Bourbon Empire: The Past and Future of America's Whiskey

by Reid Mitenbuler

How bourbon came to be, and why it’s experiencing such a revival today
 
Unraveling the many myths and misconceptions surrounding America’s most iconic spirit, Bourbon Empire traces a history that spans frontier rebellion, Gilded Age corruption, and the magic of Madison Avenue. Whiskey has profoundly influenced America’s political, economic, and cultural destiny, just as those same factors have inspired the evolution and unique flavor of the whiskey itself.
 
Taking readers behind the curtain of an enchanting—and sometimes exasperating—industry, the work of writer Reid Mitenbuler crackles with attitude and commentary about taste, choice, and history. Few products better embody the United States, or American business, than bourbon.
 
A tale of innovation, success, downfall, and resurrection, Bourbon Empire is an exploration of the spirit in all its unique forms, creating an indelible portrait of both bourbon and the people who make it.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Food, Business, Audiobook, Booze, Food and Drink

320 pages, Hardcover

First published May 12, 2015

Reviews

[Cathie · Rating 4 out of 5]

All bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon.

Entertaining historical account on the spirit of bourbon that spans from Washington & the Revolutionary War, to Repeal of Prohibition & the Twenty-First Amendment, to Bourbon branding and resurgence today.

Each chapter has an interesting historical trait of the bourbon industry. The author discusses key family-owned and operated distilleries across the U.S., and those who supported and promoted the bourbon brand. He also shares such great pivotal moments - Old Bourbon being served at the first Kentucky Derby; its contribution to the creation of NASCAR; its influence on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, to name a few.

I was especially surprised by Chicago’s connection and influence towards the spirit of bourbon – not to mention lead to the birth of the nation’s largest drugstore chain, Walgreens.

I recently attended a Producer’s fair and visited KOVAL distillery. Established in 2008, it is Chicago’s First Distillery since the Mid-1800s. [KOVAL’s Single Barrel Bourbon whiskey was awesome, btw]

A great micro-history of the birth of bourbon, its evolution, and revival.

Bourbon - America's whiskey!


Disclaimer: I received this book in exchange for a fair review. All opinions are my own and I was not compensated for this review.

[Phil · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had a hard time choosing between 3 and 4 stars for this book. The author has a wealth of interesting information to share, but most importantly he is a good storyteller and his love of the topic is infectious. Parts of the book are fascinating. I especially liked seeing how the opinions on bourbon changed throughout American history spanning the civil war, the western frontier, prohibition (of course), the industrial "captains of industry" age, and the modern craft food/drink movement. The bourbon industry seems to have more than its fair share of colorful characters. Also interesting to get a view behind the curtain at how major distilleries construct a story/history/image to fit the notions that consumers expect out of a bourbon.

The reason I struggled to give it that 4th star is largely a matter of editing. The book jumped about quite a bit (sometimes dry history, sometimes fascinating storytelling, sometimes mini-biographies, sometimes speculation on eras when historical records are scarce, sometimes near-tirades against particular distilleries). It also repeated itself from time to time (I was already rolling my eyes the 3rd of 4th time I was reminded of the Hamilton/Jefferson views of industry), included short bursts of hyperbole and opinion, and even had the odd misspelling or two. A firm hand at editing would have made this book really crackle, but I'm trying not to hold that against it. You can even sense the author trying to reign himself in at times (noting that taste is subjective etc.) with mixed results.

In the end it is kind of like sitting down (over a bourbon?) to have a chat with someone who really loves and is knowledgeable about a subject. Even if the conversation goes off the rails on occasion it is bound to be interesting. Ultimately I enjoyed reading it and felt like I came away learning new things, so 4 stars it is.

[Grumpus · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don’t know why I am fascinated with these biography-of-things books. I suppose if you are a history lover such as me, a biography is a biography no matter the topic. Still, who would have thought to write a history of bourbon? Who knew there would be enough compelling information to hold a reader’s interest for 320 pages? I don’t drink the stuff nor know anybody who does. Yet, this was compelling because ALL of the information was new.

Even though the content was previously unknown to me, it was not the most exciting topic, that’s why I gave it 3 stars (meaning I liked it). It was however, a very interesting read and if you like learning about things that you typically do not give much thought to, you may find this biography of interest.

