Book Review: My Journey Into American Whiskey

My fascination with American whiskey extends beyond the simple pleasure of sipping a glass after a long day or sharing a pour with friends. While I thoroughly enjoy the sensory experience of whiskey, I am arguably more captivated by delving into its rich history. A deeper understanding of whiskey’s origins and evolution undoubtedly enhances the tasting experience. To cultivate this knowledge, I frequently turn to books, primarily those backed by established publishers, though I remain open to compelling self-published works.

My latest read, My Journey Into American Whiskey: The Essential Guide for the Social Drinker, is a self-published effort by Poppy Bruce Potash. Potash’s credentials immediately piqued my interest: He is a Certified Bourbon Steward through the Stave and Thief Society, and holds the titles of Master Taster and Blender at Trippy Goat Distillery in Beallsville, Maryland. However, what truly caught my attention was the author’s affiliation as a student and faculty member at Whiskey University. For those unfamiliar, Whiskey University is a tuition-based institution established in 2009, structured much like a preparatory, undergraduate, and graduate school, offering over 120 classes on American and world whiskey.

Prior to discovering this book, Poppy Bruce Potash was an unknown name to me. Yet, his role as a lecturer and faculty member at Whiskey University immediately suggested that My Journey Into American Whiskey warranted a thorough reading. Adding to its initial credibility, the foreword was penned by Craig Duncan, the president and founder of Whiskey University, who provided an openly glowing endorsement and recommendation for Potash’s work. Such a wholehearted endorsement from the head of a whiskey educational institution seemed a promising start for any book on American whiskey.

However, the initial promise of a well-researched and authoritative text began to unravel almost immediately. Preceding the foreword, on the copyright page, an intriguing disclaimer from the author states: “The information in this book is true and complete to the best of my knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author. The author disclaims all liability in connection with the use of this book.” This disclaimer, appearing as the reader’s very first encounter with the author’s voice, instantly eroded confidence. When engaging with non-fiction, readers inherently assume the author possesses a degree of mastery over the subject and that the information presented is accurate and verifiable. To be told outright that the author cannot truly vouch for the veracity of the information, going so far as to disclaim liability, immediately raised a red flag. Despite the glowing endorsement from Whiskey University’s president a few pages later, this disclaimer compelled me to question the trustworthiness of every subsequent claim.

Approaching every book with an anticipation of learning something new, I entered the prologue with cautious optimism, hoping the book would overcome its inauspicious start. Unfortunately, this optimism quickly diminished. The author included a photo of his father, purportedly taken in 1933 at the “end of Prohibition and near the end of the Depression.” This seemingly minor detail contained two significant historical inaccuracies. The Great Depression, which began on October 29, 1929, is largely considered to have ended between 1939 and 1941. A photo from 1933 is far closer to the beginning of the Depression, and certainly not near its conclusion. Furthermore, the peak of the Depression was in 1932-33, making the author’s assertion that it was “near the end” demonstrably false. While this might appear trivial, such a fundamental gaffe immediately led me to continue to question the author’s grasp of history and willingness to conduct adequate research.

The pattern of errors continued into the first chapter and persisted throughout the 91 pages. The phrase “American Whiskey” appeared countless times with “Whiskey” consistently capitalized. While seemingly nitpicky, this consistent capitalization of a common noun suggests either an unawareness of basic grammatical rules or a failure of editing software to correct the issue. This is a mistake I would unequivocally expect a Whiskey University faculty member to avoid. As I progressed, I encountered further instances of incorrect capitalization, such as “Whiskey Bars.”

Chapter four, discussing early American distilleries, continued to perpetuate inaccuracies. Potash repeats the romanticized claim that George Thorpe distilled the first corn whiskey in America in 1620. Historical records indicate Thorpe did indeed create an alcoholic beverage from corn, but it was far more likely akin to beer, not liquor. Thorpe’s 1634 estate inventory included a copper still, but his 1620 shipping manifest did not, indicating no evidence of a still in his possession around that earlier date.

Potash also states that Shenk’s Distillery, founded in 1753 in Shaefferstown, Pennsylvania, was the first distillery to hold a license. However, current historical records consistently show Laird’s brandy in Scobeyville, New Jersey, as the first distillery to be licensed in 1780. While Shenk’s may have been distilling whiskey since around 1753, Laird’s holds the distinction of being the first distillery registered with the government. Shenk’s might have been the first whiskey distillery to register in Pennsylvania, but not the first distillery in the United States. Many distilleries operated for years, even generations, before being required to register with the government, as exemplified by Laird and Company’s distilling origins dating back to 1698, but their registration not occurring until 1780.

