Ah spring is upon us. The crisp sweet air redolent with bluebell that middle manager bourbon chasers love to inhale before asking “BUT SERIOUSLY WHATS IN THE BACK.”
The BTAC line is truly an evergreen product, unlike treasury bonds or Silicon Bank stocks, they remain unopened, unrealized and perpetually sough by dudes with thinning hairlines who tuck Underarmor polos into Merona shorts.
Thomas Handy is the youngest, the “cheapest”, the least approachable, and most importantly, looks the least important on some Living Spaces cabinet in a Man Cave. This is a cask rye for a guy whose friend “lets him use his cabin.” It is a blast of Sunmaid Raisin Bread for the entitled couple who gives you a house tour and mutters “they helped with the down” and then loudly “BUT WE PAY THE MORTGAGE.”
This is that Marvin Gardens of the BTAC lineup, not god tier, but quite the deal for what you receive. This is also the first year they implemented the anti-theft chip under the tiny Sazerac house, so 9 years from now when someone opens this, you didn’t sell them some stepped on rye. New Cask City, naked bourbon bros in aprons reapplying foil toppers, white powder on their pale alabaster butt cheeks.
This is presents a haymaker of nutmeg, the obligatory Hot Tamales, and a kiss of fennel on the collarbone. At $700 a bottle it’s not worth it, but it comes the closest that BTAC ever does.
Pomology is a disciplined obsessed with the reconstruction of fruits and nuts. That consistent Thomas Handy raisinette character is tucked in this type of compulsive behavior. Every year, at huge cost, Honeybee, Jazz, Opal, and THH always make their way to market, only to be overlooked.
The bottle this year is extremely good and provides more marble bread and spice than I remember, but it’s always the Yoshi of BTAC. Taking Ozempic, slimming down, vying for the WLW and GTS shred, casky vascularity, that ropey rye aesthetic.
YOU DON’T SEE THESE EVERY DAY, he quipped as he takes THH out of your hands, back on the sad landlocked shelf, HERE ENJOY THE GOOD STUFF, pours you some Willett Pot Still, IF JESSICA KNEW WHAT I SPEND ON SPORTS CARD BOX BREAKS WE WOULDN’T BE SITTING HERE NOW-