[Gail Strickland · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm not a fan of bourbon, but my last husband surely enjoyed Evan Williams and I wish he were still here so he could read this informative, entertaining book on the history of his favorite drink. You may think you know this history of that bourbon in your hand, but you'll be surprised how many backstories are a product of pure marketing. Whatever the story is/was/or will be, I still think your taste buds will lead you to the perfect brand for you.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

It’s America’s whisky and Reid Mitenbuler traces the history of bourbon back to the first president. Turns out the spirit is closely tied to the country that gave birth to it. Backwoods individualism to corporate shenanigans, outright criminal activities to being an essential staple of war. For a spirit that cultivates it’s craft heritage it’s become a mass produced product created by only a handful of distillers. It enjoys a rip-roaring, mythic history that makes for an entertaining read.

[patrick Lorelli · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author takes you on a journey just like our country has been forged through the history of immigrants and does the same with bourbon, whiskey, rye, and the differences. How they are produced still in certain regions because that is where their ancestors emigrated to from Scotland, Germany, Ireland. How that before that revolution most people were drinking rum, and then like most things the British started taxing the rum at a higher rate so the whiskey or bourdon being produced in Tennessee, and Kentucky, started making it to the bigger cities. Now after the war and formation of our country we did the same thing. That is tax the whiskey, called simply the whiskey tax, and this was just one of the many things that Jefferson, and Hamilton argued over. An agreement was brokered and for the most part that stayed in place until the early 1900’s, when the food act came into existence and whiskey, rye, bourbon came under there guide lines. The tax for whiskey has change over the years but has always been there. The author takes you through every period of our history as a Nation, wars from the Revolution, Civil, to the World wars. Then through probation where it was not as dry as they made it sound. If you had a medical condition and needed bourbon for that condition with a doctor’s recommendation (note), you could have it. Of course the only people who could afford it were the rich or politicians, but I found this to be very interesting. Of course during this time only of few of the big makers were able to survive and the author takes you through the owners of the companies and how really only 4 or 5 actually own all of the names. Old Grand Dad, Wild Turkey, Jim Beam, but now there are new people coming into the game kind of like with beer the independents, specialty brands, or makers. This was a good book with a lot of information he even goes into the formation of NASCAR, so overall a very good read. I got this book from Netgalley.com I gave it 4 stars. Follow us at www.1rad-readerreviews.com

[B. · Rating 1 out of 5]

The book is both repetitive and unfocused. Sentences are repeated, almost verbatim, from one page to the next. This book reads like a rough draft, or notes, not an actual history of American whiskey. I'm pretty sure the editor gave up around page 10. Unlike the editor, I kept going, and felt the lack. I would love my time back. You'll get a better history of whiskey touring the Jack Daniels and Jim Beam distilleries than you will from this book.

[Evan Hollander · Rating 3 out of 5]

While I enjoyed the subject matter, I found this book to be very uneven. Mitenbuler is strong at the beginning, but sags as he diverges into tangents that seem to be an attempt to force more material into the text. For a book that is not a scholarly survey, the footnotes were distracting. Overall, this is an interesting read but would have benefited from a more discerning editor.

[Angel · Rating 4 out of 5]

Quick impression: This is a very interesting book that looks at the history of bourbon, its influence on US history and culture as well as a good look at the business and industry. It also debunks a good amount of myths around bourbon. For the audio version, good narrator. However, the book does skip around a bit, and in audio, means you may feel you missed something; transitions not that great. Still, worth a read.

(Full review on my blog later).

[Tomasz Stachewicz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loads of good, thorough research (the bibliography section is as big as I'd expect from such a book) combined with good writing, making the book a smooth read. I loved it!

[Kirk Dobihal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fascinating history of bourbon with many tales that will tempt you to pour out a fingers worth of your stock.

[Austin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thirsty? you will be. Bourdon Empire satisfies two of my passions, History and Bourbon. Now if Mitenbuler found a way to weave in BBQ, it would have been 5 Stars! ;-)

[Mitch · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well written and interesting. Gave me a bunch of potential research ideas.

[Joe · Rating 5 out of 5]

The French, equally impressed by the patriots’ fighting at the battle, as well as at Saratoga, decided to assist the struggling rebellion. Americans repaid the gesture by naming an assortment of frontier areas for French towns and people. These included Bourbon County in present-day Kentucky, which in the following decades would emerge as an important whiskey-producing area.

They often called themselves “rednecks,” an old Scots border term for Presbyterians. Another title they used for themselves was “crackers,” a term that came from the Scots word craik, which literally means “talk,” but was typically used to describe the kind of loud bragging that usually leads to a fight.

