or, given the use of Scotch, a Perfect Rob Roy, but with equal parts spirit and vermouths, it is entirely transformed. Other variations increase the ratio of spirit-to-vermouth, but I’d leave it alone at equal parts. Orange bitters was another common substitution I saw, but again, I’ll stick with the Angostura as directed. Perhaps with a different whisky, the orange bitters would work, but I think the super-smokey Ardbeg is complimented with hints of cinnamon and spices in the Angostura.


The Cold Glass blog describes this as a candidate for “Scotch Cocktail For People Who Don’t Like Scotch,” and I couldn’t put it better. With a more approachable whisky, like The Macallan or Glenmorangie, it would be a perfect starter Scotch-tail. Hell, go with a nice blend like Johnny Walker Black Label if you don’t want to use up your single malts for mixing. For those who enjoy the big guns, I could see this working with just about any other whisky, from Laphroig’s peat to Bowmore’s salt to Dalmore’s leather. A word of caution: while I suspect this could also work with a non-peated whiskey (rye, bourbon, Irish, etc) I’m not convinced that they’d stand up to the double-hit of sweet and dry vermouth. I would recommend playing with the proportions and creating a new variation. I might go with equal parts whiskey to vermouth (total), say, 1 1/2 oz whiskey, 3/4 oz sweet and 3/4 oz dry vermouth. The Angostura, or any other spiced bitter, is the right choice for this, though if you must add orange, add it alongside the Angostura, not as a replacement.


This is simply wonderful. The vermouths put the whisky in his place, but the fire and brimstone is still there, just much subdued. Exquisitely balanced, and very flavorful. It needs nothing more.

The end of the week was way too hot for mid-April, so a refreshing, tropically named, cocktail was required. Dale DeGroff’s South Beach cocktail worked quite nicely. I also tried a version using grenadine instead of simple syrup, which just added another layer of flavor, and is going to be my go-to variation on the drink. Still sweetened, but with more taste than the original. Very good. The Lady Friend and I also split a bomber of Bar Harbor Brewing’s Thunder Hole Ale. I was expecting it to be along the lines of a bitter British malty ale, but it was actually a brown ale. Strangely, it smelled roasted and creamy like a good stout, but had a sharp stale hop bite to the start, then malty brown through the rest. However, the aroma put me in the mood for a stout, so I finished off the last survivor of my Left Hand Brewing Milk Stout Nitro. Delicious.


Saturday brought a bit of a twist: a wine event. I know. It doesn’t happen often, and I’m usually not too happy about it. Silly wine. However, Ke$hia got herself a job with Second Glass, a company that does wine events, tech, mobile apps… that sort of stuff. Apparently they do a thing called “Wine Riot,” a tasting event held in Boston for the past several years. This year it’s expanded to a multi-city tour, and Ke$hia scored us some tickets for the Boston stop. We don’t do much wine drinking (as little as possible if I have anything to do with it) but after all the brewery and distillery visits, this was something that appealed to the Lady Friend. Plus, cheap tickets.

The event took place in the Park Plaza Castle, which I had never been to. Apparently it used to be an armory. We hit the 1-5p afternoon session and made our way into the city. Despite a line stretching all the way down the block, we got inside fairly quickly. Annoyingly, one of the “security” guards checked our ID once we got in the line, then the SAME guy checked us AGAIN at the door. Dude, what was the point of that? Just stand at the door, Mongo. Once, inside, we met up with Ke$hia, and she showed us around off and on through the afternoon. There was… wine. Lots of it. Second Glass had a nifty phone app for the event so you could keep track of the wines you liked, and it’ll tell you where to buy them locally. A pretty good idea. We stuck to mostly bigger, red wines, though I also like sparkling because it’s fancy. Oh! And I won a handy little keychain bottle opener from the Yelp! table, which was mostly the highlight of my day.

