WEDNESDAY, JULY 31 , 2019. THE WASHINGTON POST EZ EE E3
and distiller at Cascade Hollow
Distilling Co., which makes
George Dickel whisky. These
days, she says, “consumers can
feel very, very confident that
their safety is protected. But that
issue of when you go to buy a
bottle of whiskey, what exactly is
in that bottle? What are you
getting, and is it worth the
money that you’re paying for it?”
It’s why the distillery’s first
release under her leadership is a
13-year-old bottled-in-bond: “I
wanted my first release to say
something about the kind of
distiller and manager I wanted to
be.”
Last year, Privateer Rum in
Massachusetts released its first
bottled-in-bond rum — the first
such rum available in more than
half a century. A lot of traditional
whiskey connoisseurs have been
getting interested in the world of
aged rum, “and for us, the fact
that we have a bottled-in-bond is
a huge advantage for getting
their attention,” says President
Maggie Campbell. “The public is
really conscientious about what
they’re consuming, and a
bottled-in-bond is a really good
way for us to signal to them
exactly what’s in the bottle.”
Not only do today’s consumers
want to know more, says Scott
Harris of Catoctin Creek
Distilling Co., they know more,
far more than they used to.
“There’s value for us to be able to
put ‘bottled in bond’ on the
label,” he says of their Rabble
Rouser rye whiskey.
“There are a lot of quote-
unquote ‘craft’ spirits out there,
and maybe they’re being honest
about it and maybe they’re not.
There are good actors and bad
actors,” he says. “But by saying
‘bottled in bond,’ what we’re
saying is, ‘This was made by us at
every step of the process.’...
There’s no way around that with
bottled in bond.”
[email protected]Allan is a Hyattsville, Md., writer and
editor. Follow her on Twitter:
@Carrie_the_Red.makers need to figure out what
will drive a consumer to try a
bottle from an unknown player
over a similarly priced (or
cheaper) one from a well-known
brand.
Many new distillers focus on
making quality spirits. Others,
either as a means to get their
operations started or as an
ongoing business model, source
spirits from other distillers and
then bottle (sometimes with
added flavoring or aging), label
and market them as their own.
These operators are known as
non-distiller producers. There’s
nothing inherently wrong with
their offerings, and in the past
few years, many of them have
begun operating with increasing
transparency. But there have also
been cases of brands marketing
their spirits with invented
histories, playing fast and loose
with the truth.
So while safety issues are a
thing of the past, the world of the
1800s and the world of the early
21st century have links, says
Nicole Austin, general managernonexistent today.
But “bottled in bond” now
signals other qualities. Their
higher proof gives them appeal
for some consumers, and some
producers like the challenge of
the restrictions. Limiting
production to a single season of a
distillery’s product provides an
opportunity “to create a very
unique expression,” says Allen
Katz, distiller and owner of New
York Distilling Co., which
recently released its bottled-in-
bond Ragtime Rye. “You have a
narrow plane of field to work
within, so it forces you to
concentrate on the nuances of
barrel selection. And that creates
a very interesting style of
American spirit.”
Certain market realities are
also giving the category a new
appeal, especially for smaller
distillers seeking to stand out.
According to the American Craft
Spirits Association, the number
of craft distillers grew from
fewer than 100 in 2005 to 1,835
by August of last year.
Competition is stiff, and newinterest,” says Kris Comstock,
senior marketing director at
Buffalo Trace. “It was the
government validating bottled-
in-bond whiskey, including his,
so it was good for business.”
Day-to-day oversight by
government agents has pretty
much vanished over the years,
but even today, for a spirit to be
labeled “bottled in bond,” what’s
in the bottle has to be made by
one distillery during one
distilling season, not adulterated
with anything but water, aged in
a federally bonded warehouse for
no less than four years and
bottled at 100 proof.
Some distillers have long
produced bonded spirits: Laird &
Co.’s bonded apple brandy;
Rittenhouse Rye, an early darling
of the craft cocktail movement.
But more distillers are circling
back to the tradition.
At a glance, the recent growth
— not a tidal wave, but a steady
little stream of new spirits — may
seem odd. After all, the consumer
safety issues that once drove the
need for protection are virtuallythese folks, called rectifiers,
would use to cheaply mimic
flavors of spirits: honey and
beets but also ammonia,
turpentine and charred animal
bones. Iodine and lye turn up in
other lists.
Whiskey-makers who made
the good stuff fought these bad
actors, eventually asking the
government to intervene. Those
lobbying for protection
eventually won, when Congress
passed the Bottled in Bond Act in
1897, considered the first
American consumer protection
law. Spirits bottled in bond were
overseen by government agents
from still to barrel to warehouse
to bottle. At the end, they got an
official seal, marking the spirit as
the genuine article.
One of those behind the
lobbying was banker and
distillery owner Colonel E.H.
Taylor Jr., whose name now
adorns a line of whiskeys from
Buffalo Trace — all bottled in
bond in tribute to Taylor. Taylor
pushed for the law “for a lot of
reasons, including his own self-Tasting spirits is
usually a pleasure.
There are so many
great sips today,
from old great
whiskeys to
creative upstart bottles from an
explosion of small distillers. It’s a
golden age of tippling.
But there are times when I’ve
paused. Not because I
occasionally encounter a booze
that tastes like feet dipped in
Dimetapp, but rarer moments,
when I’ve wondered whether I
might have sipped something
unhealthy — beyond the
standard ways in which alcohol
generally is.
