In Which we Visit the Oak and Grist Distilling Company
Around Valentines’ Day weekend, my wife and I managed to find some time to get away to the mountains for a little breather. Unfortunately, our favorite hotel in Asheville, the Princess Anne, was booked up, so my wife did some browsing and finally got us a room at the Monte Vista Hotel in Black Mountain. I’d been curious about Black Mountain for some time, since Black Mountain College had been on the forefront of the avant-garde in the 1950s and 60s. Also, however…
“Oak and Grist!” Lazarus blurted out, excitedly.
“Exactly! … and I managed to talk her into a short visit to the distillery, since we’ll be in town.”
“When do we leave?”
“Well, about that…”
Ever since she had unknowingly dropped a sack of kitchen garbage into what was serving as his home, my wife and Lazarus have not been exactly on the best of terms. The dog has never really taken to him either. Since this trip was so close to Valentines’ Day, it seemed unwise to broach the subject of bringing him along. On the other hand, Lazarus would never let me forget it if I were to leave him behind for a trip he had anticipated for so long. This was the first time we were going to a distillery that actually made gin, after all, and he had been ribbing me for some time about changing the name of the site to “Pens and Bourbon.”
“... I have a plan.”
Since it was only an overnight trip, we packed just the one bag. As I put it in the trunk, I hesitated briefly, and said (clearly and with good support from the diaphragm), “Oh, wait... let me get my other jacket…”
I left the lift-gate open and hustled back to grab a heavier jacket. It was colder in the mountains, after all.
I spread it over the small suitcase (and gently tucked the hairless tail out of sight) before closing the lift-gate and getting into the passenger seat. My wife looked at me questioningly, and I smiled, saying “All set!”
If there are “mountain people” and “beach people,” I am one of the former. I enjoy the beach, certainly, but I especially love the cool air and beautiful trees in the mountains. Back in the days of my cross-country trips, my favorite stop was in Laramie, Wyoming. As breath-taking as the plains states are, it was always such a relief to ascend to the crisp air and more familiar scenery. The mountains of North Carolina are, of course, much lower than the Rockies of Wyoming or even the Cascades of my home state, but the ascent from the Piedmont region into the Appalachians brings similar feelings of rest and peace.
Asheville is a great town, and a favorite getaway for both my wife and I. In addition to having a vibrant arts community, it is also something of a hub for both craft distilleries and breweries. Before the virus hit, we’d had a loose plan to make several trips and visit Chemist, Troy and Sons, Cultivated Cocktails, Highland, and Green Man… at least for a start. “There’s only so much we can drink in a day,” my wife warned prudently.
At any rate, we drove up in the late morning, and went straight through to Asheville, where we had lunch at The Blackbird Restaurant. I checked on Lazarus covertly, but he was fast asleep. There were a lot of good-looking things on the menu, but I went with the biscuits and gravy, a favorite of mine. We took a leisurely walk around the area, stopping briefly to appreciate a busker in steampunk costume playing (of all things!) a hurdy-gurdy, and ended up at the ZaPow! Gallery, where I absolutely fell in love with two prints. It’s funny how that works: somehow a particular piece will just call to me, and I find myself coming back to it again and again. I ended up buying one of them - I wanted both, but I had to keep a reasonable budget in mind. The one I chose was by Shady Canary, and I was delighted to find the artist herself working the register.
Before driving the few miles back Eastward to Black Mountain, we made a final stop at my wife’s favorite place, French Broad Chocolate. It was very crowded, but, as always, worth the wait.
The Oak and Grist Distilling Company is in a rustic business park just outside of town, conveniently near the highway. The industrial setting was humanized quirkily with colorful murals, what looked like a frame for a large hammock, a dried wreath, strings of lights, and a large reproduction of the distillery’s logo: a fanciful column still festooned with vines, and appearing to release a drop of the finished liquor over the front door.
We parked in the gravel lot, and I hustled around to the back of the car, where I had left my notebook. I rummaged around a little to find it before closing the lift-gate, and the hairless tail quietly disappeared below the rear of the car.
The front door opened to a comfortable lounge decorated with artistic, hand-drawn “infographics” about the products, a roll of brown paper with an illustrated/illuminated drink menu, a beautifully crafted bar, and several other similarly quirky and wonderful pieces. I felt immediately at home, and this feeling was reinforced by Ashley’s warm welcome.
