Integrating the Party: tasting The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 6 (plus Batches 2-5), with David Stewart

I got a couple extra samples of The Balvenie's Tun 1509 on the occasion of the release of Batch 6 of this series. It wasn't really supposed to happen that way, but fun things sometimes come along. I'll quote from the release:

The Balvenie has announced the release of Tun 1509 Batch 6, the latest expression in the highly acclaimed Tun 1509 series. Produced by revered Malt Master David Stewart, The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 6 was married in 21 rare and precious casks from The Balvenie’s aged whisky stocks and comprised in several different butts, for a remarkable flavor profile and finish.
A marriage of 21 casks which have spent 3 months in a traditional marrying tun. The batch is comprised of whiskies from sherry refill butts, doublewood refill sherry butts and ex bourbon American oak barrels - all aged 21 years and older. Only 3480 bottles released in the U.S. Non chill filtered, ABV of 50.4% (MSRP $399.99)

When I read that, I thought...wait a sec, I think I saw some early Tun 1509 samples when I was shifting bottles about in the Bryson Whiske/y Cellar (i.e., trying to make some room in my basement office). I went down and dug around a bit, and sure enough, there were samples of Batch 2 and Batch 3. So I replied to the press release, telling them I'd like to have a sample of the 6 to taste beside my earlier samples. And didn't the good folks at William Grant & Sons send me samples of Batches 4, 5, and 6! (Samples: 50 ml airline bottles. Unlabeled. Hand-filled. Not for re-sale. Which is fine with me, I don't do that shit.)

Better, they sent responses from Malt Master David Stewart to a couple questions I had posed. Let's have a look at those first.

What's going on in the Tun over the course of weeks and months that doesn't take place as soon as Tun is pouring in the barrels? Physically, how is the liquid added to the barrels? Gently? With a lot of splashing? One at a time? Does that also make a difference in flavor and profile?

David Stewart: We generally fill the Tun with the next expression around December each year so that we are in a position to bottle the following spring. Once we have emptied the Tun we will then fill with young Balvenie so that the Tun doesn't dry out. The Tun contents, as you mentioned, is filled into barrels to be taken to our bottling hall. From there, we carefully fill these barrels one at a time so that we don't lose any of this precious liquid; so that filling the barrels doesn't influence the flavour.

How does the character of the whisky change, and – if it's known – why does it change? Does the marrying process add to the cost of producing the whisky, or is it just another step? When you choose the barrels for Tun 1509, are you looking for consistency with previous editions, or a difference? How much of a range of ages in barrels are we looking at this time?

David Stewart: We are the only Scotch whisky company that has these marrying casks called Tuns. Most of our single malts are left to marry in for a period of three months prior to bottling. This marrying period allows the various constituents to mix and settle together. We have many thousands of these casks in our marrying warehouse at the distillery and we feel that this process is valuable; even with the extra labour and double handling involved.
The selection of each Tun expression is created initially in our sample room. We will request many samples to be drawn from individual casks from our warehouses at the distillery. We will sample each individually and then decide on the combination of ages and American and European oak casks. Once we made up the vatting in the sample room, we compare it with previous Tun expressions as we want each one to have its own individual character. Once we are happy, we give the distillery the cask numbers and ages so that they can physically fill the Tun. Generally there could be around ten years or so between the youngest whisky and the oldest.

Is there something that makes this particular batch of marriage special?

David Stewart: Yes, Tun Batch 6 was created by exploring the Speyside distillery’s aged and precious stocks to find 21 unique casks to marry the batch in. The liquid was left to marry for three months before being bottled at the distillery. This rare technique created the perfect environment for the different casks to weave together – allowing each of their composite qualities to mix and create a unique single malt Scotch whisky.


To be honest, not quite the in-depth responses I was hoping for, but that's what I get for sending questions by email! Let's move on to tasting these whiskies.

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 2 (50.3%): A nose of orange slice candy, some oaky spice, a whiff of pine needles, and warm wildflower honey. The whisky on the palate reminds me of the Parker Beam quote I always use ("I make it with corn and age it in oak, and when I taste it, I taste corn and oak!"): I taste malt, and I taste oak. Open the mouth and breathe, though, and the whisky lights up with a cooling touch of menthol, dark brown sugar, more orange honey, and a hint of dried fruit. The finish is more oaky, touched with vanilla and spice.