The Lady Friend tells me tales of these wine events she’s been to in the past with all kinds of free givaways: glasses, corkscrews, stickers, hats, um, corks, uhhhh, hedgehogs…? I don’t know what they usually give away, but the LF says it’s a haul of free stuff. There really wasn’t much of that at this event. A few stickers, and a pen or two, plus my awesome bottle opener. The event “glasses” were stemless plastic, which makes more sense from a spillage/droppage point of view, but doesn’t really give you much of a souvenir. At least there was plenty of alcohol, which helped because the DJ felt it necessary to BLAST her Top-40 remix tunes loud enough so that everyone had to shout their conversations. What is it with events that they feel the need for 747 jet engine decibel levels of horrible music? I guess when the event is called a “Riot” you need to step it up.

I won our bet of “which one of us will see someone we know first” when I ran into John Hafferty of Bin Ends. John was sampling the fares and making introductions, but also gave a seminar, which we attended, called “F*ck the Wine Police.” Basically, it was all about wines that were snubbed by the critics and given low scores, but are actually excellent wines. He gave four examples (and we tasted along with the talk) and sure enough, all four were quite good. Critics usually have SOME sort of reason for panning a wine, and John gave the example of a particular Spanish wine. I forget what year he mentioned, but apparently it was a bad year for Spain, so critics avoid Spanish wines from that vintage. Well, as John says, “it turns out that Spain is a pretty big place.” He had us taste a Spanish wine that was actually quite good, but no one would buy it because of the vintage. Hence, the price drops and they snag it by the case to sell at Bin Ends. That’s what they’re all about… finding the hidden bargain wines, so you can get something that tastes like a $60 bottle for a third of the price. THAT is when I start to get really interested in wine; getting something tasty and amazing, but without draining my bank account. An excellent beer might set you back $10 for a 22oz bomber, but an excellent wine could be $80. A very steep learning curve. However, if I can get some tasty wines for beer-type money, now I’m a lot more willing to give it a shot. John’s lecture was right up my alley… if you know what to look for, you can ignore what the “experts” say and find some real bargains. If that appeals to you, go check them out. They’re in Braintree, near the South Shore Plaza on Wood Road (the same road as the F1 go-kart building).


The vendors started packing up about 20 minutes early, which was annoying, so we said our goodbyes to Ke$hia, who told us the gritty horror stories that happened behind the scenes (people changing clothes behind curtains, seven pukers, and other fun). We didn’t see any of this, so our afternoon was quite pleasant. I did actually taste some decent wines, and thanks to the Second Glass app, I know which ones they were. Also, John’s lecture was really enjoyable and, without trying to sound corny, really does make me want to learn more about these wines. I’ll be stopping by Bin Ends this weekend for some more info (FYI, they’re doing a tasting of Mayflower’s beers on Friday night, and The Knot, an Irish whiskey liqueur, on Saturday) and likely do some damage to my bank account, and liver, in the process.

The Lady Friend and I did some wandering around the city, stopping at Wagamamas for dinner, and grabbing a beer in the theatre district before heading to a going-away party for a friend of mine. The party was at a ridiculously nice apartment in the Leather District, and there were REAL Margaritas (fresh lime juice) and some variations (fresh grapefruit juice, and a float of St. Germain). The Lady Friend’s eyes lit up at the prospect of high-quality Margaritas, and she sampled several, leading to her crawling around my apartment later in the evening. Literally crawling. Altogether, a decently boozy day.

Sunday was a comedy of errors. We had planned to meet up with Ke$hia after her company brunch, so we drove into Back Bay and headed to the OtherSide Cafe for a beer while we waited, since the OtherSide is set to close (again) on April 28th. It’s a punk/hipster kind of place, but they have decent beers on tap, and it was pouring rain, so a nearby location was key. I sipped on High & Mighty’s Beer of the Gods, a blonde ale which was quite tasty, with a decent amount of sharp hop. Ke$hia got tied up with her company outing, so we headed over to the Sheraton’s SideBar, unique for their “sunken” bar arrangement. Patrons sit on ottomans at a low bar, while the bartenders stand in a sunken pit. Groovy.

