u/OrangePaperBike

Review: Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend (Batch 491) vs Woodford Reserve Double XO Blend
▲ 46 r/bourbon

Review: Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend (Batch 491) vs Woodford Reserve Double XO Blend

Background:

I don’t drink a whole lot of finished whiskey, but when I do, I usually gravitate to other spirit finishes, especially cognac and Armagnac. I prefer them over wine, as I find them less heavy handed, and I think the brandy flavors complement the bourbon and rye ones better.

I have recently picked up a couple of new-to-me bottles and figured I’d compare them – they may not have much in common in terms of age or proof, but both feature a brandy finish.

Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend is responsible for launching an entire subgenre of finished whiskeys since 2016 and is the brainchild of Master Blender Nancy Fraley. Nancy (u/whiskeyblender) has generously shared her expertise on this sub before, so if you’d like some extra details on her work, you can check out her comment history.

Despite being aware of the Cigar Blend for a long time, this is my first time trying it. It is a more recent batch (491), which came out toward the end of 2025. I know there is a fair bit of back and forth on whether the earlier batches were better, which is not surprising for a brand that’s been around for a decade.

Its composition has gone through some changes, such as going from being an all-MGP blend to having some Barton on top of younger MGP. The current batches are closer to the original vision, with the youngest MGP component around 10 years old (36 percent rye mash), with some 17-year Barton and 20-year 21 percent rye MGP bourbon in the mix.

The cognac-inspired production process of the Cigar Blend is very interesting, but I’ll omit the details here, since plenty has been written about it. The high batch numbers are due to the very small size of each one – it denotes a single blend that goes into a large 350-liter Armagnac barrel, which holds 300-400 bottles. The last thing to mention is that while sherry and cognac all had a part in finishing the blend, at this point the Armagnac barrel has the most influence according to Nancy, which is a positive for me. The MSRP is around 200 dollars. The proof on this batch is 112.14.

The other whiskey in this line-up comes from Woodford. This Double XO Blend edition started as a China exclusive, eventually making it into the wider global travel retail last year – so you’re most likely to encounter it in a duty-free shop. According to a press release, it’s a “blend of straight bourbons that were double and triple distilled, matured in new charred oak barrels, and finished in a combination of heavily toasted barrels and Cognac casks.” They go on to say that “it’s actually a blend of some of Woodford’s previous releases—Double Oaked, which is finished for up to 12 months in toasted oak barrels, and bourbon that has spent up to seven years in XO Cognac casks.” It is also Master Distiller Elizabeth McCall’s first limited edition.

Seven years in cognac casks sounds like a very long time, so I wonder if it’s a typo, but the rest looks straightforward. Some of you may even draw a parallel with another Woodford product finished in cognac casks – the insanely priced Baccarat edition. The good news is that if you were craving that particular finish on a Woodford whiskey, you don’t have to pay the 2000-dollar Baccarat MSRP – the Double XO Blend has a 175-dollar price tag and can often be found even cheaper – I paid 130 for mine. In true Woodford fashion, it’s 90.4 proof.

Let’s get on with this brandy-finish showdown; tasted neat in copitas.

Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend

On the nose, chocolate-covered rum raisin, cream-cheese frosting, vanilla, candied walnut and citrus. On the palate, maraschino cherry, vanilla cake, berry preserve, sweet Vietnamese iced coffee, and tobacco. Medium-long finish, condensed milk, dried fruit, a little leather.

Woodford Double XO Blend

Smoky prune, honey, caramel, some varnish on the nose. Palate on a thinner side compared to Magnus, poached pear/orchard fruit, honey, toasted vanilla, brown sugar, some sweet baking spice. Short finish, slightly bitter espresso, prune.

Rating: (t8ke scale for reference below): 

Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend: 8

Woodford Double XO Blend: 7

1 | Disgusting | So bad I poured it out

2 | Poor | I wouldn’t consume by choice

3 | Bad | Multiple flaws

4 | Sub-par | Not bad, but many things I’d rather have

5 | Good | Good, just fine

6 | Very Good | A cut above

7 | Great | Well above average

8 | Excellent | Really quite exceptional

9 | Incredible | An all-time favorite

10 | Perfect | Perfect

Thoughts:

I can’t speak to whether the earlier batches of the Cigar Blend were better or not, but I did thoroughly enjoy this one. I’m not sure why people are complaining about the Barton component – it’s 17 years old, people. I thought it added some nice fruity notes to the blend. It actually reminded me of the 15-year-old Dickel I really liked, minus the minerality.

