How America Fell in Love With Bourbon and Rye, Again

So much can change in 25 years. American whiskey’s trajectory in the past quarter-century has been nothing short of extraordinary. Although bourbon and rye were cornerstones of drinking culture from the 1800s up to Prohibition and beyond, whiskey’s dominance ended in the 1970s as baby boomers turned away from older generations’ preferences en masse. The decline lasted decades. In 1999, Kentucky distillers made fewer than 500,000 barrels of bourbon, and almost no rye.

The seeds for this growth had been planted in the preceding decades by producers who were visionary, desperate, or both.

And then, right as the new millennium dawned, something unexpected happened: Popular interest in whiskey started to bubble up, slightly reversing both sales and production numbers for a few years before really taking off around 2006. The seeds for this growth had been planted in the preceding decades by producers who were visionary, desperate, or both.

Spirits expert F. Paul Pacult, who has been writing about the industry for nearly 40 years, points to the 1984 debut of Blanton’s, the first commercial single-barrel bourbon, and Jim Beam’s 1990s Small Batch Collection launch as seminal moments, though it took until the mid-to-late ’90s to see an effect in the market. “Those two events turned the tide, along with the early 21st-century emergence of Pappy Van Winkle whiskeys produced at Buffalo Trace Distillery,” he says. “Suddenly consumers saw that America could make some pretty good whiskey. By 2005, the American whiskey industry was in ‘full speed ahead’ mode as hundreds of craft distillers came online and expanded the conversation.”

It was the end of the “glut era,” when bottlers like Julian Van Winkle were able to snatch up well-aged whiskey for a song, and sell it for not much more. But it was also the beginning of the premiumization trend, as bourbon distillers began putting out higher-end offerings, many hoping to emulate the success of single malt scotch. In 2000, Buffalo Trace Distillery introduced the Antique Collection, which would go on to become some of the hottest whiskeys ever made. Over the next few years, other distilleries followed suit with their own limited-edition and exclusive products.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the change in bartending goes right along-side American whiskey.”—Bruce Russell

At the same time, the rediscovery of classic cocktails, so many of which rely on bourbon and rye, helped drive both case sales and deeper interest in the trade. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the change in bartending goes right along-side American whiskey,” says Bruce Russell, associate master blender at Wild Turkey. The fortunes of rye, in particular, hinged on the embrace of the cocktail movement. In the early 2000s, Wild Turkey was one of just a few Kentucky distilleries making tiny amounts of rye, mainly for the on-premise. But as bartenders clamored for the spirit, production increased and consumers began to catch on more widely. “We used to do two runs of rye a year,” Russell says. “Now we’re doing multiple days every single month. It’s the number-one most requested product when we go on the road outside the U.S.”

Bourbon and rye were finding a voice in popular culture, too, in TV shows like Mad Men and Justified and with figures like Anthony Bourdain, who sang the praises of Pappy Van Winkle. The increasingly accessible internet, with its message boards, blogs, and social media, made both information and fellow hobbyists easy to find, helping transform whiskey from a simple drink to a dedicated pastime. In the early 2010s, bars focused specifically on American whiskey sprouted up to cater to the growing body of drinkers, including New York City’s Idle Hands in 2010.

“It was kind of the beginning of a perfect storm,” recalls co-founder Rob Morton. Idle Hands’ approach was motivated by personal interest, rather than a clever strategy, but it became emblematic of the zeitgeist. “I just liked bourbon and wanted to know more about it, and I figured there were more people like me,” Morton says. “I was actively going out and learning and tasting and buying bottles because I wanted to. And it just so happened that the timing was right and there were other people out there that wanted to do it as well.”

From the late aughts to the mid-2010s, “dusty hunters” combed liquor stores for old, unwanted bottles of whiskey, each one a window into forgotten bourbon heritage. At the same time, craft distilleries were opening by the dozen; while many sought to revive older whiskey traditions, others forged ahead with new and experimental techniques and styles. None presented a threat to the longstanding producers, but it was clear that the establishment took them seriously, with the likes of William Grant & Sons, Moët Hennessy, Campari, and others acquiring craft whiskey distilleries across the country in the 2010s. The big Kentucky distillers all undertook expansion projects, often touting increased ability to experiment and create niche products, the better to ride the wave of consumer excitement for innovation.

Even companies that didn’t distill wanted in on the whiskey boom.

Even companies that didn’t distill wanted in on the whiskey boom. Many brands launched by bottling well-aged whiskey purchased from a big distillery—sometimes a Kentucky stalwart, but often the Lawrenceburg, Indiana, plant owned by Midwest Grain Products (MGP). As aged stocks depleted, companies entered into contracts with facilities purpose-built to serve non-distiller producers. Some brands were transparent about not making their own whiskey. Others sought to obfuscate and were met with backlash from an increasingly educated consumer base, especially when charging prices that appeared unfairly high.

But bourbon and rye prices across the board were rising, a response to simple supply-and-demand dynamics, complicated by the clamor for limited-edition products. This is when “allocation” entered the common lexicon. The unregulated secondary market saw drinkers buying in-demand bottles from strangers over the internet, which came with risks: Sometimes these whiskeys were “flipped”—bought at suggested retail price and sold for much more; other times they were outright fraudulent.

Whiskey tourism boomed, with the Kentucky Bourbon Trail—which started with just seven stops in 1999—boasting 60 by 2025. Distilleries began offering a wide array of experiences: insider tours, on-site cocktail bars and restaurants, bottle-your-own tastings, and more. Master distillers, blenders, and brand ambassadors—many of them ex-bartenders—took it on the road, becoming a fixture of the whiskey show circuit and leading tastings for a growing number of clubs.

Across the industry, two decades of growth and excitement, unmitigated even by the pandemic, led to more bourbon being made than ever before. In 2025, 16.1 million barrels of it rested in Kentucky warehouses. And in the same year, sales of American whiskey declined by $46 million. It’s now widely accepted that there is an excess of supply, and producers are scrambling to course-correct. The results of their efforts will take years to play out, but for now, whiskey drinkers—who are still a large and thirsty demographic—can find more, and better, options than ever before, from high-proof single-barrel bourbons to heritage grain ryes and a growing array of single malts. No matter what, the next 25 years of American whiskey should taste very good indeed.

How do you take your Mint Julep? With a whiskey from the Buffalo Trace Antique Collection (below), or something taken fresh from the barrel at Wild Turkey by master distiller Eddie Russell (right) and his son (and associate master blender) Bruce?

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