Branching out

Happy Bourbon Heritage Month! In 2007, the United States Senate unanimously passed a bill calling for September to be known as National Bourbon Heritage Month, declaring bourbon as our national spirit due to its historic role in shaping our country. So, how did bourbon come to be a uniquely American product, both in origins and by law?

Though all bourbons are whiskey, not all whiskies are bourbons. A bourbon is defined by three main factors. First and foremost, it must be made in America. Just as Scotch must be made in Scotland, and Champagne must come from the Cham pagne region of France, so does bourbon have a unique geographical designation of origin. Many say some of the best bourbons come from Kentucky, whose “branch water” or “hard water” is rich in limestone minerals such as calcium and magnesium, crucial to yeast health in successful fermentations.

Secondly, bourbon must contain at least 51% corn in the mash bill — the combination of cereal grains fermented and distilled into whiskey. While rye was most prevalent during the 1600s, government incentives to grow corn encouraged farmers to gradually replace the spicier yet notoriously difficult to distill rye grain with its sweeter cousin.

Lastly, a bourbon must be aged in an indefinite amount of time in new, charred, American white oak barrels. This defining characteristic has largely been attributed to Elijah Craig, endearingly referred to as “the father of bourbon” due to his pioneering the use of charred white oak casks for aging whiskey. The story goes, the building that housed his barrels was struck by lightning and caught fire. Not wanting to waste a single barrel, Craig continued to use the charred barrels to send his whiskey on the monthlong voyage down river to New Orleans, where it was discovered to have had a distinctly better and more complex flavor. Ever the frugal one, Craig continued to implement his newfound technique and reused inexpensive barrels, which previously contained fish, by charring their insides to remove the “fishy” odors, instead imparting more desirable “baking spice” notes such as vanilla, cinnamon and allspice.

As the revered Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor eloquently put it, “It is important for all of us to appreciate where we come from and how that history has really shaped us in ways that we might not understand.” Just as bourbon helped to shape American history and culture, birthing the likes of everything from speakeasies (where high-profile individuals could drink during Prohibition), outside the eyes of authorities, to Nascar, whose origins can be traced to the souped-up cars which bootleggers used to outrun the law, so do we in the bar community, each have our own unique “origin stories.”

Whether our expertise lay in cocktails or wine, my colleagues and I often regale each other with stories of our industry family trees, and how those currently leading the craft cocktail movement in Hawaii can be traced to just a handful of influencers. I consider my own account to be no less than a “Cinderella” of bar origin stories.

I had just become what I thought was a successfully, full-fledged bartender in high-volume nightclubs, when I bought my first apartment. Then, the 2008 Great Recession happened, and I found myself working twice the hours for half the tips. Not one to grumble about hard work, I built up a strong following of friends in the one industry I knew weren’t going anywhere — hospitality workers. My restaurant comrades supported each other night after night, making the rounds for a pau hana at each others’ bars and happily spreading the love, despite tough times.

I met Dave Newman, one of my bar regulars, a few months before I lost my job due to what I deemed unfair circumstances. For the next year, I struggled to make each mortgage payment, scooping up every on-call or one-off gig thrown my way until I was working no less than six jobs at any given time. Determined not to fail, budgeted $5 a day for food, and found myself cashiering at a slight ly less than savory joint for the health insurance, when in walked in Newman. He said he had been looking for me for over a year and asked if I wanted to work for him at Nobu Waikiki, where he was the bar manager. I felt like I was rescued! I quit all but two of my six jobs, and began training under Newman, learning the art of crafts cocktails for the next four years, first at Nobu, where he lovingly nicknamed me “Little B” (as in “Little Bartender”), and then at Pint + Jigger, the renowned craft cocktail and beer bar he had since opened on King Street, which tragically closed just before the pandemic shut our entire industry down in March 2020.

Well, all things come full circle, as they say, and after more than two years, the much-venerated Pint + Jigger has once again opened its acclaimed doors this month, in its new location in the lobby of the smartly renovated Ala Moana Hotel. While a few of Newman’s former bar staff have moved on to lead innovative and exciting bar programs of their own, his new hires eagerly await his inexhaustible tutelage, each overflowing with possibility, hope, and the potential to be that next branch on our family tree. Congratulations on your grand opening, Big B! We couldn’t be happier for you!

Branch Water

1.5 ounces Elijah Craig small-batch bourbon

1.5 ounces Cocchi di Torino

0.5 ounces Cynar

2 dashes angostura orange bitters

3 lemon peels

1 pinch Maldon sea salt

Directions: Express the oil from 3 lemon peels into a mixing glass and drop the expressed peels into the glass. Add the remaining ingredients and stir over ice. Strain over large format ice cube into double old fashioned glass. Express oil from a fourth lemon peel over top and use for garnish.

Alicia Yamachika is a bartender and craft mixologist, who currently is the key account manager at Southern Glazer’s Wine & Spirits on Oahu. Follow her on Instagram (@alicia_ yamachika). Her column will appear every second Wednesday in Crave.