We care so much about the food we eat: how it is made, by whom, and where. Yet we are far less careful about the spirits we drink, often allowing the biggest brands with the most marketing dollars to control the narrative. In By the Smoke and the Smell, Vogler is here to set the record straight. This remarkable memoir is the first book to ask the tough questions about the booze industry: where our spirits come from, who makes them, and at what cost. By the Smoke and the Smell is also a celebration of the people and places behind the most singular, life-changing spirits on earth. Vogler takes us to Normandy, where we drink calvados with lovable Vikings; to Cuba, a country where Vogler lived for a time, and that has so much more to offer than cigars, classic cars, and mojitos; to the jagged cliffs and crystal-clear lochs of Scotland; to Northern Ireland, Oaxaca, Armagnac, Cognac, Kentucky, and California. Alternately hilarious and heartfelt, Vogler's memoir will open your eyes to the rich world of traditional, small-scale distilling--and in the process, it will completely change the way you think about and buy spirits.
I hoped for a lot more from this book. It tried to do a lot -- a memoir, a travel diary and commentary on the world of alcoholic spirits. To me, it fails on all three.
The third category (spirits) is why I bought the book (which I now regret having done). I learned surprisingly little about how to source the stuff which is memorable and fine. The mantra is repeated over and over again -- large is bad, small producer is good. For the most part, I agree with that, but I already knew that and the book did little to enhance my knowledge. To begin with, I found the tasting notes less than helpful (and this can be done; try "Cork Dorks," for instance, which makes the differences in wines quite understandable). Something good tastes of grain, and for reasons not fully convincing, good grain, too, must be artisanal. After reading the book, I am still befuddled concerning the difference between cognac and armagnac, especially in how they are produced. (I do agree with Vogler that armagnac is a lot more complex and engaging, though I still do not know why.) The clearest section is the one on mescal, and Vogler's disparagement of bourbon (which I drink) makes me pause. Most of all, though, I had hoped for learning how to purchase the memorable options, and I am left feeling that the only really good spirits are simply not available to people like me except in bars such as the ones Vogler owns.
I liked the travel writing even less. It's a cross between gonzo journalism and a football locker room, and the stories for the most part seem the same. There is too much food, too little sleep, and too many detailed descriptions of travel companions (all male) whom I never manage to keep straight or find very interesting. Only locations came to life for me: Oaxaca (mostly because of the awful experience they have there) and Cuba (which is well done).
The memoir theme works better, but appears episodically and is usually unexpected, bordering on TMI even when it is poignant. I did remember that Vogler is 6' 8" since it is mentioned several times, and that he went to Yale (mentioned at least three times. Why?). He seems to have a life both privileged and difficult, but from the random collection of anecdotes and facts it is hard to get a real sense of the purpose.
I depart from other readers in finding much of the writing irritating. I have never read a serious book with the word "shit" appearing on just about every page (or that is at least how it feels, having finished the book). I got tired of the descriptions of his pals, and somehow did not find it useful to know that he considers Jay and Chris very handsome. Yeah, I know what they look like, sort of, but they do not emerge human beings with quirks and character. I got pretty bored with all the male bonding, despite sharing the gender.
In the end, I find myself feeling this book was written more for the author (who seems to have gotten a lot out of the literary journey) than for the reader. Vogler seems a truly decent and caring human being, but I expect he has more talent as a bar creator than as an author.
I really wanted to like this book more than I did. There are parts of it that are extremely informative, and the author’s enthusiasm for the world of spirits, and the people involved in producing on a small scale, shines through in these sections. (And has made me reconsider my enjoyment of bourbon.) In many sections, however, the borderline douchey bro-tone becomes tiresome, as do the too-numerous vignettes of male bonding with a somewhat generic cast of characters. (All said, glad they made it out of Oaxaca alive.) To his credit the author does possess a level of self-awareness and humor, especially seen in the Scotland chapters that feature his stepdad. Recommended only for people with a hardcore interest in booze.
