wild turkey rare breed

I went on a hike a couple weeks ago and after a grueling seven miles through a dozen switchbacks and the fury of the Arizona sun, I summitted a mountain near to my home, one that I look at every morning I have coffee on the balcony. Rare Breed is my summit bourbon, I tuck a nip bottle into the side pocket of my day pack whenever I go out. This time, it was more than just a private little tradition -- the journey up to the summit ended up being a daydream of how to write this bourbon up. How do I find valuable words about a whiskey that is so impressive but that nevertheless sits idly on shelves. Everyone has had it, most have enjoyed multiple bottles, and browsing eyes simply pass it by.

It's a tough one because there is so much to say, but at the same time, what is there to say? Many enthusiasts often perceive availability and quality as inversely proportional, so is there truly any value in waxing poetic about what is nevertheless one of my favorite bottles of whiskey?

I'm halfway up the mountain now, having a cigarette and letting my legs rest before endeavoring to scale around eight switchbacks. I'm thinking about what it was that got me out to the Sonoran desert that morning. Two months of holidays, social obligations, the tedium of adult responsibility, the monotony of my job in its characteristic maintenance tempo of the new year. The (paradoxical, perhaps) ennui of a calendar that's too full. The spontaneous decision to trek up the mountain, a decision made less than five minutes before walking out the door, was a yearning for quiet solitude ultimately. A state of contentedness achievable in no other way.

It's fitting that Rare Breed is my summit whiskey because it represents the same ideas in a different context. Whiskey enthusiasts can sometimes be expected to keep up with a screaming tempo. A new brand pops up here, a new craft distillery gains momentum there, a legacy distillery puts out yet another annual release, chase this highly coveted bottle because you have to taste the 7-whiskey rainbow... And yet, sometimes when the noise gets too loud and overwhelming, almost out of instinct, the aforementioned spontaneous reaction, I reach for my Rare Breed bottle. It's a quiet bottle. It's a bourbon I can always enjoy in solitude, as if on the summit of a mountain, alone for miles in every direction.

Scarcity is not prerequisite to quality. Wild Turkey was one of the first of the major American distilleries to put out a barrel proof offering more than 20 years ago and has continued over 15+ batches. If I had to describe it using only one word, I would call it "unassuming." It is a blend of 6-, 8-, and 12-year-old Wild Turkey distillate coming in at (batch variable) barrel proof. It embodies the spirit of Wild Turkey in a comprehensive way that I feel is often overlooked and frequently underappreciated, perhaps especially by enthusiasts who get trapped in the noise.

Nose Pipe tobacco features prominently in the aroma with apple, cherry, nutmeg, and clove also coming through with subtlety. There are flashes of smooth creamy vanilla, a classic bourbon note highlighting the otherwise aged nose.

Palate Classic Wild Turkey medicinal cherry features heavily throughout the palate. A caramel note transforms from the nose, carrying a hint of the original vanilla with it. It has a deep, dark caramel sweetness on the front palate, and some spiced apple returns on the mid-palate. Whispers of butterscotch hard candy come through just before the swallow.

Finish A fascinating anise flavor blooms on the finish before being overtaken by black pepper and cinnamon. Subtle rye spice rounds it out. The finish is full bodied for a slow, quiet drink.