I did the first round of this comparison semi-blind, and Magnus had an edge in having a fuller palate, longer finish, drinking below its proof, and integrating finishing better. Woodford had lots of dried and orchard fruit and vanilla influence from the cognac cask, but the finish was shorter than I’d like and on some tastings it had a cocktail vibe, which is a sign of the secondary cask taking over. I could also pick up a little bitterness and varnish from the double-oak influence, which some people don’t like. But if you’re a Woodford fan and love your Woodford DO, this will be a treat and less of a gamble compared to their Master’s Collection (any members of the Five-Malt Stouted Mash survivor support group here?).

I’m not running out to replace the Woodford bottle, but I’ll be keeping an eye on the future Joseph Magnus Cigar Blend batches.

Thanks for reading and cheers!

u/OrangePaperBike — 1 day ago
▲ 109 r/bourbon

Review: Willett Family Estate 11-Year-Old Cerbaco #2 Single Barrel (2024)

Background:

Willett made the leap from a non-distilling producer to once again making their own whiskey in January 2012, three decades after the original Willett distillery had gone silent.

I’ve been curious about what well-aged Willett bourbon tasted like, as those original revival barrels are now hitting the 13–14-year mark.

But like most people, I’ve been deterred by the stratospheric pricing on their Family Estate single barrels (also known as the “purple tops”) with any decent age on them. I’ve finally been able to find an 11-year-old 2024 bottling from an Australian importer Cerbaco that distributes Willett in that country after it went on clearance at one of the local retailers early this year, likely to make room for the 12 and 13-year versions coming in. The final price was around 300 bucks, which should be closer to the MSRP and well below the 500 to 700 dollars they often retail for.

Before I go into the review, I’d like to mention a couple of misconceptions that come up in many Willett conversations.

First, you often hear about the “10 dollars per year” rule of thumb for pricing age-stated bottles. That “rule” was originated at Willett by the late Even Kulsveen. However, that metric was applied to the Family Estate line that was launched in 2006 and contained sourced whiskey. It was his way of justifying charging 200 bucks for a 20-year Heaven Hill, for example, which would’ve been a very steep price for the time. Willett has since blown through their own “rule” and there is nothing in the industry to support it. I hope at some point people will drop it instead of using it as some lazy cudgel in discussions on pricing.

The second one is the mythology of the “purple tops.” Initially, the Willett team didn’t love the name. Now they seem to embrace it by pushing out the 4-year “budget” version, since a lot of people think of premium whiskey when they see it. But you’ve got to keep in mind that the reputation of the Family Estate bottles was made in the ‘00s and ‘10s using sourced stocks – we are talking pre-fire Heaven Hill, new and old Bernheim, Brown-Forman and whatever else Even had in his warehouses, squirreled away during the glut days. Those early editions commanded ever-increasing prices, which Willett has seamlessly transitioned to their distillate, even at 6, 7 or 8 years. At least now Willett’s own versions are starting to approach the famed sourced bottlings in age.

But, enough background, let’s taste. Barrel 3052, OG mashbill (72c 13r 15b); 129 bottles; lot 1/15/13 (assume distillation or barreling date); 135 proof.

Nose:

Strong notes of clove and earthy cinnamon lead the way, backed by cedar/sandalwood. Then it’s plum, tobacco, milk chocolate, pancake syrup, hazelnut, vanilla sugar cookie, and vegetal notes of candied sage or thyme.

Palate:

Some peppery and cinnamon heat; quince/citrus; toffee and date dessert; matcha; more stone fruit (plum or cherry); a touch of licorice.

Finish:

Long; sandalwood; leather; cinnamon; muddled mint; a floral rye note sneaks in at the end.

Rating: (t8ke scale for reference below): 8

1 | Disgusting | So bad I poured it out

2 | Poor | I wouldn’t consume by choice

3 | Bad | Multiple flaws

4 | Sub-par | Not bad, but many things I’d rather have

5 | Good | Good, just fine

6 | Very Good | A cut above

7 | Great | Well above average

8 | Excellent | Really quite exceptional

9 | Incredible | An all-time favorite

10 | Perfect | Perfect

Thoughts:

This was one of the more interesting bottles I’ve had recently, and it’s taken me a while to wrap my head around it across multiple tastings. I even walked away from it for a month at some point.

People talk about the wide variability of these single barrels, and I don’t doubt it’s there. But that signature Willett house style is also present: very spice heavy, with cinnamon being a major theme. I’d noticed it when I compared an 8-year Family Estate to Noah’s Mill a few years ago.

