For decades, Jack Black and Jim White have jockeyed for standing as
the best selling American straight whiskey. Jack, more so than Jim, has
spawned a legion of imitators, particularly of its square bottle and simple
white on black label.
The Jack Daniel's story has been so well and often told that we won't
devote much space to it here. Suffice it to say that Jack was a real person
and a distiller. A childless bachelor, he passed the company to his sister's
son, Lem Motlow. The Motlow family owned it until the 1960s when it was
sold to Brown-Forman, which still owns it. The distillery and its Lynchburg,
Tennessee home comprise one of that state's most popular tourist attractions.
Jack Daniel's describes itself as "Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey," which is distinguished from bourbon by the addition of something called the Lincoln County Process. Before new whiskey is barreled, it is filtered through ten feet of charcoal made from the wood of maple trees. This has some of the same effect as aging in charred oak barrels and gives the whiskey a head start on the aging process. The result is smoothness and a mild flavor.
Although there is no age statement on the label, it is widely believed that Jack Daniel's is aged for little more than the minimum four required years. "Charcoal mellowing," as they like to call the process, is therefore critical for creating the whiskey’s gentle flavor.
The mellowing process (some prefer the term "leaching") may also explain
this whiskey's lack of complexity. All of its flavors are on the surface,
obvious and transparent. Careful tasting reveals little that is not apparent
with the first sip. The color of the spirit is mostly yellow to yellow-orange.
The legs are thin but persistent. Despite careful nosing at two separate
sittings, a single impression dominates the aroma: wet varnish or, possibly,
shellac or lacquer. Though not entirely repulsive, I could not get that
solvent sensation out of my mind and it reasserted itself on the tongue.
I hesitate about stating exactly which clear protective finish for
wood it most resembles because I haven’t finished any wood recently, and
because the aroma isn’t entirely chemical, or even entirely unpleasant.
In other words, it doesn’t smell like paint thinner or degreaser or something
really awful. A little research tells me that all three finishes are made
from resins but lacquers include derivatives of cellulose, i.e., plant
fiber, which varnishes and shellacs do not. Plus the resins in shellac
are derived (historically, at least) from dead insects, so I am leaning
toward lacquer as the word to describe the aroma.
After working hard to get past that resin/cellulose taste, I finally detected a nice, solid oak undertone and a faint overtone of tart berries, such as juniper or quince, with a hint of orange peel. A slight mustiness was noticed at the first tasting, but it did not reassert itself the second time around.
The finish is pleasant, full and warm, medium dry, with no bite or burn. Try as I might, I could not tease out any additional scents, flavors or amusing metaphors. Beyond the surface impression, there just is not much there. Everything you can taste while carefully appraising the pure spirit in a snifter also comes through when it is cut with cola and ice.
While the “wet lacquer” remark may sound damning, I don’t find this whiskey offensive. I will not consider it a chore to finish the bottle, though it probably won’t happen until the cupboard is otherwise bare. The more grievous sin is that this whiskey is boring. Careful tasting is not rewarded.
Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 Brand Tennessee Sour Mash Whiskey, 86 proof (43% alc./vol.). $16.99/750 ml at Binny’s in Chicago.
Copyright © 2000, Charles Kendrick Cowdery, All Rights Reserved.
From The Bourbon Country Reader, Vol. 5, No. 3. November, 2000.