Some call Stranahan’s a masterpiece, and I’m perfectly willing to accept that some palates might be better suited for this spirit. I can’t cut through any of these smoke-and-wood flavors any sense of vanilla or sweetness (the normal hallmarks of new charred-oak barrels) are really just hinted at deep in the finish. It’s like someone hollowed out a tree stump, filled it with whiskey, covered it with a tarp, and let it marinate for a decade. I like “smoky” Scotches, but Stranahan’s is something entirely different. A huge wall of oak wood and smoke literally punches you in the face just as you’re about to settle into the malt, and it doesn’t stop with the hitting. The grassy, chewy character from the barley hits you first, but then Stranahan’s wood component takes over.
The result is something wildly unlike any other whiskey on the market, and if you’re a traditionalist you probably aren’t going to be thrilled with the results. It is then - just like in Bourbon country - aged in charred, new oak barrels, but for a mere two years. Stranahan’s is a rarity among American whiskeys, distilled from 100 percent malted barley (just like the Scots). Though 94 proof, the nose isn’t particularly hot. It looks harmless enough, a bright, orange-hued spirit with a relatively mild nose - almost rye-like.
Stranahan’s is the strangest whiskey I’ve ever experienced.
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