In that review I noted that some of those rougher edges in Noah’s Mill were refined in the 8-year-old; now the 11-year takes that refinement and depth further. I kept a sample of the 8-year to compare to the 11, and the 11 had more going on (I rated them the same, but today I’d rate the 8-year around 7.5).

This 11-year was a complex, beguiling whiskey. It had elements I wouldn’t like in a less balanced composition, but for every hit of heavy spice, it would counterpunch with chocolate and brown-sugar sweetness; the woodiness had the stone fruit to play with. It drank every bit of its 135 proof but the flavor was there. This would be a good profile to try for someone who is getting a little bored with the usual legacy Kentucky bourbons or is crossing over from other world whiskeys.  

I put it into a few comparisons with other high-proof bourbons, and it’s landed somewhere at the level of pre-2020 Elijah Craig Barrel Proof and above the newer ECBP batches. In a head-to-head with George T. Stagg, I preferred GTS, but I just like that profile in general.

I’m reasonably satisfied with paying 300 bucks for it, just to try a new, complex whiskey with a distinct personality. I am also impressed with the direction the quality of Willett’s distillate is taking. If you look at the arc of their history, it’s a near miracle they are where they are, through the sheer vision and perseverance of Even – it’s too bad he is no longer with us.

Kudos aside, I am tapping out at the current prices for their double-digit offerings. The 500–700-dollar range opens up other options I’m more interested in, although I was very tempted by a 12-year rye of theirs I’d tried recently – but that’s a story for another time.

Thanks for reading and cheers!

 

u/OrangePaperBike — 10 days ago
▲ 251 r/bourbon

Everything you wanted to know about dusties but were afraid to ask

Introduction:

Despite the tongue-in-cheek title, this article will not contain everything there is to know about dusties, but you can help make it as complete as it can be. The subject of dusty or vintage spirits, and more specifically American whiskey, is a niche within a niche. There is a lot of information out there, but it’s dispersed, misunderstood, and occasionally gatekept. There have been other posts on the subject, and I encourage you to read them for different perspectives. They have been helpful to me, so I’m trying to add some angles and resources I’d wished were covered in more depth.

I will forgo any false-modesty disclaimers about not being an expert on the subject, because there are no true experts when it comes to dusty whiskey. There are people who know a lot, but it’s a self-mastering field with no accreditations. There is no ceiling in learning about it, so it’s entirely up to you about how deep you want to get.

This article is mostly aimed at people new to vintage whiskey, so I invite those with more experience to add or correct anything I’ve missed in the comments. Think back on when you were new to this topic, and what you wished you’d known then. This article will go through my own subjective lens, but I welcome any discussion or dissenting viewpoints.

I’m structuring this post similar to the one on tasting notes, using a Q&A format to cover the main areas and linking to posts that may send you down some rabbit holes. If you have a question or want to expand on a particular point, leave a comment.

Finally, this post is NOT an invitation for people to post photos of their bottles and ask for dating or valuation advice. There should be enough information here for you to do it yourself; those comments will be removed.

Since it’s a long post, I’ll provide a table of contents at the top. Now, let’s get dusty!

Table of contents:

1.     What is dusty whiskey?

2.     What sets vintage whiskey aside?

3.     Is there a cutoff for when vintage whiskey was made?

4.     Where do I find dusties?

5.     Is dusty whiskey actually good or is it all hype?

6.     What to look for when considering purchasing an older bottle?

7.     How do you date an old bottle?

8.     What is OBE (old bottle effect)?

9.     Can I still try vintage whiskey if I can’t afford a full bottle?

10.   Pitfalls of dusty hunting and what to watch out for.

11.   Are there entry-level or value dusties?

12.   What are the “modern” or “future” dusties?

1.

Q: What the hell is dusty whiskey and why should anyone care?

A: There are a few interpretations of what dusty whiskey is, so it’s important to establish the timelines and context first.

The term originally appeared in the late ‘90s, socialized in early internet forums like StraightBourbon.com. It referred to the older bottlings quite literally gathering dust on the shelves or in unopened boxes in store backrooms. Before the American whiskey boom properly got under way, liquor stores turned their inventory over at a much slower pace. It was not unusual to take years or even decades to sell through a few cases.

This time period straddled a stretch of major adjustment in the industry, with some brands disappearing or switching ownership. People who’d noticed the change started seeking out the bottles they used to enjoy that were no longer produced or contained different distillate.