Oak and Grist pursues a comparatively narrow range of products with great intensity of focus. Head distiller William Goldberg trained at Scotland under the eye of Edwin Dodson, an eighteen-year veteran of Glen Moray. Accordingly, the bulk of their energy is directed toward a 10-year single malt whiskey (what would be a Scotch, if we were in Scotland). In the meantime, the distillery has released the “Stripling Series”: six short runs of blended whiskeys at differing ages and aging variables. They also offer a Genever-style “Dark Rhythm” Gin in both regular and barrel-rested varieties. Ashley assured us that all the barley was sourced locally, and they were working to secure local sources for all the gin botanicals. They were not only after a high-quality single-malt, but they were determined to capture something of North Carolina as well.
For our tour, Ashley walked us around the production floor, describing the process as she went. I was delighted that nearly every piece of equipment was named: the mash was cooked in a vat christened “Marsh Mashinton”; the fermenters were “Brewth Bader Ginsberg,” “Brewsan B. Anthony,” “Michele Brewbama,” and “Eleanor Brewsavelt”; and the column still was simply, “Dr. Hooch.” Since distilling has traditionally been a male-dominated domain, she explained, they felt it important to bring women back into the space.
Like Southern Grace, Oak and Grist also supports local charities: percentages of sales from the Stripling Series benefits the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy, and percentages from the sales of Dark Rhythm Gin benefit Our Voice, an advocate for victims of domestic violence in Buncombe County.
The spirit of experimentation and refinement carried over to the tasting, where we were offered our choice of proofing water or ice, and advised to “walk away from your whiskey” in order to let some of the alcohol and see how it affected the flavor. Ashley kindly let us meditate and comment on the flavor before telling us what she tasted.
After the tasting, Ashley had to take care of the next tour group, but since we weren’t ready to leave quite yet, William Golding himself came out and entertained us. We ordered cocktails: I had their Barrel-Reserve Ginger (the Barrel-Reserve Gin with ginger syrup and soda) and my wife had the Smoked Whiskey Old-Fashioned (with both Angostura and Bad Art Orange Bitters, a well as a toasted lime wedge). When it was time to leave, I bought bottles of both gins and the Stripling Series No. 6, which I put in the back of the car. I took my time in making sure they were secure, again, tucked the tail out of sight before closing the lift-gate.
They were out of the Stripling Series No. 5 at the distillery, so we stopped by the local ABC Store on the way to their Monte Vista Hotel. The hotel was delightfully comfortable and unpretentious. Our room was at the end of a winding series of halls, and about half-way there, we passed a homey lounge with inviting furniture, a TV, and board games.
We had dinner at Milton’s, the hotel’s restaurant, and I was especially happy to see that all the featured cocktails used North Carolina spirits. We had a wonderful time. After dinner, my wife, who was exhausted from the long day of driving and walking, fell quickly asleep. I had eaten a lot, and as I relaxed into the quiet privacy of the room, it would have been easy to follow her example. The February night was quite cold, however, and I was concerned about Lazarus. Just as I was getting up to slip on my jacket and shoes and go find him, there was a tentative scratching on the door. A little scrap of paper slid underneath. It was a note. It read: “L. - L.”
Sure enough, I found Lazarus in the Lounge.
“What a great trip, boss!” he greeted me. “I had to step pretty lively to keep their dog from noticing me, but I got to see some of the tour, anyway. Did you see the shelf with all the little unmarked bottles? I’m assuming those were for research? It’s too bad we can’t stay for a week!”
“Yes, I didn’t ask about the collection since we were with another couple, and my wife felt I was already making a spectacle of myself.”
“Well, no matter… let’s see the stuff!”
I lined up the four bottles, and Lazarus started working the cork out of the gin.
“Finally! We’re actually talking about gin! And what a place to start…” he sniffed the bottle. “Right at the beginning, with a Genever!”
Genever, Lazarus had explained earlier, was the original gin of the Netherlands. It was distilled from malt wine, and the juniper was added to mask the rather harsh flavor. While there is certainly nothing harsh about Dark Rhythm gin, it begins with a malted barley base, and rather than being vapor-infused, the botanicals (juniper, angelica, orris, coriander, lemon verbena, sumac, chamomile, and carrot) are steeped in the white whiskey like tea.
I took the glass Lazarus had poured for me, and we spent some time taking in the aroma.
“Ahhh…” he sighed. “It’s heady - it doesn’t have that crisp, clean feel of a modern gin, but it’s… heady! Intriguing!”
“I’m definitely getting the malt,” I answered, “and it’s really rich. Floral maybe?”
“It’s as though it’s inviting you to a mythic past, or into an epic saga!”
“I suppose I can see that…” I mused, but Lazarus was already sipping his.