The combination of rye and corn in a whiskey forms a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Corn on its own can sometimes taste a little one-note, but rye gives depth in the way that adding a horn section to a band helps bring a song alive. Rye on its own is often flavorful and delicious, but can also have a spiky quality that benefits from the introduction of a smoother corn spirit to mellow its edges. If the grains in bourbon formed a band, corn would be the suave frontman, providing body and mass but not quite able to hold the stage down all by himself. Rye would play bass, giving the ensemble style and soul but a little weird when heard playing alone. You’d still recognize the song without rye, but it wouldn’t have near the same groove.

Hamilton’s whiskey tax—the first of its kind on an American-made product—supported larger distillers over smaller ones because of how the tax was collected. In cities, distillers only paid taxes on how much spirits they produced, since tax collectors could easily monitor output and collect accordingly. But in areas the government defined as “the country,” distillers paid according to their still capacity, which was assumed to run at full production all the time. The problem was that most frontier distillers used their equipment only when they needed to, meaning they’d theoretically have to pay taxes on spirits they didn’t even produce. To smaller distillers, the tax echoed the oppressive government policies that had driven the United States to revolt against Britain.

This common industry arrangement is usually called “sourcing” or “contract distilling” and those companies on the receiving end are typically called NDPs, short for “non-distiller producers” (you can tell them apart on the liquor store shelf by tiny print reading “produced by,” or some similar variation, rather than “distilled by,” since they’re not technically distillers and government regulations prevent them from saying otherwise). For many upstart distilleries, sourcing is simply a way to become established while they wait for their own whiskey stocks to age, although most, understandably, don’t advertise that fact.

The stories are also designed to make you believe specifically in Kentucky. The state holds a special connection to bourbon, even though many other places possess the exact same qualities that make Kentucky’s whiskey so good: water filtered by limestone, the ability to grow grain, and climates defined by hot summers and cool winters.

The whiskey industry would later call its marketing efforts “history,” but it’s this sort of history that the writer Julian Barnes would later describe as “that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation.”

The limestone filtered iron salts from the water and added calcium, which helped yeast thrive during fermentation.

The land and its economics dictated a whiskey that increasingly resembled modern bourbon: primarily corn, with some rye and a little malted barley.

Wheat was relatively expensive, buckwheat becomes gummy and easily scorches, and oats are difficult to work with due to their high bran content—if not fermented fully before beginning distillation, they can boil up into the worm and blow up the still.

The account also indicates that distillers used whatever was at hand and that proportions were rarely standardized, meaning that any modern claims by companies that they are adhering to a strict and ancient “family recipe” from the era are highly questionable.

Even the early Romans knew that water and wine stored in charred barrels stayed fresher longer, and by the fifteenth century the French used barrels like this to mellow brandy and give it flavor and color. In America, drinkers in the early nineteenth century also noticed that spirits transported in charred oak—which is often used for liquids because the wood’s tight grain prevents leakage—tasted better after long voyages. It was a short step from using a barrel as a mere transport device for whiskey to treating it instead as an ingredient.

Most bourbon makers today estimate that somewhere between 50 and 80 percent of the spirit’s final flavor comes from the barrel. Alcohol is a solvent that over time breaks down elements found in the wood such as cellulose, hemicellulose, and lignin, which are responsible for the vanilla, mint, and anise notes found in bourbon. White oak in particular is loaded with these compounds, which vary depending on the age of the wood, where it was grown, and a host of other factors. These elements are responsible for the swirling platter of flavors reminiscent of butterscotch, vanilla, cinnamon, coconut, and citrus that are found in whiskey.

In the case of bourbon, using a large barrel to age whiskey is the equivalent of barbecuing “low and slow.” The results will usually take at least three years to be worth drinking and the better part of a decade to be worth remembering. Distillers who are unable to afford this kind of time rely on small barrels for aging, the equivalent of cooking meat in a microwave—it’s still edible, if not as enjoyable.

Not only was whiskey an expression of egalitarian credentials and national unity, it also complemented the fast, intense hustle of America’s work ethic. A quick shot of whiskey versus a leisurely mug of ale was the choice of fast over slow food. British writer Archibald Maxwell observed that America’s national motto could have been “Gobble, gulp, and go.”

The julep’s rise in America followed a similar path to many other cocktails. It has old roots—“julep” is a French word derived from the Arabic julab, meaning rosewater, and ancient juleps were nonalcoholic concoctions containing crushed rose petals to help medicine taste better. The rose petals were replaced by mint once the drink migrated to the Mediterranean, and once it drifted across the Atlantic, Americans added booze. The first American versions of it poked up around 1800 in Virginia and were spiked with brandy or rum but still no ice, which was a scarce luxury.