Stitzel-Weller was one of the earliest dusty-hunting targets – the distillery was shuttered by Diageo in 1992 and its brands scattered to other companies by the end of the decade. However, Stitzel-Weller bourbon was still findable with little effort well into the 2000s – and those who learned how to tell the source of the distillate from the DSP numbers, UPC codes or subtle label changes (more on all of those later), knew what they were getting. An expression like Old Fitzgerald 1849 is a good example: If you ran into it in 2008, it could’ve come from three different producers: Old Fitzgerald (Stitzel-Weller), New Bernheim (Diageo) or Heaven Hill, all having near-identical bottles and labels. The early focus was on ghost distilleries that stopped producing by the 1990s: National Distillers, old Bernheim, Glenmore, Medley and so on. A little later on, pre-fire Heaven Hill and age-stated Wild Turkey that was discontinued in the US joined the list.

Now as to why people sought those old bottles out – they figured they’d tasted better or at least differently to what was on the shelf. A lot of the well-regarded brands took a step down in quality amid new ownership, either due to the production methods or cost-saving measures. For example, National Distillers brands, such as Old Grand-Dad or Old Crow went to Beam in 1987. They were produced at the Frankfort distillery that was shut down by Beam. Beam bottled the old Frankfort distillate well into the ‘90s, but once it ran out, they made it in Clermont to supply the brands. Different plants, different stills, different people making it, different tasting panels – Beam’s Old Grand-Dad did not taste like the National Distillers Old Grand-Dad, and many people preferred the former.

Some brands were down-shifted on purpose, like Old Crow becoming a lightly aged bottom-shelfer; Early Times stopped being a bourbon and became an NGS blend to save money. The examples go on and on.

So the reason people care about vintage today is the same reason they cared about it 25 years ago – expanding their whiskey universe by finding new (to them) profiles from a different time.

2.

Q: If old brands got degraded, why didn’t people just switch to the new, quality ones? It wasn’t just bad whiskey on the shelf, was it?

A: It’s true that there was good contemporary whiskey on the shelf, then and now. But there is an argument that the way whiskey was made before the 2000s or so is hard to replicate today for many reasons. You’ll probably hear about barrel-entry proof; old-growth oak for barrels; mutating yeast; climate and water change; older stocks going into pedestrian bottles during periods of low demand; urethane; changes in production methods and equipment, and so on.

I think it’s a combination of factors, but if I had to narrow them down to three general vectors, I would pick the following:

A.    Increased cost-saving and automation: You hear about old whiskey being more of an art than a science, and while it’s an overly romanticized notion, it hides some real facts: Old plants were less efficient and produced less consistent product, but a lighter demand for cost savings resulted in better whiskey. Coarse-grinding corn meant less yield but better taste. Propagating jug yeast rather than using packaged yeast is more labor intensive. Cypress fermentation tanks were harder to clean. Rotating barrels, or opening and closing windows daily to circulate air meant more manual work. Not every change aimed at increasing efficiency resulted in poorer whiskey, but many were. When new owners asked Jimmy Russell how much it cost to produce a proof gallon of whiskey, he had no idea. Using lower entry proof cost Wild Turkey an extra 3 million dollars a year in barrels. Simply put, older whiskey was made with less consideration of the cost, where the distiller made their best possible product without cutting corners.

 

B.    Fewer limited editions competing for the best stocks: Every distillery has their honey barrels – the barrels that just taste better for whatever reason, either due to aging conditions, a spot in the warehouse, etc. Before the age of premiumization and the almighty LE, where each company drops multiple every year, more honey barrels went into the everyday midshelf products. With demand low during the last glut (early ‘70s to late ‘90s), it was not hard to do. In the 1980s, your 8-year Wild Turkey 101 would only compete with the 12-year version for the best stocks. Today, the best whiskey is going into Russell’s 13 and 15, Single Rickhouse, Russell’s picks and so on. Even with expanded production, midshelf suffers from these diversions, and you often have to pay multiples for a modern limited edition to access the same quality that was available in an everyday shelfer 30 years ago. Every single company does it because the demand supports it.

 

C.    Environmental changes: Whiskey is agriculture. Whiskey is grain, it’s micro-organisms, it’s water, it’s wood, it’s seasons. Whatever your views on climate change, GMO grains, or forestry management may be, there is hard data that points to things not being the same as they were 30, 40, 60 years ago. An apple from the 1960s likely doesn’t taste like an apple today. Whiskey evolves (or devolves) along with the environment it was produced in.

3.

Q: When did dusty whiskey stop being made? If I find an older bottle or a discontinued label at a liquor store today, is it a dusty?