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 3 (52.2%): Noticeably softer, sweeter nose. Malty, pastry shop (German pastry shop, to be annoyingly specific), sweet dough, light wood (balsa? Maple?), and a hint of cough drop. Don't be lulled by that. Quite spicy on the tongue, but sweet, warm, herbal, and tall, very tall in the space. The finish is quite warm, a touch tannic/grippy, and more of that oaky spice. A dram that delivers a lot more than that relatively unassuming nose promises.

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 4 (51.7%): Fruity nose, with a sugar wafer cookie crunch to it. Dried fruit, light aromas of potpourri, and some light preserves, like quince, or pear. Sparkly on the palate, like little pops of warmth going off. More of the potpourri, deeply dried fruits, some milk chocolate and honeycomb, with drying oak spice lightly present. Like polyphonic music, there's a lot going on here that seems at first to be going in different directions. But on third or fourth sip, you realize it's integrated and aimed. Indeed, this has the most focused finish of the three I've had so far: oak, vanilla, and a touch of dried flower.

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 5 (52.6%): Nose hearkens back to Batch 3, but with more insistence. Honey-soaked phyllo, almost like baklava but not as overtly nutty. There are fruits, but so light that they're almost floral, and with just a slight acidity. Oh, beautifully light on the tongue! Honey, and honeysuckle nectar, and bright sun-warmed spring flowers, and ichor! Makes me think of a line from a favorite poem from my childhood, "The Fish," by Elizabeth Bishop:

"...everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! 

And I let the fish go." 

And as I let this fish go, it rewards me with a finish that flashes sunshine and glory from my teeth down my gullet all the way to the pylorus. Sorry to be so non-specific about exactly what I tasted here, but damn, it was just so experiential.

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 6 (50.4%): Finally, the reason for all of this. Warm cereal nose, with fruit; almost like breakfast, only with the booze heat turned on, and some oak in there. There's a welcoming malt wave that pours across the tongue, then as the heat of your mouth takes hold it ignites like an oven burner coming on. You can almost feel the whoosh! It wasn't just the first time, either, it keeps doing it every time. Guy could get to like that. What's in the whoosh? Reconstituted dry fruit, lively, but still with that concentrated character. The warm cereal, only in a ladle instead of a spoon. Needling oak shoots through it like a strafing run, but the cereal cushions it. The finish rolls on and on, with the oak finally getting a real say, wrapped in vanilla and more fruit, and some solid heat there on the end.

Interesting, varied whiskies. As I like to point out to people who are obsessed about the exact percentages of a bourbon mashbill (hint hint: this is a Whiskey Master Class reference); Scotch whisky has a very simple mashbill -- 100% malt -- and the distillers manage to make quite different whiskies with it!

What does the Tun bring to that, what's the common thread here? Upon reflection, I believe Batch 4 is the key to that: integration. The Tun, and the marrying, brings integration to what could have been an out of control mess of flavor. Things aren't hammered into lockstep, overpowered by a huge first-fill character. They're introduced to each other, given a chance to cooperate, without losing their personality. It's like Richard Paterson's characterization of blending whiskies as putting together an invitation list to a good cocktail party; some authors, some actors, some bikers, some doctors, a few blue-collar poets, and a supermodel or two.

Marrying is a process that adds cost to a whisky. But it also adds strength, union, roundness, integration. It's a decision, and a powerfully subtle tool in the blender's kit.

That was a lovely two hours. My thanks to David Stewart for the work on this project over the years.

Little Book: Tasting the 3 Chapters with Freddie "Little Book" Noe

Chapters 3, 2, 1; left to right

Pulling Apart Beam's Little Books

Just a warning: we've got seven whiskeys to get through, plus comparisons, plus some reflections on blending. So why not get a drink before starting? 

Beam Suntory (hereafter referred to simply as "Beam") turned out three surprising and excellent whiskeys over the past few years. The "Little Book" bottlings are named for the man who blended them, Freddie Noe. Freddie is the son of Beam master distiller Fred Noe, the grandson of distilling icon Booker Noe, and the great-great grandson of Jim Beam himself. He's said to take after his grandfather, and so he's been known as "Little Book." 

That's all interesting Beam family and company history, up to the point of the release of the first "chapter" of Little Book. Because at that point, two things happened. 

First, "American blended whiskey" took a huge leap upward in respectability. We were used to thinking of things like Kessler's, Four Queens, and the old, pre-Kirin Four Roses, and Seagram's 7: a little bit of whiskey and a lot of grain neutral spirit. 

