The story is that my family—specifically, my great-grandfather Isaac—hailed from Russia. You wouldn’t know it from my surname, which is in no way Russian and can be found on 19th century ship manifests bound from England or points along the Caribbean.
Which could suggest that I am in fact descended from pirates (Isaac = “Aye-Jack”?), but alas it is vodka not rum that stirs my soul. Russian it is.
It is perhaps fitting that vodka, also purportedly from Russia, has had the same fate as my family name in the 20th century: its origins have been obscured to make it more palatable for American tastes.
An Immigrant Story
Isaac had reasons to assimilate. He was Jewish for one. And his bygone last name was probably an unpronounceable pileup of guttural consonants and syllables. So he recast himself as a pirate, married an Irish Catholic, and threw everyone off his scent. So the story goes.
Vodka shouldn’t have such identity issues. And yet in the U.S., vodka is officially defined as a neutral spirit "without distinctive character, aroma, taste or color."
Vodka’s job then was to mix well without making a fuss. Be smooth beyond all else. Agreeable. Whether made with beets, potatoes, wheat or corn, it's all the same.
It is perhaps fitting that vodka, also purportedly from Russia, has had the same fate as my family name in the 20th century: its origins have been obscured to make it more palatable for American tastes.
An Immigrant Story
Isaac had reasons to assimilate. He was Jewish for one. And his bygone last name was probably an unpronounceable pileup of guttural consonants and syllables. So he recast himself as a pirate, married an Irish Catholic, and threw everyone off his scent. So the story goes.
Vodka shouldn’t have such identity issues. And yet in the U.S., vodka is officially defined as a neutral spirit "without distinctive character, aroma, taste or color."
Vodka’s job then was to mix well without making a fuss. Be smooth beyond all else. Agreeable. Whether made with beets, potatoes, wheat or corn, it's all the same.
But of course vodka does have taste and it can be quite distinctive. So what gives?
The Great Melting Pot
In recent years, vodka makers have rediscovered the ancient art of pot distilling. In contrast to the column distilling process, pot distilling is very hands-on. Any industrial ethanol producer can make no-frills vodka by the megaton with column stills.
But making small-batch vodka by a pot still takes an artisan. The process is much like that of crafting a single malt or cognac. The source material matters because you’re going to taste it in the final product. So the wheat (Ketel One), corn (Tito’s), or grapes (Ciroc) you are using had better be good. Which brings us to...
Belvedere Intense Unfiltered
The first adjective intrigued me; I’m not one to favor quiet spirits. The latter frightened me; if it’s not filtered, won’t it be ghastly?
Happily, it is not. Which is a bit shocking. Unfiltered here actually means the vodka is not filtered. And that has made me question all the bluster about filtering out the “impurities” of vodka. Turns out, those impurities hold the flavor. In the case of BIU, the zesty rye really shines with a touch of almond that hits you on the upper palate.
Most surprising, there is no burn. It is in fact downright smooth. If anything, I thought the filtration process was meant to mitigate/eliminate the burn. Not so apparently.
Belvedere Intense Unfiltered is not for everyone. The intense bit can wear out its welcome. And at $30+ a bottle, it’s not for mixing with cranberry. But it is one of the most interesting straight-up vodkas I’ve tasted, one that is certainly not shy about showing you what it’s made of.
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