Bourbon's Ease Revealed: The True Challenge in Crafting Top-Shelf Whiskey

Back in 2012, Herman Mihalich spent enough late nights in his fledgling distillery that he had a routine. He killed time online and kept handy his trusty logbook, where he meticulously tracked recipes, times and temperatures.

The recent evenings were when everything started falling apart, an occurrence that was more frequent back then compared to today. Mihalich is the creator of Dad's Hat Rye , which today puts out more rye whiskey than any other distiller in Pennsylvania, a state that once defined the category.

Currently, Pennsylvania hasn't regained its former status, and rye continues to play second fiddle to bourbon, which largely defines American whiskey for most consumers. According to the industry association, approximately twenty times more bottles of bourbon are sold annually compared to rye. Distilled Spirits Council —though rye is growing faster from that lower base.

Mihalich is a zealous promoter of rye whiskey who has won over many admirers—their rye was my introduction to this spirit category. However, in the intricate interplay between supply and demand, rye faces an additional hurdle: for a cohort of younger distillers brought up on bourbon, crafting rye can be more challenging. This very difficulty is precisely what lends such uniqueness to rye whiskey.

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What Makes Rye Whiskey Challenging to Produce?

I’ve heard more than one distiller call rye whiskey a “sticky mess.” The grain’s higher protein and lower sugar content make the mash thicker, harder to pump and more prone to foaming during fermentation than corn-dominant bourbon.

As Pennsylvania’s famous rye whiskey labels changed hands among major distilling corporations, their recipes were altered. Both Michter’s (handled by Chatham Imports) and Rittenhouse Rye (managed by Heaven Hill) are currently produced in Kentucky using significant amounts of corn in their mash bills.

Making rye isn't more difficult than making bourbon; it's simply different," Mihalich states tactfully. When I shared this with a micro-distiller friend via text, his reply was: "Says the rye specialist!

Mihalich recalls those nocturnal mishaps from the start. The still would often overheat, leading to crust formation that insulated the mash. This made heat transfer exceedingly sluggish, causing him to wait for hours and spend even more time cleaning up afterward. Compared to corn and barley, rye needs much stricter temperature management.

Imagine you're cooking oatmeal too quickly," Mihalich explained to me. "A crust forms, and then everything stops working as it should.

For boutique distillers lacking sophisticated gear, the hurdles posed by rye become more pronounced. Using direct-fire heating, which is typical for smaller operations, increases the risk of burning the mash. Improper management of fermentation temperatures can result in messy foaming issues.

Mihalich, who trained as a chemical engineer and humorously refers to himself as a "tedious details person," swiftly refined his technique following some initial setbacks. Currently, he employs sophisticated equipment such as digital thermocouples and steam-heated stills, enabling meticulous management at each stage of production.

If proper temperature regulation isn't maintained," he explained, "you're likely to wind up with a gloppy, frothy disaster.

Why Then Would Distilleries Produce Rye Whiskey?

The intricate nature of rye whiskey—spanning both its manufacturing process and taste profile—is precisely what attracts distillers such as Mihalich. Offering a peppery and assertive contrast to bourbon, it carries a rich heritage closely tied to American customs. Prior to the Prohibition era, Pennsylvania was home to numerous licensed distilleries, many dedicated to crafting rye whiskey.

However, following the end of Prohibition, bourbon emerged as the dominant spirit. Various theories attempt to explain this shift. According to Mihalich, during the period when alcohol production was banned in America, inferior blended Canadian whiskies—which frequently used the term "rye" regardless of their minimal content—damaged rye’s standing within the country. When the whiskey sector eventually recovered years afterward, bourbon’s milder, sweeter character had attracted more consumer preference.

During the 18th and 19th centuries, farmers and distillers shared tips and recipes with one another. Though they were deficient in formal education and sophisticated equipment, they compensated through years of inherited wisdom.

Rye whiskey has simply lost steam," Mihalich stated. "The focus of both production and skill moved towards bourbon, which means that for someone starting out as a distiller today, bourbon might seem like the more secure choice.

However, this is precisely what makes rye whiskey so appealing—the hurdles it presents add character. When you take your next drink of rye, you're not only savoring the flavor of the grain but also experiencing the commitment of a distiller who accepted its eccentricities, harmonized its strong spices, and probably put in long hours refining the technique.

Mihalich puts it perfectly: "Rye ensures integrity. You can't take shortcuts with it."

That’s precisely why I have developed an even greater appreciation for it. Loving bourbon comes naturally—there’s no shame in that. However, rye whisky stands as the underdog, requiring extra attention from both the producer and the consumer. The additional effort is entirely worthwhile.

Related: After Sampling Countless Whiskies, This Inexpensive Rye Stands Out as the Absolute Best.