When Old Forester debuted its 1910 expression back in 2018, technically it was a new release for the distillery&mdash;a double-barreled straight bourbon, part of the Whiskey Row series that pays homage to practices from the brand&rsquo;s 155-year history. But in actuality, 1910 is a revival of sorts.
The whiskey is a marker of an incident that happened in 1910 when a fire shut down Old Forester&rsquo;s bottling line. There was a vat of mature bourbon awaiting bottling, but when faced with a delay distillery staff decided instead to move it into a second set of new charred oak barrels. When it was finally bottled, the batch was dubbed Very Old Fine Whiskey.
This was the first recorded case of a mature bourbon being re-barreled into new charred oak&mdash;a practice that is common now, but would have been unthinkable back then given the expense of additional barrels and labor, not to mention the fact that there wasn&rsquo;t demand for such heavily oaked whiskey. These days, however, whiskey drinkers&rsquo; palates have shifted in favor of more robust, sturdier oak flavors, and many distilleries have responded with &ldquo;double oaked,&rdquo; &ldquo;double barreled,&rdquo; and other twice-matured bourbons.
Sometimes the second barrel is identical to the first. Other times, it will have been treated with a different level of char and/or toast. Old Forester 1910, for example, is initially matured in medium-charred oak, and then transferred into secondary barrels that are lightly toasted and heavily charred. Some distillers call the second aging period a finish while others maintain that it&rsquo;s an extended maturation, since the barrel is standard for straight bourbon rather than one that has been previously used to age a different spirit or wine.
Semantics aside, Old Forester 1910 and many of its ilk showcase similar qualities&mdash;intense spice and sweetness, often deeply layered with dark vanilla, leather, and savory char. When you&rsquo;re ready for a richer pour, try one of the bottles below.
<h3 dir="ltr">Woodford Reserve Double Oaked</h3>
Master distiller emeritus Chris Morris&mdash;who also happens to hold that title for Old Forester&mdash;created the first modern double-barreled bourbon with this 2012 release, setting a bar that many others have strived to meet. Because it came first, nowadays Woodford Double Oaked gets overlooked with so many newer, shinier offerings on the market. But it remains a paragon of the style and a deeply satisfying whiskey, with notes of rich caramel apple and warm spices on the palate after spending a year in secondary barrels which are heavily toasted and lightly charred. And if Double Oaked isn&rsquo;t robust enough for your taste, there&rsquo;s always Double Double Oaked, which spends twice as long in that second set of barrels.
<h3 dir="ltr">Kentucky Peerless Double Oak</h3>
Until recently, Louisville distillery Kentucky Peerless had no barrel-finished expressions, putting out only straight bourbon and rye whiskey. But it began offering its Double Oak expression several years ago&mdash;not by design, but because from time to time the warehouse crew would discover a leaky barrel. Unwilling to bottle the whiskey before its time, the Peerless team would re-cask it into a new barrel and let it mature some more, and thus Double Oak was born. Like all Peerless bourbons, it&rsquo;s replete with spice and fruit on the palate, but has heightened notes of dark chocolate, cola, and leather.
<h3 dir="ltr">Hirsch Single Barrel Double Oak</h3>
This limited annual release is always aged for eight years in heavily charred barrels, then finished in lightly charred oak for a year. As a single-barrel bottling, specific flavor notes will vary, but it tends toward the dark-and-sweet side of the palate&mdash;Mexican chocolate, maple syrup, cola, and a hefty dose of leather. You can be generous with water here, as it brings out the softer side of what is otherwise a brooding beast of a bourbon.
<h3 dir="ltr">Barrell Foundation Double Barrel</h3>
A blend of five- to nine-year-old bourbons from Kentucky, Indiana, Maryland, and Tennessee, this whiskey is finished in new charred oak barrels for up to two years. It&rsquo;s one of the first non&shy;-cask strength releases from Barrell Craft Spirits, though it still has plenty of heft at 100 proof. Look for sweet apple and cinnamon notes juxtaposed with leathery raisin and smoldering, intense oak.
<h3 dir="ltr">2XO Gem of Kentucky</h3>
Although most of 2XO&rsquo;s releases showcase founder Dixon Dedman&rsquo;s blending prowess, Gem of Kentucky takes a different path. It&rsquo;s a single barrel expression&mdash;actually a double-barreled single barrel&mdash;of high-rye bourbon that undergoes secondary maturation in new charred oak for up to a year. Like the best of Dedman&rsquo;s releases, both under the 2XO label and when he helmed Kentucky Owl, the bourbon has a deep richness of oak that strikes a flawless balance with its underlying notes of fruit and nuttiness . If you&rsquo;re a fan of extra-oaked bourbon in general, the whole 2XO (which stands for &ldquo;two times oak&rdquo;) lineup is worth exploring.

What to Drink Next If You Love Old Forester 1910

What&rsquo;s happening in wine and whiskey this week:
<h3 dir="ltr">News of the Week</h3>
🍷 The Michelin guide is&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wine-searcher.com/m/2025/10/michelin-burns-rubber-on-wine-scores">moving into wine scores</a>.
🇮🇹 Chianti Classico is still one of the&nbsp;<a href="https://www.foodandwine.com/best-chianti-classico-11829692">best values in Italian wine</a>.
🥂 Why are more wines being&nbsp;<a href="https://robbreport.com/food-drink/wine/ceramic-wine-barrel-aging-1237241653/">aged in ceramic barrels</a>?
❓ What does&nbsp;<a href="https://www.mensjournal.com/drink/what-does-being-a-whiskey-master-distiller-really-mean">the term &ldquo;master distiller&rdquo;</a> really mean in whiskey?
🇮🇪 Could&nbsp;<a href="https://www.thespiritsbusiness.com/2025/10/would-regional-identities-bolster-irish-whiskey/">regional identifiers</a> help to boost the Irish whiskey industry?
<h3 dir="ltr">New Bottle Releases</h3>
The Glenlivet 12 Year Old Jamaica Edition The Glenlivet, one of the most popular single malt scotches in the world, just dropped a new release called Jamaica Edition, which should clue you into what&rsquo;s in the bottle. This is a 12-year-old whisky that was finished in Jamaican rum casks&mdash;not exactly a new thing in the single malt world, but one that works well here. Look for notes of maple, raisin, and tropical fruit on the palate of this intriuging new release. 80 proof; SRP $55
Tamdhu 21 Year Old Fans of single malt scotch aged in sherry casks should try this new whisky from Tamdhu. If you&rsquo;re familiar with bottles from names like the Macallan and the Glendronach, give this a try&mdash;it&rsquo;s the first 21-year-old age statement from this distillery, which is owned by Ian MacLeod, and it was aged entirely in sherry casks. The whisky is rich and deep with notes of dried fruit, spice, and oak. 47.5 percent ABV; SRP $400
Old Overholt Extra Aged Cask Strength 12YR Jim Beam&rsquo;s Old Overholt rye has long been a bottom shelf bottle. But in recent years the brand has gotten a bit of an upgrade by increasing the age statement and proof of the core expression. There have also been a few cask-strength, age-statement releases, and the latest is this 12-year-old whiskey bottled at between 53 and 65 percent ABV depending on the batch. 53-65 percent ABV; SRP $110
<h3 dir="ltr">Unicorn Pick of the Week</h3>
Booker&rsquo;s &ldquo;Jerry&rsquo;s Batch&rdquo;
The third batch of Booker&rsquo;s Bourbon has arrived, and it's called Jerry&rsquo;s Batch. As fans of this whiskey know, Booker&rsquo;s is Jim Beam&rsquo;s uncut, unfiltered, barrel-strength bourbon, and the original member of the Jim Beam Small Batch Collection. It was created by master distiller Booker Noe, father of Fred Noe and grandfather of Freddie Noe, back in 1988 as a special gift for friends and family before becoming commercially available a few years later.
<img src="https://directus-11-4sui.onrender.com/assets/f89b1293-7483-4982-90f6-3d24be782245.jpg?width=1200&amp;height=800" alt="Bookers Jerrys Batch">
Jerry&rsquo;s Batch is named after Jerry Dalton who, according to the brand, was the only master distiller to work at the James B. Beam Distilling Co. (as it&rsquo;s now called) who wasn&rsquo;t a member of the Beam family, taking over after Booker retired until Fred took on the role. Fred now credits Jerry with teaching him what he knows about the science of distilling, which is why he decided to name this new batch after him.
Every batch of Booker&rsquo;s differs slightly in terms of age and proof, but there is some consistency throughout the brand&mdash;usually the whiskey is about six or seven years old and somewhere between 120 and 130 proof. Jerry&rsquo;s Batch is a bit on the older side, at seven years, four months, and 21 days old, and falls right in the mid-range of proof at 124.7. Booker&rsquo;s always lists the precise details about where the barrels selected for each batch come from, and in this case it is nine different warehouses in equal proportions of 11.1 percent per location (you can check the website to find out the exact numbers).
According to Fred&rsquo;s notes, Jerry&rsquo;s batch &ldquo;brings together the micro-climate conditions that these warehouses experience. For anyone that has spent any time at the Clermont plant and surrounding area, and working with our products, it&rsquo;s understood that each warehouse brings its own nuance to the barrels stored within and can influence the maturation process significantly.&rdquo; In this case, expect a classic Booker&rsquo;s flavor profile, with big notes of vanilla, maple, caramel, oak, and the signature Beam grain and peanut profile. There are also ample flavors of fruit, both dried and stewed, along with some soft baking spices and, of course, a flash of heat on the finish.