There was the rum that tasted
alarmingly of turpentine, the
liqueur that seemed to give me a
splitting headache. Last year I
was browsing a wine and spirits
store when I noticed something
floating in a bottle. It turned out
to be a beetle, drifting in the
depths of the spirit. (I checked
the label and verified it wasn’t
there on purpose. In a world
that’s given us smoked salmon
vodka and ant-flavored gin, it’s
hard to know if it’s a feature or a
bug — or a feature and a bug.)
I recalled these moments at
last year’s Tales of the Cocktail
conference in New Orleans, as a
panel of distillers delved into the
history of bottled-in-bond spirits.
Journalist Wayne Curtis
moderated the panel, and he
made it clear that my little
moments of worry have nothing
on the widespread issues the
industry had in the 1800s, when
people encountered spirits that
hadn’t just suffered a production
glitch but had been deliberately
adulterated.
“There was a lot of really
crappy booze that was coming
out in the late 19th century,”
Curtis said. “There were lots of
big producers... just making
neutral grain spirits. And anyone
could just buy a few barrels and
then just add all sorts of things
... to create fake spirits that
were not legit but could taste
reasonably like something else.”
He ticked off a list of what
There was a time
when the
Laotian-born
owner of
Bangkok Golden
in Falls Church
was so hesitant about serving
anyone other than friends and
family the food she grew up
with, her off-the-menu list of
dishes at the Thai restaurant
was only printed in Laotian.
Now, it seems Washington
can’t get enough of the fiery,
funky, oh-so-fresh flavors that
Seng Luangrath has helped
make so popular. She changed
the name of Bangkok Golden to
Padaek (the Lao word for fish
sauce) and extended her show
to the District, opening Thip
Khao in Columbia Heights five
years ago. In December, Sen
Khao, a noodle shop in Tysons
Galleria, followed. And May saw
the rollout of the 30-seat
Hanumanh in Shaw, where
Luangrath and her son, chef
Bobby Pradachith, have created
a watering hole with a small
menu that’s meant to celebrate
the drinking culture of Laos.
Happy Hour is referred to as
Monkey Hour, Hindu and
Buddhist monkey gods being
the inspiration for the
newcomer’s name. For two
hours starting at 5 p.m.,
Wednesday through Monday,
customers can enjoy $4 beer,
$5 wines and $6 “snackies,” one
of which ought to be meatballs
shot through with lemongrass
and agreeably chewy with sticky
rice. The bite-size orbs are
ringed by a clear sauce that
pulses with lime, cilantro and
fish sauce.
You can’t miss the no-
reservations, no-phone
storefront from the street.
Intricate yellow writing against
a red backdrop is reminiscent of
a temple Pradachith and the
Laotian American artist Henley
Bounkhong visited on their
maiden tour of Laos last year.
More of Bounkhong’s
handiwork is displayed inside,
on a whimsical mural that
depicts monkey characters
gathering and cooking food.
Little rice baskets dangle from
bamboo poles near the ceiling.
The baskets do double duty,
serving both as decoration and
distraction from overhead vents.
Seating doubles when the
umbrella-shaded rear patio is
factored in. (If noise is an issue,
head outside. The narrow
dining room gets power mower-
loud at times.)
Ask for the salad featuring
banana blossoms, the fleshy,
tear-shaped flowers plucked
from the end of banana fruit
clusters. The purple-skinned
ingredient is lovely in
combination with shaved
coconut, crisp jicama, roasted
peanuts and red finger chiles,
the source of the salad’s
pleasant heat. Hanumanh’s
“blooming mushroom” is a nod
to the chain restaurants,
including Outback Steakhouse,
Pradachith says his father tried
to steer clear of in the chef ’s
youth. Enoki mushrooms bound
with cornstarch batter emerge
from the fryer as earthy, lacy-
crisp clusters that go on to be
seasoned with tamarind salt
and set atop a creamy whip of
fermented tofu and soybean
paste. The finger food is
fabulous, and just happens to be
vegan.
A few dishes originated asspecials at Thip Khao. Red crab
curry is one of them, and an
early hit at Hanumanh. Dressed
with crisp fried banana
blossoms and breezy with Thai
basil, the bowl proves rich with
crab — about four ounces of
seafood, meaning every
spoonful yields a little luxury.
Do son and mom cook alike?
Pradachith is a trained chef.
Luangrath is not, and she lets
him know some of the best
kitchen tools are the simplest.
When she catches him fussing
with a presentation, he says, she
reminds him Lao food is rustic.
“Fingers are your tweezers,” she
likes to rib her co-chef.
[email protected]1604 Seventh St. NW. No phone
number. hanumanh.com. Entrees,
$14 to $22.In a toast to the drinks of Lao cuisine, Hanumanh is a tasty watering hole
Tom
Sietsema
FIRST BITE
Spirits
M. CARRIE
ALLAN
Bottled in bond is back, but it’s about stature more than safety
PHOTOS BY LAURA CHASE DE FORMIGNY FOR THE WASHINGTON POSTBUFFALO TRACE DISTILLERYSTACY ZARIN GOLDBERG FOR THE WASHINGTON POST
ABOVE: From left, bottled-in-bond spirits from George Dickel, Buffalo Trace
(Colonel E.H. Taylor), New York Distilling, Wigle and Laird’s. RIGHT: An ad from
the 1940s for Old Taylor, named for the man who lobbied for bonding certification.ABOVE: Seng
Luangrath teamed with
her son, Bobby
Pradachith, to put
together a short menu
that celebrates the
drinking culture of
Laos. Colorful murals
feature monkeys, which
inspired the restaurant’s
name. RIGHT: The red
crab curry, an early hit
at Hanumanh, is dressed
with Thai basil and
enough seafood that
you’ll likely get some in
every spoonful.