Then there are purists who claim that whiskey should only be had neat or with just a few drops of water to “open it up,” but their advice is tiresome and dull. Whiskey is a drink of independent adaptability and does whatever it wants, even if that means pairing itself in cocktails or with soda, plain water, or ice (or food, if you like). Whatever suits the season and the time, whiskey doesn’t care about being judged. It is a drink of Americans who once used it to defy the arbitrary social protocols of those who deemed it unsophisticated and rough.

The sour mash process, however, involves adding spent mash that has already been fermented and distilled during a previous run. The spent mash is more acidic, and adding it to a new batch helps prevent bacterial infections, maintains consistency, and helps yeast thrive. “Sour Mash Whiskey” isn’t a separate style of whiskey, as is sometimes thought, it simply refers to the methodology used to make almost all American whiskey on store shelves today.

But many others, preoccupied with evading the law and turning a profit, quickly turned to cheap shortcuts. They abandoned pricey copper pot stills for sheet metal, which doesn’t remove sulfur compounds as well as copper does. Copper bonds with the sulfur, limiting compounds like hydrogen sulfide (which makes rotten eggs smell) and dimethyl trisulfide (which tastes like rotten vegetables). Moonshiners would mimic the effects of aging by adding charcoal to the jug and shaking it. Or they’d just put sawdust in a tobacco pouch—like a hillbilly tea bag—and place it in the whiskey. Some aged their hooch in small three-gallon pickle barrels.

As a brand today, Jack Daniel’s emphatically asserts that it is not bourbon. It technically qualifies, and could be labeled as bourbon if it wanted, but proudly uses the label “Tennessee Whiskey” instead.

Contrary to popular belief, the Lincoln County Process doesn’t disqualify whiskey from being labeled as bourbon, but nonetheless helps set Tennessee whiskey apart since spirits labeled as bourbon tend not to use it.*

Although Jack Daniel’s might secretly envy the pedigree of bourbon, its staggering sales numbers—far beyond Jim Beam, the best-selling bourbon—probably help take the salt out of any lingering wounds.

Rebel Yell uses wheat instead of rye as the flavor grain and has a refreshing citrusy quality that is particularly suitable to the steamy southern states where it was exclusively marketed after its creation.

distillers would “prove” (hence the origin of the term) a spirit’s strength by mixing it with gunpowder and lighting it on fire. If the flame sputtered because the alcohol content was low, the liquor was “under proof.” If it flared up like a bonfire, it was “over proof.” A steady and even flame, which occurs when whiskey is about 50 percent alcohol by volume, meant it was “100 percent proved” (which is why liquor that’s 100 proof is 50 percent alcohol).

Outside of the spirits industry, column stills are used to produce industrial solvents, furniture polish, and torpedo fuel. The mechanics behind them are similar to those found in distillation columns at oil refineries.

Today, Woodford Reserve uses large pot stills where visitors see them during tours of its facilities, but the brand is primarily made with column stills located at a different facility (the spirits are mixed together afterward). Despite this marketing ruse, Woodford’s decision to use column stills arguably results in a better whiskey. Many modern distillers find that column stills give them greater control over corn and rye’s relatively high lipid levels, which can foul a spirit’s flavor.

...bonding period on spirits—the amount of time whiskey can sit and age before it is taxed—from one to three years, which gave distillers an incentive to age their whiskey longer because they wouldn’t have to pay taxes on the evaporated portion. Considering the smoldering fallout from the Whiskey Ring scandal a few years earlier, it was a significant achievement. Then, in 1894, the bonding period was extended to eight years, giving most bourbon the time needed to find its sweet spot.

Created in 1870, Old Forester was the first bourbon sold exclusively in sealed bottles. This was a break from the traditional practice of selling whiskey straight from the barrel, poured into reusable containers—crocks, vases, other bottles—brought to the store by customers.

Today, while spectators wait for the race—which takes less than two minutes to run—Churchill Downs goes through 150 bushels of mint and 60 tons of ice.

Buffalo Trace’s W.L. Weller 12-Year Bourbon is very similar to the lauded Pappy Van Winkle, which the distillery also makes from the same recipe, but whereas Pappy sells for astronomical prices reaching into the four-figure range, the Weller sells for much less. Because Buffalo Trace markets and names the two products differently, most drinkers are unaware of just how similar the two are.

1897 Bottled-in-Bond Act. The landmark law made the U.S. government the guarantor of a whiskey’s quality and is still in place today (modern bottles that are still bottled-in-bond include some, though not all, versions of Old Grand-Dad, Very Old Barton, and Evan Williams). In order to get the government’s seal of approval, the whiskey had to be made at a single distillery by one distiller. It had to be made in one season, aged at least four years, and be bottled at 100 proof. Labeling also had to clearly indicate the maker. If a whiskey met the standards, it was affixed with a green stamp bearing the image of John Carlisle, the Kentucky congressman who had lobbied for bonding increases after the Civil War

Prohibition even helped birth NASCAR, a sport whose earliest stars learned to drive while evading the law. Their outlaw appeal created NASCAR’s success even though the association’s owners battled to scrub it into a clean form of family entertainment.