That's not what Freddie had in mind with these blended whiskeys. He wanted to try things, work with different characters of spirit, while maintaining full transparency for the drinker. While Four Roses has been blending their ten in-house bourbons for years, we don't really think of Four Roses as blended whiskey. Freddie didn't dodge that label, and the industry has responded.

"It's new stuff," he told me a couple weeks ago. We were on the telephone for an hour or so, each of us with a supply of these three whiskeys, and the component whiskeys of Chapter 3 (more on that later). "Our competitors are talking to us and each other, asking questions. It's been real cooperative."

Freddie's been using his position as Fred Noe's grandson to take advantage of tasting widely of what Beam has to offer. "I have a curious palate," he said. He's been tasting whiskeys in the warehouses for years. 

"I get to taste the whiskey through its full lifecycle; I know what they're like at different ages," he said. "I see all the levers you can pull for flavors." It was interesting to hear that; "pulling levers" is a bit of jargon I've started hearing in the last two years from blenders and distillers alike. 

That's the second thing. When that first Little Book hit, those of us who were watching immediately started taking Freddie seriously. He was obviously more than just Fred Noe's son working on a vanity project. 

Freddie started talking about age, and time. "There's a lot of time in blending," he said. "I'll spend a lot of time working on the blends, and then spend a lot of time not working on them. Step away. You have to be able to get away so that the whiskey isn't just your expectations. I have to make sure that the levers we pull still make it Beam. 

"And that means that you've got to know what defines your whiskey," he said, sounding awfully damned experienced for his age. "Even new distilleries have a history. We're all doing it for a cause, a tradition, or a passion."

Then you can take what Freddie called "asset liquids," the core barrels that contain the classic components of Beam whiskeys, and start putting them together in different ways. "A strong base drives the blend," he said. "A younger whiskey will quickly fall behind an older, bolder whiskey. I'll start with equal parts and let the whiskey drive the blend. See what's driving the flavors you like, and move toward that.

"Then I focus on details: a longer finish, more vanilla up front," he said. "I love the process. Blending is a tool, though. I'm a distiller at heart, I will not stick to just blending."

We did some tasting.

Chapter 1 -- 120.4°, a blend of 4 YO straight bourbon, rye and malt whiskeys (both at 6 YO) and a 13 YO corn whiskey. You've got a bourbon, and the component grains of bourbon; it seemed like a good place to start, since you already know they go together well. The nose is full of oak, dusty grain, and vanilla. It's a full, gentle entry on the palate, almost lush, and smooth for the proof. There's a big fat heart of sweet cereal, orange slice candies, and fresh-cut oak. Tasty, juicy bourbon without restraint until the whiskey rolls off the tongue and the finish sets in and dials up the oaky, spicy heat a bit.

Chapter 2 -- 118.8°, a blend of 8 YO Kentucky straight rye, 40 YO (that's right, 40!) 100% corn Canadian whisky, and 13 YO Canadian rye whisky (which I'm guessing is probably Alberta Distillers 100% rye); definitely the lightest in color of the three bottlings. Freddie admitted this one was difficult. "Not every blending idea works out," he confessed. But he'd tagged along on a trip to Alberta Distillers and tasted through their inventory. "I picked up a fruity, floral note, and made a note to work with Canadian whisky. I was interested in whether our aged rye would dominate the Canadian." It is floral and sweet on the nose, with vanilla and caramel, if not the heavy Canadian caramel. Taken on the tongue, it's roly-poly sweet, with grassy rye mint, cinnamon candies and oaky spice on the back end. There's a long finish, especially for a Canadian: oaky, hard candies, and horehound drops. The spice of rye is definitely there, and the lazy sweetness of that 40 YO corn whiskey is like a comfy blanket on a cold night.

Then we tasted the four component whiskeys of Chapter 3.

Knob Creek 9 YO, 117.4° -- Knob has a place in my whiskey heart. The first whiskey I had as a pro was Knob Creek. Took my breath away, bulged my eyes a bit. But damn! Freddie said the Knob is a lot of the flavor of Chapter 3. "It's not the predominant volume in the blend," he said, "but it does add a lot. Booker spoke about its boldness." There's a lot of vanilla up front, with crackling, 'two-legged oak,' my notes say. "Young Knob is more corn forward," Freddie noted. "Watching it transition to more oaky is an eye-opener." On the tongue, there's a lot of cracked corn and more vanilla with a good dose of oaky, almost smokey heat.