A: Time doesn’t stand still. There is no consensus on the exact cut-off for the dusty period. If you think about it, the bottles that were on the shelf in the early 2000s, when dusty hunting first started, are themselves considered dusty today.

“Dusty” also doesn’t always mean “vintage,” since bottles don’t sit on the shelves nearly as long today, and you’ll be hard-pressed to find anything older than a few years in an average store. So if you find a forlorn bottle of Elijah Craig Barrel Proof C922 stuck behind newer bottles, you may have a dusty on your hands, but not in the original sense of the term.

It really depends on whether you stick to the original definition in the context of when it began, or accept some sort of rolling deadline, which implies the “induction” of new bottles into the vintage realm as time goes on.

A better way is to think about different eras in American whiskey underpinned by objective historical changes. I think that the roughly half-century period between the 1950s and 2000s produced a certain profile of whiskey that is more or less lost today for the reasons I’ve listed previously. That is the “classic” dusty period, if you will, and it’s pretty fixed in my mind. But I also believe that any whiskey has the potential to become a “future” dusty, if it’s made using methods that fall out of use. I’ll touch on the “future dusties” later in the post, but it’s worth keeping the subjective nature of the term in mind.

Looking to any legislation for a more official definition is not much help. The famous Kentucky Vintage Spirits Law (House Bill 100), defines vintage spirits as “a package or packages of distilled spirits that: are in their original manufacturer’s unopened container; not being sold by a distiller; and are not otherwise available for purchase from a licensed wholesaler within the Commonwealth.”

It was written to enable the purchase of vintage spirits from private individuals, which has boosted a legal dusty-flipping cottage industry in Kentucky, but also created a bunch of loopholes – for example, if a shop can’t get last year’s BTAC from their wholesaler, does it mean a 2025 George T. Stagg is a vintage spirit now?

Virginia is more specific in its definition: “A bottle of spirits wherein the product therein has been bottled for at least 20 years or has not been sold by the brand owner for a minimum of 10 years.”

In my mind, I use a system similar to classifying cars (the years or terms are not an exact match, obviously); for example, a “veteran” car is pre-1918, a “vintage” car is manufactured between 1919 and 1930, “antique” is 1975 or earlier, and “classic” is usually at least 20 years old. If you keep the 20-year rule for “classic” whiskey, then you can keep adding new ones to that class as time goes by. However, since “dusty” or “vintage” are largely legally unregulated terms, it’s unlikely any official boundaries will ever be established.

When it comes to defining vintage whiskey, a lot of people follow in the steps of Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart and his obscenity threshold: “I know it when I see it.”

4.

Q: Alright, I want to get some dusty bourbon or rye. Where do I go?

A: There are four ways to get a vintage bottle: Auction; licensed retailer (online or physical); inheriting it from someone who no longer wants it or has passed away (estate sales, older relatives); and secondary (usually illegal or ambiguously legal) person-to-person direct sales.

All are pretty self-explanatory, so I won’t spend too much time on the topic.

I will only mention a couple of points:

One, travel, especially international travel, expands your chances of finding dusty bottles. American whiskey has been exported for decades, and places like Europe, Japan, and Australia still have a lot of it floating around. Other countries also have their own wine and spirits auctions, often selling vintage below American-auction premiums. The days of finding amazing dusties for 50 bucks in places like Japan are long gone, but with some luck you can still find bottles that would fetch a higher (sometimes much higher) price in the US.

Websites like Unicorn Auctions give you a fairly accurate snapshot of current market prices in the US. You must realize that by the time you buy from Unicorn, you’re at the end of the purchasing rainbow, and that bottle has traded hands multiple times. I’ve seen the same bottle purchased in a more obscure auction, only to be flipped for more in a better known one.

I don’t use American websites or certain Kentucky-based stores to price vintage bottles, since they just look on Unicorn, slap another extra 30-50-100 percent on top of it, and call it a day. Foreign web stores are a different matter, but you need to know your local market and it’s too granular for the purpose of this post.

The second point is that the secondary market (aka gray or black market) has its own pricing, trends, movers and shakers. Since it’s illegal in most places, I will refrain from commenting or recommending it, especially if you’re new to the space. And never, ever try to buy any whiskey on social media from strangers who approach you first.

5.

Q: Is all dusty whiskey good? I’ve heard it’s largely overrated and is pushed by people affected by nostalgia, scarcity or financial interest.

