Whiskey Business at Finch & Fork

Nothing could serve as a better rejoinder to the anti-DEI madness coming out of Washington than this Sunday's Chef's Table event at Santa Barbara's Finch & Fork--BBQ and Bourbon with Uncle Nearest. You might know of Uncle Nearest--in 2024 Forbes estimated its valuation at $1.1 billion, making it the fastest-growing whiskey brand in American history. Black-owned, it's named in honor of one of the pioneering heroes in Tennessee whiskey--Nathan "Nearest" Green, who helped develop sugar maple charcoal filtering, a process brought from west Africa, leading to delicious, clean, smooth liquor. (It's also what separates Tennessee whiskey from Kentucky whiskey, but we don't want to go too deep into the distillation weeds, do we?) Green is a resurrected giant in Black history, which is American history, of course, no matter what some political idiots say. (Oh, he also mentored some other guy you might have heard of first, since he was white--Jack Daniel.)

The distiller today at the acclaimed Uncle Nearest is Victoria Eady Butler, Green's great, great granddaughter. How's that for a tale of what makes our country great?

The dinner certainly made a delicious case for the whiskey. The communal tables were laden with platters and bowls of smoked baby back ribs, smoked chicken, collard greens, cornbread, mac 'n cheese, baked beans, and chocolate cobbler for dessert. I passed on the chicken as I still have deep sympathy for the hens we owned long past their laying days and well into their ingratiating pets period. But the ribs were delicious, more bite-off-the-bone than fall-off-the-bone, but perhaps more rewarding as you had to work for it. I'm always a sucker for smoky flavor. The greens were not just appreciated as the only veg of the night but also served right at al dente, where you want collards to be. Similarly the beans were cooked but not mush, and I would vouch the pleasure of eating beans that retain their architectural integrity is undervalued. They tasted great, too, with plenty of red pepper and bacon to add more zip. We do a home mac and cheese featuring what looks like too much dry mustard and too much panko topping but neither is extravagant that is my Platonic version of the dish, so I don't mean it as a slight that F&F's straightforward version pleased if not thrilled. (You can please me easy--thrilling me is an effort. And no, it's not just because I'm old.) The chocolate cobbler was a fascinating, gooey dark cacao mess (in looks) that was a tad too sweet for me, but Chryss loved it. It certainly paired well with the final pour, a Single Barrel that is 121 proof. It's also as smooth as any of the other whiskeys of the evening.

Speaking of those, the reason Uncle Nearest has been so successful isn't just its terrific origin story. The stuff is delish. While most of the drinking involved probably 1.5 oz pours of the five Uncle Nearest varieties for sale in California (and CA is one of only five states where Nearest Green is available, so kudos to us once again!), the evening kicked off with a Paper Plane made with the UN 1856, their first product and still their flagship. Bottled in bond and a four-recipe blend, it's meant for your whiskey cocktails that need some oomph, or just for contemplative sipping. That Nearest Green is kind of the starter pack pour, a mere 84 proof, but certainly dangerously smooth--one could knock back a lot of it gleefully. Oddly the 1884 Small Batch seems a bit hotter at 93 proof than the closing, stronger Single Barrel, but as SoCal market manager and host for the evening Sergio Nicholas put it, "It's got bite, not burn." 

And then there's the Uncle Nearest Rye. I'm a sucker for rye as I like its biscuit and white pepper notes and that it's not quite as unctuously caramel as bourbon can be. (I tend savory over sweet when it comes to taste.) As Nicholas joked, "You can't grow rye in the south--instead you sprout onions," and as most folks know, Canadian whiskey is a way to say rye whiskey--so that's where Uncle Nearest gets its rye, from Canada. It's blended and barrel-aged at the TN distillery to perfection, velvet smooth, crisp, with a long finish and richness and nothing close to a burn. It leaves its drinker with a big smile. I'll give you one guess who asked for seconds.

Somehow I left out the conviviality at the communal table--lots of fine conversations and the room's noise grew as the evening went on (sure, you can blame more whiskey being drunk if you'd like). 

If this kind of Chef's Table sounds intriguing, Finch & Fork will be holding the next one April 2, a crab bake with chardonnay.

Piperis's Perfect Potent Potables

Repeal Day is one of those odd negative holidays--hooray, we're not getting beaten anymore!--but that said, aren't you happier you have a glass of something in your hand right now? Even if you don't drink, I hope the notion of Prohibition, saying you legally can't do something that's not morally wrong, should rankle. Well, December 5th was repeal day, the 85th year of the return for legal drinking (and producing and selling) in the USA. And there's just one MAGA I support: Make America Grape/Grain Again.