Basil Hayden 9 YO, 123° -- There's a big hit of rye spice in the nose; it's weirdly delicate without being shy. "The Basil has twice the rye of Knob," Freddie points out, "but younger Basil has less rye aroma. And this barrel proof Basil is so different from the Basil Hayden bottling." And it is. There's a big wall of sweetness around the inside of my mouth, almost like a firebox lining, with all that spice and oak heat kept inside. "I like to have a bit of a 'Kentucky hug,'" Freddie said. "I like it to squeeze me back." Weird to taste big boy Basil Hayden, but welcome.

Baker's 12 YO, 126.6° -- I'm a huge Baker's fan, and was excited to taste this overproof version at five extra years of age. (This was before I knew about the new single barrel Baker's and the 13 YO version...separate post to come on that!). You can smell and taste the extra age: a lot of barrel char here, and the corn is like a roasted cornmeal cornbread (like Brinser's Best, the roasted cornmeal my family has used for at least three generations). It's just a darker, deeper version of a bourbon that's already dark and deep. The corn and oak cling and grip to the palate, exemplifying how the barrel changes and, really, transmogrifies the simplicity of corn spirit. Baker's is a master class in itself.

Booker's 11 YO, 129.2° -- I got a few other Booker's samples out (I get samples of most of the releases, which is an embarrassment of riches, and I'll be sharing more of those now that the blog's back up) and compared them to this one. I was very surprised with how fresh and vital this whiskey smelled at almost twice the average age of the others. Hot caramel, lively spicy oak, and prickly blackberry fly right into your nose on this one. All that, in spades, on the tongue, but now you get that big sweetness wrapping it all up. The finish is long, with a good tannic grip. Booker's at 11 years old is quite a bird.

And finally...the whiskey we came to taste:

Little Book Chapter 3: The Road Home, 122.6° -- So Beam, so Booker: Full-bore bourbon, hot corn, polished oak, vanilla, Red Hots, and dried cherries. Two-stepper on the tongue: the first hit is all hot, sweet corn and spicy, firm oak (can't help thinking of my favorite Parker Beam quote here: "I put corn in my bourbon, and I age it in oak, and when I drink it, that's what I taste: corn, and oak!"), but then it's like the pressure lifts and a big shot of dried fruit comes through, bright and almost juicy, with baking spices. As it fades into the finish, the oak and vanilla come back, and float you off.

Can I taste the component bourbons? Well, yes, and no. Yes, in that I taste that big vanilla from the Knob, the grip of the Baker's, the sweetness of the Basil, and that long Booker's finish. No, in that I don't really taste them that way; I taste a bourbon that has all those things, and more. That distinct two-step palate; the dried fruit, the subdued baking spice. Like Knob, but smoother; like Baker's, but not as dark; like Basil, but richer; like Booker's, but even more drinkable at the full proof. A damned good blend.

And so, overall? Chapter 1 is a new blender, having fun, making a tasty, sweet bourbon out of pieces (Lego Bourbon?). Chapter 2 works with new components, quite different ones (40 year old corn-built Canadian!), and creates something completely new from them. The aptly-named Chapter 3, "The Road Home," is an epiphany, where the blender takes known whiskeys, at full proof, and makes something more out of them, when it would have been easy to screw up, and make something that wasn't really as good as any of them alone. Chapter 3 is a blender coming into his own. Chapter 3 is leveled-up from Chapter 1. 

This was a lot of fun, and a learning experience. I continue to gain respect for the work of blending, and I'm glad to see distillers working with more imaginative blends. Did the whole thing start with High West's Rendezvous Rye, a young and old MGP rye blended together? No, but maybe the modern era of American blending did.

I'm just not that excited to see some blenders jumping the gun entirely and blending completely different spirits together -- bourbon and rum, cognac and tequila, gin and mezcal -- when there's so much to be explored without stunts like these. Am I an old fart? Sure. And things like that don't excite me. But neither do CBD drinks or hard seltzers or juniperless gins. Traditions aren't prisons; they're playgrounds, sandboxes. Play within the rules, and see what you can do that others haven't. That's exciting.

My thanks to Freddie Noe and the folks who put us together.

(All whiskeys tasted were samples, delivered by Beam to me. I'll always tell you where they came from.)