Despite Prohibition’s glamour, the era’s liquor was notoriously bad. All those Prohibition-era cocktails so popular in today’s reimagined speakeasies were created because the hooch needed disguising.

Unlike wine or beer, whiskey in a bottle will last indefinitely, largely unchanged, as long as excessive air is kept out of the container. This prevents unwanted oxidation, which can slightly alter the whiskey’s flavor over the years, although not nearly as much as it affects wine. If a bottle of whiskey is mostly full, it will keep, but if an inch of whiskey sits at the bottom of a standard-size bottle, covered by a cushion of air, it’s time to either drink it or move it to a smaller bottle.

Eventually, bootleggers wanted to show off their skills and make a little money by betting on their abilities against other drivers. Makeshift racetracks were carved out of deserted pastures and the South found a new hobby, led by a freckled and bucktoothed cavalry of men with names like Red, Buck, and Fireball. Slowly, the crowds grew and a few gifted drivers became celebrities. By the 1940s, a man named Bill France—whom older racing fans might know from his megaphone-amplified voice during races—realized the sport’s commercial possibilities. He became NASCAR’s first president

The truth about Michter’s, however, is that its brand name didn’t exist until the 1950s, when liquor executive Lou Forman invented it by combining the names of his sons, Michael and Peter. The Michter’s plant that Forman owned—unrelated to the modern brand—was located on land that was owned in 1753 by a Pennsylvania farmer-distiller named Johann Shenk.

Embury told readers that tequila’s odor could be offset with a “dilute acid,” concocted by mixing salt and citrus juice. The “Mexican Itch” was born, a move consisting of licking salt from the back of one’s hand, sucking on a lime wedge, and downing a shot of tequila. Slamming the empty shot glass down on the bar and picking a fight with the bouncer was optional.

The relatively higher humidity and lower temperatures in Scotland also mean less evaporation, so scotch producers lose less liquid by aging longer. In one experiment, American and Scotch producers exchanged barrels of whiskey and found that the bourbon aged in Scotland took much longer to mature and that the scotch aged in Kentucky developed much faster than it would have otherwise, simply because of the climate differences.

Distilled from grain at an eye-popping proof of around 190, much vodka is basically grain neutral spirits, intentionally stripped of all oils, compounds, and impurities, leaving it bracingly antiseptic and by definition “a neutral spirit without distinctive character,” according to the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations. It’s the opposite of bourbon

Ninety-five percent of the world’s bourbon is made in Kentucky, and Beam alone is responsible for 50 percent of it. At the center of it all is the flagship Jim Beam Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey, easily recognized by its signature white label.

[Todd McCown · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book is an enjoyable ride through the history of bourbon - the business, the recipes, the politics.

[Mark S · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great narrative of how the evolution of whiskey spirits parallels our own national history. And, I particularly enjoyed learning about the economics of the distilling business.

[Jesse Lansner · Rating 3 out of 5]

If I think a book is worth lower than three stars I won't finish it. This gets three stars because I did finish it -- something I'm not sure the editor can say, as the last third of the book is repetitive, unfocused and riddled with cliches. (Can you compare the history of the bourbon industry to a battle between Jeffersonian and Hamiltonian ideals? Sure, but you don't need to do it over a dozen times.) The last chapters seem to exist just so Mitenbuler can bash new distillers (and new bourbon drinkers) for basically the same behavior that distillers and drinkers have engaged in for the last 200 years. (It's hard not to suspect that the distinction between innovative new techniques and gimmicks is whether the author personally likes the results or not.)

The first two-thirds of the book couldn't also have used some trimming, but at least the story there is told in a more straightforward manner. That is, if you don't get lost in the endless names of distillers, brands and holding companies, and the ever-changing relationships among the three. Mitenbuler has clearly done a ton of research for this book, but not all of that research needs to make it on the page. At about half it's actual length, I'd recommend this to anyone interested in bourbon. At it's current length, it's only for obsessives.

