There’s a lot of dialog surrounding nepo babies right now. I think it’s getting harder and harder for the little guy to “make it” in these trying times, and so fair or not, we’re putting targets on the backs of celebrity children and raising questions about whether their success was well and truly earned.
Is it likely that Kylie Jenner would have started a cosmetics empire without her celebrity family? Probably not. Would Chet Haze need to get a real job if his dad weren’t Tom Hanks? Absolutely. But does the nepo baby connection invalidate Jamie Lee Curtis’ acting accomplishments? I don’t think so. I think more often than not, the notion of unearned opportunity or celebrity favoritism is a balm that distracts us from our own shortcomings when it comes to mastering our own destinies.
But let’s say that you’re a guy named Elie Ferrand, and you’re the tenth Elie Ferrand in the family to make Cognac. Those are some big shoes to fill. Sure, you’re getting the job because you’re the next generation of Elie Ferrand, but you’re walking around in a name that’s older than you by a good 400 years. You better not screw this up!
Perhaps the reason why Pierre Ferrand’s “10 Generations” is so good is simply because it has to be. If Elie #10 decided he wanted to do blow in the corner office and let the bean counters put out something underwhelming, it’s entirely possible that a scourge of undead Elie Ferrands would climb out of their graves and seek revenge on the one who besmirched their name.
That's a lot of Elies.
To paraphrase a Dennis Miller bit, Elie Ferrand’s father probably loved him, and his grandfather probably thought well of him in the time they got to know one another. But Elie Ferrand’s great great great grandfather? That dude doesn’t give a shit: he’ll haunt this newest kid for sure if he thinks it’s warranted.
“The 10 Generations shows the value you can get from Cognac if you don’t spend your money with the Big Four. The 10 Generations gives you more for $50 than you’ll get just about anywhere.”
So what makes 10 Generations so good? There are a few things I think are very smart choices here that all work in tandem with one another.
The first is the strength. Normally, you’re going to find cognacs at the traditional 80 proof. The 10 Generations, however, clocks in at 96 proof (i.e., 46% ABV), which is about where most experts tend to agree is a good sign of quality and intention to create a craft spirit rather than a mass-market one (more on this in a future article). Beloved scotch whisky godfather Ralfy has apparently coined bottles that meet these and a few other criteria as “integrity” malts.
Couple this with the fact that cognacs often swim very well when given water or ice, whereas most scotches—for reasons I am still unpacking—tend to become a little weak and muted. With the added muscularity from the higher proof, the 10 Generations opens up given a little saturation without sacrificing presence, mouthfeel, or flavor.
And while we don’t get an age statement (not uncommon for any Cognac, really), we do know that they’ve used “grand cru” Ugni Blanc grapes and have aged a portion (I’ve read 20%) of the cognac in Sauternes barrels, which imparts additional sophistication and sweetness. There are nods here towards quality that, again, are perhaps unnecessary from a sales or marketing perspective, but are doubtless making for a better product.
Blah, blah, blah: Historical context and production notes. How does it taste?
From start to finish, you’ll find that the 10 Generations is almost the perfect example of what I might term “approachable depth.” This seems like an invitation to wax poetically here, but what I mean is that you’ll have several crowd-pleasing elements in either the aroma, taste, or finish, with something just a little more adult and unexpected to add intrigue.
For example, the nose is gonzo with baked apples, comforting spices, and candied fruit. But, there’s also something floral on the level of dried flowers—I found it evocative of other aspects of my grandma’s house beyond what I knew was cooking in the oven. At the same time, the cognac keeps the band playing through an apple tart arrival, becoming a little more brooding as those familiar tastes transition to boozy pears. But running parallel to those sweet notes: cedar? Nutmeg? Something earthy and woodsy ensures the sweetness is never cloying.
Then, on the finish, we feel again like an adult able to appreciate good things. All of that sweetness becomes a little drier—not in a “Pack it up, boys: the fun’s over” kind of way, but more akin to the appreciation I have for a good Negroni, where I like the pucker and mouthfeel of the way that a good amaro interfaces with sweet vermouth. Here, there’s a pleasing bitterness on the sides of the tongue, along with some white pepper and raw almond. As I’ve mentioned with the very best spirits, there’s the unmistakable feeling of wanting to get back on the ride. Responsibly, of course. Again, very buttoned up. Very adult.
Ferrand’s 10 Generations is another one of those spirits that really shows the value you can get from Cognac if you don’t spend your money with the “Big Four.” Not to say that Hennessy, Martell, Courvoisier, or Remy Martin aren’t capable of making a stupendous cognac, but you’re going to pay $100+ to see what they deliver once they take a serious “at bat” in the late innings with the game on the line. Conversely, the 10 Generations is bringing it, and again giving you more for $50 than you’ll get with just about any randomized single malt scotch or bourbon at that same price point.
I’ll also credit the 10 Generations with carving out its own lane. Previously, I had grown enamored with Cognac that embraced a fruity, spritely youthfulness, as well as those cognacs that leaned into total luxury and decadence—the kind that made you feel like you were drinking the most comfortable leather couch you’ve ever sank into.
This is an altogether new thing for me. It’s somewhere between youth and decadence. It’s a little stronger and bolder than what I’m used to; a little more honeyed and fruity than your typical XO, but also more commanding than your typical VS or VSOP. It’s really got the whole “velvet fist” thing down pat, and I’m fully on board.
So rest easy, Elie Ferrand number ten. You might be a nepo baby, but this effort is far better than just keeping your hand on the wheel. Just know that what you and the boys have done here is going to make it that much harder for Elie Ferrand #11 when he gets to be your age, at which point he’ll find himself saddled with finding an altogether new way to produce something excellent.
