Short Take: Conviction Double Oak 1929
In late February and early March, when COVID-19 seemed rather more remote, Lazarus and I continued our tours of local distilleries, and re-visited some of our friends to sample their new releases. This is the first in a series of “short takes” that discuss the latter.
As the pandemic has escalated, our hearts go out to its victims, those stranded away from home, and those at greatest risk of infection. Please stay well, and as you are able, stay positive, take care of each other, and remember to support your local businesses.
Lazarus and I were particularly interested to hear that the Southern Grace Distillery was releasing a new product: Double Oak 1929 (likely named for the 1929 prison building where the barrels are stored… and serenaded!). At the time, I was still assuming that I’d be going back to work, and wouldn’t be able to attend the release party. Lazarus was pretty disappointed, particularly since it was unlikely that it would be available in our area of North Carolina. So, we had sent a message asking whether we might come down and get a bottle in advance.
To our surprise, we got a response from Thomas Thacker himself, saying that while he couldn’t sell us an advance bottle, he’d be happy to have us come down for a tasting.
We drove down on a sunny day in March, shortly before the school closures surrounding COVID-19. We had an easy drive, and had taken a rather longer route in order to visit our friends in Statesville on the way. In spite of that, we arrived at the Whiskey Prison early and, in order not to disturb the tour in progress, took a moment to sit on a cement bench in the old visiting area. There was a cool breeze, and early afternoon was peaceful and still. In the distance from the front, we could hear the traffic on NC-73 (like a river) and in the rear, the music from the 1929 building (Boom! Boom!). For the moment, COVID-19 and the attendant anxiety seemed far away. It did cross my mind, however, and I looked over at Lazarus wistfully.
“Not to be morbid, but I found out that possums have an unusually short life span. How are you holding up?”
Lazarus thought for a moment.
“Well, it isn’t easy for us, to be sure.” He said slowly. “Sometimes it seems like everything is out to get us, but… well, let’s just say that alcohol is a remarkable preservative.”
It seemed logical enough.
When the time came, Mr. Thacker met us at the gate. He had been preparing for the release party, and was carrying a number of things, including what looked to be a bottle of the new prize. As he joked with us about the amount of work they were doing, he led us through the gift shop/tasting room in the old commissary. Along the way, he put down most of what he was carrying, and picked up two bottles of water and two whiskey tasting glasses. We went past the bar to the old pantry, which had been converted to a VIP Tasting Room.
Lazarus and I exchanged awed glances.
The room was elegant, featuring a boardroom table and handsome wooden cabinet. For all that, it was not stuffy: the table was cluttered with several bottles of the Double Oak and a cardboard shipping case. Mr. Thacker immediately sat down, motioned us to sit in a chair close by, drank some water from the bottle, and then poured two generous servings of the Double Oak.
As he explained, the spirit was essentially the same as Conviction, but, instead of being aged both years in the same barrel, it had been harvested after the first year and transferred to new barrels for the second year of the aging process. Furthermore, while Conviction was all bottled from single barrels (the barrel number is on the label) this was his first three-barrel blend.
It was remarkable. On the nose, it had a lovely caramel note, followed by a dark richness, and finishing with a peppery heat.
“Wow!”
Mr. Thacker nodded and drank some more water. “It starts sweet and light… and then it makes a fist.”
I commented on the peppery flavor (even though there’s no rye in the bill) and Mr. Thacker nodded again. “It acts like a bigger proof,” he affirmed thoughtfully. “It’s a 95, but feels like a 105 or 110, almost like a high-proof rye.”
The three barrels he’d used, he explained, each had distinct characteristics: one was sweet, one had an open flavor but dissipated quickly, and the last was the peppery one with a long finish. He spoke briefly about the art of combining contrasting spirits so as to capitalize on their strengths, which made me think (again) about changing jobs.
Noticing that Lazarus and I had drunk all he had poured, he motioned to the bottle and said, “You can have all you want!”
I was reluctant to leave, but I knew they were busy and was sure I had taken my share of his time. Lazarus, however, had already poured himself another round.
“But first I make a protestacioun!” he declaimed. “That I am dronke, I knowe it by my soun…”
Mr. Thacker looked at me questioningly.
“Never mind, it’s good for his health,” I explained.