On Your Radar: Rye July

There’s no better month than July to put the focus back on bourbon’s spicier cousin, and not just because it rhymes. Figures from the Distilled Spirits Council show rye grew by 934% between 2009 and 2017 to 912.2 thousand cases and no white flag has been raised yet. Big brands including Jim Beam, Jack Daniel’s, Bulleit and Wild Turkey have further signalled their confidence in the trajectory with investment in existing and new rye whiskies. With activations happening in bars and bottle shops across the country for Rye July, we’re reminded of where rye whiskey has come from and where it’s going. It hasn’t been all smooth sailing as international whisky writer Charles K. Cowdery reminds us, but despite a near disappearance around the 1960s, it’s back in a big way.

When Europeans arrived in the Americas 500 years ago, they discovered a plant, a grain, previously unknown to them. They called it ‘Indian corn’. We call it corn or maize. The natives taught them how to grow it. They did, and it helped them survive, but as they became more settled they tended to prefer the grains they knew from home, such as wheat, barley and rye. When they could get it, early American distillers liked a ryeheavy mash for whiskey. Corn didn’t come into its own until Europeans pushed west into the interior, late in the 18th century.

Although farmers in the interior also planted familiar old world grains, they continued to grow a lot of corn. The whiskey they made from it, usually seasoned with a little rye, came to be known as bourbon.

But rye whiskey persisted in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, and continued to be popular throughout the east even as bourbon took hold in the south and west. Nationally, sales of the two types were about equal by the late 19th century.

Although nationwide Prohibition didn’t begin until 1920, the idea had been knocking around for decades. Maine became the first state to ban beverage alcohol way back in 1851. The movement caused a lot of disruption, as did various troubles and scandals having to do with alcohol taxation. During the late 19th century ‘Robber Baron’ era, attempts were made to monopolise alcohol production.

Some of these factors harmed rye’s reputation more than they did bourbon’s, but ultimately it was changing tastes that caused rye’s decline. The earthy, spicy character of rye whiskey just wasn’t favoured anymore.

Distillers to the north, in Canada, also made rye whiskey, but in a very different style. They

softened rye’s strong flavours the same way their cousins in Scotland and Ireland did with malt whisky, by mixing it with a nearly neutral spirit.

Beginning in the late 1960s, whiskey of all types took a steep tumble in the U.S and the industry contracted sharply into its heartland of Kentucky and Tennessee. Kentucky distilleries had always made a little rye whiskey in addition to bourbon and as rye declined, their rye output became enough to satisfy nationwide demand. The last whiskey distillery in the east closed in 1990. Even Old Overholt, a Pennsylvanian rye and once the country’s number one whiskey, moved to Kentucky.

Rye whiskey never went away, but it came close. For many years, only four distilleries made it, all in Kentucky, and they could create all they needed for the year in two or three days of production.

Rye was kept alive in part by bars, particularly in the east, that used it for a variety of classic cocktails, such as the manhattan and sazerac. Many barkeepers felt that a bar without rye whiskey simply wasn’t a bar, even if it was rarely ordered.

The 70s, 80s and some of the 90s was the era of pop wines, coolers and shooters. Sweet liqueurs like De Kuyper Peachtree Schnapps outsold many once popular whiskeys. Rye came close to dying and bourbon wasn’t far behind. Some in the industry compared bourbon and rye to vermouth, a spirit that was only hanging around as an ingredient in certain perennial cocktails. Sometimes, it seemed as if the manhattan was single-handedly keeping bourbon, rye, sweet vermouth and Angostura Bitters in production.

As much of the leaders of the Renaissance looked to ancient Greece and Rome for inspiration, so too did the pioneers of the craft cocktail movement look to the glorious past. In 1999, David Wondrich started writing about cocktails for Esquire Magazine and often delved into cocktail history. In 2004, Ted Haigh published Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails, documenting his search for vintage ingredients as well as recipes. In 2007, Wondrich published Imbibe, his tribute to Jerry Thomas, who wrote the first book of cocktail recipes in 1862. The cocktail culture they were looking to revive had been centred on New York City and Americanstyle rye, not bourbon, which was the whiskey of choice in most cocktails that called for American whiskey.

Because the quality of available spirits during Prohibition was often low, plus they were always in short supply, cocktails became the norm. Somewhat ironically, it was in speakeasies that public drinking by women became socially acceptable. Not bound by machismo male drinking customs, they chose drinks that tasted good.

As the 20th century gave way to the 21st, rye seemed to be making a comeback. Bartenders, rebranded as mixologists championed it. It made good copy. The only thing was, sales had barely budged. Part of that was the inevitable whiskey ageing cycle, which means you can only bottle so much, and you can’t sell more than you make.

But, in time, distilleries began to add a day or two of rye whiskey production. Heaven Hill, which has always made rye, typically made rye one day in the spring and another in the fall. That was enough until about 2005 when they doubled it to four times a year. By 2014, it was twelve

times a year. Jim Beam makes the most rye whiskey. Jack Daniel’s, America’s largest whiskey distillery, started making rye in 2012. Many of America’s new craft distilleries make rye instead of bourbon.

Under U.S rules, bourbon and rye are inevitably very similar because both must be aged in new, charred oak barrels. Wood provides all of the colour (other colouring is prohibited) and most of the flavour. The only difference is in the mash itself. Bourbon mashes must be at least 51% corn, but usually are between 75-80% corn, with a dash of rye or wheat for flavour. Rye mashes must be at least 51% rye and most are just that, the rest being corn. In between are the high-rye bourbons, at about 30% rye and 60% corn (virtually all whiskey mash bills in the U.S include about 10% malted barley). MGP, a distillery in Indiana, makes a very popular whiskey that is 95 rye, but it is an outlier.

You may see references to American-style rye whiskey as ‘straight rye’. ‘Straight’ means the same thing for rye whiskey as it does for bourbon or any other American type, which is that it has been aged for at least two years. The term ‘straight rye’ is often used to distinguish American-style rye from the Canadian version. ‘Straight’ isn’t what makes them different, it just indicates that they are.

What you have in American whiskey is a continuum more than a sharp distinction between styles. At the mild end are wheated bourbons, such as Maker’s Mark, which contain no rye. America’s most popular whiskey, Jack Daniel’s, contains a dollop of rye, only about 8%. Several bourbons are in a similar range. Jim Beam and Evan Williams, two other top sellers, contain about 15% rye. Four Roses, Bulleit and Old Grand-Dad have about twice that much. After that, you’re in straight rye territory.

At the mild end, wood flavours dominate. Corn provides sweetness and body, but little flavour. At about the Jim Beam level, rye begins to cut through and give the spirit some spice and a certain ineffable ‘oomph’. At higher levels of rye, spice gives way to fruit.

For cocktails, rye is the American whiskey you want if you want to taste the whiskey through everything else. Bourbons, especially wheated bourbons, tend to disappear in the mix. Ryes don’t.

Rye whiskey seems to be back for good, at least so long as American whiskey, in general, continues to prosper.