I'll get one subject out of the way: Mr. Vogler can seem to be a curmudgeon in various spots in the book, and at times fatiguing on the subject of the dreariness of the commercial production of spirits vs local, individualized ones that reflect a region's and a distiller's individuality, but in the main, I agree with him.
The book is full of depth information on various intoxicants and their production, such as calvados, cognac and armanac, aided by the enterprise of Vogler and his team visiting distilleries and distillers first-hand, often on multiple visits over years. They do drink some fair snootfuls of the products of tiny, craft spirit masters as well as those of factory complexes like that of Bacardi. They also have a harrowing adventure in Mexico while dipping their noses in mescal production that is scary.
The book ends with his discussion of Kentucky bourbon and its overly manufactured aspects, though since the book was published in 2017, it doesn't foresee how many US whiskey distillers are pursuing glass-to-grain releases featuring their own maltings, yeasts and barrel finishes. And these stalwarts are all over the country now, not just in Kentucky. I do hope to visit Bar Agricole (it might have a new name now) in S.F. one of these days—it looks like two of his other Bay Area operations fell victim to the pandemic. A good book, if you are interested in spirits history, production and a very opinionated writer.
Part memoir, part survey of independent spirits, all poetry from Vogler, respected barman and proprietor of two well-regarded San Francisco restaurants. I have been fascinated by interesting and unique spirits for years, so I really enjoyed reading about his experiences traveling the world looking for ways to distill the singular charm of tasting with an independent producer into something he can pour for patrons in his restaurants. It's as much a swashbuckling travel log as it is an atlas of independent spirits, entertaining and educational by equal measures, and just beautifully personal to read. If you're new to the world of spirits but curious, you'll surely find it a friendly and approachable introduction, and even a seasoned spirits nerd will likely gain a new perspective or two on the industry.
Received this book as a Goodreads giveaway and I'm so glad I did. This was an excellent read! I don't know very much about spirits and I learned so much about spirits and small distilleries from this book. The only disappointing part of the book was the author's praise of the totalitarian system in Cuba. Then later in the chapter he talks about Cuba not having any independent rum producers and how they were not able to arrange any tours of the government run distilleries. Why does he think this is? His politics aside this is still an excellent memoir.
This book had snippets of engaging story-telling; but it felt divided between explaining the industry standards of spirits production around the world and the author's personal anecdotes. It was repeatedly difficult to differentiate between the various friends/colleagues of the writer, so much so that I eventually stopped trying to remember who was who during the story-telling portions of the book. Overall, it was an OK read and I took away some interesting little tidbits of information, but it definitely lacks the flow of other non-fic travel food books out there.
I'm not a spirits nerd but I definitely became one after reading this. Full of vivid descriptions that gave each spirit he discusses a palpable sense of place...except for the last chapter. The book ends on his least favorite spirit which was very anti-climactic to me, hence the 4 stars, but the writing is excellent. Vogler does a nice job of connecting the world of spirits to the world at large, pondering questions big and small and somehow not getting too drunk throughout it all.
Really enjoyed this as both a memoir and a book about spirits. It doesn’t go deep in any one area. But it provides great context for understanding what is happening to the industry and why it matters. I came a away with more appreciation for the craftspeople and why it isn’t about everything tasting the same or any single idea of a ‘best’ whisky/rum/mezcal.
Great stories of chasing the purest spirits. The author has lead an exciting life though the recent years seem to be in stupor. Occasionally a little too ponderous - but still worth reading if for no other reason than the education in craft distilling
I'm a bartender by trade. This is one of the most important books I've read in my career. The philosophy explored within is truly substantial and I believe will continue form the way I approach spirits for years to come.
Anyone who is into the current cocktail craze and the origin of (alcohol) spirits will enjoy this book. Poignant, humorous and informative; a travel tale of sorts. Now I need to check out northern Scotland.
An entertaining tippling travelogue told from the prospective of booze buyer and publican Thad Volger. Not only is it beautifully written, it's informative.
Minor quibble on beer being an afterthought. But, hey, no one is ordering that when they go into Bar Agricole either!
I became pretty irritated with the writing style and lack of focus around the Cuba chapter. Seemed like he had exhausted his travel budget and just had to start filling the pages.