It's all Corn and Chocolate at Widow Jane Distillery
The importance of a first impression is well known, especially as it relates to the customer experience. I
start off my recap of Widow Jane Distillery in Brooklyn, NY with this reminder,
since I'm a bit mixed on my reception there. On one hand, we have Bridgette.
She is a lovely and bright 20-year-old who recently started working at the
distillery. In addition to (wo)manning the gift shop, she leads half a tour of
the facility. I say "half" because two distinct types of products are
made at Widow Jane. There are the whiskeys that bare its name and there is the
chocolate that goes by the name Cacao Prieto. Since Bridgette is underage and
has not sampled Widow Jane's goods, she is responsible for all
things Cacao Prieto. She is the one that greets me when I arrive
and is very helpful in coordinating a (distillery half) tour for me.
When I come
back at the appointed time, I meet Sienna, a Brit transplanted to Brooklyn.
Sienna is Bridgette's other half, in a couple ways. Sienna is of-age and very
familiar with the Widow Jane products, so she leads the distillery portion of
the tour. I would classify her as the dark, suspicious yin to Bridgette's
glowing yang. (I'm surprised to learn, when I do a Google search, that yang is
considered the "male" energy). When I ask Sienna about where they
source their corn from, she seems simultaneously unsure and reluctant to give
an answer. I don't think her attitude can be boiled down solely to her
Britishness.
In fairness,
Sienna gives a great tour. She is very knowledgable about the distilling
process and alcohol in general. It's only when a question threatens to tip her from the script does she become apprehensive. Examples: "Is Widow Jane
considered a 'farm distillery'?" New York law requires farm distilleries
to source at least 75% of their resources from within the state. That question received a rambling non-response, that ended up with Sienna mentioning they source from wherever the best ingredients are found. And a question as simple as, "what caused the founder," a Dominican named Daniel Prieto
Preston, "to start making whiskey?" elicited a defensive rejoinder along the lines of "well why not?" Okaaaaay. The lesson is: temper your expectations
if you want to learn more than how whiskey is made in theory. And try to catch Sienna on a better day, assuming they exist.
Altogether, I
tried about twelve spirits that afternoon: Bloody Butcher High Rye Bourbon,
Wapsie Valley "Single Expression" Bourbon, Bloody Butcher
"Single Expression" Bourbon, Wapsie Valley High Rye Bourbon, Yellow Corn Bourbon, Hopi Blue Bourbon, Wapsi Valley and Barley
Whiskey, rye-inspired whiskey (one finished in new oak, another finished in
applewood), 10-year-old bourbon, unaged rum and cacao rum. For the names I've
capitalized, these spirits are made with that specific heirloom strain of corn
in the name (bloody butcher, wapsie valley, etc). As I've learned
elsewhere (see my post on Ironroot Republic), heirloom corns give a wide range
of flavor profiles. Widow Jane has gone so far as to have the famers they work
with engineer their own strain: Baby Jane, which is hybrid of Wapsi Valley and
Bloody Butcher. I didn’t get to try a spirit made with that strain.
Despite my mixed experience with their
personnel, I leave Widow Jane with a happy buzz and an overall good impression
of their product. It’s my first of what will be three distillery visits in
Brooklyn that day.
The sunshine feels particularly warm on my face.
It’s a beautiful clear Saturday afternoon, following a couple days of storms. I’m
sure I am dawdling down the sidewalk, as I take in all the cool,
faux-industrial facades of businesses in the neighborhood. (A blacksmith? Really? Must be for all those horses you see clomping around Red Hook.) As much shit as people
may like to heap on Brooklyn for being over-hyped, passé, or simply too pricey,
it does have this one advantage. In the area where a housing project –with its
residents hanging out front, blasting music- bumps up against the trend set and
their fancy facial hair, nobody bats an eye at the white guy in a biker jacket and boots, not quite managing to
walk a straight line.
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