The Meteoric Rise of American Single Malt Whiskey
In the century-old barn that houses Tenmile Distillery, visitors can watch a pair of massive copper stills turn malted barley into whiskey. Come for a tour of the facility and master distiller Shane Fraser, a Scotsman who previously worked at Oban, Glenfarclas, and Wolfburn, will show you how things work before directing you to the adjacent bar for a cocktail or a dram.
This might sound like a scene in the heart of Speyside, but it takes place five times a week, just 90 miles north of New York City—a location notable due to the kind of juice the distillery produces.
Tenmile, which specializes in the burgeoning category of American single malts, got up and running in 2019; it launched Little Rest, its first bottle, in April. “We occupy that Highland-Speyside [Scotch whisky] space,” Fraser says of Little Rest’s style and character, “and I think that’s a good place for us to be as an American single malt.”
Single-malt whisky—the version of the spirit made in one location from 100 percent malted barley, then aged in oak barrels—has been the pride of Scotland for centuries. But distillers in the U.S. have been producing their renditions for only about three decades. In that relatively short amount of time, the category has gained enough respect and recognition to reach an important milestone: an imminent legal definition, furnished by the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau, that will put it on par with its big sister, bourbon. “It is not often that an entirely new category of whiskey reaches mainstream acceptance and recognition by the government,” says Matt Hofmann, cofounder of Seattle’s Westland Distillery. “In time, we’ll look back and see this as something special, one for the history books.”
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Chapter one began in 1996, when the late Steve McCarthy, founder of Portland’s Clear Creek Distillery, launched McCarthy’s Oregon Single Malt. McCarthy could have had no idea that this tiny new segment of American whiskey would become as popular as it is today. Even behemoths such as Jack Daniel’s are now releasing single malts, realizing that this distinctly American style has a wide audience both at home and abroad.
While bourbon, which requires a mash bill of at least 51 percent corn and maturation in new charred-oak containers, seems like a natural comparison, American single malt has a major distinction: It can be aged in used barrels. Westland uses virgin and used casks to age its single malts, allowing the flavors of its recipes’ different barley varieties to shine through. “New oak would simply be too dominant of a flavor and would mask the complexity that comes from these new barleys,” Hofmann says.
Making whiskey is basically betting on the future, as the spirit slumbers for years before it’s ready. But it seems that this long journey to recognition, both commercial and bureaucratic, is finally nearing its triumphant ending. “We’re at the start of the next great wave for the category,” Hofmann says. “I believe with every ounce of my being that, 10 years from now, every whiskey enthusiast around the world will have a bottle of American single malt in their collection, the same way that most whiskey enthusiasts now have a couple of Scottish single malts, a bourbon, a rye, and a Japanese whisky.”