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 17, 2025

Many whiskey brands have long histories, something that&rsquo;s often highlighted in their marketing. Think of all the times you&rsquo;ve seen a label claiming that a whiskey is made from a traditional recipe. Or maybe you&rsquo;ve visited a distillery and the tour guide has talked at length about how the original yeast strain is still used for fermentation. History grounds whiskey in a specific place and culture, giving it an identity that goes deeper than just, &ldquo;This stuff tastes good.&rdquo;
But whiskey, even from distilleries that are centuries old, evolves. Equipment gets updated, processes improve, grain varieties change, and brands come and go. In the U.S. in particular, Prohibition wiped out many whiskey brands and distilleries. Even well-known operations faded into obscurity, only to be rediscovered as the 21st-century bourbon and rye renaissance sparked widespread interest in dusties and their origins.
Thanks to that consumer curiosity, some companies are dredging up the past to re-create historic whiskeys for a modern audience. This can take a few forms&mdash;mimicking an old brand name and package design; distilling or bottling liquid that&rsquo;s inspired by its predecessor, but not necessarily matching in flavor; and/or attempting to replicate the original whiskey through historic techniques or creative blending.
Modern-day producers draw on all kinds of resources to accomplish these goals, but the process is rarely straightforward or uniform. In most cases, it requires turning over a lot of rocks, fitting together disparate puzzle pieces, and a healthy dollop of imagination. Here&rsquo;s how some companies are doing it.
<h3 dir="ltr">Aesthetic Imitations</h3>
The simplest way to revive a historic brand usually involves reproducing a name or bottle without attempting to mimic the original whiskey inside. There are several examples in this category, including Bourbon de Luxe, Yellowstone, James E. Pepper, Old Tub, Mellwood, Nelson&rsquo;s Green Brier, and J. Rieger. In many cases, the revival was the result of a personal connection&mdash;for example, the modern founder might be descended from the original brand owner.
Other times, a major distiller takes advantage of its own historic resources. Many of today&rsquo;s biggest whiskey companies own the rights to long-dormant brands, thanks to the tangle of sales, acquisitions, and mergers that occurred in the 20th century. And some have archives of historic material so extensive that they employ a professional to help catalogue and manage it all&mdash;like Nick Laracuente, who has the enviable job of archivist at Buffalo Trace (his job title is &ldquo;bourbon archaeologist&rdquo;). When he came onboard a few years ago, then-CEO Mark Brown tasked him with digitizing the labels of Prohibition-era whiskies.
&ldquo;He called it the &lsquo;Prohibition Binder,&rsquo;&rdquo; Laracuente recalls. &ldquo;There was all this art and stuff that was Prohibition labels, which he wanted on an iPad. As I was looking at them, I realized that in the margins you have Albert [Blanton]&rsquo;s notations, like &lsquo;Here&rsquo;s Golden Wedding, let&rsquo;s do this with this brand.&rsquo; There's a lot of paperwork back and forth to the Department of Revenue.&rdquo; The extra details were a gold mine of information, not to mention a source of inspiration.
From this trove, Buffalo Trace developed the Prohibition Collection, a set of whiskies honoring those that were produced at the distillery during Prohibition. First released in 2023, the Collection has had two iterations thus far, each featuring five different brands. &ldquo;We didn&rsquo;t want to settle for just picking one of these labels so it became a series of five bottles to a set,&rdquo; Laracuente says, explaining that for the debut collection they &ldquo;picked the thickest stories and the coolest box art.&rdquo;
Though the Prohibition Collection&rsquo;s bottle shapes and labels aren&rsquo;t exact replicas, many elements adhere closely to the originals. Each carton even includes a cut-out that could hold a prescription for medicinal whiskey, just as was required during Prohibition. The collection&rsquo;s offerings change from year to year, and since Laracuente has only catalogued about three percent of Buffalo Trace&rsquo;s archives so far, there should be plenty more to come.
<h3 dir="ltr">Liquid Substitutes</h3>
When it comes to what&rsquo;s in the bottle, some producers aim to capture the vibe of a historic whiskey, if not its exact flavor. Brown-Forman, which owns Jack Daniel&rsquo;s and Old Forester, has been prolific in this area. Over the past few years, Jack has released age-statement whiskeys at 10, 12, and 14 years old&mdash;technically not new products, but revivals of whiskeys that were made at the Tennessee distillery over a century ago.
Master distiller Chris Fletcher has no way of knowing how closely these expressions hew to the original flavor of the whiskey, however, because there are almost no surviving bottles. &ldquo;The few bottles that are sealed are valued in the tens of thousands of dollars, so nobody wants to open them,&rdquo; he says.
Much of Old Forester&rsquo;s core range is a nod to the brand&rsquo;s storied history, including expressions like 1910 which is made using a double-barreling method that the distillery originally innovated over a century ago. But that&rsquo;s a new expression, rather than a revival&mdash;something Old Forester did a few years ago when it brought back President&rsquo;s Choice, a line of single barrels that debuted in the 1960s but disappeared over the following decade. Its 2018 relaunch coincided with the debut of Old Forester&rsquo;s downtown Louisville distillery, and until June 2025 bottlings of President&rsquo;s Choice could only be purchased there.
Old Forester took pains to make the packaging as close to the 1960s version as possible, but when it came to the whiskey, assistant master distiller Caleb Trigo says it was more about capturing the same vibe than an exact flavor. Master distiller emeritus Chris Morris, who had tasted examples of the original President&rsquo;s Choice, helped with selections, as did then-master taster Jackie Zykan.
&ldquo;[President&rsquo;s Choice whiskey was older] than what we typically have in our Whiskey Row series and core lineup, which is four to six years,&rdquo; Trigo explains, adding that the former typically falls into the nine- to seven-year range. &ldquo;It was edging on that higher-age Old Forester stock, and that's what made it special. It's lower yielding, so the flavor profile evolves past that six-year mark.&rdquo; Since Campbell&rsquo;s departure from his role as president, Trigo, Morris, and master taster Melissa Rift continue to pick special barrels for the brand.
<h3 dir="ltr">A Wink and a Nod</h3>
Some modern whiskey businesses have built their identity around historic brands, even to the point of trying to reproduce original flavors. In Scotland, the Lost Distillery Company blends whisky from contemporary sources in an effort to recreate liquid from long-closed single malt distilleries. Here in the U.S., the mission of Old Commonwealth, founded in 2019, &ldquo;is to revive old brands so you can drink history,&rdquo; according to spokesman Sean Evans. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re offering an interesting alternative to chasing down stuff at Sotheby&rsquo;s.&rdquo;
Old Commonwealth employs all the main methods of historic recreation. In some cases, like the Kentucky Nectar expression, the brand has no access to the original liquid, so founders Zachary Joseph, Andrew English, and Troy LeBlanc decided instead to create a honey-finished bourbon as an homage. For D.H. Cromwell, originally a single-barrel wheated bourbon named for a Prohibition-era bar owner known as &ldquo;Dirty Helen,&rdquo; they spoke to the retailer who had bottled the whiskey in 2000, Gordon Jackson, who admitted his memory of the exact flavor was hazy. That eased the way for bottling a rye bourbon instead of a wheater, with Old Commonwealth taking pains to closely mimic the original packaging. One striking difference&mdash;while the 2000-era bottle included the legend &ldquo;V.G.S.&rdquo; (for Very Good Shit), the 2025 one has &ldquo;G.F.S.&rdquo; (Gold Fucking Standard).
Old Commonwealth made considerable efforts to match one modern liquid to its predecessor, in the case of Colonel Randolph 16-Year-Old&mdash;a bourbon that drew on a historic brand name when Gordon Hue created it as a Japan-only release in the 1980s. That bottling is so rare that not even Hue has any left, but fortunately it came from the same stock as the legendary A.H. Hirsch 16-Year-Old&mdash;which isn&rsquo;t cheap, but can still be found.
Old Commonwealth located a stash of modern 16-year-old bourbon with the same mashbill as the original, this time made in Kentucky rather than Pennsylvania. &ldquo;Gordon helped us pick the first batch of barrels and put his stamp of approval on them,&rdquo; Evans says. &ldquo;He believes that the liquid we received for Colonel Randolph is better than the original A.H. Hirsch.&rdquo; Notably, the modern version of Colonel Randolph is bottled at 106 proof, a few notches lower than the 116 proof of the original.
<h3 dir="ltr">Resurrecting Lost Methods</h3>
Beyond efforts to bring back old whiskey brands, some distillers are reviving historic techniques and bottling the results under a new name. One example is Colorado&rsquo;s Leopold Bros.&mdash;its Three Chamber Rye is a Monongahela-style whiskey made on a still that cofounder Todd Leopold commissioned using archival design plans. And Buffalo Trace recently announced Col. E.H. Taylor, Jr. Distiller&rsquo;s Council, a bourbon that attempts to recreate the style made at the O.F.C. Distillery in the 19th century.
The whiskey&rsquo;s inspiration came from a meeting held at Buffalo Trace in 1996, attended by distillery veterans (some in their 90s) who reminisced about making whiskey &ldquo;the way we used to.&rdquo; They talked about methods that were no longer in use but had been widely employed decades before. A young Harlen Wheatley was also there (the current master distiller at Buffalo Trace), soaking it all in and looking for ideas for future projects.
&ldquo;We talked about all the whiskey that's been made here and what-all kind of things we can look at,&rdquo; he recalls. &ldquo;One of the things was this 'original recipe,' we call it, where we ferment the old-fashioned way, before they added setback. What I mean by that is it was naturally soured using long, open-tank fermentations, rather than the typical <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/unicorn-review/whiskey-fermentation-explained-sour-mash-backset-congeners">sour mash method</a>.&rdquo;
Wheatley tried this unusual fermentation technique using one of Buffalo Trace&rsquo;s standard mashbills and he liked the results. After the ruins of the 19th-century O.F.C. Distillery&mdash;now known as Bourbon Pompeii&mdash;were uncovered in 2016, the distillery commissioned a copper fermentation tank and installed it in situ, buried in the earth, which allows Wheatley to carry out this step just as Taylor himself would have done.
&ldquo;What we found through trial and error is these [tanks] are like heat sinks,&rdquo; Wheatley explains. &ldquo;They're in the ground so they're naturally cooled. It does a really nice job with a smooth fermentation, as if we planned it.&rdquo; But Buffalo Trace deliberately did not name this bourbon &ldquo;original recipe,&rdquo; because there aren&rsquo;t sufficient records of how other parts of the process were carried out to support that claim.
<h3 dir="ltr">The Effort Is Worth It</h3>
However a producer goes about it, showcasing historic brands has become a sound business strategy for many. Bourbon drinkers that missed the dusty boom of the 2010s are still eager to connect with the whiskeys of yesteryear, even if they&rsquo;re reproductions. And these drinkers are savvy&mdash;they expect brands to put in the work to ensure authenticity.
&ldquo;Going the extra mile matters to some of the nerdiest of the bourbon nerds,&rdquo; Evans says, pointing out features like the gold screw cap on Colonel Randolph that mirrors the original to a T. &ldquo;And despite some of the challenges to achieve those little details, of which there are many, it seems to be worth it. The feedback that we get it is&mdash;keep it up, this is really cool.&rdquo;