“Nice!” He raved. “Really unique!”
The malt flavor was rich and full, like a white whiskey, but the juniper wafted up to the top.
“Wow, it’s really complex.” I answered. “The botanicals really fill out the barley flavor, like the overtones of a bell, maybe.”
Lazarus snorted. “Touché. We’re quite the pair with metaphors. Now, let’s compare that to the barrel-rested version!” He scrabbled with the seal on the cork.
“Barrel-rested gin seems like a weird concept, but a lot of people are doing it now.”
“Well, why not? What would your French friends say? Something about a bunch of moles?”
It was my turn to snort. “A molar multiplicity, yes. No, I get it… the question isn’t what gin is, but what it can be. In fact, this is a great example of the kind of craftsmanship we saw there. Ashley was telling me that they tried this out at four different proof points, and it made a significant difference in the flavor.”
Lazarus took another look at the bottle. “Ah yes: the regular gin was 90 proof and this is 86. It also says here that they used two barrels: A 53-gallon barrel from Buffalo Trace and a 25 gallon barrel of their own.”
“Oh, yes… and there’s no way to reproduce that exactly, so every batch will be different.”
“Aha! ‘The gin I have and you don’t’ this time, eh? If you didn’t drink the stuff so much, you’d have quite a collection going.”
“It seems like I have some help in drinking it.”
Lazarus chuckled and handed me another glass.
On the nose, the barrel-rested gin was definitely deeper, and featured definite citrus notes.
Lazarus was still reading the label on the bottle: “Getting clementine and raspberry boss?” He teased.
“Actually… yes, I can see that.”
“Sound the bell, boss!”
We clinked the little glasses together.
“Oh boy…” Lazarus said finally. “It’s like having a cocktail without having to water down the booze.”
“I suppose I should be getting some bourbon notes from the barrel, but instead, it just seems to have enriched the Scotch flavor… and then, yes, I see what you mean. It’s almost like an Old-Fashioned just by itself.”
“Nice work, boss. These are really fine gins. Now…” he reached for the No. 5.
“Oh wait!” I interjected. “I’m going to give that one to my boss as a present.”
“What!?!”
“Well, he’s a good guy, and he gets it about local distilleries.”
“Are you in line for a promotion or something?”
“Ha. I wish.”
Lazarus looked at the bottle wistfully and sighed. “I suppose it won’t do to be greedy… and everyone we win over is another opportunity for good people to succeed. Still though… couldn’t you have bought two?”
“In my wife’s eyes, I did: the No. 5 and the No. 6.”
“I’m definitely not getting in the middle of that. OK, boss… but the No. 6?”
“That’s for us, yes.”
Lazarus inspected the label.
“Ashley said that single malts are typically aged in used barrels, like the No. 5 here.”
“Yes, and it says they used a new barrel for this, which would explain why it’s so much darker…”
“Oh, right. Fresh wood.”
Once again, I got a citrus/orange note on the nose. I was about to comment on it, but Lazarus was already sipping from the glass excitedly.
The flavor was deep, with hints of chocolate cherries. The new oak barrel had enriched the flavor, but it was still a single malt - not at all too “bourbon-y.”
It was very quiet in the lounge for several minutes.
“Criminy, boss.” Lazarus said finally. “Couldn’t you have bought a case?”
I awoke slowly the next morning, and looked up at the ceiling. We had made it back to the room anyway. I reached over absent-mindedly to ruffle the dog’s fur and wondered if there was anything left in the bottles. Something was off, and it took me a minute to realize that, based on the texture of the fur, it was actually Lazarus, not the dog, curled up between us on the bed. Abruptly wide awake, I shook him hurriedly,
His eyes opened lazily, and he asked, “?” wordlessly as he rolled over.
“What were you thinking?” I whispered frantically, “You need to hustle out of here before she wakes up!”
Lazarus’s eyes went abruptly wide, and he jumped lightly over me to hide under the bed, just in time.
“Good morning!”
“Ah… Good Morning… Did you sleep well?”
We had breakfast at a local place my wife had found online: the Blue Ridge Biscuit Company. The line went literally out the door into the brisk, mountain air, but it moved fairly quickly, and we were soon seated inside. I ordered “The Lunker” which consisted of a fried catfish fillet topped with a red-cabbage slaw and “red-pepper remoulade,” which was fantastic, but hearty. As I leaned back and sipped some coffee, thinking I wouldn’t need any lunch, my wife remarked:
“You know, I was afraid I’d miss sleeping with the dog, but I felt so snug last night, it almost felt as though she was snuggled up against my back!”