Chapter four also includes an oddly placed “fact check” discussion concerning America’s name being derived from Amerigo Vespucci. Potash apparently felt compelled to note that the name “America” was first used around April 1507 on a map by German cartographer Martin Waldseemüller, and then bizarrely added that “states, U.S. and U.S.A. were not used until after 1776.” This tangent comes across as entirely out of place and irrelevant to the historical discussion of whiskey.

The book’s brief foray into the topic of the first bourbon distillers in Kentucky also contained a blatant misstatement. Potash asserts, “As you can see, almost every distillery claims to be the first in America.” This is patently false. While there is indeed debate surrounding who first distilled bourbon in Kentucky, very few existing distilleries claim to be the first in America. The creation of bourbon was a gradual process, not traceable to a single individual, and discussions of the first bourbon distiller typically revolve around a select few candidates like Elijah Craig, Jacob Spears, Joseph Davis, Evan Williams, and Wattie Boone.

The book’s discussion of Jim Beam delivers yet another demonstrable falsehood, showcasing a lack of thorough research and attention to detail. Just sentences after a self-aware suggestion to “Provide the following useless information to show off how smart you are,” Potash claims that “Jim Beam was one of only six distilleries authorized by the federal government to bottle and sell medicinal whiskey during Prohibition.” This is unequivocally incorrect. Aside from the fact that Old Tub wouldn’t be known as Jim Beam until 1935, the Beam family distilleries were not even among the six authorized to sell medicinal whiskey during Prohibition. The six companies with medical whiskey licenses were Brown-Forman, Frankfort Distillery, Glenmore Distillery, American Medicinal Spirits, Schenley, and Stitzel Distillery – a list readily available in numerous historical texts and easily discoverable via a simple online search.

Further demonstrating lazy research, the author states that George Washington began distilling whiskey at Mount Vernon in 1798. Both the book Founding Spirits and the official Mount Vernon webpage clearly indicate that whiskey distillation began in 1797. While only a one-year discrepancy, it clearly signals that the two most essential resources regarding George Washington’s distillery were not consulted.

In discussing Old Forester, Potash writes, “It was the first bourbon to be sold in bottles.” While I understand the underlying sentiment, this statement is not entirely accurate. Old Forester was the first bourbon to be sold exclusively in sealed glass bottles. However, whiskey had been sold in glass bottles, albeit less commonly and more expensively, for many years prior to Old Forester. The innovation of Old Forester was not the use of glass bottles, but the standardization of the practice with sealed glass bottles for quality control.

The inaccuracy of dates proves to be a consistent issue throughout the book. Potash states, “At the beginning of Prohibition, Samuel Bronfman and his brothers founded Seagram Company.” Prohibition went into effect in 1920, while the Bronfmans did not found Seagram until 1928. This seemingly minor detail, once again, erodes trust in the historical claims presented.

The author also inaccurately describes corn whiskey, stating it “is clear in color, unaged, and can be stored in anything that will hold the juice.” This is incorrect. While corn whiskey can certainly be an unaged, clear spirit, it is also frequently aged and can acquire color. Furthermore, it cannot be aged in “anything that will hold the juice.” If aged, corn whiskey must be matured in either used or uncharred oak containers, not new charred oak. The federal government’s standards of identity for corn whiskey are clearly defined, and the author’s description misses the mark.

The pervasive factual errors throughout the book are deeply concerning for any reader seeking to gain accurate knowledge. Even when the author happens to provide correct information, the sheer volume of inaccuracies casts a massive shadow of doubt. Instead of reading with the intention of learning from a trustworthy source, readers are forced into a constant state of fact-checking. My desire is to read a history book and confidently assume the information provided is correct.

Beyond the factual inaccuracies, the writing style itself lacks professionalism. The inclusion of generic scripts for home whiskey tastings and a potential tour guide script for Trippy Goat Distillery feels disjointed and adds to the overall discombobulation of the book.

I have read a significant number of books on American whiskey, encountering a few definitive duds along the way. While My Journey into American Whiskey is a short, self-published work, it would be easy to simply dismiss it as a wasted purchase and move on. However, I am profoundly disturbed by the fact that this book is authored by a faculty member of Whiskey University, and further bothered by the strong endorsement it received from the institution’s founder and president. Whiskey University, with its tuition-based educational programs, should, much like the Stave and Thief Society, represent a standard of education and knowledge within the whiskey world. The question that lingers is: Is this the level of educational quality offered for a fee by Whiskey University faculty? While Poppy Bruce Potash is just one faculty member, the fact that the founder and president of Whiskey University offered a wholehearted endorsement of this book raises significant concerns about the credibility and educational standards of the program itself.

D / $22 / [BUY IT NOW FROM AMAZON]

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