On Snobbery: A Case for Chasing the Perfect Whiskey Without Belittling Others

We all know the type... The vegan who won't stop yammering about kale. The CrossFit junkie that loves to tell you how many pull-ups they can do. The Looney Tunes character who enjoys ice baths or cold showers and extols their virtue to all who will listen—this one is me. Then there's the modern whiskey enthusiast, living in one of the best eras of American whiskey. Passionate to a fault, who just can't shut up about the latest bourbon craze—also me, for the record.

There is nothing wrong with having a hobby that you are deeply passionate about—it's when we endeavor to share that passion where we often need a reminder to have compassion.

In our day-to-day interactions, we are naturally drawn to those who we have something in common with. That might be taste in music, a common sports team, or the most fervent of conversations: a shared passion. There's nothing quite like the instant friendship that forms around communal excitement. You've found your people.

"Have you tried the latest Stagg Junior batch?"

"Yeah, they really fell off this past year, huh?"

"That's what I've been saying!"

Those two will undoubtedly have a long and lovely conversation. They'll exchange numbers or follow each other on Instagram and generally have a strong basis for understanding one another, even if their personal preferences differ slightly as the breadth of conversational topics widens. One of these characters from above might really love Wild Turkey but despise Jim Beam for their own deeply personal reasons. One might adore sherry finished whiskey for the uber-rich depth and sweetness it can potentially add to an already good base whiskey, the other might turn their nose at the word 'finished'. While they might disagree on these subtleties and occasionally poke friendly jabs at one another, I'm sure they'll never forget bonding over the 2024 slump in Stagg Junior quality. One of these personas might even have a successful social media presence, with an audience eager to hear the latest well-reasoned opinion. If you're here reading this, you can likely envision yourself in one of these roles. You're a whiskey enthusiast. Whatever your experience level, you're here because you have a passion for whiskey, so let's make sure we don't fall into some common pitfalls.

Not everybody is going to be just like us. We're not going to hit it off gangbusters with everyone we meet. It's how we handle ourselves when it's not infinite compatibility, commonality in opinion, and shared thoughts that truly define our ability to have human compassion—a character trait that seems to be dwindling towards the point of extinction in the world today.

Jim Beam vs. Wild Turkey—which do you prefer?

Take the example of the distillery disagreement; perhaps from the perspective of the character that just doesn't do Beam. They might have good reasons for that distaste: a long history of anticompetitive practices that mothballed great historical distilleries, a general distilling philosophy that shows preference toward quantity over quality, or conceivably just a personal taste preference that doesn't jive with what they see as sad, beige, peanut water bourbon. In fact, some of those decision points are pretty well-reasoned and even well documented from comparative tastings. My dear friend and mentor, Gregory Cloyd, offered his thoughts on the matter.

"Beam whiskey, even the 1960s older age statement Bonded Beam, just never appealed to my palate. Too thin, too harsh, and unbalanced. From WWII onward, their reputation was for inexpensive, widely available whiskey. Their PX contracts in WWII secured them broad worldwide exposure. Their model was mile-high column stills, rivers of cheap whiskey, and advertising. To top it all off, when that model crashed in the 1960s, rather than repenting and striving to make better bourbon, they chose to shut down the best of the old distilleries. Jim Beam, to me personally, represents all the worst characteristics of corporate greed, viewed through the prismatic lens of the bourbon industry. My palate, my purchases or lack thereof, my opinions… I simply cannot abide Jim Beam. Having opened and shared Pre-Prohibition Bonded Bourbon distilled by the actual master distiller, James Beam, I know that as late as 1910, James Beam was making beautiful, vibrant, complex, fragrant bourbon. The later choices by his heirs to pursue profit and proof gallons over quality are disappointing."

I happen to agree with a lot of what Greg said here. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this opinion, and having this stance isn't inherently snobbery—it's a result of years of research, palate calibration, and education. It's when this kind of passionate opinion meets someone celebrating or even enjoying the thing that the opinionated enthusiast dislikes most that restraint must be employed. Despite all the historical research that has gone into educating some of the most ardent whiskey enthusiasts, not everybody needs to take it to that level. Greg and I happen to have that calling: to seek out the best distilling practices and celebrate those whom we believe are employing those techniques today and throughout history. We'll readily share our findings with anyone curious enough to listen. Through several hard lessons, we've also learned that not everyone needs to hear it.

Vintage 1950s Beam coffee warmer decanter

Jim Beam is a massive distillery. There is no denying that there are a great number of people drinking their whiskey. The Beam hater might want to say to those folks, "No, you fool! Don't drink that swill. I can show you a thousand better whiskeys than that!" The only output of an interaction like this is a robbery of joy from both sides of the perspective. Negativity is already rampant enough in the news cycle and the general human condition in the post-pandemic world we've created. We're more divided than ever; the last thing we need right now is for our passions to also be divisive.

Think about what a snide comment in putting down someone's whiskey preference accomplishes for a moment. The enthusiast sipping and enjoying readily available whiskey is likely happy—a fleeting enough feeling in this day and age. We should instead celebrate anyone who is enjoying a whiskey they can afford; they can go out and re-buy a bottle with no hassle, and they ultimately might use it as a conversation starter for their next meaningful human connection. It's their version of the shared disappointment in Stagg Junior quality. Not everyone is on a mission to find the perfect whiskey—if ever there were such a thing. If that's your mission, as it is mine, then kudos to you. Do so without guilt—you're not a snob—but never forget to respect the journey of others along the way or you may just become one.

So, as I sit here, sipping and sniffing on a Wild Turkey Master's Keep 17 year bottled in bond bourbon, I'm keenly aware of just how lucky we all are. To be able to enjoy such a diverse array of options in the whiskey world, to savor the fruits of distilling labor that so many folks catapult into the market each year, is truly a blessing. And while I'm sitting here, marginally disappointed with a funky set of aromas that kind of smells like diapers, there's someone out there sipping on a tall glass of Jim Beam with a big smile on their face. So cheers to them and cheers to you, whichever path you choose.

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WRITTEN BY: NICK ANDERSON

With nearly a decade of sipping experience, Nick Anderson brings a well-calibrated palate to his profound passion for the whiskey industry. Beginning in Irish whiskey before expanding into bourbon, rye, and beyond, he has long been taking the ephemeral observation of unspoken enjoyment and translating it into meaningful words. He is the owner and primary long-winded whiskey writer for AmongstTheWhiskey.com, and he hopes you find resonance in the patient conveyance of an honest whiskey review.

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