[Ryano Staytonius · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mitenbuler's written a hell of a fun biography of that brown stuff your grandpa and no one else drank when you were little. He pulls off the tall task of being comprehensive covering bourbon's long, rich history while keeping things interesting and engaging. The writing's not dry (whiskey pun!) and is filled with Gladwellian nuggets ready to wow dinner parties (e.g. a "shot" is thought to be the amount of booze an old timey soldier could get in exchange for one bullet). There's plenty here to entertain drinkers and teetotalers alike as bourbon's path speaks volumes to the history of our fair US of A and how our relationships with liquors have evolved to reflect the times. Filled with colorful characters, it's easy to understand why it's not just your gramps drinking bourbon in today's day and age.

[Mark A. Vierthaler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Overall this is an excellent book looking at the history of bourbon. I will admit, I waffled between a three and four star - mostly because of the commentary in terms of what constitutes "Good" bourbon. The author routinely asserts that bourbon only begins to get good at the year eight mark, and sticks to his guns. This in spite of the fact that there are a number of amazing bourbons ranging from two years up to 12. The history is solid and unflinching, taking an honest look at the good and bad of the bourbon industry. Solid read.

[Erik · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fascinating. I am a bourbon fan, and really liked the portion of this book that dealt with the historical origins of the liquor and it's original distilleries. Unfortunately, I found myself less and less interested in the telling as the story line progressed toward the present day.

[Patrick · Rating 3 out of 5]

The history of bourbon as told through the lens of U.S history. That's about the first 2/3 of the book. The last 1/3 covers contemporary whiskey and bourbon industry.

There are good stories and plenty of trivia. All the company name changes can get confusing.

[Steve · Rating 2 out of 5]

I'll be honest, I only read a third of it. I enjoyed the history in the beginning but then it got kind of repetitive and dry. I love bourbon but, unlike a glass of bourbon, I could not finish this.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thorough and well-paced history of America’s distinctive spirit.

[Amory Ross · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was excited to have finally gotten around to read Bourbon Empire. Though I tend to lean toward craft brews, I will stray specifically into bourbon territory to change things up. I knew enough that my sliver of Pennsylvania was a rye powerhouse prior to Prohibition. I knew enough that Pappy Van Winkle was a bottle to grab at any price. I knew this was the liquid of a country. Or did I?

Never has an author so convincingly put forth a thesis that whiskey was at the root of all things America. It was there at the beginning of Colonialism prior to the United States. George Washington was the nation's largest producer of whiskey for a time. Whiskey could be used as collateral on the frontier if need-be. It was the focus of many Appalachian frontiersmen who had gone into the woods to be left alone. These were the men who inspired James Fenimore Cooper and Washington Irving. These were also the men who rose up to rebel against the whiskey tax with George Washington at the center of it all. Reid Mittenbuler lays a strong foundation for the rest of the book.

Moving to the near past and Mittenbuler continues his argument. He presents a census of the distillers in pre-Prohibition America. It is staggeringly high. With the introduction of Prohibition, nearly all of the distilleries would shut down. Those that did turned to medicinal whiskey, considered a stimulant at the start of the last century. Doctors could write prescriptions for whiskey, spawning other empires such as Walgreen's. Whiskey was nearly the country's gold standard. Mittenbuler includes probably the most in-depth chapter about the dawn of NASCAR because of the Prohibition demand. Just that chapter is worth the book.

The story continues to present-day whiskey production where there are around four main whiskey producers in the US. This exploration in marketing is fascinating. So too are the dispelling of producers targeting the recent spike in rare whiskey demand. The book also suggests the future of whiskey making in a market that seems to push the past instead of thinking of the future. There's nothing wrong with that when the product is so heavily rooted in American culture.

This is a great gift for any whiskey fan. I tore through this book in no time at all. I was worried about the built-up hype but Mitenbuler delivered a solid study in Bourbon Empire. The one spot I was not a fan of was the repetition that took hold in the middle third of the book. He did tidy up the remainder of the book and I wondered if he emulated the distilling process in his writing, but I was concerned the remainder of the book would be of the same style. What I was absolutely convinced of is that Reid Mitenbuler was not sponsoring one whiskey in particular. He came off as unbiased throughout the whole study. Either he was unbiased or he really fooled me for 200-plus pages.

This is a great book. Spend some time with it to learn about the nation, it's bourbon, and how it shaped America to the country it is today. Oh. And be prepared to be surprised about certain offerings on the shelves of your liquor store.

[Amir A. · Rating 4 out of 5]

For an author with a passion for a topic to write a book on that topic addressed to a general audience is no small undertaking. The audience may share the author's interest in the topic, but that interest won't necessarily rise to the level of a passion. Consequently, the author needs to take a step back from the topic rather than dive into it, to keep his enthusiasm in balance with his other goals as a writer rather than allow his writing to be consumed by his enthusiasm.