What Goes Into Reviving A Historic Whiskey Brand?

Note: A version of this story first appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle in the fall of 2003, which accounts for its languid writing style, for the dearth of tech-bros, and for the age of the wines in the lineup. Despite all that, when we reread it recently, we found elements about the collector life, the passion, the promise, the occasional disappointment, that seemed more or less timeless. So we&rsquo;ve decided to share it with you here. &ndash;P.J.C. (Reprinted by permission of the SF Chronicle)
Greg Spencer and Jon Civello are wine collectors. Both are passionate about wine, naturally, but it's not the sort of passion that can be expressed merely in conversation. You have to have a glass in your hand with something wonderful in it. You have to speak between sips, between deep, swooning whiffs. A passion like theirs has to be coaxed, liberated, given air.
On a beautiful Sunday afternoon, the three of us decided to do just that, gathering at Greg Spencer's Hillsborough home to discuss collecting, collections, and the special appreciation for wine that a deep cellar can assure. Naturally, we made time to pull a few corks.
You&rsquo;d never know it, but Civello and Spencer own in excess of 800 cases of wine between the two of them. To learn more about what they collect and why was the reason we gathered. Also to uncork some bottles&mdash;two Rieslings, two Burgundies, and a few other odds and ends.
For dinner, Spencer has prepared a simple four-course spread. We gather in the kitchen, where the host dons an apron and unwraps the guests of honor, a pair of live Maine lobsters.&nbsp;While the crustaceans await their fates, Spencer serves smoked trout. For this he pours us not one but two German Auslese Rieslings, one from Prum, one from Gr&uuml;nh&auml;user, both from the great 1990 vintage.
As collectors, each man has a slightly different focus, and Riesling is a particular passion of Spencer&rsquo;s. Both are wild for Burgundy, but Civello owns quite a bit of Cabernet, mostly Bordeaux, as well as a small amount of California Cab.&nbsp;&ldquo;I've always had a soft spot for (California Cabernet),&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;It's what I was weaned on.&rdquo;
Civello and the Spencers don't have cellars in their homes with fancy mahogany racks, marble tables, and etched magnum trophies like you see in the Wine Spectator. Most of their wine is stored in a commercial, temperature-controlled storage facility in San Francisco's Sunset District managed by Gary Marcaletti. They'll pull three or four cases at a time from storage as they need them.
Civello and Spencer's collecting is the result of years spent talking with experts, tasting and refining their palates, learning what they like and don't like. And when they see something they like, they buy it. &ldquo;Any moron with a lot of money and a Parker Guide can collect wine,&rdquo; Civello says, referring to any of several wine bibles that critic Robert M. Parker Jr. has published. &ldquo;But you won't get as much satisfaction if you don't find out what you like.&rdquo;
Early on in their exploration, Civello and Spencer had the good fortune to meet Marcaletti, the owner of a store in San Francisco&rsquo;s Sunset District called the San Francisco Wine Trading Company. Marcaletti's expertise and guidance have been immensely important to Civello and Spencer. Marcaletti calls it shepherding. &ldquo;I don't try to influence people too much with my own tastes,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I try to learn as much as I can about their taste, and massage it, mold it into a progressive experience. If they like Cabernet, I tell them they should try Tempranillo. Pretty soon they're taking classes and going to tastings, learning more about what they like and being introduced to more.&rdquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;
For Spencer, collecting started with an anomalous Burgundy in 1985, a red wine from Chassagne-Montrachet (a Beaune appellation known for its white wines). As he drank it and in the days after, the wine's elusive beauty nagged him, and kept taking over his attention. "I kept thinking, &lsquo;What is it that I drank that was so interesting? What am I getting here?&rsquo; There was just this ethereal, suggestive presence, and I needed to find out for myself. I hit the books and I thought, &lsquo;Are you guys just making this up or can I come up with the same conclusion?&rsquo;&rdquo; The problem, or the joy, is that a collector will never stop asking that question. The collection is in direct pursuit of that question.
&ldquo;I had a Gevrey-Chambertin recently,&rdquo; says Spencer, &ldquo;and it had a smell, and I'm thinking, &lsquo;I know that smell, what the hell is it?&rsquo; And I go&mdash;bam! Mango! I'm smelling mango in a red wine! I would never have guessed that. And so all of a sudden you're starting to think about the parameters all over again. Mango! You thought you had your arms around Gevrey- Chambertin and then you find out you don't. That's how it becomes an obsession.&rdquo;
The wines that Civello and Spencer buy aren't the sort that you uncork when you get home from the store. Most need time in the bottle to develop&mdash;years, sometimes decades. &ldquo;My collection is quite young,&rdquo; says Civello, who started well after Spencer. He expresses a tinge of regret that many of the bottles he has are too youthful to be appreciated, now that he's more than ready to appreciate them.
But Marcaletti and others remind him that patience has its rewards. &ldquo;It's really a treat to drink wines with bottle age,&rdquo; Marcaletti says. &ldquo;Americans tend to drink their wines too young, but it's important to have patience.&rdquo;
Burgundy is our next stop during dinner, and the next two dishes are designed to match with two great wines. The white, a 1995 Corton-Charlemagne, one of the great Chardonnay vineyards of Burgundy, is produced by the legendary Jean-Louis Coche-Dury. It's a wine with the stately richness and power of gold, while remaining lithe as a rushing stream.
The next course is a simple mushroom risotto, designed to bring out the earthiness of a 1990 La Tache, the legendary Pinot Noir from Domaine de la Romanee-Conti. The wine is an astonishing expression of earth, fruit, rose, forest scents and vibrant, shimmering life. The instant I took my first sip of this extraordinary wine, I learned something important about the nature of a true collector.
This wine was quite possibly the finest thing that I have ever put in my mouth. Entire undiscovered regions of my taste buds were aroused, and as gorgeous layers of flavor and texture overtook me and slowly receded, I realized I would remember this wine for the rest of my life. I may lose the words to describe it, I may not always possess the vivid impression of the sensations that went along with tasting it, but I would remember, forever, the experience.
And that is what collectors have that the rest of us wine mortals do not have, and it's what makes wine collecting completely different from, say, stamp collecting. Wine is a thing you experience with all of your senses. A collection, then, is a stockpile of peak experiences. It's not something to admire, it's something to live. &ldquo;When you look back on it, you're not going to remember the ones that were just okay,&rdquo; says Spencer.
Spencer admits to being geeky about his collection, but his wife keeps him honest. &ldquo;Every Saturday or Sunday night I ask my wife what she wants to drink with dinner," he says, "and she always says the same thing&mdash;&lsquo;something really good.&rsquo; Well, that's the challenge. I'm going to make sure it's really good. I go out of my way.
&ldquo;And you know what? It's worth it, because everything changes. Everything's better. The light's better, the music sounds better, there's a little better twist to everything. Those are the wines I want to drink. That's the sole reason for my collection,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I know I can drink a great bottle of wine whenever I want to drink it and not feel like I'm parting with something precious. Hell, if we drink a great bottle of wine every Saturday night, at the end of the year that's four cases. That's nothing. That's not a lot of wine.&rdquo;
Over the cheese course I ask them about the inevitable, the day when each will have to walk away from the business of collecting. There will be too many bottles, and just enough days to enjoy them. What then? "I fully anticipate that there's going to be a time when for three or four years I won't be buying any wine to speak of,&rdquo; Spencer says. &ldquo;And then just two bottles of this and two bottles of that. And after that my collection will go down considerably, to 200 cases, 250 cases, something like that.&rdquo;
Civello then tells a story about a man with a huge collection who stopped buying bottles at a certain point in his life to enjoy the ones he had. "When he died," he says, &ldquo;there were what&mdash;five bottles left or something.&rdquo; Civello and Spencer fall silent, clearly impressed with the feat.
Civello peers into his glass. &ldquo;It's a good way to live, I'd say.&rdquo;

