Barrell Seagrass is pushing the limits of finishing casks

Just make sure my rye don’t taste like rye

There’s this old bromide that goes “never yuck someone else’s yum” and if you like Seagrass Rye, please, don’t let me yuck on your yum. In most cases, secondary or finishing casking sets my bullshit alarms off. Four different types of finishing casks shoots me into the suspicion stratosphere.

This looks like a very young rye from undisclosed distilleries in Indiana, Tennessee, Canada, anywhere but Kentucky. The chin scratching intensifies. I am a huge fan of Barrell and since they dropped they offer some high age statements without hype, no allocation, just good stuff at a reasonable [ relative to secondary ] price.

With rye, I usually just want transparency and age. I almost never want finishing in both Martinique Rhum Agricole casks, apricot brandy casks, and Madeira barrels as a rule of thumb. But is it good?

First you will need to sift through so many piles of hard candies, dots, geriatric red raspberry dollars, spun sugar, and an almost saltwater taffy aspect. It doesn’t feel like rye, it aligns like that sweet corn pops waft from the shiny aluminum bag.

The rye is present in the taste but the crisp mint and eucalyptus is weirdly covered in confectioner’s sugar. Try chewing Wrigley’s wintergreen and juicy fruit at the same time. People who like this listen to The Antlers and Mount Eerie and brag about not owning a TV.

This feels novel and strange for a strictly wheelie sense. If E.H. Taylor released this it would come with a 14 page PDF explaining some nonsense mythology about how an antebellum past distillery owner was sipping apricot brandy and madeira or something and it would sell for $3200. The end result feels cloying and strange, like when people Snapchat themselves going through the car wash. Who is the intended audience here.

If you like that sticky sweet airhead flavor with your herbal disgestif, here you go. It’s thin, it’s young, it has #wanderlust in its IG bio with city > codes > like anyone cares where you used to live.

At least it feels novel and classy, but maybe not to the usual bourbon bro who looks like he was just released from spending time inside of a Jumanji board game.

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