Wednesday, December 03, 2025 |
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Take a look at that bourbon on your bar cart. You probably picked it up at the liquor store, where there are dozens of options to choose from, for some cocktail recipe or special-occasion toast. It seems simple, doesn't it, that brown liquor in the glass bottle? Even though I write about whiskey often, I still sometimes forget that bourbon is a labor intensive product that requires impressive patience, a helluva lot of scientific tinkering, and a pinch of luck. Once it's distilled, the juice sits in barrels for years until it's ready for bottling. That's a big-time investment, and there's no guarantee it will pay off in sales. On a recent tour of one of America's most historic distilleries, Old Forester, I was struck with just how impressive it is to make consistently good bourbon, decade after decade. Learn about the bourbon brand's production process—and its most popular bottles—below. —Chris Hatler, deputy editor Plus: |
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Old Forester is the only bourbon continually sold by the same company before, during, and after Prohibition. I tried the brand's best offerings to help you choose which bottle to buy next. |
The drill enters the sturdy wooden barrel with a whirr, but before a bottle can be placed beneath the hole to catch the golden-brown liquid, it geysers at a bustling pace. There's bourbon all over the floor now, but no one's worried about that. The six of us exploring the musty rickhouse in Shively, Kentucky, just want a taste. Not that I need any more whiskey. I've already enjoyed two tasting flights, courtesy of Old Forester. Master Distiller Emeritus Chris Morris and four of his esteemed team of whiskey makers and shakers are showing me all the craft that goes into their product. So far, I've toured the brand's downtown whiskey distillery and Old Forester parent company Brown-Forman's headquarters, both in Louisville. At each stop, I tasted through Old Forester's most artful offerings and got a peek behind the curtain, at coopering, bottling, and experimenting. But nothing impacts me as much as this part of the tour, when things start to get old. Not old as in boring. Old as in has been aging on a dusty shelf in a rickety warehouse for over a decade. About that shelf. Like agriculture, whiskey is climate dependent. Different parts of this very warehouse can produce completely different outcomes, just as cold summers or warm springs can completely change yield and flavor. Think of it this way: The juice from one barrel in one corner of the rick house could be so damn tasty that it's begging to be used in a limited-edition release and must be pulled ASAP for bottling. Another barrel sitting on, say, the top floor, third row, could taste off after four years—but maybe, if the Old Forester team sits on it for another six months, something good will happen. |
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If it were up to me, the air in my house would be thick and humid, and there'd be simulated thunderstorms like at the Rainforest Cafe. My skin and hair are better with humidity in the air, and a little humidity counteracts the dry electrostatic buildup my cat hates so much. And this isn't a job for any little plastic box that turns water into mist would. I need a real-deal humidifier—something long-lasting, powerful, quiet, and clean. I've been through a lot of humidifiers: small ones, big ones, and dirt cheap ones. But the air in my home never felt adequately moistened until this Carepod One Plus came into my life. |
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This year at Esquire we've seen dozens of new restaurants, places where spectacular food is coupled with a damn good time—where ambition and abandon meet. These are the places you hate to leave, but when you do, you leave full. Full of some of the most deeply personal food you can remember eating, full of joy and ideas and hope. You stumble out, way past your bedtime, practically dancing in the street. We've seen this again and again in 2025: At places like RVR in Los Angeles, Side A in San Francisco, Lupe's Situ Tacos in Seattle (where the chef is actually a local rock drummer), and Kabawa in New York City (where the playlist deserves a Grammy) this has been the Year of the Good Time. A good time not in an "ostrich in the sand" way or in a "decline and fall of the Roman Empire" mode. A good time founded on the recognition that good times—with friends around a table, breaking bread—are more important than ever in chaotic, topsy-turvy years like these. |
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