Peak Experiences: What Wine Means To the Passionate Collector

What&rsquo;s happening in wine and whiskey this week:
<h3 dir="ltr">News of the Week</h3>
🍷 Bag in box wine<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/food/2025/oct/09/why-bag-in-box-wines-are-here-to-stay-hannah-crosbie"> isn&rsquo;t going anywhere</a>.
💸 This California winemaker is committed to&nbsp;<a href="https://www.sfchronicle.com/food/wine/article/hobo-wine-kenny-likitprakong-21089548.php">making affordable wines</a>.
🍴 How to deal with&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wsj.com/arts-culture/food-cooking/snooty-sommeliers-wine-you-want-in-a-restaurant-f561fd91?gaa_at=eafs&amp;gaa_n=ASWzDAjpMEdLDmTaUkslcLyuKAReItmsJ_F_yLMC4SfT_w8hAf67R1N18xsy5E6fmog%3D&amp;gaa_ts=68e84b8c&amp;gaa_sig=fvVC13bWApITCFrNldc0sLmQLAJKQwkWuz7etZC6daTK70P_IbxYNwm5T2Gu-e4OGRw_1vo-FFBydfWNHyRfmw%3D%3D">snobby sommeliers</a> at restaurants.&nbsp;
🦬 The 2025 Buffalo Trace Antique Collection is here, and it&nbsp;<a href="https://robbreport.com/food-drink/spirits/buffalo-trace-2025-antique-collection-whiskey-1237199965/">includes a brand-new bourbon</a>.
⚡ If you&rsquo;ve never tried light whiskey,&nbsp;<a href="https://www.wine-searcher.com/m/2025/10/light-whiskey-steps-out-of-the-shadows">now might be the time</a>.
<h3 dir="ltr">New Bottle Releases</h3>
Sagamore Spirit High Rye Bourbon Baltimore&rsquo;s Sagamore Spirit is best known for its rye whiskey, because that&rsquo;s mostly what it bottles (both sourced and produced in-house). This new release, however, is a bourbon&mdash;albeit one that is considered &ldquo;high rye,&rdquo; of course, meaning there&rsquo;s a high percentage of rye in the mashbill. In this case, the recipe is 60 percent corn, 25 percent rye, and 15 percent malted rye. The bourbon was aged for six years and bottled at a strong 59 percent ABV, and has notes of cornbread, fresh apricots, and walnut shells on the palate. 118 proof, SRP $50
Pinhook 2025 Collaboration Series Pinhook&rsquo;s latest Collaboration Series release is the fourth in this collection. Founder Sean Josephs worked with New Orleans bartender and bar owner Neal Bodenheimer to select the barrels for this whiskey, a rye made from a mashbill of 60 percent rye, 20 percent corn, and 20 percent malted barley, and bottled at high proof. It&rsquo;s available for presale now, with orders expected to ship by the end of October. 121.9 proof; SRP $80
High West A Midwinter Night&rsquo;s Dram Act 13 Utah&rsquo;s High West Distillery's most collectible annual release is back. A Midwinter Night&rsquo;s Dram Act 13 is a blend of MGP rye whiskey and rye distilled in-house in Utah from a mashbill of 80 percent rye and 20 percent malted rye. This blend is then finished in ruby and tawny port barrels, which gives it notes of dried fruit, berries, spice, and maple on the palate. 98.6 proof; SRP $150
<h3 dir="ltr">Unicorn Pick of the Week</h3>
Paul Sutton Heritage 8 Year Paul Sutton, a non-distilling producer that currently works with a distillery in Kentucky (rumored to be Bardstown Bourbon Company), released one of its oldest whiskeys to date this past summer, the Heritage 8 Year bourbon. As you can tell by the name, that is an eight-year-old bourbon, and it&rsquo;s made from what the brand calls a 100-year-old recipe using grains grown in Alabama. A key factor in creating this bourbon was the use of &ldquo;cooper select barrels,&rdquo; which the brand says are seasoned outdoors for much longer than most barrels. In other words, as opposed to about six months, these barrels are seasoned for more than 18 months, something that the brand and Independent Stave Company both say strongly impacts the flavor of the whiskey as it ages.
<img src="https://directus-11-4sui.onrender.com/assets/9779e495-3e16-487e-8daf-7be896e68cc9.jpg?width=1200&amp;height=800" alt="Paul Sutton">
All of that is pretty subjective when it comes down to it, because without an actual control there&rsquo;s no way of telling if these claims are true or not. But the fact is that this is a pretty good bourbon, and it is indeed rich with classic flavors of maple, oak, vanilla, caramel, and a healthy dose of spice from the use of rye as a flavoring grain. It&rsquo;s also bottled at 105 proof, and that lesser dilution reveals some complex notes as you sip, along with a nice bit of heat.
This is a pretty limited release, with just about 5,000 bottles made available in ten states (it's currently sold out but will be available again next week). This bourbon isn&rsquo;t necessarily going to replace the Russell&rsquo;s Reserve and Four Roses on your home bar, but that&rsquo;s not the point. If you are looking to try something new from a smaller brand you may not be familiar with, give this a whirl&mdash;and decide for yourself just how much the use of those cooper select barrels had an impact on the whiskey&rsquo;s flavor.

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 10, 2025

Something about talking about old wines leads you down some pretty heady pathways. So it was in my conversation with Kelli A. White, most recently author of Wine Confident and one of our most articulate interpreters of old wines, with the experience, palate, and acuity to get at some of its mysteries, from the biochemical to the deeply personal.
This interview started with some practical advice for collectors. But as we kept talking, we found ourselves taking a very different tack, or several, as we explored some of the ambiguities and unanticipated pleasures of drinking older bottles.
This conversation was edited for clarity and concision.
The Unicorn Review: So if you love wine, do you have to love old wine too?
Kelli A. White: I just published this book [Wine Confident] that has this very, I would say, "You go girl!" vibe for wine. I want people to get rid of a lot of the anxiety and just relax and not be like, "Well, if it's not in a hand-blown Austrian stem, why even bother?" We, in the wine industry, at some point need to take a breath, just get back to basics and enjoy it.
In the course of writing the book, I was thinking a lot about why any of us should give a shit about wine. There are so many who dedicate our whole life to it. What is the "why" here? For me, as I'm getting older and considerably more sentimental, it's the experience of beauty in wine, of literally ingesting beauty.
What do you mean by "ingesting beauty?"
There are so many fundamentals in our appreciation of wine, about how it&rsquo;s grown, how it reflects a sense of place, contributes to the economy, the farming... All that's great, but it's also about the history, the tradition, the human connection. I truly believe that without these really rare moments of connecting, of ingesting something unbelievably beautiful, we wouldn't be talking about any of the other stuff. And it's so much more likely to happen in an older wine.
Did you have an old wine epiphany? One that blew the lid off?
Yes. It was a 1975 Oenotheque from Dom Perignon. That wine blew my mind. I remember viscerally thinking, "How is this wine this old and this magnificent?"
This was at Veritas in 2009, so I was 29 years old. The wine was five years older than me. I resisted the idea that it was going to be any good, and I was scared to recommend it. My brain would have told you that it was probably going to taste old and pretty flat. Thankfully, the guest in this instance knew more than me.
It absolutely blew my mind. It was so dynamic and magnificent, with this incredible vibrancy of flavors, all this swirling complex chaos, all the sensory input was hitting on all notes of the spectrum. [It's like]&nbsp;when you're listening to a piece of classical music and you get to the main theme in the piece where all of the instruments in the orchestra are going all at once, the low horn instruments, the banging drums, the tinkling bells and the flutes and everything. That&rsquo;s what old wine is like at a beautiful drinking window. It&rsquo;s an overwhelming experience&mdash;physically, emotionally, sensorially, just, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!
Wow. I know. That&rsquo;s when I started to love older wine, and to explore and celebrate it. Every time I took another step back in time, or a side step to a different wine category, it was richly rewarding. I got more comfortable with older white Burgundy and older Riesling.
But I have to stress that we all have specific tastes in wine vis-a-vis age the same way we have specific tastes in music or food or art.
Being pregnant was very impactful in terms of my understanding of this idea of preference being something that is biologically guided. When I got pregnant I thought I was going to be one of these cool French ladies that drank a little wine every day, and I couldn't even smell the stuff. It was repulsive. So were some of my favorite foods. When I had the baby I thought I could go back to eating these things, but not everything returned.
Sometimes a personal preference is practically in your bones. And while I love older wine, I also want to put on a big old asterisk to indicate that that's just my preference. A lot of people prefer the fruit and the impact of younger wine, which is cool. I'm not trying to drown you in equivalences. My point is there's a context for each of those. I want to stop always ranking everything and start contextualizing everything.
One of the reasons I love older wine is the thing you brought up earlier, the human and historic connection. A few years ago I was lucky enough to tour the cellars of Lopez de Heredia in Rioja. For our lunch the proprietor, Mercedes Lopez de Heredia, pulled a bottle of Vi&ntilde;a Tondonia from 1942. It remains one of the great wine experiences of my life. If you&rsquo;ll indulge me, here&rsquo;s what I wrote about it at the time:
&ldquo;The experience was as uplifting as it was utterly fleeting, a half-hour&rsquo;s grace of the sort that makes one glad to be alive to glimpse it, and wistful when it falls away. This wine was a repository of history: the person who had placed it in its crypt was long dead; when it had last been touched, the inhabitants of Haro were still reeling from the memories of fascism and civil strife, and enduring the trials of the greatest war they&rsquo;d ever face, even as vintages moved on, impassive to hardship and deprivation, carrying the region and its reputation inexorably forward.&rdquo;
Yes. There are so many ways to interpret these wines as they age, you have so many reference points. You can think about what was happening when this wine was born. You can contemplate the beautiful, well-earned autumnal flavors of age, as a badge of honor, a mark of what this wine has endured and how it&rsquo;s evolved, if not improved. And it's amazing to witness that and participate and ingest that. And then you can also be hopeful, thinking about birth and beginnings and journeys and all that stuff. And then, of course, inevitably, you have to think about, "When will this no longer be enjoyable?" I&rsquo;d say we're getting in some dark waters now.
That&rsquo;s interesting you say that, because this wine did fall apart while we were drinking it. It had about 30 minutes of glory and then it just died. So what's going on when a wine falls apart like that?
I suspect it's just a rapid oxidation of some of the more fragile chemical compounds in the wine. Aging is a complex process, but the big driver is oxidation. So when your 1942 suddenly experiences a dramatic influx of oxygen, those protections&mdash;the antioxidant power of pigment and tannin, or phenolic density, or any residual sulfur dioxide&mdash;they fall away and the wine is simply more vulnerable, even when you&rsquo;re just swirling it in a glass.
But there&rsquo;s also something kind of beautiful about it. It&rsquo;s a cool moment to catch a wine&mdash;you're sort of present for its last breath.
You&rsquo;re describing almost a kind of mortality, which is a very human concept.
I would say yes. It really comes back to what we talked about in the beginning&mdash;why care about wine at all? Because it elicits an emotional reaction. The way I think about wine and relate to wine and describe wine is usually pretty anthropomorphic instead of analytical, even though I like to be analytical too.
I tend to think about wines as having human characteristics, traits like charm or reticence or grouchiness or nobility or shyness. This feels more universal to me than descriptors, you know, in the classic tasting note, but it&rsquo;s also legitimately how I organize them in my own mind, like a cast of characters, these people you know, whom I'm interacting with. When I'm contemplating an older wine and what's happening to it, it feels like I am aware of that wine's mortality. And you can't help but contemplate mortality in general, including your own. I think it's good to not turn away from those things because you can ignore it, but you're still getting older and it's still coming for you, the pain and the poetry, whether you want to face it or not.
I&rsquo;m a bit more old-fashioned in my thinking. We don't really fully understand the chemistry of wine aging and specifically the rate of individual components. We don't necessarily understand how fast or slow dimethyl sulfide will evolve and start to taste like black truffle. We don't necessarily know how fast or slow terpenes will denature. Specific components are operating on their own trajectory, so every wine is going to have its own arc.
But I've started to think that maybe the duration matters, because the thing that I love most about wine, beyond the pure esthetics of it, is its slowness. A wine has a lot to give over the course of an evening, or its lifetime. And I have come to believe that longevity matters, relative to different regions and grapes, of course. I don't want to get in the weeds on the specifics, but I think slowness matters. There's so little in life that is slow anymore.