All these things Reid Mitenbuler does remarkably well. His passion and enthusiasm for bourbon and its history are felt, but they reach the reader in between the lines rather than on an overt level of the prose -- they emerge like vapors subtly rising from a freshly poured glass of aged bourbon, not like downing a shot of cheap vodka. It's the difference between mature, dispassionate writing and amateurish exclamation-mark prose.

It's a formula that manages to convey bourbon's thrilling history without climaxes and slumps in the narrative, a trap that a less refined writer would easily fall into. Indeed, there is never a dull moment in Bourbon Empire. The narrative is a steady stream of information that's as interesting as it is easy to follow and to process.

Bourbon Empire opens with a profile of Lewis Rosenstiel -- not a name Bourbon Trail veterans will be familiar with but who it turns out was instrumental in elevating bourbon to the status it enjoys today. The narrative then shifts to early history, but in such a way that at each stage the reader is eager to know what will come next. From the adoption of corn as a fermenting grain in the Colonial era, to the Jefferson-led westward migration and increased production of corn, to the Whiskey Rebellion, to the Civil War, to the Whiskey Ring scandal, Prohibition, Repeal, and so on -- each period of whiskey and bourbon history leads naturally to the next.

The approach of Bourbon Empire is to establish two story arcs early on: the tension between Jefferson and Hamilton in their approach to business and the pervasiveness of mythology in the whiskey industry. It's an effective method of writing, mostly because Mitenbuler is consistent in relating his content to the arcs throughout the book.

The single shortcoming of Bourbon Empire is the sometimes flawed style of its writing. Mitenbuler's prose never rises to the profound heights that would make this a five-star classic. That's usually not necessarily a problem in a work of nonfiction, but towards the end of the book it feels like he got a little too lazy. Bits and pieces repeat themselves, even more than once, and there's a large chunk that's way too quote-heavy. Here and there better self-editing would have benefited passages like "But enough melodrama" or opening successive paragraphs with "Of course," "Even so," "Nevertheless," and "But regardless."

[J. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mitenbuler sets out to tell the story of America through the history of her whiskey. His open intention is to demythologize as well as encourage transparency and a product-centered focus in the industry. He also wants to highlight unsung figures who had powerful impact on the industry, such as Lewis Rosenstiel. It covers a great length of time covering the American colonial period, the rise of the voracious Distillers' & Cattle Feeders' Trust (known later as The Whiskey Trust or "the Octopus"), the Prohibition era, and the present day. Two of the threads woven through the stories of American whiskey are the continuous pressures of innovation and marketing. On the innovation side, the story of James C. Crow was intriguing, because despite his Glenn's Creek Distillery innovations and Mitenbuler dubbing him the "Steve Jobs" of the sour mash process in bourbon whiskey creation (in that Crow perfected and brought together techniques others discovered), we don't even have any daguerreotype or portrait of him. This shows the tenuous nature of these histories and made me wonder what other basic information we don't have about bourbon history.

Having some family from Tennessee, I've had conversations before about the fact Jack Daniel's is technically a bourbon. I didn't know that it is because of the Lincoln County mellowing process and a border state rivalry that it retained its own marketing distinction of Tennessee origin. Mitenbuler covers the origin of brand names like the Old Forester label (Was it named after the Confederate general or Union doctor? Answer: We don't really know.), which vary from shady and innocuous examples of marketing mythology. Despite the regulation and reform of the industry since these brands originated, including reforms pushed by progressive era lobbyists like Harvey Wiley, its interesting to consider what much shadier bourbon whiskey marketing techniques are still used today. Are there modern day marketing tactics that adhere to the law but stretch the definitions?

Finally, I was intrigued by how consistently whiskey found itself on the wrong end of the law in one way or another throughout U.S. history - whether through criminalization (Prohibition), corruption (the Whiskey Ring during the Grant administration), or outright armed conflict (the Whiskey Rebellion of the early republic). Considering the amount of conflict this spirit has generated and its odd centrality in U.S. history, Mitenbuler leaves the reader to wonder how much Mark Twain was being serious about his joke: "Westward the *Jug* of Empire takes its way?"

[Jrwest · Rating 3 out of 5]

I will have to confess that I am not a whiskey drinker but that I have always been intrigued by the liquor industry. With all the promotion around the liquor industry how could one not be interested in its workings.

The author who is a writer about the liquor and Bourbon industry for various magazines does a pretty good job of taking one through the history of the industry and the various developmental milestones in the bourbon industry. Through this one learns what the important requirements are for making a good whiskey brand.

