Boozehound - Jason Wilson [8]
Pacult believes we’re currently entering a “golden age of spirits” and that spirits are poised at a similar place in the public’s consciousness as wine was in the early 1980s. “I think it’s been a natural progression,” he said. “As our collective palate has grown, suddenly we needed more challenge. And spirits are a bigger challenge. From a critical standpoint, spirits, especially when you’re tasting ones that have 40 percent alcohol or more, are not easy things to break down.”
After finishing our ice water, we went up to his office, where his wife Sue had laid out our morning tasting on white paper. That day, we were to taste three cognacs from Martell: Cordon Bleu ($85); XO ($129); and Creation Grand Extra ($299). Pacult only tastes in the morning, usually beginning around 8:30, and will never taste more than eight spirits in a session. He uses a spittoon and rarely swallows. This surprised me—up until that point, spitting had run completely counter to my own tasting strategies.
As he opened a template for his next issue of Spirits Journal on the computer, he said, “It would be the easiest thing in the world to become a complete lush. But I’m remarkably abstemious. It’s crucial to our industry, because spirits are already more negatively viewed. At the drop of a hat, temperance and Prohibition could all be back again. In America, things can tip just like that.”
We sat together in desk chairs in front of the computer and went through his methodology. First, appearance. We held our glasses up to the light. “Now, this to me is a burnished orange. Topaz,” Pacult said of the Cordon Bleu. “This has impeccable purity.” Pacult writes his newsletters as he tastes, and he said these immediate reactions generally stand as his reviews. For Cordon Bleu, he typed, “topaz” and “impeccable purity.”
Next, he held up the XO. “Oh my, is that sediment?” He frowned. “Oh, my, my, my. That’s a shame. I love Martell, but it is what it is.” He typed, “Pretty chestnut color is marred somewhat by floating debris.” Pacult was similarly crestfallen at a bit of sediment in the Creation Grand Extra. Only upon a third inspection could I see a speck of sediment. “Look,” he said, “no one would ever notice this except for a maniac like me.”
Smell came next, the sense that Pacult insisted is the most important in experiencing spirits. We started again with the Cordon Bleu. “Mmm. First whiff gives me nuts,” he said. “Next, I smell dried flowers, almost like in a yearbook.” He typed, “Sophisticated scent, mature.”
We smelled the XO and Pacult said he got “pears, grapes, and an oily, buttery scent” on this first whiff. And then “cherries, dried strawberry, white chocolate, and prunes.” He typed, “Mature yet owns the promise of youthfulness.”
By now, I was playing along, and said that I was smelling dates. “Dates!” Pacult shouted and typed, “My friend Jason who’s tasting with me says ‘dates.’ ”
Finally, we got to actually tasting the three cognacs. Pacult took the glass of Cordon Bleu, sipped, rolled it around in his mouth a little, and spit. I took a sip and swallowed. He rubbed his hands together, moaning in ecstasy. “Sexy, sexy stuff. I have to say, I would bathe in Cordon Bleu if I could afford it.” He typed, “Slow, languid … with a prune/raisin flavor that’s silky and rich.”
Next was the XO. “This spirit is a little prickly,” he said. “I like that. This is not Mountain Dew. This is supposed to have a little kickback.” He took another sip, rolled it on his tongue, and spit. “It