However, their service didn’t impress me too much. While the Lady Friend snacked on a trio of Whoopie Pies, I excitedly ordered a Dogfish Head 90 Minute IPA, only to be told they were out of it. Since it was a cold and rainy big IPA sort of day, I went with the next choice on the list, Harpoon’s Leviathan Imperial IPA. When I saw the bartender pouring my beer from a tap, I got suspicious, and sure enough, it was Harpoon’s standard IPA that they tried to serve me under the guise of the Leviathan. When I called them on it, they said they were out of all their craft bottles, leading me to wonder why they didn’t just say that in the first place. That’s kind of an underhanded move. Don’t try that with someone who drinks as much beer as I do. I settled with the Harpoon IPA (which is plenty tasty, just not what I wanted), and we grabbed some food at the Pru before heading back to SquirrelFarts Headquarters to dry out. A day better spent entirely indoors with sleepy pants on.

It’s warm again. Like way too warm. Much warmer than mid-April should be. Seriously, it’s either 40 or it’s 80. Quit foolin around.

So we’ve got another tropical-sounding drink for this week: Dale DeGroff’s South Beach. Yes, he invented it. His book says so. Also, the heat is making me cranky, so don’t argue with me, whippersnappers.


South Beach
From Dale DeGroff’s The Craft of the Cocktail. Dale sez “I created this one for the Paddington Spirit Distributors Company in 1992 to find Campari cocktails that were less bitter and would appeal to the American palate. This one worked.”

- 3/4 oz Campari
- 3/4 oz amaretto
- 2 oz fresh orange juice
- 1/2 oz simple syrup (optional)

Shake all ingredients vigorously (to make sure that pulpy orange juice gets mixed in well and good) and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Double strain with a tea strainer for a cleaner, less pulpy drink (my preference). Garnish with a flamed orange peel. Sip on the veranda.


Well, it certainly smells sweet and orangy, though the Campari certainly noses through. The taste is quite pleasing. Definately a Campari drink, albeit much subdued. It really is a beginner’s Campari tipple. The orange juice gives it body, and the amaretto lurks underneath with a syrupy dark fruit flavor. Though DeGroff mentions that the simple syrup is optional, I did include it, and I suggest you do as well, especially if you’re not a big fan of the Campari bittersweet flavor. I do enjoy Campari, though I think this drink would be too bitter without the extra syrup. A hit of grenadine might play nicely in place of the simple syrup, and would only deepen the drink’s lovely reddish-orange hue.


The Lady Friend, who was making some blue-tinged tequila monstrosity (she just added “of course I am; that’s how I roll“) had a taste and liked it more than she thought she would. She wrinkles her nose any time I open that Campari bottle, but was able to handle this one. She claims “the Campari and amaretto are nicely balanced,” and “…it was sweet, but I don’t know if I’d want more than one of them.” Not the biggest vote of confidence, but an improvement over her usual face of revulsion.

I, on the other hand, think it was quite nice, and shall have another.

So the Lady Friend and I took a day trip up to our home state of Moo Hampsha for some good ol’ Granite State boozing. This is Part I of the adventure. For those who may have missed it, there’s a handy map on my White Birch Brewing post that shows why NH is the best state ever, besieged on all sides by other scary New England states (and a Commonwealth). Part 1 starts here.

Drink Free or Die: Sobriety is the Worst of Evils.




This is going to be a different sort of brewery tour.

Let’s set the Way-Back Machine to the 1880s.

New Hampshire actually has a pretty big role in New England brewing history, which I was oblivious to until a chance viewing of a vintage beer ad slideshow. I’d show it to you, but it was on Life.com and they seem to have taken it down as if it never existed.

I recognized the name “Frank Jones,” and saw “Portsmouth, NH” in there as well. That intrigued me, and kicked off some research. Having grown up in Seacoast NH, I had heard the name Frank Jones, but mostly only in reference to the convention center off of the traffic circle. Turns out he was a pretty big deal. Frank was a businessman, politician and brewer, and even served as mayor of Portsmouth for awhile. As a young man, he moved from his hometown of Barrington, NH, to the hustle and bustle of Portsmouth, and started working with Swindell Brewing, owned by Englishman John Swindell, around 1858. Swindell’s business started tanking, so Frank bought him out. I’m not sure what he did after that to turn things around, but business took off. By the Civil War, he was profitable, and had a local competitor: Eldridge Brewing Company, also of Portsmouth, founded in 1864. These two were the big players in Portsmouth until Prohibition, though several smaller breweries also sprung up. Ironically, post-Prohibition, Eldridge started up again in various forms and produced Frank Jones’s ale among its products.

