Master this…

LaborerBecause it has now reached epidemic stages, I feel its important to re-iterate a truth: if someone became interested in whiskey in the 2000s and started a distillery as a result, they are NOT a master distiller. It doesn’t matter what type of success or failure they have, who their distributor is or how many markets they’re in, they are not a master…of anything.
To infer, or just as wrongly, let other infer on their behalf, that they’ve mastered this craft after only a few years in, is a slap in the face and a profound insult to those that actually have achieved mastery.
The test is simple: stand in the same room with Jimmy Russell, Jim McEwan, David Stewart, Maureen Robinson, Shinji Fukuyo or Richard Patterson and refer to oneself as a “master” in their presence. It would be cringe-inducing to watch and what’s more, these very same personages wouldn’t refer to themselves as such. These, and others like them, have spent the better part of their lives in the pursuit of their craft in an industry that has seen severe downturns during their tenure. We tend to anoint them now with rock-star like plaudits, but even if the whiskey industry hadn’t taken a moon-shot in the last 15 years, they would still be regarded as masters.  They put in the time and they’ve lived through the pain.

True mastery is conferred on you by your peers and the industry you’re in, not self-annointed, or worse, bestowed upon you by a publicist or a blogger or a hack writer from Thrillist.

  • Mastery is the result of thousands of hours laboring in every part of an industry, coming from under the tutelage of others greater than you
  • Mastery is the great humility of learning over time what your mistakes are and understanding the thousands of permutations in the production of an end result
  • Mastery is understanding how to not just teach, but to guide those who come to you for direction and knowledge, a conveyance of not just facts and information, but true wisdom as a result of a deep understanding
  • Mastery is having the scars of failure and succeeding as a result of them
  • Mastery is an outward recognition that you stand above others in a pursuit of acknowledged excellence and have achieved it through your labors
  • Mastery is conferred upon a few.  It is not a Participation Award.
There are those in this industry who after a rocket-glide to success in a few short years attach the “master” label to themselves.  At the beginning of this wave, it was easy to dismiss it as youthful exuberance, but no more. It is undeserved and by stealing this honorific they rob themselves of the richness of their own process and experience.  What they may be is talented, skillful and resourceful, all achievements in and of themselves. They may be lucky or someone who knew the right people at the right time; someone gifted with the time and money to pursue a task or discipline at one’s leisure without the burden of monthly bills. All of these are fine, there’s nothing wrong with them, everyone has different paths to success. 
But the hyper-titling we are experiencing is not the result of any of these.  It’s a combination of a number of things that are troubling in our larger culture:
  • The hyper-need for instant self-gratification, driven through the prism of social media
  • The confusion of facts with knowledge and knowledge with wisdom as a result of the hyper-reality of the internet
  • A service economy vs. a production economy where there are few examples of long-term effort
  • The commodification of titles (Manager, Director, VP, CEO, etc.) as a result of “entrepreneurial glorification”, a syndrome where anyone who starts something new on their own is considered a prodigy, a genius or brilliant simply by the act of starting, not on what they’ve achieved
  • Outside investment money with no historical investment in the industry, seeing a distillery or a brand as just another commodity and titles as a marketing edge over the competition

This sense of entitlement is enabled by the wholesale showering of diluted “awards” from the huge number of competitions that have sprung up as a cottage industry, many of them coming from the organizations that purport to help grow and guide these young craftsmen into industry leaders.

One cannot demand transparency if one is not going to live it. If the craft movement is going to grow up to fulfill the destiny that is waiting for it, the capacity to re-arrange how hard spirits are made, marketed and consumed for a generation, it needs to start by looking inward at its practitioners and demanding a truthful accountability of their capabilities: not just to create, but to lead and guide, to pass their wisdom onto a new generation.  Right now, I’m not seeing that happening enough to make me hopeful that it can.

On Transparency in the Whiskey Industry

Two interestingly different sides of the same coin appeared on both sides of the Atlantic this past week on the issue of transparency in whisk(e)y. To put this in perspective, 10 or so years ago, not only was transparency not an issue, but there was so little knowledge about what’s inside your bottle that no one even knew how to ask the question, or even to care. But with the advent of smartphones, increasingly ubiquitous internet searches, Edward Snowden and the craft distilling boom, what was once opaque and esoteric has become the stuff of fevered social media conversations.

