You only need to read the names beneath the glowing accolades on the back of Whisk(e)y Distilled, to understand Heather Greene’s arc in the great narrative canon of whiskey lore. At the top, Anthony Bourdain, below him Jim Meehan, then Eric Ripert, and finally Nick Offerman all offering glowing reviews of Greene’s deep grok of the magic and science of distillation.
All American Whiskey recently enjoyed a tasting of Milam & Greene’s newest offering, Unabridged, on the day it was released with Heather Greene at Chicago’s premiere craft cocktail club, The Violet Hour. And I’m just gonna tell you now, right up front, I was fan boying hard as we strolled into the club. The Violet Hour was ground zero for the speakeasy revival and though I’ve been there a couple times, it never gets old. Just a short walk from the Blue Line stop at Damen at five in the afternoon on a Wednesday there’s a long wall. This wall, the side of a building, is unadorned by anything but gorgeous graffiti and a porch light. There might be some people in line, inexplicably if this is your first time, since there’s no door. Except, yes there is. It opens right out of the graffiti, magically, and a couple people disappear into the dark interior.
Once inside you get the feeling you’re in the vestibule of the construction site for a mysterious lair. Then the maitre’d asks for your name. Then you are ushered into the club and there you are in a legendary space, dimly lit, with alcove chairs clustered together, lining the walls. Off to one side is a bar with more spirits than a liquor store and a couple of bartenders working with the silent care of determined alchemists.
But that’s just details. That’s just set and setting. We were ushered into the back room by the fireplace and given our samples of Unabridged then Greene gave her schpiel and her true self was revealed cause here’s the thing about Heather Greene: she’s a storyteller.
That’s one of those snap hacks writers use on instagram or in Buzzfeed articles far more than is called for. Not every craftsman is a storyteller and usually the deployment of this bon mot is merely to signal to the reader that storytelling will ensue. But in this case I am dead serious. Greene is an unassuming person. She is confident, but not brash. She’s encyclopedic, but not pedantic. She’s an easy conversationalist, witty, and quick to slip into nerdish, joyous talking-with-her-hands excitement. As Greene talks, her demeanor deepens and like any great storyteller, she disappears into the text.
The story she’s telling with words at the Violet Hour is about the story she tells through whiskey back in Texas. There are moments when she seems to forget we’re even in the room. Her enthusiasm for the source material for her whiskies takes over a little and her true nerd soul shines through.
It isn’t a stretch to look at Milam & Greene’s production history, of Greene’s work as a blender, in the same way you view the work of an emerging novelist. The Triple Cask, Port Cask, and Single Barrel expressions are the brilliant debut work of a writer exploring their voice. They are short stories. Novellas. Brilliant encapsulations of a talent one should perhaps pay attention to. Academia loves them. Their peers fall all over themselves to get a look at the manuscript.
Then the first novel, their Small Batch Bourbon. Greene pulled together 75 barrels to write this book and like a first novel, this is the one with everything in it. The first real book from a storyteller absolutely enchanted by the craft, lost in it, rambling and poetic–the kind of work that grabs your mind in one hand and your heart in the other and knots them together in a way you can’t explain.
But Unabridged is the sophomore effort that exceeds the promises and mastery of Greene’s earlier work. Unabridged stands on the foundational wonder of the previous text and frankly outshines it. The author has honed her craft. She remains enchanted, and of course she is lost in the landscape of discovery as she pulls together 56 barrels. But she is also seasoned, not only in the craft (Greene was already a master when she founded Milam & Greene) but in her own expression, her oeuvre. Where Small Batch roamed and wandered, Unabridged tracks the plot of the story with precision, with incredible style and grace.
At the Violet Hour there’s a moment where Greene has been explaining her method, the adventure of finding those barrels, and she’s utterly consumed in it, the whole room in the palm of her hand, leaning into the story, when she stops and looks up and laughs and says “Wait, where was I again?” as if she’s slightly embarrassed about losing the thread. But the room, all of us, leap into the moment to reassure her we’re right there with her. To get back to the story. To keep going.
Heather Greene is a storyteller. If you have the exceedingly rare opportunity to enjoy Unabridged, savor it like you would deeply rewarding prose. Let it get into you. Memorize the best parts. Compare it to the classics. Like the people in that room your immediate hope, the response you have to this whiskey is to nod toward its author and tell her write more, to bring us back into the literature of her blending; to keep going.
Which whiskey should I drink when I finally meet Heather Greene? Jesus Mash Bill Christ, man—isn’t it obvious?