Feeling Out Your Cellar: All the Feels Edition—A Conversation with Kelli A. White, Part II

Noah Rothbaum has been writing about cocktails and whiskey for 25 years. He just released his fourth book, <a href="https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/noah-rothbaum/the-whiskey-bible/9781523512706/">The Whiskey Bible: A Complete Guide to the World&rsquo;s Greatest Spirit</a>, a massive 600-plus-page tome that covers the history of whiskey, the nuts and bolts of how it&rsquo;s made, and even dozens of cocktail recipes to try at home. Here&rsquo;s what the author had to say about his years of research and discovery.
This interview has been edited for content and clarity.
The Unicorn Review: How would you like me to introduce you?
Noah Rothbaum: Booze writer Noah Rothbaum? People ask me about beer or wine, and while I enjoy drinking wine and beer, I'm not an expert. Please feel free to ask me anything about whiskey! This is my fourth book, which I can't believe. They keep getting bigger.
That's a good problem to have because I feel like a lot of the cocktail books now are pared down so they are like an airport read. The Whiskey Bible seems to be many books in one.&nbsp;
Absolutely. Each chapter could be its own book. Nobody had ever done, to my knowledge, a whiskey timeline across all categories. That could have been its own book. There are 60 whiskey cocktail recipes in the back&mdash;30 classics and 30 modern classics from top bartenders around the world.
What are some of the myths that you tried to debunk in this book?&nbsp;
As I started writing, I realized that, collectively, so much of what we know is not correct. Nobody had really done a deep dive into the origins of whiskey lore around the world. So much of what we thought we knew turns out not to be true.
In American whiskey, obviously, we use new barrels. You ask people when that started, and you either hear, "We've always done that, it&rsquo;s part of our tradition,&rdquo; or that it started in the 1960s when Congress called bourbon America's native spirit. But in reality, I found out that it happened right after [Prohibition&rsquo;s] repeal.
The FAA (the Federal Alcohol Authority) was trying to create new standards of identity, and also ways to collect taxes which we desperately needed during the Depression. There was a fight in Washington, D.C. between bourbon and rye makers over whether or not they should use new oak. At the time, the coopers had already lost beer producers because they had switched to steel kegs, so they couldn't afford to lose the whiskey makers too. Bourbon obviously benefits from aging in a new barrel. But, at the time, a lot of rye was aged in used oak.
So not only was this a way to help the coopers, but also a way for bourbon producers to kind of stick it to rye producers. Back then, people were either rye drinkers or bourbon drinkers. Now everybody drinks both, and bourbon producers make both types of whiskey, but it was way more contentious then. It was a way for bourbon producers to really hurt rye producers by making them use new barrels. This was something that played out in the halls of Congress for years as they're debating this.
That's really fascinating. I don't know if this came up in your research, but the other side of that was that it was part of a jobs bill to get people back to work at the tail end of the Great Depression.&nbsp;
The country could not afford more people losing their jobs at that moment. Requiring essentially all whiskey makers in America to use barrels was a boon to coopers, arborists, and the people who owned the forests. It makes sense that they were trying to get as many people back to work, and we all pay income tax because of Prohibition. It was very hard for the government to justify Prohibition because the alcohol business was such an economic driver, and it was hard to continue Prohibition when we needed the economic stimulus from the booze business.
Another thing that I found was that a lot of the decisions that distillers or brands made in the past seem to be very calculated. But in reality, they're very practical and we've given them all types of romantic notions. The Macallan has the smallest stills in Scotland, which obviously has a direct effect upon how the whiskey tastes. But at the time, it was probably because most people were buying used stills.
Maybe those were the only stills available, or maybe their barn had a short roof. Glenmorangie has the tallest stills in Scotland. That obviously affects the way that the whiskey tastes. But when it started, I doubt that the founders were thinking, &ldquo;This is taller, we'll have more reflux, it's going to be a lighter spirit.&rdquo; They were like, "This is what's available and what we can afford.&rdquo;
So did you find in your research that a lot of the answers just really come down to practicality?
Absolutely. The underlying story is often taxation and sometimes necessity. People make alcohol with whatever they can get, whether it's barley or grapes or potatoes or corn. Whatever grows locally, they're going to turn into alcohol. We kind of forget that. In the modern world, we can go to a grocery store and get kiwis all year round. Well, that wasn't the case when people started distilling.
One of the things that I tell people all the time is that bourbon didn't come about because a bunch of dudes were sitting around a conference room table saying, "We're going to make it out of corn, we're going to put it in this kind of still." It's all these incremental changes that have taken place largely out of necessity over the years. When you really dive into it, you realize this thing that we think has remained unchanged for generations has really changed quite a lot.
Anybody who tells you that their whiskey is exactly the same as what they were producing 100 years ago, that's not true. Everything changes. The grain changes, the yeast changes, the technology, even the techniques change.
One of the other fallacies is that we can debate day and night who first created whiskey, whether it was Ireland or Scotland. But the truth of the matter is, the whiskey that people were drinking centuries ago had almost no relation to what we drink today or what we call whiskey today. Whiskey started out as a clear spirit flavored with botanicals and honey and raisins, depending upon where it was made. In some ways, it was closer to gin.
In fact, the modern whiskey age actually starts much later than we think. Whiskey was really far behind other spirits until, essentially phylloxera, which pushes whiskey out in front of people. Because other types of drinks weren't available, people began to look at whiskey seriously for the first time.&nbsp;
That makes sense, because if you've been drinking wine or brandy or champagne for generations, and suddenly there's this spirit that's harsh and woody and big and bold and spicy, it makes sense that it would not be quickly adopted.
A lot of medical journals covered phylloxera because, at the time, cognac and brandy were common medicines that were being prescribed. Doctors were given the seal of approval to start prescribing whiskey instead of brandy or cognac, which was also a huge boon to sales. It's all these interesting global developments that cross over and create movements and trends.
I found that Jack Daniel&rsquo;s was historically made on a three chamber still, which explains why they use the Lincoln County process&mdash;to clean up the spirit coming off that kind of still. The way that Jack Daniel&rsquo;s makes their whiskey today, they don't need to use the Lincoln County process. It's a modern column still. Dickel uses the Lincoln County process too. They don't have a rectifying part of their still.
My contention is that when they rebuilt their distillery in the '50s, they made the still that way so it would mimic the flavor of a chamber still, and they also used the Lincoln County process. That's something that nobody talks about. People were charcoal filtering water and other things long before we were making whiskey. It was a well-known technique. We even see the Lincoln County process being used by other brands in the 1860s. But my contention is that Jack Daniel&rsquo;s and Dickel and others were using charcoal filtration because they were using a chamber still and that was less developed than our modern still technology.
Are there any mysteries that you were not able to get to the bottom of?
One glaring one would be where the name bourbon comes from. There's a great quote in which someone says, "We'll never know, and it doesn't matter." From what I remember, it started showing up in old newspapers in the early 1800s. But before that, it's also being used for coffee,&nbsp; which is very confusing. It's shrouded in mystery.
There have been many explanations for when we started calling bourbon &ldquo;bourbon,&rdquo; but none of them really check out. There's no smoking gun. But the incredible thing is that tomorrow somebody could find a book, a newspaper article, a pamphlet, or a memoir that has a description of why or how that came to be.
What do you want the takeaway to be for people who might be interested in reading this book?&nbsp;
The Whiskey Bible is truly for everybody. Whether you're just getting into whiskey or you've been a fan for years, you should find plenty of information in the book. Most people won&rsquo;t read it cover to cover, although you certainly could. But I imagine that it would be most helpful if somebody sees a bottle and wants to find out more about it, they could read that section about that distillery or distiller.
Obviously, I enjoy the act of drinking, but it's more satisfying when I know about the person who has made it, where it comes from, and how it reflects its origins and its location. I hope that people will be a little more educated, and they'll read The Whiskey Bible and be able to tell their friends and family about that whiskey.
Intentionally, I did not put in tasting notes. I think it's more important for people to know about the house style, the history, the people who made it, and you can taste for yourself. What's so lacking is that basic knowledge about what makes a place so interesting. And hopefully, that's presented in an entertaining, accessible way for everybody.