The epigraph for the book struck me as a little odd. It was a quote by Margaret Atwood: "There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too." I even commented to my wife when I started the book that a quote by Margaret Atwood seemed out of place on a book about whisky. The quote however turned out to be quite prophetic. To quote the author later in the book: "The success in the whiskey industry is the prize for whoever most convincingly creates a mythology and sense of intimacy around ideas of heritage and authenticity." There appears to have been a lot of marketing around the product of Bourbon whiskey alot of it based around dubious back stories. The advertising has also done a good job convincing people what they should like rather than what they would enjoy left to themselves.

One of the more interesting things I learned about Whiskey was that much of the taste comes from the barrel aging rather than the distilling process. Who would have thought that all the hype around stills and quality of ingredients is over hyped. Of course over aging Bourbon can ruin the taste. Overaged Bourbons and overpriced Bourbons are mere marketing ploys.

For someone who doesn't consume Bourbon, I found the book informative and insightful. I think a Bourbon drinker would find this book quite enlightening as the knowledge obtained would help guide their drinking choices and experiences.

[John Radko · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book, though it is difficult to classify (which may be part of the reason I enjoyed it). It is part history, part business, part story-telling, and all about bourbon.

Mr. Mitenbuler is gently unsentimental about the mythology of bourbon (despite heavy marketing to the contrary, modern bourbon is usually superior in quality and craftsmanship to pre-20th century bourbon), but is not at all preachy. From beginning to end, the tension between artisan distilling and industrial distilling is discussed and highlighted, but not judged. The fascinating contradiction is that each extreme contributed greatness and mediocrity in its turn — and the back and forth between the two is fascinating.

The science/business/history aspects of the book are of great interest, even if you don’t care about bourbon. That bourbon was distilled by remote farmers who had trouble getting corn to market (and getting hard currency), so that they could have something of value to trade, and preserve the corn’s value — is interesting. The subsequent impact of improved logistics on the bourbon industry (farmers didn’t have to distill corn into whiskey since they could get it to market), and the expansion of the whiskey market for larger distillers, was unexpected.

The business history, including the entangled forces of regulation, taxation and monopolies, was fascinating — and well documented. The author’s objective sharing of the story with minimal judgement was much appreciated.

Finally, the book is filled with interesting anecdotes and stories about the characters who played a larger than life role in bourbon’s evolution. From the tall-tales of the namesakes of today’s brands, to the real life stories of familiar names like Pappy van Winkle, it is a well-written, enjoyable book.

[Michelle Bennington · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book. The history of bourbon and the stories that have developed around it as a result of slick-big-corporate advertising was compelling. It was hard to learn that many of the bourbon brands people know and love are, in fact, owned by enormous globalist corporations. More interesting, however, is that this sort of corporatization has preserved the flavor and quality in a way that many small "craft" labels often can't--and support themselves. Further, the book exploded the illusions surrounding terms like "crafted," "heirloom," etc. of the foodie craze which is often meaningless since many small distilleries will take bourbon from other more distilleries to combine with their own in order to meet production demands. Also, bourbon, in spite of its corporate owners, lives under the illusion of American bravery, independence, and rebellion hearkening back to romanticized stories of the frontier, the Wild West, and the American Revolution. In the end, bourbon marketers realize that ultimately, the bourbon with the best story sells.
I LOVED the history woven into this book that revealed how the things impacting bourbon often had a larger reach into the shaping of our history, culture, and laws. The thoroughness of the history often caused a bit of a pacing issue, and the author's own desire to prove his bourbon-tasting abilities was a bit intrusive. Overall, though I really liked this book and want to have a copy for my personal library.

[Joe · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love whiskey, and I love books, so I'm not sure why I didn't like this book more.

Perhaps one clue resides in the author's own acknowledgements. Mitenbuler says the book is "a blend of commentary and history." I liked the history part a lot. The commentary was not as strong.

Mitenbuler decided that the history of bourbon was the history of the economic precepts of Alexander Hamilton (industry best functions in the hands of large companies that can achieve economies of scale) and Thomas Jefferson (industries with small companies foster innovation and variety). I'm not sure I agree with that premise, which made parts of the book ring false to me.

I thought Mitenbuler was at his best pointing out the differences between fact and mythology. There is a lot to learn about the history that distilleries promote and the true story. I enjoyed reading about how brands with supposedly long histories as family businesses were traded back and forth among large distilleries, and how in some cases this true history of certain brands started in the 1990's.

I also enjoyed the book more when Mitenbuler gave his tasting notes on certain brands. This definitely opened my eyes to some new brands of bourbon which I now own and will try. I was left wishing there was more of these last two subjects.