In Which we Visit Old Nick Williams

It was one of those days where nothing was really “wrong,” but nothing was really “right,” either. In the early afternoon, I found myself between tasks, and not particularly motivated to start the next project, so I went out to see what Lazarus was up to. He sensed my unfocused malaise immediately.

“I have just the thing, boss,” he said, “let’s go visit Old Nick.”

The Old Nick Williams distillery is named for Nicholas Lanier Williams (1800-1886), whose father, Joseph (1748-1827) established the company in 1768, just south of contemporary Lewisville. This is not far from where I live and soon were were following the winding roads deep into the county. Lazarus reprised his “Rowel Friers” role, clinging to the back of the driver’s seat and giving me directions in his low voice.

As we turned onto Williams Road, I joked, “This looks promising!”

Lazarus smiled indulgently. 

“Actually,” he responded, “we’re coming into what used to be Williams, NC. In 1903, the Watts Act made it illegal for distilleries to operate outside of incorporated towns. So, Nicholas Glen Williams (1865-1913, grandson of Nicholas Lanier) built a church, a school, and a post office, and created a town around the company.”

“You’re kidding!” 

“No, I’m not!”

We soon found the sign, turned right, and followed the tree-lined drive through the old estate. With the institution of state-level prohibition in North Carolina, which was both enacted earlier and repealed later than the national prohibition, production at Old Nick Williams came to an abrupt halt. The current distillery was re-established in 2014 by brothers Van and John Williams, with their sons Zeb and Matt. 

The estate includes a working farm, and we parked next to the chicken house. The current distillery stands next to the 1851 family home: its beautiful blond wood siding suggests the staves of bourbon barrels, and a broad front porch with benches and rocking chairs immediately communicates that this is a place of retreat. I could feel my mood lightening as we got out of the car.

Going in, the atmosphere was comfortably dark and quiet. The air was suffused with the heady odor of cooking mash—sort of like oatmeal, but more pungent. One corner of the front room was devoted to a display of the family’s history in the spirit business. This included several artifacts, including antique bottles and reproductions of appreciative letters from US Presidents James Buchanan, Theodore Roosevelt, and James K. Polk. 

Van Williams himself met me and led the way back to the still. The operation is surprisingly small, and the tour of the distillery floor involved only about ten paces from start to finish. Distilling is all about temperature control, and the North Carolina climate is both challenging and ideal for craft spirits. In order not to kill the yeast, the fermentation room must be kept between 70 and 80°F. Since the outside temperature, especially in the summer, can swing as much as 30° in twenty-four hours, this presents a considerable climate control problem. Particularly, Van fretted, since the fermentation process itself also generates heat. On the other hand, the wide temperature range is ideal for barrel-aging: the hot days drive the alcohol into the charred oak barrels, while the cool nights pull it back out… along with the added flavors and color. As a result, Old Nick Williams bourbon can be finished in only eighteen months.

Following the tour, we returned to the front room for some samples. I was a little surprised by the flavor of their bourbon at first. Both in the nose and after the first sip, it was as though I could “see” three distinct bands in front of me, of which the central was the most prominent. The rich sweetness of this band was counterpointed by an unusual top note which I couldn’t quite place. Lazarus smiled.

“This is probably a little different than what you’re used to,” he said.

“Yes… what is that ‘other’ flavor?”

Lazarus looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Well, a lot of things contribute to the flavor of bourbons, but what you’re getting is probably a result of the mash bill. Most of the commercial bourbons you’ve had are nearly all corn: about 75%. The rest of the mash is typically divided between barley and rye. The barley has a nutty, or toffee-like flavor, while the rye is more peppery. This bourbon is only 65% corn, 5% barley, and there’s no rye at all. Instead, the remaining 30% is wheat. Probably the only other bourbon you’ve had that resembles it is Maker’s Mark, which is 16% wheat.”

“Yes! There was something familiar about it, but I couldn’t place it.”

“This is also a ‘grain-to-glass’ operation: they grow all their own grains, and they use heirloom, non-GMO varieties, so the flavors will be more distinctive.”

“That would explain the sweetness.” I mused.

“Yes, that’s probably the corn.”

In all, it was a very fine bourbon. Another product that I found particularly interesting was their Coattail® Cinnamon Whiskey (I’ll comment on their NC Whiskey and Jamerican Rum in another post). This was made from a re-distillation of the “feints”: leftover product that can’t be used for the because of impurities or an alcohol content that is either too high or too low. The re-distilled whiskey was then aged with oak chips and cinnamon sticks. On the nose, the cinnamon flavor hid in the background, and while it was present in the first sip, it served more to fill out the sweetness of the corn. In fact, it added a spiciness related to that of rye, but pleasantly different. It really came into its own, however, on the back end: as the corn and wheat flavors faded, the cinnamon bloomed like a wave coming in to the shore. 

“Oh, I like this!” I blurted out.

“It is nice, isn’t it? I like that it isn’t an overpowering explosion of heat.”

As we drove back, Lazarus curled up in the back seat and began nodding off, but I felt alive again. 

“I really like the intimacy of that place—it’s like being a guest in their home... which, I suppose, we are… but I love how welcoming everyone is. When they asked me to come back, it really felt as though they meant it.” 

“I thought you’d like it boss,” Lazarus responded dreamily. “After all, family is just about all you ever talk about.”