Author Noah Rothbaum on His New Book The Whiskey Bible

Irish whiskey sales are dominated by popular brands like Jameson, the quintessential easy-drinking blend. But the Emerald Isle&rsquo;s greatest contribution to whiskey is the single pot still style, and the best example of that category is <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=Redbreast&amp;state=LIVE%26UPCOMING&amp;sortBy=number_asc" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Redbreast</a>. The brand offers a range of expressions, all distilled from both malted and unmalted barley, a combination that gives single pot still whiskey its characteristic rich spice and full body.
Redbreast gets its name from the rosy hue imparted by aging in sherry casks, which are used across the lineup to varying degrees. Sherry is so critical to the brand&rsquo;s identity that Redbreast partnered with Bodegas Lustau in Spain to develop a special Oloroso-seasoned cask intended only for finishing the brand's whiskey. Rebreast Lustau Edition is a paragon of the house style, though it&rsquo;s easily rivaled by siblings like the 15-Year-Old and 12-Year-Old Cask Strength.
For centuries, single pot still was Irish whiskey&rsquo;s crown jewel, but by the 1970s it had nearly died out. Redbreast itself disappeared for years until parent company Irish Distillers revived the brand in the 1990s. It&rsquo;s currently made at Midleton Distillery, a powerhouse of single pot still whiskey where several other brands are also produced.
But Midleton is no longer the only single pot still whiskey maker in the country. These days, as Ireland rides a wave of investment in and excitement about whiskey, startup and craft distilleries are embracing the single pot still style. Many are still in the early stages, however&mdash;their releases are young and energetic, and often quite different in flavor from more traditional offerings as they incorporate additional grains and try out different maturation casks. These whiskeys are worth exploring, but if you&rsquo;re looking for a bottle that&rsquo;s similar to classic Redbreast, check out the list below.
<h3 dir="ltr">Yellow Spot</h3>
Midleton&rsquo;s Spot range, which is exclusively made up of single pot still whiskeys, runs from Green (7 to 10 years old, with bourbon and sherry cask maturation) to Red (15 years old, matured in bourbon, Oloroso sherry, and marsala casks), with a rainbow of other expressions in between. Each variant has its merits, but <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=yellow+spot&amp;state=ENDED&amp;sortBy=number_asc&amp;page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Yellow stands out as particularly special</a>&mdash;it's matured for 12 years in bourbon, sherry, and Malaga (a sweet fortified wine, made with Pedro Ximenez and Moscatel grapes) casks. It&rsquo;s the latter that gives the whiskey a rounded sweetness balanced by depth and a lengthy finish. Try this and you&rsquo;ll realize just how high the bar for single pot still can be.
<h3 dir="ltr">Teeling Single Pot Still</h3>
In the first few years after its founding in 2012, <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=Teeling&amp;state=ENDED&amp;sortBy=number_asc&amp;page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Teeling&rsquo;s offerings</a> were sourced from Cooley Distillery, which has only ever made single malt and grain whiskeys. But once Teeling&rsquo;s own facility was up and running in Dublin, master distiller Alex Chasko began laying down casks of single pot still made from an even split of malted and unmalted barley. The whiskey, which was matured in a variety of cask types, is now part of Teeling&rsquo;s core lineup and is a particular standout with delicate fruit notes offset by sweet nuttiness and gentle spice.
<h3 dir="ltr">Powers John&rsquo;s Lane</h3>
Despite Irish whiskey&rsquo;s 21st-century renewal, <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=Powers+John%E2%80%99s+Lane&amp;state=ENDED&amp;sortBy=number_asc&amp;page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Powers</a> hasn&rsquo;t gotten the attention it deserves, both for its long history and the high quality of its whiskey. The John&rsquo;s Lane Distillery produced single pot still whiskey in Dublin from 1791 until it was folded into Irish Distillers in 1975 (it closed a year later and was demolished). Modern Powers whiskey is made at Midleton just outside of Cork, with most of its lineup on the affordable side. At 12 years old, John&rsquo;s Lane is well worth the slight premium over its siblings, especially when you taste its velvety mix of spice and citrus, dusted with cocoa powder from its sherry cask maturation.
<h3 dir="ltr">Writers&rsquo; Tears</h3>
Most of the <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=Writers%E2%80%99+Tears&amp;state=ENDED&amp;sortBy=number_asc&amp;page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">expressions in the Writers&rsquo; Tears range</a> are blends of single malt and single pot still whiskey, but this is the brand's first 100-percent pot still release. It was matured in bourbon, PX sherry, and marsala casks, a combination that yields generous sweetness to balance the massive spice inherent in the base spirit. This is a particularly chewy whiskey, the kind that responds well to a little water or aeration in the glass.
<h3 dir="ltr">Kilbeggan Single Pot Still</h3>
This is a one-off that flew under the radar upon its release a few years ago, and thus is still <a href="https://www.unicornauctions.com/search?term=Kilbeggan&amp;state=ENDED&amp;sortBy=number_asc&amp;page=1" target="_blank" rel="noopener">pretty easy to find</a>. It was made from a grain bill that included 2.5 percent oats, enough to inject additional creaminess into the mouthfeel and broaden the palate&rsquo;s flavors of stone fruit, vanilla, and nutmeg into a deeply satisfying finish. An even more intriguing (and now much harder to find) pour is Kilbeggan Small Batch Rye, initially conceived as a single pot still but forced to be classified as &ldquo;Irish whiskey&rdquo; upon its release because of a change to the rules that occurred while it was aging.