Back to Frank: he continued expanding the brewery, and sales kept rising. They brewed 150,000 barrels of ale in 1882, making Frank Jones the LARGEST producer of ale in the ENTIRE COUNTRY. Holy snotrockets. Let’s put that in perspective. First of all, I’m sure you’re thinking “What about Miller, and Budweiser, and Pabst, Schlitz, Coors, Stroh’s, and all those? Weren’t they making a lot of beer as well?” Sure they were. But they were mostly making LAGER, not ale. Secondly, how much is 150k barrels of beer? That was Harpoon Brewery’s production in 2011. That’s a LOT of beer. We’re talking a Harpoon-sized operation in the 1880s. By this time he was adding buildings left and right… a malt house, a cooperage (barrel house), ANOTHER malt house, ANOTHER cooperage, and a 140′ clock tower.

This was just Portsmouth; there was a second brewery in South Boston, formerly called Henry Souther & Company. It’s the one that is actually represented in that first picture. Under “Portsmouth, NH” the caption reads “Depot 82 & 84, Washington St, Boston“: Washington Street runs right through Dorchester. That print is apparently in the Boston Public Library archives.

Anyway, in 1889, Frank went public and sold out to British investors who were sniffing out brewery purchases in America. Frank stayed on as head of the brewery, and they hit their peak in 1896 producing 250,000 barrels of ale. That’s over 7.8 million gallons. Insanity.

There’s even a SONG about the beer from about 1897:

Frank died in 1902, but not before making sure he had the biggest tombstone in the city.


Most of these brewery buildings still exist, off of Islington Street (behind CVS, next to the Pic n’ Pay/ Hannaford’s) near downtown Portsmouth. I’ve probably driven past them hundreds of times, and never gave them so much as a glance. Some of them have been repurposed/renovated and contain various businesses, like a tech company, yoga studio, and even a bar, located on the aptly named Brewery Lane. The Lady Friend and I went for a look.

I couldn’t really tell you which building is which, though I have a vague sense from the postcard above. The dominant building still standing has a big white stone near the top which reads “Built 1884 by Frank Jones,” which I believe refers to the expansion of the main brewery building. Shorter, lengthy, two story buildings along Brewery Lane (where train tracks once ran) are the malt houses, currently containing businesses under the title “Malt House Exchange.” There’s just a parking lot where the largest building, and the clock tower, once stood. Most buildings are boarded up and have graffiti sprayed everywhere within reach, though the solid brick walls are still standing. The buildings that are left appear to be pretty sound, structurally.

I found an opening in one of the boarded-up doorways, and squeezed inside the main building for a look.

Dirt floors, and an empty, cavernous space. Portions of the beamed ceiling look to be recently replaced, though pigeons roost everywhere up there. Various fuse panels and electrical conduit is another up-to-date addition, most likely installed for work crews to repair the structure. More graffiti, and I wonder if the person who scrawled the drinking philosophy knew this was a brewery. One section is an addition likely from the post-Prohibition days, with steel beams extending out from the original brick facade. Real estate banners hang on the building’s exterior, and I would love to find out what this property would cost. It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, and a tad drafty. Smuttynose Brewery looked into these buildings for their new brewery home, though it just wasn’t feasible. Funnily enough, Smuttynose is currently located at Heritage Ave. in Portsmouth, which was one of the former Frank Jones Brewing Company sites. Smuttynose holds the title of the largest brewery in New Hampshire, a distinction that once belonged to Frank Jones. History!