A: Let’s just establish one simple truth: Vintage whiskey is not one monolith block. Just as modern whiskey varies widely, so did the vintage. So no, not all dusty whiskey is good and I’ll give my personal examples further on what I stay away from. I will say one thing that is very obvious to me: While the bottom shelf of yesterday was not much better than the bottom shelf of today, and the modern top shelf can sometimes hang with the vintage one, the mid-shelf is where I notice the biggest difference. It goes back to the second question regarding LEs siphoning off the best barrels from the more affordable expressions.

You also have to realize that some vintage bottles were always conceived as premium bottles; the reason Marci Palatella sent so much aged stuff to Japan in the ‘80s and ‘90s was because they fetched a higher price there and had a market that was lacking in the US. So they started off a higher baseline and are still more expensive than most of the field today.

Nostalgia, being “label struck,” and undeclared financial interests all play a role, but you could say that about modern whiskey.

Whether something is overrated or not, is up to you to decide. My advice is to try for yourself to figure out where you stand, instead of parroting something that someone else said. There is no substitute for developing your own confidence in knowing what you like.

6.

Q: What should I look out for when considering purchasing an older bottle?

A: Whether online or in person, there are three visual clues I look for right away:

A.    Clarity of liquid: Cloudy, hazy whiskey is a bad sign. There are proteins, fatty acids, and esters in whiskey, which dissolve in alcohol but less so in water. When alcohol evaporates, these compounds stick together and become visible, which is the cause of cloudiness. Extreme cloudiness or clumpiness can indicate mold or mildew, although that’s usually caused by poor storage conditions rather than evaporation and is not common. Some people don’t care about that, pointing out that since vintage whiskey was not chill-filtered, it’s just a natural reaction (flocculation), especially prevalent in spirits under 86 proof. But NCF whiskey will usually return to its non-cloudy state after temperatures stabilize, so I’m not convinced permanent cloudiness can always be dismissed as floc. So even if there is no mold in cloudy whiskey, the haze may be an indication that flavor-delivering compounds have been compromised and the proof has dropped. I’ve drunk a few “cloudies” and not a single one was worth it.

 

B.    Fill level: There is a reason why a legitimate auction will be diligent about noting the fill level (ullage) on the bottle. As I’ve mentioned above, whiskey doesn’t oxidize the same way wine does, but it’s prone to evaporation over time, especially as natural cork degrades (twist caps are much better seals). Evaporation is less of an issue than haze, but if the fill level is well below the shoulder, it’s a warning sign. A very high fill level is not always a good thing, either, and may be a clue to a re-filled bottle. The real nerds know the natural fill levels for major bottles. For example, if I saw a Cheesy Gold Foil filled up to the cork, my alarm bells would go off.

 

C.    Label and enclosure condition: Look at the label carefully and compare it to other examples from the same era. Extreme fading may point to prolonged UV exposure, which may be detrimental to the whiskey. Japan especially is famous for supplying those. Some fading is expected on an older bottle, but if it’s clearly bleached, the risk factor goes up. Also look at the enclosure of the bottle – the capsule, the plastic, the tax strip if appropriate. Compare to other examples in close detail. Know how to read a tax strip, the laser codes, bottle mould years, DSP and UPC codes, parent companies, and government warnings (more on that below).

 

Other than the three points above, don’t trust blindly what the auction house or retailer tells you about the bottle. They get things wrong all the time. Unicorn Auctions calls Wild Turkey 12/101 “split labels” when they are in fact “uni-labels” or “pseudo-splits” constantly. Dating estimates are often off by decades. Be your own whiskey historian and verify for yourself. Knowing what the correct labels and enclosures look like will also help you spot the fakes. Most auctions will send additional photos if you ask, if you want to examine the bottom or back of the bottle, or see the capsule up close.

7.

Q: How do I date a bottle or get more information about it?

A: There are quite a few resources available, some of which have originated on this sub.

WhiskeyID has examples of various vintage bottles to explore. They also have resources on glass mould dates, tax strips, UPC codes, metric vs imperial measurements, and government warnings here. More tax-strip examples here. Italy also had identifiable generations of tax strips.

u/kumori has done a lot of legwork on vintage ID on his blog and deciphering Wild Turkey laser codes.

You can use primary sources from the past to help with dating. I’ve had some success by simply looking at old ads on eBay and match label changes to copyright dates (here is an example). It’s clunky, but you can browse old newspapers and books in Google, which contain ads and bottle photos.

8.

Q: I keep seeing “OBE” in dusty-whiskey discussions, what is that?