All that's prelude to getting the chance to sample the latest cocktail creations for the fall-winter season from one of our town's masters, George Piperis, at the Finch & Fork at the Canary Hotel this December 5th. I've had the luck to drink with and write about him before, but he's the kind of talent that lands drinks in Imbibe Magazine and geeks out on his milk punch project, which he talks about like making boozy cheese in reverse, and along the way points out Benjamin Franklin did it first. Hoping to have it ready for Christmas, he concludes, "I could do an eggnog, but that's so boring."

Boring has no room in a Piperis menu. The current one carries over some of the previous's greatest hits, from the delicious AND gloriously goofy Barbie's Bath Bomb to the old fashioned with the very new wrinkle--he washes the bourbon in duck fat. But it's the new creations I want to highlight, as in their breadth and depth they astound at every turn. Take the You Got Chocolate in My Peanut Butter, a nod to the old Reese's ad, but Reese's never tasted this good.

(Note these images are all on the fly iPhone photos--follow Piperis on Instagram to see them photographically pimped out.) This time it's Toki Japanese whisky that gets the wash treatment, but with peanut butter. The chocolate comes from Tempus Fugit créme de cacao and some chocolate shavings across that lush peanut butter foam that's so rich and flavorful you'd order it on its own. Despite that creamy top, Piperis asserts (rightfully), "It's not just a dessert cocktail--the most masculine man can drink it." Well, as long as he has some taste.

Then there's the Tryna Send It, which he calls one for the kids who work with him. At this point I felt truly old, but fair enough, I don't know snowboarders yell encouragement by screaming, "Send it!" Piperis wanted to make a "good Long Island Ice Tea," is how he put it, and that's a challenge, as the usual LI Iced Tea is simply "how many alcohols can we mix in one drink and make it sweet enough you want another?"

His drink still delivers a boozy punch, but does so with velvet-gloved elegance, starting with the garnish of candied ginger heavily-dusted with his own fermented spicy pineapple sambal--he warns me to mix it moderately into the drink, as it does have quite a kick. The drink is composed of pineapple juice, Casa Noble blanco tequlia, The Funk rum, and Singani 63, a Bolivian unaged brandy Piperis calls "real trendy." 

One of my personal favorites now on the list is the Captain Jack Sparrow, as I'm not trendy at all. I'd like to think of as more a Keith Richards than a Johnny Depp drink, myself, full of depth, unflashy skill, and surprisingly well-aged. It kicks off with Jack​ Daniels rye, off course, but earns its buccaneer bona fides in several ways, starting with Chairman’s Forgotten Cask rum (turns out Chairman's actually found a barrel and no one knew what production it was from). To tease out rye and rum flavors in some of their most varied directions there's Tempus Fugit banana liqueur and a roasted banana slice for garnish, and then a few shots of both blackstrap and tobacco bitters, the latter, oddly enough, not made with any tobacco but with bacon fat and coffee. (Beware, vegetarians!)

Piperis compares the drink in composition to a Boulevardier, but think a boulevard in Barbados, maybe. And no, it's not too banana in the slightest--it's a drink where all the parts add up to one lovely sum.

It's a fascinating companion to another more classically-conceived drink I don't have a photo for, Hayden on Holiday, named not just for the Basil Hayden in it but also a friend of Piperis who is always on vacation. (And given the season and our location, how do you not do a "holiday" named drink?) Definitely a drinker's drink (you know who you are) the namesake bourbon get the smoky punch of mezcal, too, plus Sfumato, an Amaro made from artichoke that's lighter and smoother than the better known Cynar. Add in some Cocchi Teatro Dopo and Thai bitters, and help people realize casks add coconut notes by drizzling coconut oil on the one big rock in the double highball glass, so the ice looks like it has a snowy cap, and the smell hits you as you go in for every sip. This is a deep drink, one worth much slow consideration.

If you want to go with what seems to be a very Santa Barbara drink, it's hard to pass on the Daughter of Man that, with its eucalyptus bitters and eucalyptus leaf tied alongside, Chryss joked, "Smells like a koala's butt." Having not been upclose with those Australian critters I can't say for sure, but the drink itself brings together Copper & Kings brandy, honey crisp apple, a black currant reduction with red wine, honey, and those bitters into a refreshing very unusual drink perfect for this time of year. Sweetish, without being sweet, fruity, but not too.

Then there's version 2.0 of last menu's In the Pines, this time featuring Death's Door Gin, a sure way into this gin-lover's heart. (1.0 had mezcal.) Of course the gin is pine-y to start but it gets extra pine power from Zirbenz, a stone pine liqueur from the Alps, plus an at the table dusting of pine pollen, fragrant as a field of Christmas trees, and supposedly an aphrodisiac to boot. Add some Cardamaro (Piperis likes those cardoon-artichoke Amaros) and Cocchi Torino and you have a drink deceptively smooth for all its gin.