So what happened? FJ was the largest brewery around and employed something like 500 people. Where did all that business go? Simple. Prohibition. Ugh. Prohibition went into effect on the national level on January 17, 1920, but had already been enacted statewide in New Hampshire in 1917. The brewers were forced to shut their doors, and the Frank Jones Brewing Company, LLC, was finished. Well, kind of. After Prohibition ended in 1933, old rival Eldridge began brewing again in the former Frank Jones buildings. They later renamed themselves “Frank Jones Brewing Company” in 1937, and even produced some of the original FJ recipes. The company was sold in 1947 to a rum distiller called Caldwell Incorporated, but the big midwestern macrobrew lagers were taking hold, and consumers’ tastes shifted to the lighter beers. Frank Jones finally went down in 1950.

-BUT-

Apparently, you can actually still get some of Frank’s Ale. After an attempt to revitalize the brand in the early 1990s with contract brewing at Catamount Brewery (now Harpoon’s Windsor, VT location) a restaurant in Barrington (Frank’s hometown) sprung up that offers Frank Jones’ Original Ale and IPA. At least they used to. I sent them a message trying to get more information about where and how they brew these beers, but I still haven’t heard back from them. I think it would be a worthwhile adventure to get the real story, even if I have to go to *shudder* Barrington. That’s not even EPPING. Yikes.

Also, it seems there are further plans for the site, though there’s no telling how recent this information is, or if it’s even still heading in that direction. It could be the reason I spotted some recent electrical work, though there is still a real estate banner hanging on the building. I’m not sure if the deal fell through, or if they simply haven’t taken down the banner yet.


The more information I found out on this topic, the more buried I became in the brewing history of the area. One major source for this post was the website Rustycans.com, with this page of incredibly informative history. Other sources are linked within the post, but Rustycans in particular was extremely helpful. There’s also a book that was recommended to me by JT of Smuttynose called Brewing in New Hampshire, which seems like it will be an invaluable source of information once I get my hands on it. Then this article from seacoastnh.com had a lot of important information, and the unique perspective of one of the current tenants of the FJ site.

If you have any other information about the Frank Jones Brewery, feel free to contact me or leave a comment below. I have a feeling I’ll be digging into this topic for a long time.


Finally, one last comparison from past to present, as of February, 2012. You can see the brewery building that still exists on the left, and the adjoining main floor, though another story was added on at some point. The giant clock tower, and largest building, would be right about where that lamppost is, in the middle of the shot. Nothing remains of the either: it’s now just a parking lot.

Yet another travel series that I never seem to finish. This one tells the tales of our Milwaukee adventures in late March of 2012. We went there to do some serious drinking. Oh, and also Trevtastic got married. Yeah, some girl actually married that boy. But still, it was a good excuse to show the Lady Friend the various drinking landmarks of Milwaukee, so that’s what we did. Wistful wanderings in Wisco. Part 1 is here.
Yah dere hey.


Here we go.

This is one of the reasons I wanted the Lady Friend to come to Milwaukee.

Well, this and Trev’s wedding.

But this is also awesome.

I think I visit here every time I come to Milwaukee. It used to be that you’d enter around the back, right into the warehouse portion of the building, where the actual distillery is set up, but these days they’ve got a brand spankin’ new retail shop and tasting room up front. It’s pretty snazzy. Still, on larger tours, the “old” tasting room down on the production floor is used. We entered the new tasting room, and thankfully the paint-and-drywall smell had faded since my last visit, though there was a mural still in progress. The Lady Friend and I sidled up to the bar and ordered a cocktail. GLD highly encourages having a cocktail along on the tour. It helps you pay attention. Since the Kinnickinnic Whiskey was back in stock (they were completely drained last time) I led off with a simple Whiskey Sour. I have no idea what the Lady Friend went with, though I suspect it had grapefruit juice. There are a number of cocktails available across most of their spirit lineup for about $5-$7 if I recall, though they might make you one off-menu if you’re super nice and they know how to make it. Michael led off as our tour guide this time, and the Lady Friend and I, along with one older couple, grabbed our drinks and headed down the stairs to the production floor.