What to Drink Next If You Love Redbreast

What&rsquo;s happening in wine and whiskey this week:
<h3 dir="ltr">News of the Week</h3>
🍷 Arizona has a <a href="https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/articles/nestled-arizonas-verde-valley-hidden-200000131.html">wine community</a> you might not know about.
✈️ Sonoma&rsquo;s Aperture Cellars wines are now&nbsp;<a href="https://www.travelandleisure.com/united-airlines-aperture-cellars-wine-11817027">available on United flights</a>.
🔥 Scientists may have found a way to&nbsp;<a href="https://www.science.org/content/article/wildfire-smoke-charring-your-wine-microbe-could-help">save grapes damaged by wildfire smoke</a>.
💪 Woodford Reserve is releasing its&nbsp;<a href="https://www.courier-journal.com/story/life/food/spirits/bourbon/2025/10/02/woodford-reserve-releases-barrel-strength-rye-its-highest-proof-rye/86460124007/?gnt-cfr=1&amp;gca-cat=p&amp;gca-uir=true&amp;gca-epti=z115653p119650c119650e004700v115653b0030xxd003065&amp;gca-ft=107&amp;gca-ds=sophi">highest proof rye whiskey to date</a>.
🥃 The Tennessee Whiskey Trail is launching a&nbsp;<a href="https://www.fredminnick.com/2025/10/01/tennessee-whiskey-trail-launches-tennessee-collective/">new Tennessee Collective whiskey</a>.
<h3 dir="ltr">New Bottle Releases</h3>
Widow Janes The Vaults 2025 Brooklyn distillery Widow Jane just announced the details of its latest Vaults release. This is a blend of sourced bourbon that was aged for 15 years and finished in Greek &ldquo;Mythological Oak,&rdquo; harvested from ancients forests growing on that island nation. The oak was air dried for one to two years, and is supposed to impart new layers of flavor into this already well-aged whiskey. 99 proof; SRP $250
Wheel Horse Baltic Porter Beer Finished Bourbon Whiskey There have been many whiskey and beer collaborations before, but the latest comes from Wheel Horse, which put its four-year-old bourbon into barrels previously used to age Narragansett Barrel-Aged Baltic Porter (these casks were initially used to age the bourbon for a period of four to five months). This is the first beer-finished whiskey for this independent bottler and blender based in Rhode Island (the whiskey is distilled at Green River in Kentucky). 101 proof; SRP $40
Templeton 13-Year-Old Rye Whiskey
Templeton is an Iowa whiskey brand that ran into some trouble about a decade ago when it had to settle a lawsuit over its labeling, which obscured the fact that the whiskey was actually sourced from MGP in Indiana. Nowadays, Templeton still sources whiskey (and properly discloses this on the bottles), and it also has its own distillery. The whiskey in this new release, however, is still sourced&mdash;because at 13 years old, this is the oldest Templeton whiskey to date, a 13-year-old rye made from the classic MGP mashbill of 95 percent rye/5 percent malted barley. 108 proof; SRP $170
<h3 dir="ltr">Unicorn Pick of the Week</h3>
Toki Black
For the past decade, Japanese whisky has been hard to find and expensive when you do. That has started to change for the better, but age statement expressions from distilleries like Yamazaki and Hakushu, both owned by Suntory Global Spirits, and Nikka&rsquo;s Yoichi and Miyagikyo are still pretty pricy, particularly the limited-edition releases that have come out in recent years.
<img src="https://directus-11-4sui.onrender.com/assets/0f1d7997-e800-4c57-9388-9835f02ac373.jpg?width=1200&amp;height=800" alt="Toki Black">
Suntory&rsquo;s age-statement blended whiskies in its Hibiki line have suffered the same fate, leading the company to introduce a non-age statement expression called Harmony. And about a decade ago, Toki was released, another non-age statement blended whisky that was meant more for mixing into a classic highball than for straight sipping. This whisky is a blend of malt and grain whiskies distilled at Suntory&rsquo;s three distilleries&mdash;Hakushu, Yamazaki, and Chita. The main malt element, which comes from Hakushu, is a peated whisky, although that doesn&rsquo;t really come across on the palate. There's also a significant grain component distilled at Chita and some sherry cask-matured Yamazaki in the mix.
Toki Black is a brand-new expression, and it joins the lineup as a limited-edition, smoky version of the original. The whisky is made from the same blend as the core release (about 50-50 malt and grain), but there are some significant differences. One of those is a first for Suntory&mdash;the inclusion of a grain whisky distilled at Hakushu on a smaller Coffey still (about a third of the size of the still at Chita), as opposed to the regular pot stills used for the malt whiskies. Also, the Hakushu malt element is much more heavily peated than in the original. And for those who are interested, both Toki and Toki Black adhere to the voluntary regulations that codify Japanese whisky from the Japan Spirits &amp; Liqueurs Makers Association (JSLMA).
The result is strikingly different, and in my opinion it&rsquo;s a better whisky. The additional element of smoke stands out, but it&rsquo;s balanced by notes of pear, apple, citrus, vanilla, and a bit of baking spice. If you enjoy a Toki highball, you might like a Toki Black highball even better. The brand has partnered with jazz artist and producer Terrace Martin on a campaign for the release of this new whisky, and you can check out the short film he made <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eskVoITILQw">here</a>.

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 3, 2025

In a recent article about how wine ages, Kelli A. White admits to having a predilection for decay. Her favorite foods? &ldquo;Stinky cheese, dry-aged beef, and mushrooms&mdash;the very agents of decomposition,&rdquo; she writes. &ldquo;Wines that taste of cherries and oranges are far too easy,&rdquo; she adds, saying that she prefers &ldquo; the earthy flavors of wisdom and experience.&rdquo;&nbsp;
In her long career as a sommelier and educator (she&rsquo;s currently Director of Education for the Wine Center at Meadowood in the Napa Valley), she&rsquo;s spent decades paying attention to wines as they senesce. That led to her first book, Napa Then &amp; Now, in which she not only plumbed Napa&rsquo;s vinous history, she documented in exhaustive tasting notes hundreds of older wines from some of Napa&rsquo;s greatest producers.
White covers many topics in her new book,&nbsp;Wine Confident, a comprehensive and instructive manual on how to appreciate wine. Naturally, that includes a chapter on collecting older wines, which starts with the question every wine collector on earth is dying to know the answer to: &ldquo;How do I know when to drink it?&rdquo;&nbsp;
Her answer? &ldquo;There is no one instant of peak maturity, no apex of perfection where all the elements of the wine align in symphonic harmony and kittens and angels and babies come tumbling out of the bottle.&rdquo;
Still, White had much to share about how to appreciate older wine, and knowing a bit about what to expect from your older bottles is a key to their enjoyment.
This conversation was edited for length and clarity.
The Unicorn Review: You worked the front of the house at Veritas in Manhattan, with its almost mythically deep cellar of old wines. Is that where you developed your knowledge of older wines?
Kelli White: It was a huge learning curve for me, and I faced the classic sommelier's dilemma&mdash;you might be able to try every dish on the menu, but you can't sit down and try every wine on the list. You might not have experience with what you are supposed to be selling and guiding people toward. But you educate yourself and talk to your colleagues who are telling you, "This is still really good." You keep tasting wines as you open them, you confirm, you adjust, you refine your approach, you become familiar with the way things should taste.
I was reading like a madwoman&mdash;Broadbent [Michael Broadbent, M.W., Great Vintage Wine Book, with 6,000 tasting notes] and Clive Coates M.W. on Burgundy [the in-depth &ldquo;C&ocirc;te d&rsquo;Or&rdquo;]. Eventually I could recommend older Bordeaux because I felt confident that those wines could age, then older red Burgundy, and then the northern Rh&ocirc;ne. But it took a while before I had the confidence to recommend the super old stuff.
For those who don&rsquo;t work in a restaurant with a deep cellar, what&rsquo;s the best way to develop your palate?
I think there are two ways to figure out your palate vis-&agrave;-avis old wine. There's the slow way, which is less capital intensive, and then there's the fast, expensive way.&nbsp;
The slow way is to find wines that you like, which you've maybe tasted while they're on the younger side, and then just age alongside them. Ideally, you buy a whole case and open a bottle in two years, and then in five years, and then ten years. And you pay attention&mdash;you take notes, and compare these notes to your old notes. You're paying attention to the wine, but you&rsquo;re also paying attention to how you're responding to the wine. That's the slow way.&nbsp;
The fast way is to either purchase wines at auction and pull corks, or go to restaurants with deep wine lists, which are fewer and further between these days. Hopefully, the restaurant has an educated staff who knows how to handle corks, how to recognize flaws that you might not be aware of. And if the wine is just totally dead, you may not have to share the financial burden. Whereas if you buy something at auction, that's it. 
How do I even know what I like?&nbsp;
If you're just trying to figure out what your tolerance for old wine is after drinking nothing but new releases, opening a 50-year-old wine is probably going to be a jarring experience. So I would say a good place to start is to open a wine that's 10 years old. I think you&rsquo;ll get a good feel for the journey, at least in some sense.&nbsp;
Even after just 10 years, you&rsquo;ll start to feel a little of the softening or mellowing of the aromatics. They get a little more integrated, a little bit less overt, if that makes sense. Pay attention to whether you like it better or worse than the new release version. Try that a couple of times, and if you're like, &ldquo;I like the other thing better,&rdquo; then that's great. But if you&rsquo;re intrigued by the old wine, then it&rsquo;s time to try something even older. 
Walk us down the path of a wine you&rsquo;ve been following in your cellar.
Almost exactly 10 years ago, I bought a couple of cases of 2011 Tyrrell&rsquo;s Semillon [from Australia&rsquo;s Hunter Valley], a wine known for longevity. I still have some bottles, and I open them every so often. And I swear, every time I open one I think, &ldquo;Is this going to be the last good bottle?&rdquo; And every time, the answer is, &ldquo;Absolutely not!&rdquo; That wine has miles to go, it&rsquo;s evolving way more slowly than I would ever have imagined. It still has that little kiss of green fleck in the hue that Semillon sometimes gets, and really juicy fruit that&rsquo;s rounded out by this other stuff, a complexity that is just so thrilling.
But you have to remember that your palate is also changing. I've probably changed more in 10 years than this wine has. I'm a mom now. I'm pretty tired. I'm not spending the amount of time I would have to prepare an occasion to open that wine. Not long ago it would have been like, &ldquo;What are we cooking? What's the mood? Let's really savor it.&rdquo; Now I&rsquo;m kicking a vacuum cord&nbsp; across the floor and half-chugging it between chores. So my relationship to that wine has changed. And that&rsquo;s what's exciting about having a relationship with a wine, marking its evolution. But also marking my evolution, right? Both things are happening.&nbsp;
Sometimes it&rsquo;s a reminder of how much has changed since you first had that wine, like a time machine to remember what you were like the first time you tried it. I find the whole process absolutely psychologically grounding in a way that's not purely nostalgic, like that feeling when you catch up with an old friend you haven't talked to in a couple years, and you just feel so damn understood. It can be like that.&nbsp;
What do you recommend for collectors to cultivate their palate memory?
I think writing things down is extraordinarily helpful. It can be just four or five words&mdash;how good it was, or if it fell apart after four or five minutes. My advice to people when communicating about wine, even to themselves, is don't get hung up on established wine language. Instead, write yourself a shorthand, something you know that you will understand. You don't have to worry about anybody else understanding it in 20 years.&nbsp;
A lot of old-school collectors have a cellar book where they actually write notes. That might not be practical for some people, but you can have a spreadsheet, or use cellartracker.com, things like that. There are apps where you can take a picture and upload the information (though I don&rsquo;t know what happens to that data when those apps go away).
I think the best practice for cultivating a palate memory is to be present with the wine. I know this sounds a little woo-woo, but you have to teach yourself to be an active drinker. Because sometimes, even with great wines, you're just like, &ldquo;Ooh, this is so good,&rdquo; and then you move on to the next wine or the next thought or the next day. But if you take the discipline to stop, tune out the world for a minute and commune with the wine, you&rsquo;ll be creating an entry in your brain that you can access later, either through memory or emotion.
For some people, probably the joy of a glass of old wine is simply how good it tastes, and that's enough. But for the rest of us, we spend part of our lives trying to find ways to write and communicate about how and why this beverage moves us. I think for me, older wine is almost like a portal to these bigger thoughts, thoughts that you might not initially pin to wine. And yet, I think they&rsquo;re there, if you&rsquo;re looking.
Next month, Part II&mdash;a look at some of those "big thoughts."