Piperis sums it up this way, "It's an aggressive menu for this market but I'm just proud of it." And he should be, as it's playful, powerful, challenging, comforting, and most of all downright delicious.

Speaking of, Peter Cham, the executive chef, has the kitchen firing on all cylinders right now too. For example here's the most lovely of scallop dishes I've perhaps ever-eaten.

Perfectly seared to be nearly crunchy on the outside and just-cooked but cooked inside, the scallops sit atop a rich brown butter cauliflower puree. Then the plate is artfully strewn with romanesco, roasted to just the right toothsomeness, pickled kumquat, as vividly tasting as they look, crispy capers, and enough edible flowers to make you feel you're eating at a florist. Gorgeous plate of food. (And a great pairing with the Tryna Send It.)

Same with the trout, again showing off Cham's skill with brown butter, this time made with toasted hazelnuts. That's buried in broccoli florets, more toasted hazelnuts, and the most eye-catching of greens. And along with the brown butter, it sits atop green goddess dressing that will make you think young you might have been onto something liking even the blandish bottled versions of it (I'm remembering you, Seven Seas), and warm multigrains to give the dish yet more crunch. Eat it with an In the Pines and you'll feel like you're out fishing on a tranquil Eastern Sierra stream.

Something to Fatten Your Tuesday

It's simple--New Orleans is the least American American city and that's why I love it so. Today's that thing called Mardi Gras, and if you toss me some cheap beads I'll show you a cocktail recipe. That kind of talk gets me thinking about previous potent potables I have poted (isn't that the verb form?), and leds me to the coolest bar of all-time. If you've been to New Orleans and drinks matter to you and you know Pat O'Brien's hurricanes are for people for whom 4 years of fratdom wasn't enough, then you go elsewhere, and first and foremost, you go for a merry-go-round ride. For in the Monteleone Hotel, you can sit at the Carousel Bar, where you end up spinning even before you've had a drink. It's at the Monteleone, where Faulkner, among others, used to sit deep in his cups, that you can get a Vieux Carré, which takes the basic Sazerac (not that a Sazerac is anything to sneeze at) and jiggers it up a notch. Turns out you can make a nifty variation at home, especially if you delve into Ted Haigh/Dr. Cocktail's indispensable Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails:

Vieux Carré

1 oz. rye whiskey (Old Overcoat is fine, but Costco sells Bulleit big and cheap)
1 oz. Cognac
1 oz. sweet vermouth
1/2 tsp. Benedictine
2 dashes Angostura bitters
2 dashed Peychaud's bitters

Shake over ice in cocktail shaker, pour into chilled up glass. Garnish with lemon twist.

Oh, and don't tell me you don't have the bitters, and no, you can't substitute and you can't leave them out. They do matter. You can buy a whole bunch at Still right downtown. Tell Jeremy George Eats sent you.

Rye Runs Red

It''s been awhile since I've dropped a cocktail on you, so here goes. Since it was just Easter that meant it was time for this Slovak-boy to whip up some kolache, and that meant a trip to the European Deli & Market, a treasure trove of items labeled in foreign tongues, some no doubt containing actual tongue. Upon entering, they had the most luscious display of blood oranges front and center, so we had to buy a couple of those in all their sunset-palette beauty. The first one became part of some refreshing blood orange margaritas, something true but very much tried (don't get dyslexic typing there!).

Last night it was time to be a bit creative, and thus the Rye Runs Red was born. It's pretty simple, but the flavors layer wonderfully, the citrus providing just the right sweet tart zip, and the Carpano Antica adds a depth just a regular sweet vermouth might lack. (Chryss suggested the finished drink almost had a hint of Amaretto, which isn't surprising since people claim Carano Antica has a bit of almond, among all its other flavors, from fig to toffee.) The color, thanks to the vermouth and the blood orange, is a wonderful deep red, and the little slash of peel adds to the drink's visual appeal. Cheers!

Rye Runs Red
(makes two)

4 oz. rye (Old Overholt is fine, but if you want to splurge, go for it)
2 oz. Carpano Antica vermouth
1.5 oz. freshly squeezed blood orange juice
.5 oz freshly squeezed lime juice (preferably Bearss lime--the lime equivalent of the Meyer lemon, if you ask me)
 narrow peel of blood orange, tied in a knot for each drink as garnish

Juice your citrus and add to shaker. Add the rye and vermouth and ice. Shake vigorously. Pour into chilled cocktail glasses and add the peels for garnish.