Growing up in Pennsylvania coal country, Johnny Swet remembers the jars of moonshine his dad would keep around the house, and his uncles “walking around with a swagger” while swigging it. Today he’s a partner and mixologist at Jimmy at the James NY, a swank rooftop bar where one can order a $17 Basil Peach Julep.
While it could be said that those two experiences lie at opposite ends of the drinking spectrum, there’s a common thread: white whiskey. Swet’s one of many city bartenders who’ve taken a shine to un-aged corn liquor, a rarified version of the hooch his uncles drank. It’s a good bet they never drank it with peach liqueur and ginger ale, but plenty of customers at Swet’s bar have, in his Deliverance cocktail, made with Original Moonshine corn whiskey. Same at The Dutch in SoHo, where the White Manhattan marries Death’s Door White Whiskey with a flower-tea tincture and pear brandy.
Virtually nonexistent seven or eight years ago, un-aged whiskeys — called white dog, white whiskey, raw whiskey, moonshine and other names — have been growing in popularity ever since a handful of producers began attracting attention a couple of years ago. They’re showing up on cocktail menus around the city, and are being made by a growing number of craft distillers, including NYC’s Kings County Distillery, Tuthilltown Spirits in the Hudson Valley and Finger Lakes Distilling upstate, which has earned plaudits for its Glen Thunder Corn Whiskey.
“The moonshine thing has just taken off,” says Bill Owens, president of the American Distilling Institute. He counts 32 producers making it in the US, estimating that two years ago that number would have been “maybe 12.” And, he notes, “The big distilleries now all have white dogs.”
Whiskey gains both its character and its color from barrel aging. White whiskey is the pre-aged spirit that comes off the still, put straight into a bottle instead of a charred oak barrel.
For Colin Spoelman, co-founder of Kings County Distillery, the “unadulterated” quality of un-aged corn whiskey is a big part of its appeal.
“The measure of a whiskey is never more present than when it’s in its raw form,” he says.
Growing up in Kentucky, Spoelman knew there was moonshine to be had in his dry county. But he abstained until after he moved to NYC, where he started bringing some back with him after visits home, and handing it out at parties.
“People were totally fascinated,” he says.
The concept was more appealing than the actual taste. When he started experimenting at home, Spoelman’s goal was to “try to make something that could be called moonshine that you could drink.”
It took him and partner David Haskell a couple of years to arrive at a product they were happy with — one that’s “bright on the palate, and rich with the flavor of the grain” — and to decide there might be a market for it. Un-aged corn whiskey sold in pint bottles became Kings County Distilling’s maiden product, and while the pair have since added a bourbon, it’s remained a strong seller, accounting for a third of sales.
The biggest driver of the white-whiskey trend is the proliferation of new craft distillers who need to wait at least a year to produce barrel-aged product. With raw whiskey, “It’s straight out the door and you’re in business,” says Owens.
Then there’s the historical cachet — “the whole Appalachian mystique, and that romantic notion of what moonshine is,” as Swet puts it.
Not everyone loves the use of the term moonshine to describe white whiskeys. It’s technically incorrect, for one thing — by definition moonshine is illegal hooch, home-distilled using any fermentable substance at hand. And the term doesn’t exactly suggest sipping splendor.
“It’s got such a negative connotation, of something made without any kind of care,” says Ralph Erenzo, the co-founder of Tuthilltown Spirits, whose offerings include the un-aged New York Corn Whiskey. “It’s something we struggle against.”
When people taste it, “generally they’re happily surprised — they expect it to burn,” he says. He describes the profile as “smooth and easy to drink, with the actual character of corn in it.”
Flavor-wise, white whiskey is “a little tricky to pigeonhole,” says Josh Nadel, the beverage director at the Dutch. He likes the “blank canvas” it offers the mixologist, and has found several that he loves.
At the same time, as “a barrel-aged spirit guy,” he admits to having mixed feelings about its sudden rise. There are others in the spirits community who feel likewise, says Andrew Faulkner, the judging director for the American Distilling Institute, which has started including “clear whiskeys” at its competitions.
“There’s definitely a debate,” about whether they are a respectable category or an unfinished product being pushed by distillers “who are waiting for their real product to age.”
Still, he’s found a few that he’s happy to drink, and quibbles aside, Nadel welcomes them as a new toy to play with. Nobody expects white whiskeys to replace bourbon — but they’re clearly winning some fans, says Spoelman of Kings County, who sees their resurgence as more than just a fad.
“There are people who love the stuff,” he says. “We get a lot of repeat customers who aren’t just into it for the novelty.”