RYE
DAVIN DE KERGOMMEAUX
In whisky, old is the new ‘ new ’ Come with me on a journey of three
steps. We begin in a field of golden grain swaying rhythmically in the breeze. This is a classic Canadian farming image. Step two follows the grain as it is
shipped to a distillery. Once inside, in a third step, it ferments, is distilled and ages. In three short steps, grain has been
transformed into aqua vitae, the water of life, here in one of the great whisky nations in the world. Canadian whisky makers have known about these steps for centuries. Agriculture was well established
in Ontario when settlers began clearing ancient forests to convert them into productive fields of grain. Aboriginal peoples had already established farming practices, growing many crops that were well suited to the land, though unfamiliar to settlers arriving from Europe. One crop, maize, had been cultivated
for many millennia here in North America. Planted along with beans and squash in low heaps of soil, maize was the third of “three sisters”. Today, we know maize as corn.
When grown together, these sister plants support each other as they mature with an affinity for each other that only sisters understand. Although much Canadian whisky is
now made from corn, that wasn’t always the case. “Small grains,” especially wheat, dominated settlers’ fields, and these were used to make whisky. Those early settlers grew small
grains for a simple reason: Tradition. They preferred crops that were familiar, planting seeds they had brought with them from their homelands. Although the aboriginal population saw corn as valuable food, that’s not
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how farmers saw it. They considered European grains more productive and those early farmers began, first by growing rye grain because it thrived in poorly cultivated or recently broken soil. Rye grew tall and was easy to harvest by hand. As soon as rough land became tilled
fields, farmers would switch from rye to wheat. Wheat meant flour and familiar “old-country” bread-making. Most importantly for this story, the high starch content of the wheat meant it was easily fermented into beer and distilled into whisky. Joshua Booth was one of those
early farmers. He was a miller and a politician and he lived at Lot No. 40 near Millhaven, Ontario. He also made whisky. Seven generations later, his great-
great-great-great grandnephew, D. Michael Booth — a Hiram Walker distiller — revived this family tradition with a whisky he aptly named Lot No. 40.
Strictly speaking, Booth (the
Younger) did not follow a family recipe that had been passed down through the generations. In Booth Senior’s day, whisky was made from whatever grain was leftover after milling for flour, and that changed from harvest to harvest. Instead Booth (the Younger) looked back over Millhaven’s farming history and re-created an all-rye whisky, one that now plays its part in what is called today’s rye renaissance. Earlier this year, Whisky Advocate named it the best Canadian whisky of 2012. Unlike much of Canadian whisky today, Lot No. 40 contains no corn or wheat, but is made entirely from rye – 90% rye grain and 10% rye malt.
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