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Joy of Bourbon Shines From These Pages
Bourbon is as American as apple pie. History contrasts with foodie arrogance. Kentucky Bourbon: The early years of whiskey making by Henry G. Crowgey. ISBN: 978-0-8131-9183-6.
by Vic Chapman
High brow hooch is offensive.
It’s offensive because it denies the utility of good liquor and places it in some cheap, rarefied and chrome-plated universe that’s supposed to appeal to overage frat boys with more money than sense and more fat than brains. It relies on publicity flacks to pump the notions that things like leather, peatmoss, tobacco smoke and corn oil are food groups and worthy stuff to taste and comment on. In short, High brow hooch is merely liquid bullshit. Fortunately, the book by Henry G. Crowgey is a worthy antidote.
That’s because it tells a credible tale about how bourbon came into being; from the earliest inroads into Kentucky by people who wouldn’t stand to see even a tiny amount of corn go to waste through weather damage and who converted this otherwise unusable stuff into a liquor that was used for trade and comfort, to the social lubricant needed to pay people to help others build barns, houses and other buildings. Even funerals demanded gallons of whiskey to properly bury someone; as Kentucky illustrates, some funerals could easily go through ten or more gallons in an afternoon at the graveyard.
The American Revolution was partly the result of an anti-tax movement, much of which concerned spirits like whiskey. Later, the first revolt against the new US government was fueled by an anti tax effort on whiskey; this demanded that distillers move west to get away from the tax man and incidentally helped push the frontier westward. Crowgey details the expansion brought on by booze and how it impacted relations with the red man and white; it's a fascinating read told in a quick, brief style.
Crowgey also explains much of the growth of whiskey’s sophistication as a product along the frontier; it was bad form to serve bad whiskey and much social approbation would fall on those whose offerings were less than first rate. Whiskey that froze in the bottle was a grave offence against decorum and watering down the stock on promised goods was a criminal offence. Over time, the quality of the finished product rose as standards demanded but one thing that was clear was the whiskey itself. Crowgey points out that until the late 19th century, no one cared or bothered with aging whiskey in old casks that would color the whiskey with its now distinct amber tone. The demand was too great and whiskey was consumed too often in too large a quantity to allow it to be tied up in an unnecessary aging process. And that’s why this little book is so intriguing; the real whiskey, it seems, was a plain, utilitarian element of great social and economic value to the societies that made it and not some “value-added” icon of taste for those with deep pockets and nothing to guide them. A well done history, Kentucky Bourbon is a reminder that sometimes whiskey is just whiskey—and that’s plenty fine, indeed.
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