By Richard Thomas
(Credit: Garrison Brothers Distillery)
The prevailing trend in American whiskeydom right now is Hazmat Whiskey, referring to whiskeys with an ABV above 70% (proof 140+). I believe the category received this name when some unknown wag realized that whiskey (or any spirit) this potent was banned from being taken as luggage aboard airplanes as a “hazardous substance” under Federal regulations.
Objectively, the Hazmats are whiskey just like any other, just stronger. Nothing is wrong with the stuff; indeed, some Hazmat brands are regularly lauded by critics, such as the Jack Daniel’s Coy Hill releases. This is simply another way to describe a sub-set of whiskey, in this case by particularly high alcohol content, almost so high as to run a car off it with zero engine knock. But in much the same way that obsessions with high age statements bypass whole concepts like peak maturation and over-maturation to focus on a simple, high number, the bulk of the Hazmat fans focus to exclusion on the ultra-high proof number, putting the blinkers to ignore what might make that whiskey actually special, how cask strength whiskeys were always intended to be enjoyed, and the very real science of why drinking a 140+ proof whiskey neat is an especially dumb idea.
It’s Science: Ultra-Strong Alcohol Blows Your Taste Bud
Our deputy editor Kurt Maitland has a rule, “stronger whiskey is better whiskey.” However, he coined that axiom to describe a group of expressions that, coincidentally, sat in the 105-115 proof zone. Which is to say, somewhat stronger than the Bottled in Bond standard, but not truly ball-breaking stuff. Mind you, he and I both like expressions that are even stronger than that and often drink them neat. Thirty years ago I labeled Booker’s as bourbon’s “sucker puncher,” because you could order a double at the bar, sip on it neat while having no clear idea how strong it actually was, and only realize it had been above 120 proof when you stood up off the stool.
Stronger whiskey is often “ballsy,” a term I use to describe a mix of being very full-bodied while also very potent. Yet the potency inevitably overtakes the richer, punchier flavor profile as it rises. At what point that happens is subjective at its lower levels, being decided by the qualities of the whiskey in question and the subjective perception of the drinker. Yet at the same time, it is an established fact that stronger alcohol content temporarily anesthetizes the taste buds, and by that it is not meant by inebriating the drinker (although that happens to). Instead, this is a direct effect of the high spirit liquor on the taste receptors.
Sometimes the “blowing” of one’s taste buds is actually a desired part of the experience of drinking ultra-high proof whiskey, whether the drinker is aware that this is what the sensation actually is. Most don’t realize that if they are picking up a strong “barrel char” note, that is actually their taste buds getting kicked by alcohol. Unless some of the ingredients were deliberately smoked, American whiskeys aren’t noted for their strong smoky characters in the way that peated Scotch whiskies are, and the charred interior of the barrel itself should impart no such flavor most of the time. Other sources would be subtle indeed, so if it comes at you like a smokestack, that experience is not charred wood but a loss of sensation.
So, what science tells us is that when someone describes a plethora of notes from nosing and sipping a Hazmat Whiskey, what they are actually telling us is they would fail their sensory review exam. When I am doing a formal evaluation, I approach anything above 120 proof with care, since simply taking a swing at it could blow my senses for that entire sitting. I often find water is necessary to dial down the stronger whiskeys, open up their profile and come to grips with all its characteristics. At 125 proof, I recommend added water for evaluation but find it may or may not be necessary for enjoyment, but is absolutely necessary at 145 proof. The only thing one gets from drinking 145 proof whiskey is faux barrel char and a numb tongue. Any conclusion to the contrary exists strictly in the imagination of the drinker.
(Credit: Kurt Maitland)
Cask Strength Was Never Intended To Be Consumed That Way
Retail uncut whiskeys are not a modern invention, but they really came into their own as part of the Small Batch era of the 1990s. Yet despite the high proof points, whiskeys bottled at 125, 130 and especially 140 proof were not intended to be consumed neat, at least not until the Hazmat trend began. Articles, lectures from master distillers and countless tastings with brand ambassadors all told the same story: a cask strength whiskey was, ultimately, about giving the consumer the choice in setting just what proof point was right for them to drink at. The consumer could drink it neat, sure (outside of formal evaluation, I sometimes do to this day), but for most drinkers high octane liquor is just too much and a turn-off. The point and part of the fun was to tinker and identify the perfect individual proof point, not to swig their bourbon at the highest proof obtainable.
In this respect, the high proof number has become bound up in an especially dumb display of machismo. I watched some bros drinking a 146 proof Hazmat bourbon at an event once, amused as they struggled not to wince with each sip. It reminded me of watching a similar group of bros back in the day, downing specially bred peppers during the first ultra-hot pepper craze (the second came with the popularity of the show Hot Ones). Implicit in an ultra-high Scoville number is the compounds that make chili peppers hot coats and blows your taste receptors, which I can attest to as a lover of spicy foods.
Ultimately, having your taste buds blown, by either spectacularly hot food or potent drink, can be a pleasurable experience in and of itself. But one should never confuse that with flavor. It’s a different sensory experience and pursuing one always cancels the other out, defeating the whole point of calibration.
Looking Past What Makes Hazmat Whiskey Special In The First Place
Whiskey maturation is a complex dance involving several factors, but the only one that seems widely understood is warehouse climate, since most Hazmats are aged either on the toasty hot top floor of a rickhouse or an unbearably stuff attic. A barrel is a breathable container and the contents are almost entirely water or alcohol; all the elements that impart flavor are present in trace amounts. The summertime conditions on those top floors and attics pull water, not alcohol, out of the barrel.
At least some of that part is understood by most Hazmat fans. Some more may also understand that the high temperatures cause the maximum expansion of the liquid in the barrel, pushing it deeper into the wood than whiskey stored anywhere else. So, this manner of aging maximizes wood absorption. Those lodgements may enjoy milder temperatures during the winter as well, resulting in potentially fewer days where maturation slows to a crawl.
But what I’ve found is routinely underappreciated is that to get a Hazmat Whiskey, the barrel entry proof must begin at its maximum of 125. This is an industry standard for the Kentucky and Tennessee majors, as putting the most alcohol in the barrel is efficient from a mass production point of view. But as the companies that prefer lower entry proofs will tell you, water is a necessary ingredient to driving many of the chemical process taking place inside the barrel. More water means more of that part of maturation.
As a general rule, a process that creates a Hazmat Whiskey is going to start with the minimum amount of water in the barrel permitted, reduce that even further over time by maximizing water evaporation, lean very hard into absorption of wood elements from the barrel, all while minimize other aspects of maturation (minimize, not stop).
Taken in whole, what goes on in creating a Hazmat bourbon or rye is a very tightly tweaked process. As such, there is a lot that could go wrong, such as over-oaking after just several years. Yet the results are both enjoyable and fascinating when they go well, and in my mind that is the value of a well-done Hazmat Whiskey: how leaning into a couple extreme points in the production process producing exceptionally well-rounded results. This does not always happen, which underlines the largest truth about Hazmat Whiskey: the high proof point is merely incidental to what makes them special.