First, the history. GLD was officially started back in 2004 by a video-tech guy named, well, Guy. Guy Rehorst. He realized that there were NO distilleries in the state of Wisconsin, so he started his own. Due to licensing, permits, and just building the place, it took until October of 2006 to get their first bottle out the door (it was vodka). Since GLD began, eight more distilleries have sprung up in Wisconsin, with eleven more on the way. The craft distillery market is starting the same sort of building boom that craft beer had about 10-15 years ago, and currently they’re growing at the rate of about one new distillery in the US every month. By 2015, it’s projected that there will be 500 distilleries in the country, which means like craft beer, there’s going to be a lot more choices on the shelves. Which is awesome.

Distilling itself is fairly simple. You take, well, ANYTHING that ferments, and boil it. Alcohol has a lower boiling point than water, so the alcohol turns to vapor. Then you cool and condense it back down into a liquid, and you’ve got booze. Probably some pretty rough and firey stuff, but still booze. As Michael said “A child could do it. It’s also a felony.” Depending on what you make, there are at least a few rules in place. Vodka must be distilled at a minimum of 95% abv (right out of the still… it gets diluted down to usually about 40% abv/ 80 proof). Whiskey must be made from 100% cereal grain (wheat, rye, barley, corn… you get the picture). Brandy must be made from 100% fermented fruit (usually grapes, but also apple, pear, peach, cherry… lots of choices). Gin must have juniper berries in it somewhere. Rum must be made from 100% sugar cane (cane sugar or molasses).

Once you’ve got your spirit, sometimes you need to age it. For that you need a bonded warehouse, as described in my Ryan & Wood Distillery post. The government technically owns this part of your distillery, and you have to pay them excise tax when you take liquor out of there. It costs GLD about $3 per bottle to take their own liquor out of the warehouse to sell. This factors in to “you get what you pay for” when it comes to cheap booze. If a bottle of cheap vodka costs $6, you know $3 is automatically going towards the government for excise tax. Another $1 goes to distribution costs, another $1 to the retailer, and prob about $1.50 for the cost of the bottle. What’s left for the cost of actual ingredients? (Actually, in this scenario, it adds up to -50 cents.) The point is, a lot of smaller, craft distilleries have higher prices due to better ingredients, among other overhead costs, and the government always gets their cut.





Now that we know how to make booze (and pay the government to make it nice and legal) it was time to go taste the stuff. Since there were only four of us in the tour, we went back upstairs to one of the tables in the tasting room. Michael went through each spirit, and we got a pour in a nice little Glencairn tasting glass, a very classy touch. We tasted the year-round spirits, though there are several smaller batches produced, including a unique Pumpkin Spirit, made from Lakefront Brewery’s Pumpkin Lager, and a line of brandies (Grappa, Kirschwasser, Pear/ Eau-de-vie, and Apple).


Rehorst Premium Milwaukee Vodka Red Wheat Vodka
Nose: Sweetish. Medium heat in the nose. Very neutral.
Taste: Medium heat in the taste. Good mouthfeel with decent smoothness. Neutral and pleasing.

Rehorst Premium Milwaukee Citrus & Honey Vodka Flavored Vodka
I hesitate to call this “flavored vodka” due to the mess of cotton candy, blue raspberry, whipped cream, and other silly flavored vodkas out there. This one is made with actual lemons (the distillery staff gets to zest endless piles of lemons by hand) and Wisconsin-sourced honey. GLD actually distills the flavors together, rather than simply adding them to the spirit. No sugar is added after distillation.
Nose: Lemon Pledge and honey sweet. Very aromatic.
Taste: A tad hot, but perfectly nice. Sickly lemon, like cleaning fluid. Not overly sweet.

Rehorst Premium Milwaukee Gin “Milwaukee Gin”
GLD thinks that their gin doesn’t fit into either the London Dry or Dutch Genever categories, and calls it simply “Milwaukee Gin.” They use a very mild juniper berry, and add cinnamon, anise seed, coriander, orange peel, lemon peel, Saigon cassis, cardamon into their botanical mix. Then the twist: sweet basil, and Wisconsin ginseng. I think it’s an excellent gin. You can read more about my thoughts here.
Nose: Mild pine, sweet spruce. Sugary pine smell, with a mildly hot nose.
Taste: Sweet pine, with spiciness. Very nice. Has a little zing to it, but in an interesting way.

