BREAKING: Jack Daniel’s is now a thing worth having, according to a recent article in the New York Times. As is often the case, I was brought up to speed on this development through the occasional links that well-meaning friends and family send my way when they come across a mention of whiskey in the mainstream media. Usually it’s about record-setting prices or listicles or a whiskey-of-the-year, but in this case it was a piece in the venerable New York Times heralding Jack Daniel’s as the next thing to covet (their word), so much so that “people have been known to camp out in front of liquor stores the night before they arrive,” no doubt taking their cue from Swifties.
Apparently with Jack Daniel's having been “long snubbed by connoisseurs and collectors”, a series of special releases – a rye, a single malt, and a single barrel – is making all the difference, and “helping the distillery upgrade its image”. For context, testimony is duly provided by an American whiskey collector living a mere hour away from the distillery. Having amassed hundreds of bottles, he readily admits that Jack Daniel’s wasn’t worthy of his shelf space until four years ago, when he started noticing increased levels of slavering chatter on social media. Heeding the call of the wild, he joined the hype and filled the gaping hollow in his collection with thirty or forty bottles; who’s counting? And it seems his outright dismissal of Jack Daniel’s was not an isolated incidence: “Most serious whiskey collectors and critics would probably have agreed,” concludes the Gray Lady.
Of course, I do get it: digital impressions are the bread and butter of media outlets, and with clickbait driving readership, what better lure than the most famous name in whiskey? But as a well-oiled marketing machine from its inception, the idea that special releases of Jack Daniel’s are something new is an outright fallacy, one of many in an article that slipped past the fact-checkers.
In fairness, involving facts would have voided such an article altogether. Jack himself was an insatiable marketeer who craved world domination, and regularly produced bespoke decanters and commemorative bottlings for associates and business establishments, as did Lem Motlow, Jack Daniel’s nephew who inherited the distillery upon Jack’s passing. These are all highly sought-after collectibles, both for their historical significance as much as their liquid, Jack Daniel’s being a whiskey brand as well as an emblem of Americana. This is well chronicled on the interwebs through countless fan forums and collectors’ sites, not to mention a two-volume guide that thoroughly documents the distillery’s extensive archive going back fifty years.
While it can’t be argued that the cognoscenti delight in bashing populist whiskeys such as Jack Daniel’s flagship Old No. 7 – and perhaps deservedly since being reduced to 40% abv – those in the know have long cherished the incredible value and depth of flavour offered by Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Select, a premium expression of older honey barrels that was first introduced in 1997, long before the New York Times published their scoop. This has been my go-to in American whiskey for over a decade, and for my money it’s consistently as rich and bold as anything bottled in Kentucky.
With this in mind, I did a double take in 2014 when I came across a pair of Jacks bottled for Shinanoya, Japan’s most respected whisky merchant. In and of itself there was nothing to see as Jack Daniel’s barrel picks are a dime a dozen, even making the odd appearance at liquor monopolies. However, like their bourbon counterparts, Jack Daniel’s has long had a special focus on the Japanese market, particularly into the 90s when they sat on ageing barrels of whiskey as Americans leaned into vodka and Cosmopolitans. In fact, to compete head to head with the likes of Wild Turkey 12 Year Old and single barrels of Blanton’s, the distillery created their first ever export bottling in 1993 – Jack Daniel’s Master Distiller – exclusively for Japan.
In short, the Japanese have a longstanding appreciation of American whiskey and in my experience those tastes are well catered for. Some of the best bourbons I’ve had were bottled for Japan, always generous in proof and long in the tooth, Maker’s Mark Black and Johnny Drum 15 Year Old being two that immediately come to mind.
Shinanoya had opted for twin barrels, chosen as Extra Creamy and Extra Dry respectively, the latter of which had my name written all over it. As a rule JD Single Barrels are oily and muscular, and I imagined an Extra Dry version nosing like the inside of a cigar humidor, while dialing up notes of wood and spice against the whiskey’s natural sweetness. According to Google’s crude translation of Shinanoya’s description, I’m hopefully not far off the mark:
“EXTRA DRY (Barrel #14-3735) packs a punch, it has a gorgeous sweetness and spiciness, a complex flavour with the addition of oak to Jack Daniel’s signature caramel, and a spicy finish of tobacco and rye. This is a Bourbonia that tickles your heart!”
Jack Daniel’s has a long history of packaging its whiskey in elaborate decanters, harking back to the days when Jack himself would reputedly serve whiskey to his closest white male friends from his own monogrammed decanters. The brand has continued with this theme, often packaging single barrels and special releases in decanter-inspired bottles that conjure images of porch swings and plantation vibes that I probably shouldn’t think about too hard. That said, I love the yesteryear feel of the Single Barrel design; the raised embossing of Jack’s name on the bottle has always felt like pure class, but the ‘hang tag’ on this Shinanoya exclusive is the cherry on top for me:
For something I have yet to taste, I have an inexplicable crush on this bottle, and daydream about trying it elsewhere before opening my own and being let down by the weight of anticipation. The Japanese are voracious collectors so it might still be possible, even with only 254 bottles released ten years ago. Of course such a scavenger hunt would mean another trip to Japan, in what’s likely a futile bid to taste a whisky that I already have.
But I bet that Atsushi Horigami could help. I can but try.