The Explorations of  
null  
The Commanders Glendidit

This Week's Adventure:
Speyside Gets Smoked
 
Dear
 
The November mists along Route 22 are more than water vapor, here in the Hudson Valley.
 
No, at this time of year, as the leaves blaze their exit glory and the maples begin to sweeten inside, there comes a certain smokiness to the air, a fallen oak-leaf perfume and even a certain peatiness to the air. One realizes that late Autumn is as much an olfactory experience as it is visual. 

And then one realizes that one is thirsty.
 
And because I scorn the customary, standardized, or mass-produced in the matter of firewater, I thirst in a way only the true enthusiast can understand. If you are an enthusiast, then, I believe it is my duty to inform you of the existence of a beverage alcohol of profound uniqueness that I have discovered. It comes from Hillrock Estates, a microworld of self-sustaining whiskey-making genius hidden in the taiga between Ancram and Ancramdale, New York.
 
I can safely tell you this, because I have already filled the storage space of my 1987 Ford Humbler wagon with cases of the stuff. So there's enough. For me. You, you're on your own.
 
Owner Jeff Baker and Master Distiller Dave Pickerell have a vision, you see. A vision of a game-changer in the world of single malt. A vision I now share, and will share, with a lucky few, if you can find me:
Hillrock Estate Smoky Single Malt Whisky
 
Hillrock Smoky Single Malt. A New England Whiskey.
 
Now, I don't want to alarm any of you Speyside single malt purists, but, well, you should be. Alarmed.

This is a new genus of single malt.
 
Hillrock Estates is one of the few "Field to Flagon" distilleries remaining in the world. And, if you'll allow another "F" Bomb into the fray, they're also one of the few to Floor-Malt their homegrown ryes and barleys.
 
If you ever drive up Route 22, or any of its tributary roads, you will understand the significance of this single-point origin. This is a place of unblemished natural beauty. The barley that begets this beverage is sown here, grown here, ripened here, mown and malted here, mashed, brewed, distilled and aged here, tended with monk-like solicitousness by the distillery team, here, led by owner Jeff Baker and Master Distiller Dave Pickerell, a recent emigre from Kentucky's Maker's Mark.
 
But the secret to this dark-amber formula's incredible, smoky smoothness may be the peat.
 
Using antiquated survey maps and local lore, Jeff and Dave struck gold: New England Peat from deep in the mossy forest. Local peat to rival the imported Scottish stuff. From field to floor to flagon and, thus, from fuel to flavor, Hillrock Smoky is as truly "Locally-Sourced" as anything a banjo- or gusla-strumming hill-person could offer you, and as refined and pedigreed as anything raised in toast by my kilt-wearing cousins to the German woman who pretends to the British Throne.
 
With Hillrock Smoky Single Malt, you taste the change of seasons. I mean, it's as though one's actually imbibing Autumn in New England. The handsome decanter bottle spills forth its amber essence and your whiskey sensors take you down a forgotten trail where the trees blaze forth golden-orange-winedark, with a misting of fallen oak leaf and red maple, the smoke and snap of sappy pine and acorns popping off in the fire; a peatsmoke fullness to the air with just a lick of blackstrap and forgotten Halloween candy to twist it to a lip-smacking close. Yum-O, as we used to say. It is sipping whiskey warmth of unparalleled fitness for our inevitable voyage into Winter.
 
Hillrock Smoky Single Malt is a taste to be remembered, even while you are drinking it.

Happy Thanksgiving, All,