Do you remember back in the late 2000s when comedy had that “random” phase? The kind of oddball, madcap humor where comedians like Zack Galafanakis and animated shows like Aqua Teen Hunger Force and Spongebob Squarepants strode like giants across the land?
Let me pause for just a minute, because I don’t want to be misinterpreted: I do think ATHF and Zack Galafanakis are funny. What I certainly don’t miss is the second wave that followed the trendsetters, where instead of writing a joke you could just make someone’s neighbor a goldfish, and maybe suddenly someone’s hair catches on fire in the middle of them talking, or a stand-up comic would just take a moment to read names from the phone book.
“Wow,” went the audience refrain. “That’s so random.”
Random can be a fun ride when it’s done right. When it’s done wrong, I feel like I’m doing someone’s homework for them—like I’m being asked to invest a level of emotion or effort into something to establish a sense of coherence that wasn’t ever part of the original design plan.
And so we come to the Del Bac Dorado, which is basically as close to liquid random as I’ve ever personally experienced.
“Juicy citrus, intriguing meatiness, and mesquite smoke are highlights in the Del Bac Dorado, though there’s a host of other flavors that make for a weird overall experience. ”
In terms of the craft on offer, Del Bac knows what it’s doing. The Dorado is essentially an American Single Malt made very, very similarly to a peated Scotch. Del Bac malts and smokes barley over mesquite wood, then distills the mash in a copper pot. Reading around online, the Del Bac is aged (charitably) for a little less than a year and a half in virgin oak, with the new oak attempting to provide some rapid wood interaction to compensate for the lack of time it spends in the cask. We’ll come back to this later.
When it’s at its best, Del Bac is a representative example of what the “American Single Malt” category has to offer: a lot of shit you’ve never had or tasted before. The Dorado is self-consciously styled to be a Scotch-like whiskey that tries to bottle the terroir of the American Southwest, and I think in this they’re partially successful. Throughout the whiskey is definitely a smokey, BBQ-like note that you’ll find in very few other whiskeys, and it doesn’t drink nearly as harsh as I would have imagined given its youth.
At its worst, the Dorado leans a little too heavy into what’s kind of the unofficial mantra of American Single Malts, collectively: “We can’t give you good, but we can give you strange.” While I’ve teased out some individual flavors in the final graphic (as usual), I can say that basically, there are four “lanes” of flavors and aromas that don’t ever feel like they fully gel. Those are as follows:
BBQ
Mint and herbal freshness
Citrus
Industrial solvents
When some combinations of the four play nicely, it’s a treat: “Oh, hey: this tastes like I’m biting into a grilled orange!” or, “This reminds me of rib glaze!” But when they fall apart, you get outcomes like “Minty rubber glove,” or “black bean soap.” At the same time, the spirit becomes progressively more ashier and tannic with every sip.
If you’ve ever had a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, you might recall that the first knurled hunk of your processed carb snack is just a little hot, but really no big deal. But by the end of the bag, you’re dying. Similarly, by the end of my 1.5oz pour of the Dorado, I could tell you that my mouth felt dry and like I’d smoked a few cigarettes.
For better or for worse, I’d argue the Dorado is very much the sum of its production inputs. Once again, I’m not sold on the “Age it fast, but that won’t matter if we use virgin oak” approach Del Bac is taking. I think some of the rubbery off-notes are a direct result of this stuff being extremely young, and the tannic, suck-all-the-moisture-out-of-your-mouth phenomenon is probably due to the cask choice.
At times, the juicy citrus, intriguing meatiness, and mesquite smoke are novelties that provide enough justification to take the ride. It’s all of the other stuff that occasionally whips you across the face and makes the whole experience kind of weird.
I’ll reiterate that the Del Bac Dorado isn’t a bad spirit, and someone out there will really dig this stuff. The faults and off-notes weren’t so extreme that I was ever tempted to dump it down the sink. I was able to hang with it and even enjoyed myself at times. However, at $60 per bottle, I’m not in a rush to replicate my experience. The last 100ml will probably go into a smaller bottle for any friend tempted to take the ride.