Last week, Compass Box Whisky Co, the boutique blending company led by John Glaser, issued a challenge to the Scotch Whisky Association (SWA) by starting an online petition to force them into adjusting their stringent labeling laws. In the world of Scotch whisky blending, the whole (the “brand”) is made up of many parts (the source, or distillery), none of which have been traditionally included on the label or in advertising. The closest one got to this was in adverts of old where a brand like Dewars would disclose that “40” different whiskies when into their blend. They didn’t name them and frankly, no one cared, because consumers bought the value and quality of the brand, not the individual components. In consumer products world, the equivalent would have been buying a car by Ford without caring who made up the individual components. The trust was in the brand.

The 2000s and the ubiquity of the internet changed that in every area of consumption (i.e., drug company ads, “Intel Inside”, etc) and Compass Box was from its outset at the forefront in making clear its production methods, i.e., component whiskies, lack of post production methods like caramel coloring or chill filtration, etc. Along with this was lack of age statements, something that Scotch whisky companies drove into the consumer mind as equating with quality.

In their latest releases of “This is Not a Luxury Whisky” and “Flaming Heart”, Compass Box skirted around the edge of the 2009 SWA labeling laws by listing the individual components and their respective ages. The current regulations state that only the youngest whisky in the blend shall have its respective age listed on the labeling. The reasons behind this are gist for another article, but in short, your 12 yr old Scotch can include older whiskies, but they’re not allowed to say how old they are. Compass Box has been a “non-age statement” (NAS) whisky from its inception and while they did not post age statements on their bottles, this time they included them in their marketing material and website. Apparently, another distillery “turned them in” and the SWA stepped in and forced them to remove any publicly displayed information. To their defense, the SWA was formed as a trade organization to protect Scotch whisky from counterfeiting and cannibalization, but they are also caught in the vortex of their own inertia, not to mention enough back-stage intrigue with the multi-national conglomerates to rival “House of Cards”.  So far, Compass Box is winning the hearts and minds of the whisky community with their petition campaign, which you can find on their website: http://www.compassboxwhisky.com.

For the flip side, an interview on Liquor.com with distilling consultant Dave Pickerell, the force behind brands like Hillrock and WhistlePig, revealed another take on transparency. In this case, its about American whiskies like bourbon and rye, where brands like Bulleit, High West, Templeton, Redemption and his own WhistlePig began their lives by sourcing their whiskies from huge, established ethanol facilities in Indiana or Alberta, Canada. These brands are hugely successful because, like their older generational counterparts, consumers bought into the idea of the brand, not the components. To be sure, there is a scrutiny placed on these makers as well, and one of the first things many of them understood was that if you’re going to claim something like “artisinal” or hand-crafted, you’d better be able to show provenance (Mast Bros, are you listening?). But they wised up fast and most quickly gave up the sourcing even before being asked.

However, because of this common bond in origin, the knock on them was that they’re all the same in taste. This is a natural assumption when you don’t understand anything about the scores of individual decisions and subjective evaluations that go into creating a flavor profile, from mashbill to production to maturation.

Pickerell does a good job of delineating through these distinctions but also gets to the heart of the matter in each case: is what’s in your glass good enough for you to drink a second one? Its not necessary to go into the details to enjoy what you’re drinking. Because in the age of information, we can often put the cart before the horse and make buying decisions against our own tastes: I may not like it, but I like the way it was made (non-GMO, great origin story, etc) and so I’ll spend money based on things beside my own gustatory pleasure. The story sells the spirit, as the industry maxim goes and when powered by a smartphone, you’re drinking the story as well as what’s in your glass, even while you’re experiencing cognitive dissonance about it.  The article can be found here:.http://bit.ly/1oDzjSJ

 

In the case of Compass Box, this is a new tack in their ongoing tussle with the SWA who once threatened to sue them over barreling methods. So while their David v. Goliath duel with them is the stuff of legend that turned Glaser into an iconoclastic star, it seems a little forced in its argument of “right to know”, due to the fact that what they want you to know is that there’s some really old whisky in the bottle. As a high end blender, Compass Box had in the past stressed the end result, the creative process behind the blend, the mouthfeel and pleasure of the moment, not the components, even though they were transparent about them when asked. Now it seems while they question “what makes a luxury whisky”, they at the same time want the right to inform you that their blends contain some pretty luxurious whiskies.

Pickerell makes the stronger argument: If you like it, drink it, if it fits into your budget, drink more of it and calls out the bartender community to put away its collective distaste for “big liquor” in favor of small brands solely on that criteria. Learn a little about how its made if you want to understand some distinctions, but if you’re letting that take the lead on why you drink it, you may be drinking it for the wrong reasons. And if that’s the case, then you’re subject to any new magic incantations that can come your way from the next new brand that has something more local, more transparent and more whatever than the one in your hand.

On Transparency in Writing: The author was once employed to act for Compass Box Whisky as its US representative.