A: “OBE” stands for “old bottle effect,” a notion that whiskey goes through changes or conditioning while in the bottle, resulting in a unique taste profile for vintage whiskey. It’s a contentious concept, with some people saying that properly sealed and stored whiskey should not change at all and OBE is whiskey woo-woo along the lines of the “neck pour.” Others suggest that once oxygen gets through the porous cork and interacts with the whiskey over decades, some chemical alteration in the liquid is inevitable.

I haven’t seen any convincing studies on this, but it does make sense that oxygen interaction multiplied by many years will result in some changes. I’m just not convinced on their extent, and I don’t think OBE can turn mediocre whiskey into great whiskey – but I do know that poor storage and seals can do the opposite.

My theory is that when the bottle is properly sealed, some light evaporation will still occur; best case scenario involves water and alcohol escaping at roughly the same rate, preventing solids falling out of the solution and turning cloudy, or the proof dropping dramatically. The whiskey may drop a few proof points and take on a softer quality while maintaining the desired flavor compounds – whether that qualifies as OBE is anyone’s guess.

9.

Q: I can’t afford a full bottle of vintage whiskey, what else can I do to try it?

A: There is no substitute for a full bottle that you can taste over time and really wrap your head around on separate occasions, to account for palate variations.

However, you can still taste some vintage whiskey, often for the fraction of the cost.

One, don’t discount dusty minis. Yes, some people avoid them because they believe they don’t keep as well, and there is some truth to that. I’ve had some success buying combined lots of them if I can identify one or two that appear to be in good shape, even if it means getting a few that are too low-fill or cloudy – at under 10 bucks a pop, the risk is worth it.

I apply the same visual appraisal rules as the ones I’ve outlined for the full bottles. I stay away from the plastic minis, but most of the vintage ones I’ve come across are glass. The fail rate is slightly higher for the minis than full bottles, but the positives have outweighed the negatives enough for me to keep pursuing them.

Second, it’s become fashionable for many bars specializing in whiskey to have some kind of dusty menu. The epicenter is in Kentucky, but most big or medium-sized cities will have at least one place. Japan is a great example of a location that has become much more challenging to find full vintage bottles, but has some fantastic bars with decent pricing and excellent selection.

And finally, as someone on this sub once said, if you’ve spent a few years in this hobby and you’re not an asshole, you’ll have more samples than you know what to do with. Quite a few of them will be vintage, if you meet the right people.

10.

Q: What are some of the pitfalls of dusty hunting and what should I look out for?

A: Other than assessing the condition of the bottle and properly dating it, there are a few other things to keep in mind:

Vintage decanters are often cheaper for a reason – you can’t see inside of them, so you have no idea what state the liquid is in. Then there are concerns about lead. At this point, I pretty much avoid them and stick to an occasional sample here and there. Painted glass is a safer alternative.

I stay away from blended whiskey (the NGS type) no matter how cool or old the bottle. We’re talking Seagram’s domestic Four Roses, ‘80s Beam decanters, and so on. I don’t bother with anything before, during or immediately after the Prohibition era – the prices are high, the quality is inconsistent, and storage issues go up exponentially. This is where being aware of bourbon’s history comes in handy – if you know that right after the Prohibition most bottles were either very young or blended with Canadian or GNS, you won’t get the FOMO. If you like well-aged whiskey and you know the story of Schenley’s Lewis Rosenstiel and his quest to change the bonding period in 1958, you won’t be looking for 10 or 12-year bourbon before then.

You have to be ready for the whiskey to be off, no matter how clear it is or how high the fill level is. Vintage whiskey is a lottery – sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don’t. Decades of unknown storage conditions can have all sorts of unforeseen effects. I’ve taken a few Ls (thankfully few and far between) and moved on.

Keep your expectations in check. Vintage whiskey is just that, whiskey. You’ve been let down by a modern bottle, you’ll be let down by an old one. You will not have a transcendent experience every time. Once again – it’s just whiskey.

As I’ve said before, vintage whiskey is not one homogenous block. It spans decades, producers, and trends. Some were expensive in their day, some were not. Abandon notions of value as it applies today. Just as with modern bottles, people have their own hierarchies and subjective preferences. From my experience, the vintage bottles you hear about the most are notable for a reason, but they have their own internal divisions. Pre-fire Heaven Hill could mean a 20-year export unicorn or a basic 5-year 86-proofer. National Distillers, Stitzel-Weller, Wild Turkey all have bottles that go for hundreds of dollars due to the name and scarcity that are not remarkable. Then they also have those that absolutely destroy 99 percent of modern whiskey. Most are somewhere in-between. Embrace and understand that nuance.

