Christmastime is here. I don’t say that to be non-inclusive to those who don’t celebrate Christmas, but merely as a matter-of-fact statement that if you have any kind of public life in America, you’re going to see Christmas lights, Christmas Trees, and hear Christmas music in December.
I also find that the Christmas season brings about a lesser-talked about tradition that never fails to occur: the grousing of old men and women about music. At some point when a song like “Let it Snow” or “Silver Bells” comes on the radio, someone over the age of 75 will let out a long sigh. It’s a sound that usually means you’re going to held hostage while they pontificate about how much better “real” music used to be.
But give it a little time and the other shoe will drop. I’ve heard no shortage of screeds from Golden Agers and Boomers about the proliferation of young, un-American “ethnic-types” who can’t sing and can’t write good lyrics. And what’s more, almost all of these new artists are liberals, worse yet, and although they think they’re doing a whole world of good out there with their signs and banners, they have no idea they’re giving the keys of this country to the communists and other enemies of the state—and thank God they’ll be gone before they see the changes the youth is clamoring for.
In fact, it’s a lot like what some people thought about this guy:
Yes, Frank Sinatra.
So yes, Christmas time is here, and as I was putting ornaments on the tree, ‘Ol Blue Eyes came on the radio talk-singing “Mistletoe and Holly,” with such great nonsense lyrics like, “Oh by gosh, by jingle.” And I remembered that even Sinatra, legend that he is, faced anti-Italian prejudice and was vilified by more than a few for his (shock of shocks) progressive stances on Civil Rights reform.
Another fact about Sinatra: he was a pretty huge Jack Daniel’s fan, vocal enough that he was something of a sales driver back when they were—as unimaginable as it sounds today—kind of a lesser-known whiskey producer about a hundred miles outside of Kentucky. To honor Sinatra, Jack Daniels has the Sinatra Select, an ultra-fancy, ultra-upmarket version of their standard, square-bottled “Old No.7.”
Here’s the debate, and I’ll circle back around to it: the Sinatra Select, after tax, is about $150. It’s a one-liter bottle, which means you get a third more volume than usual, but it’s also about four times more money than the Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel Select, one of my personal favorite whiskeys—not just from JD, but from any other American producer. The distillery would say, most likely, that a lot of that price differential is due to their use of specialized “Sinatra casks” that have a different production and barrel char process. Sure.
“The question is not whether the Jack Daniel’s Sinatra Select is good, but whether it’s worth $150. It’s right on the line, but I think it is.”
I would argue a lot of the price point and packaging (including a tiny bound book about Sinatra you’ll feel bad about throwing away) is to differentiate the Sinatra Select as a very intentional and giftable luxury product. Something, perhaps, to share shelf space with Johnnie Walker Blue Label, Don Julio 1942, or Macallan 18: a bottle stately enough to attract prestige and attention, but not so fancy that the average working stiff can’t splurge on it. It’s designed for most people to take a glance at the exterior and at the very least understand it’s the good stuff when it comes out of a cabinet.
Unquestionably, the Sinatra Select obliterates the Old Number 7. If the standard, rack-grade “JD” is all you’ve ever had, and you taste the Sinatra, you’re likely to be bowled over by the quality increase. I’d also recommend giving a quick read of my JD Single Barrel Select review—again, I think it’s a fantastic whiskey—but in direct comparison I think the Sinatra Select edges it out.
Once again, the JD hallmarks are here. Don’t take the ride if you don’t like banana: it’s a core flavor to the distillery, and here it comes across in the nose and on the palate as a decadent bananas foster, caramelized sugar and all. The Sinatra Select has considerably more wood influence than the Single Barrel, but it’s never funky or over-oaked. The vanilla is more present, along with a really rich note of dark chocolate, and it’s a little more playful overall. At times, I felt like I was picking up on raspberry, mint, and rose water.
The finish on the Sinatra Select isn’t extraordinarily long, but it sits you down gently with a little bit of crackling barrel spice and some soft tannins. (And more of that wonderful baking chocolate.) Like many of the best spirits, there’s a little bit of a tease that makes you excited to get back on the ride again.
Again, most of what I love about the Single Barrel is present in the Sinatra Select, but the individual flavors become just a little more distinctive and multifaceted here; they’re easier to pick out and richer in their delivery. By that, I mean that if you sip the Sinatra Select looking for an individual note, like banana, or vanilla, or mint, Oh By Gosh, By Golly you’re going to find it. And, if you just want to take a sip and enjoy the moment you’re celebrating, they’ll all harmonize into a very satisfying and cohesive whole.
With all of that above in mind, I’ll admit I went into the Sinatra Select thinking it was all just a marketing gimmick. Now, though? I’ll say this: the honorific is remarkably apt. It’s true that I was negative-thirty years old when “I Get a Kick Out of You” was first released, but even I’m filled with a timeless, mature sense of world-weary calm when I hear Sinatra. His voice is unquestionably masculine, self-assured, and powerful, but he often touches on what makes life sweet and tender. Often, even silly.
And so it is with the Sinatra Select: it’s a masculine whiskey that isn’t afraid to show a sweet, soft, and approachable side. It’s strong and honeyed. It’s something I think a lot of people are going to like, which as I get older is really hard to see as a critical flaw of anything. The Sinatra Select is truly pop music—Christmas music, if you will—in liquid form.
So we’re back to the question of whether it’s worth it or not. I think it is, but let me be honest with you: it’s right on the line. To me, that was also the deliberation between two and three stars. I’m giving it the higher score because I really do enjoy it, and the price—at least in comparison to single malt scotches—is still within the realm of obtainability. And you know what? Sometimes a bottle like this, even when we know it’s past the point of diminishing returns, is exactly what we need to have ourselves a Merry Little Christmas.