Kinnickinnic Whiskey Blended Whiskey
The Ojibwe word “Kinnickinnic” means “mixed” or “blended” usually referring to tobacco, but in this case is a blended whiskey made from a straight bourbon, and a 4-year-old malt whiskey produced at the distillery. They were out of this on my last visit, but Guy was incredibly gracious and got his last bottle out of his car to give us a taste. Since then, they bottled another batch, so I got another taste this time around.
Nose: Hot alcohol on the nose (it’s 86 proof and unfiltered). Mild sweet bourbon lingers below the heat.
Taste: Hot, with a slight spice. Rye? Smooth vanilla from the aging. Very Scotch-like, but lighter like an Irish whiskey.

Roaring Dan’s Rum Maple Rum
All rums need a pirate mascot, and GLD’s is no exception. “Roaring” Dan Seavey was a pirate on the Great Lakes with all kinds of adventurous shenanigans. The color varies batch-to-batch, as it’s a single barrel product (they don’t mix the barrels together). Wisconsin-sourced maple syrup used, and bottled at 90 proof. This was the first bottle I bought from GLD.
Nose: Sweet, sugar maple. Hot in the nose. Sugar cookies.
Taste: Warm burn, then sweet maple washes over. Finishes hot and alcoholic, which keeps it from getting overly-sweet. Yum.

Amerique 1912 Absinthe
GLD is one of the few domestic distilleries I can think of that makes an absinthe. I won’t get into the troubled history of the spirit here, but it was banned in the US in 1912 for various reasons, and has started to make a comeback with legalizations and the cocktail craze. It’s an interesting liquor, with a crazy story, and GLD makes two versions: Verte (green) and Rouge (red). I brought back a bottle of the Rouge after this trip.
Absinthe Verte (diluted with water, no added sugar)
All-natural color from chlorophyll.
Nose: Licorice. Black Twizzlers. The Lady Friend recalls Good n’ Plenty. A lingering sweetness.
Taste: Very pleasant. Anise taste, but drinkable after the louche. Very light alcohol kick.
Absinthe Rouge (diluted with water, no added sugar)
All-natural color from hibiscus.
Nose: Sambuca-like anise aroma. Hot alcohol, but with much more sweetness.
Taste: Licorice, but much sweeter. Almost a touch spicy. Very nice, if you like licorice (I don’t). Very drinkable even if you don’t particularly like anise flavor. It impressed me enough to buy a bottle.

BONUS!
Guy had suggested that we try their new Apple Brandy, though it wasn’t on the tasting. We went over to the bar and Michael totally hooked us up with a sample.
Apple Brandy
Made from 100% Wisconsin-sourced Heirloom apples. Spends 3 years in aged bourbon barrels so that GLD can “put bold flavors in cups.” Well said.
Nose: HOT alcohol nose with a tart apple aroma.
Taste: HOT. Sweet apple, obviously, but complex. There are layers of both sweet and tart that flow underneath. But this is one of the more alcoholic tasting of the spirits. Still, quite tasty. The Lady Friend even bought a bottle of it.

Then he made us a Jack Rose! And yes, GLD does make their own grenadine. I asked. The drink nosed a bit hot, more so than a Laird’s applejack version, but had an amazing flavor. Very apple-y, with a tart cider start, sweet sugary mid and tasty clean apple finish. Wonderful.

We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at the bar, sipping cocktails, and chatting with owner Guy Rehorst, whom I had met on my last visit. He’s a really nice guy, and will tell you basically anything you could want to know about the distillery, or just the industry in general. I’ve been a big fan of the spirits he’s made for the past several years, and make it a point to stop by every time I’m in town. It’s great to see a craft distillery making some great products. I like a lot of variety with my drinking, and largely gloss over the big brands, as I do with beer. Instead of Bud/ Miller/ Coors, the liquor industry has Pernod Ricard, Bacardi, and Diageo. Heavy hitters. The good news? GLD is in the works to enter the Massachusetts market, and hopes to be in Boston-area shelves by the end of the year. Keep an eye out for some more tasty choices. Highly recommended.