People make a big deal about corks failing on older bottles, but I think it’s kind of a fun part of the ritual. Just have some spare corks on hand and use a metal-mesh strainer or unbleached cheesecloth to get the broken cork bits out. Avoid coffee filters, as they may strip some of the good stuff out.

Anecdotally older whiskey loses its mojo a bit faster than modern once open. I have few bottles that last more than a year, but if I want to keep something longer term, I transfer them into smaller bottles once they hit the mid-point. Otherwise store your vintage bottles the same way you should store any bottle – upright, away from the sun, ideally in stable temperatures.

Be aware of modern revival of vintage labels. Some will be obviously new, but others will copy the label exactly (looking at you, Commonwealth Distillery’s Colonel Randolph). They are legacy squatters, so do your research.

There are dusty hype merchants online. Some are just fellow nerds who want to show off their collections. Others have a financial interest (there is one individual posting endless hoard photos of the Olde St. Nick bottles he’d picked up in Japan years ago, and who feels very entitled to a payoff).

If you simply want to drink vintage whiskey, you are now competing with bars, restaurants, flippers, scammers, crypto shysters who want to sell you “shares” of bottles via blockchain, “investors,” and all the rest of the flotsam that shows up when something becomes sufficiently popular to make serious money. Those people are reading this post right now. But I want you to know that with enough persistence, education, awareness, and a little bit of luck, you can beat them at this game, if only at the margins.

11.

Q: Can you recommend some entry-level dusties that are a good value?

A: “Value” and “dusties” can feel like mutually exclusive terms. Since value is so subjective, I usually hesitate to make specific recommendations. If you’re new to vintage spirits, I would not start with a very expensive bottle. At the moment, there seems to be an inflated premium on well-known bottles from the ‘80s that used to be relative bargains. Wild Turkey is shooting up even as the overall market cools off, for example.

I will usually touch on my perception of value in some of the reviews, but I think you can still stay under 300 bucks and dip your toes into some interesting profiles. The early 2000s era is still somewhat overlooked compared to the earlier decades. I’m talking Wild Turkey (Kentucky Spirit, export 8/101), late pre-fire Heaven Hill (Evan Williams 7 or 8 year old, Elijah Craig 12, Henry McKenna); Knob Creek and Baker’s; Maker’s Mark, especially the export black or gold labels; just about anything from a legacy distiller from that period will taste differently (and I would argue better) than today’s output. Except Dickel; Dickel still tastes the same.

12.

Q: What are the “modern” or “future” dusties?

A: The concepts of modern and future dusties echo the idea that flavor profiles change because of the environment, production methods, and trends. With enough time, any bottle can become a time capsule without a contemporary equivalent.

A good example of a modern dusty would be the “pirate” Elijah Craig Barrel Proof bottlings. They have been around from 2013 to 2017 – very recent by vintage-spirit norms, but I can attest they do not taste like the modern versions. There are some theories that whiskies distilled prior to the top of the boom (let’s say before 2012 or so), are already standing apart from what’s on the shelf today. I realize that’s a very general statement, but I see some merit to it when trying some whiskies bottled 5, 7, 10 years ago. One theory is that the boom caused a more rushed production and some corner-cutting resulting in poorer whiskey (pulling stocks early, not letting the stills rest enough, increased reliance on automation). I can’t say with confidence if there is some truth to it, as we’re still living through that period.

But what of future dusties? Not every bottle from 50 years ago that survived today is good drinking, so simply sticking a bottle of Jim Beam in your closet and believing your children will have a treasure in 2066 is magical thinking. Some people even believe that as the boom dissipates and we return to more measured growth, whiskey made today will be seen as inferior compared to stuff a decade from now.

A counterpoint is that things may actually get worse: Think an environmental disaster affecting oak; producers successfully lobbying to change the definition of bourbon to use cheaper methods (used oak, higher off the still proof, messing with minimum aging requirements or labelling laws) or some other black-swan event we’re not thinking about.

There are people hoarding cases of Old Grand-Dad 114, blue-top Brown-Forman Early Times, and who knows what else. I don’t buy into any of that, but if there is a whiskey you enjoy that was made a certain way that is changing, perhaps you’ll want to pay attention to things like Wild Turkey using a new distillery since 2011, Heaven Hill discontinuing the use of Deatsville rickhouses, or those COVID-era 14-year Knob Creek picks.

One way to not look like a fool in a decade’s time is to stay away from grandiose predictions, and that’s exactly why I’ll wrap up here.

If you’ve made it all the way to the end, thanks for reading! I hope you’ve picked up something useful and will consider adding more in the comments.

u/OrangePaperBike — 14 days ago