Showing posts with label spirit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirit. Show all posts

Thursday, June 14, 2012

New spirit infuses historic Mount Vernon

MOUNT VERNON, Va. — If it looks like scotch whisky, smells like scotch whisky and tastes like scotch whisky, then it must be scotch whisky, right? Well, sort of.

When it's made in the United States, specifically at George Washington's Distillery and Gristmill in Virginia near Mount Vernon — and not in Scotland, where all scotch comes from — then does it become scotch whiskey with an "e"? Not exactly.

The trick in making it more whisky than whiskey involves a few things. The first is the idea of making it on U.S. soil, which was the brainchild of David Blackmore, the master brand ambassador for Glenmorangie. This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Scotch Whisky Association, and in thinking up a celebratory event to mark the occasion, the light bulb over Blackmore's head lit up.

"I thought that we should bring the Scots over to make whisky here," says Blackmore. He began talking to a few people, and before long the idea began rolling around like a barrel of, well, whisky.

A brief history lesson: In the late 1700s, James Anderson, George Washington's farm manager, who was originally from Scotland and a whisky maker, talked his boss into getting into the distilled spirits industry. Washington eventually became the largest distiller of corn and rye whiskey in the nation.

Washington's distillery, painstakingly restored to its 18th century architecture and reopened in 2007, seemed the logical place to make whisky. With the combined efforts of the Distilled Spirits Council of the United States, the Scotch Whisky Association, the Scottish government and the Mount Vernon Estate, the distilling began.

A few tons of Scottish malt barley were imported to the distillery, where it was milled.

Next came a handful of Scotsman in kilts, including Glenmorangie master distiller Bill Lumsden. On the domestic side was David Pickerell, the master distiller for the George Washington Distillery.

For three days in late March, these forces made scotch whisky the old-fashioned way, with wood-burning fires and copper pots and three-cornered hats.

So how do you get your hands on a bottle of the scotch whisky-without-the-e? For the time being, you don't. In following the rules of the Scotch Whisky Association, the whisky must be aged in barrels for at least three years.

But three years from now, you might have a shot at tasting the whisky: The first 100 bottles — the first scotch ever to come out of the distillery at Mount Vernon — will be auctioned for charity around the world.

Though you may not ever taste the whisky, you can still see the distillery and how whiskey was made in Washington's time.

"The still is primarily an education exhibition by seeing how whiskey was made 200 years ago," says Dennis Pogue, vice president for preservation at Mount Vernon Estate. He added that the story of making scotch on the property "really resonates" because of the connection between America and Scotland.

"The bonds of friendship between the two nations go back a long way," says Robin Naysmith, the Scottish government counselor for North America. "James Anderson persuaded George Washington that whiskey wasn't a bad industry to get into."

A visit to the distillery and museum is the perfect accompaniment to a visit to Mount Vernon and is quite family-friendly.

And perched on a nearby hill is Washington's reconstructed gristmill. Re-enactors in colonial clothing grind corn and wheat into meal, flour and stone-ground grits that are sold at the gift shop.

If you go

Sixteen miles south of Washington, D.C., and three miles from the Mount Vernon Estate, George Washington's Distillery and Gristmill and gift shop are open daily April through October. 703-780-2000, mountvernon.org


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Monday, March 5, 2012

A golden spirit stills shines in Randsburg, Calif.

Reporting from Randsburg, Calif.—

I half-expected to hear someone shout, "There's gold in them thar hills," as I rolled into Randsburg, Calif., which sits just off Highway 395 in the Mojave Desert south of Ridgecrest. The discovery of that precious metal gave birth to the town in 1896 when John Singleton, F. M. Mooers and Charlie Burcham filed a claim they called "The Rand." Within a few months, a saloon, barber shop, general store and even an opera house had sprung up to form what was known as Rand Camp. By 1897 it was called Randsburg, a boomtown of almost 4,000 people.

More than 110 years later, the Rand Mining Co. still operates 24 hours a day and employs about 80 workers. One miner I approached refused to confirm the rumor that 300 pounds of gold are taken from the mine each month. He just smiled when I asked him, but I noticed that he had a small golden nugget on his watch chain.

As the number of mining claims dwindled, so did the population, but not Randsburg's spirit. Many hardy souls who had founded the town stayed on, and today there are about 80 full-time residents, occupying houses as eclectic as their owners. One house is made entirely from garage doors and another only from windows, with trees in the front yard made from cast-off soda bottles. Almost every building is colorfully painted, and there are more than a few outhouses.

Butte Avenue, the main drag, is home to the White House and the Joint, authentic saloons complete with boot rails and spittoons. No liquor is served, but you can get a shot of spiced sarsaparilla. The barber shop, with its traditional striped pole, advertises baths and cigars, and the opera house opens from time to time for special events.

I followed the hitching posts that line the wooden boardwalk to discover the wonderful little Rand Desert Museum, a natural history museum manned by town volunteers in period costume eager to spend an afternoon sharing local lore with visitors.

On the edge of town a mule tethered to a hitching post tried to lick my camera, and I passed a weathered tortoise out for a leisurely stroll. Randsburgians love their tortoises; these desert tanks are treated as valued pets and claim protected status. Residents make a point of telling visitors that tortoises do not handle stress easily, as it causes them to pass water, making them vulnerable to the desert heat.

Residents also love their town and have gone to great lengths to keep it as it was a century ago. The wall outside the Rand Mining Co. sports a faded sign that reads, "Everything for Blasting" and "Explosives, caps and fuses," while the local post office has a sign over the door that proclaims "End of the trail."

As I ambled through town, it realized how apt that sign was. Time has truly stood still at the end of the trail in Randsburg.

travel@latimes.com


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