Feeling Out Your Cellar: A Conversation with Wine Expert Kelli A. White, Part I 

For the Russell family, bourbon has always been more than a business. It&rsquo;s a legacy built on tradition and a bond that spans three generations at Wild Turkey.
It began in 1954 with Jimmy Russell&rsquo;s unwavering belief in doing things &ldquo;the right way,&rdquo; a mantra that he has repeated throughout his 71 years working at the distillery. The legacy was carried forward by his son, Eddie, who began working with Jimmy in 1981 and forged his own path over his nearly 45-year career. Today, it continues with Bruce, who found his calling not just in whiskey, but in working alongside his father and grandfather.
In 2023, Bruce earned the title of associate master blender. That same year, the distillery released Wild Turkey Generations, the first bottle to carry the signatures of all three whiskey makers in the Russell family. This fall, the second bottle to feature his name, Master&rsquo;s Keep Beacon, will debut. Unlike its predecessor, Beacon bears only the signatures of Eddie and Bruce, representing the distillery&rsquo;s present and future.
The paths that led Eddie and Bruce to this moment couldn&rsquo;t have been more different. Eddie learned the trade directly from his father, Jimmy, a man known for his stubbornness&mdash;&ldquo;Do it the right way, or don&rsquo;t do it at all," he was known to say.&nbsp;&ldquo;I had to live it," Eddie recalls. "It was more, &lsquo;Learn it on your own; get in there and get your hands dirty; this is how it&rsquo;s done, don&rsquo;t change it.' It was me working as a union employee, working in the distillery, working as a supervisor, taking over the maturation, and then running basically the whole plant.&rdquo;
Bruce, meanwhile, paid his dues as a tour guide at the distillery and brand ambassador for Wild Turkey and Russell&rsquo;s Reserve in Texas. Ultimately, he moved back to Kentucky, and his father Eddie showed him the ropes. &ldquo;Ever since I started, Dad&rsquo;s led me through, taught me what he knows, and has let me try my own things,&rdquo; says Bruce. &ldquo;He has been not only generous with his time, but open to my thoughts and what I want to see.&rdquo;
Jimmy&rsquo;s approach to Bruce&rsquo;s education was a bit different, but it was one that showed the familial bonds that stretch over three generations. &ldquo;When Bruce first came in, Jimmy gave him a book with all his handwritten notes,&rdquo; says Eddie. &ldquo;I had been there 30 years and never seen that book.&rdquo;
The mentorship has gone both ways. Eddie credits Bruce with bringing a natural aptitude and fresh perspective that resonates with a new generation of bourbon and cocktail enthusiasts.&nbsp;&ldquo;I realized from around the first time I was training [Bruce] how good his palate was,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;It definitely has to be something that&rsquo;s passed down, because without really any teaching, he understood flavors and used such great words to describe things. I&rsquo;ve learned a lot from him on that end.&rdquo;
Bruce is quick to return the compliment. &ldquo;To be honest, I probably wouldn&rsquo;t be doing what I&rsquo;m doing without Dad,&rdquo; he says. &ldquo;I mean, quite literally, what really drew me in the beginning wasn&rsquo;t the whiskey part. It was the chance to get to work with Dad and Jimmy.&rdquo;
<h3 dir="ltr">Master&rsquo;s Keep</h3>
Few bottles capture the Russells&rsquo; father-and-son relationship better than the new 118-proof Master&rsquo;s Keep Beacon, the final entry in Eddie&rsquo;s annual series. Wild Turkey's Master&rsquo;s Keep series began in 2015 as a way for Eddie to craft high-end whiskeys that were different from the core products that Jimmy created. The collection ranged from cask-finished bourbons like Voyage, which spent time in rum barrels, to well-aged ryes like Triumph, to the fan favorite 17-year-old bottled-in-bond bourbon.
Although Eddie and Bruce have long collaborated on Wild Turkey&rsquo;s limited-edition whiskeys, as mentioned before Beacon is the first bottle to carry their signatures and not Jimmy&rsquo;s. More than any of their previous projects, it was a shared effort from start to finish.&nbsp;&ldquo;This was really working closely with Bruce, sitting in the lab, taking his whiskey, my whiskey, figuring out how much of each needed to go in there, what flavors we liked, what we were looking for,&rdquo; says Eddie. &ldquo;I think it turned out almost as good as anything we&rsquo;ve done.&rdquo;
Beacon is a blend of two bourbons, aged 10 and 16 years, that were chosen to reflect defining chapters in both men&rsquo;s stories. Eddie contributed the 16-year-old, which was distilled between 2007 and 2008. It was drawn from some of the last barrels at the original Wild Turkey site where he learned the craft from Jimmy before the distillery&rsquo;s 2011 expansion.
Bruce selected a 10-year-old bourbon from 2015, distilled manually with Jimmy after fully committing to the family business. &ldquo;Jimmy kind of wanted me to prove myself to him, so he took me aside and we did everything from start to finish,&rdquo; Bruce recalls. &ldquo;We did the grain intake that week, we watched over the cooking and the fermentations, and did it all by sight and smell and sound, not just through the automated system.&rdquo;
As the last bottle in the series, Beacon feels like a passing of the torch from Eddie to Bruce.&nbsp;&ldquo;It&rsquo;s really exciting for me,&rdquo; says Bruce. &ldquo;Not only to get to do this with Dad, since this product has meant so much to him, but to get to put out what&rsquo;s probably the only liquid I&rsquo;ll ever distill myself in my career.&rdquo;
Though Master&rsquo;s Keep is ending, Bruce hints at a new annual series of limited-edition whiskeys on the horizon&mdash;this time with him at the helm. The details remain under wraps, but fans of Wild Turkey can expect plenty to look forward to.&nbsp;&ldquo;Dad has lobbed an underhand softball to me and I have the biggest bat in the world to swing, because the distillery has done such a good job,&rdquo; Bruce says. &ldquo;Thanks to Dad and the team, we have quite a bit of good old liquid we&rsquo;re going to get to play with in the next five years.&rdquo;
The future of Wild Turkey is in good hands.

the Unicorn Review

What to Drink Next If You Love Old Forester 1910

Bourbon

What to Drink Next If You Love Old Forester 1910

Bourbon

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 17, 2025

Bourbon

What Goes Into Reviving A Historic Whiskey Brand?

Wine

Peak Experiences: What Wine Means To the Passionate Collector

Week in Wine & Whiskey

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 10, 2025

Wine

Feeling Out Your Cellar: All the Feels Edition—A Conversation with Kelli A. White, Part II

Great Reads

Author Noah Rothbaum on His New Book The Whiskey Bible

What to Drink

What to Drink Next If You Love Redbreast

Week in Wine & Whiskey

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 3, 2025

No matter what you’re looking for, Unicorn is the place to find it.

Buy

Sell

Vault

The modern platform
for spirits & wine

Take unicorn with you

The modern platform
for spirits & wine

Welcome

Let’s get you approved to bid

the Unicorn Review

What to Drink Next If You Love Old Forester 1910

Bourbon

What to Drink Next If You Love Old Forester 1910

Bourbon

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 17, 2025

Bourbon

What Goes Into Reviving A Historic Whiskey Brand?

Wine

Peak Experiences: What Wine Means To the Passionate Collector

Week in Wine & Whiskey

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 10, 2025

Wine

Feeling Out Your Cellar: All the Feels Edition—A Conversation with Kelli A. White, Part II

Great Reads

Author Noah Rothbaum on His New Book The Whiskey Bible

What to Drink

What to Drink Next If You Love Redbreast

Week in Wine & Whiskey

The Week in Wine and Whiskey: October 3, 2025

No matter what you’re looking for, Unicorn is the place to find it.

Buy

Sell

Vault

The modern platformfor spirits & wine

Take unicorn with you

The modern platformfor spirits & wine

Extended Bidding

What is Extended Bidding and how does it work?

Congrats!

The modern platform
for spirits & wine

The modern platform
for spirits & wine