Free Bourbon Empire by Reid Mitenbuler

of America’s dozen or so biggest distilleries also sell whiskey to outsider buyers who market it as something that’s entirely independent. One of these distilleries, Midwest Grain Products Ingredients (MGPI), a distillery in Lawrenceburg, Indiana, that used to be owned by Seagram, makes whiskey for outside brands that include labels like Templeton, Bulleit Rye, and some of the High West brands. MGPI’s Web site has a drop-down menu featuring the whiskey styles it will make and age for customers wanting to market them as their own. This common industry arrangement is usually called “sourcing” or “contract distilling” and those companies on the receiving end are typically called NDPs, short for “non-distiller producers” (you can tell them apart onthe liquor store shelf by tiny print reading “produced by,” or some similar variation, rather than “distilled by,” since they’re not technically distillers and government regulations prevent them from saying otherwise). For many upstart distilleries, sourcing is simply a way to become established while they wait for their own whiskey stocks to age, although most, understandably, don’t advertise that fact.
    As one might expect, whiskey geeks often scoff at sourced brands. The image of a small, independent producer is hard to resist, and they complain that their notions of authenticity are disrupted when that appearance turns out to be a façade. It’s easy to see why, but at the same time it must be pointed out that the practice of sourcing has a long history going back to the nineteenth century, and most of the main suppliers carry reputations for making good whiskey. MGPI is often mocked, but it is actually one of the oldest distilleries in the country, giving it the kind of real heritage that many brands covet. If MGPI had a less severe name and sold whiskey under its own labels, the brands would probably be revered as classics.
    Hamilton is the eternal whipping boy of whiskey drinkers. He was an elite power broker, an early embodiment of Wall Street, and a champion of the kind of consolidated industry we rarely associate with personal independence or individuality. Modern Americans probably wouldn’t be inclined to share a drink with him. In contrast, the whiskey world fawns over Jefferson. He might have hated whiskey, but his policies helped support its rise and development, all while championing the kind of independent smallholders that remain popular icons even as they become less of a reality. Jefferson’s system might have lost out to Hamilton’s—something the whiskey world is loath to admit—but Jefferson continues to be revered.
    With this in mind, it is greatly ironic that the popular brand named after Jefferson today is sourced. An image of him is literally engraved on the bottle, even though the whiskey within comes from the kind of industry he fought against. The brand was formed in 1997 as an NDP and is headquartered out of New York City, Hamilton’s old turf. When I once asked brand proprietor Trey Zoeller why he named his whiskeyafter the former president, he simply laughed and said, “I had no marketing budget. I simply wanted a recognizable face associated with history and tradition.”
    But Zoeller is far from using a mere façade—most people buying the small brand probably think they’re supporting a modern-day personification of one of Jefferson’s smallholders, and in some ways they are, but not in the way they probably expect. Zoeller is a small businessman utilizing the knowledge and efficiency of larger distilleries by co-opting their whiskey. He doesn’t actually make his bourbon from scratch, but he does blend bourbons he finds elsewhere to create a unique flavor profile for his own brands. Taken alone, Zoeller explains, none of the separate bourbons he buys is as good as the sum of the parts mixed together, and the strengths and inadequacies of each compensate for each other. For instance, he might purchase stocks