"Um, wrong number"

Next to the distilling equipment arriving, the most exciting day of our young corporate existence was the day we got the phones hooked up. The company had gone from concept to reality: We had arrived. We plugged in our radio shack cordless phones with the excitement of a six year old plugging in the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. “Good thing we got two of these things,” Dave noted with a tone of relief, “Would just be too crazy putting people on hold all the time.” I wondered who our first caller would be, and I pictured myself like a young boiler room broker yelling incoming liquor orders across the floor at Dave as the phones went crazy, “RECCO!!!!”. It didn’t really occur to us back then that the Still wasn’t even hooked up, and that we had not yet started marketing ourselves. But the funny thing is, we actually got a lot of calls. They were just ALL the wrong number. Sometimes they were looking for “Luke”, other times “Maria”. Luckily, the confusion was cleared up quickly because the person on the other line rarely spoke any English. “Sorry wrong number”, I’d say, and hang up / fight back tears of self pity. It was like being called the wrong name by your gym teacher during the third month of school. So demoralizing. Well flash forward 4 months, and I can say all this with a laugh and a shrug because we have just received our first couple orders. We’re on our way! The second phone is still not ringing though, so please give us a call, and let me know if you need the number.

Here are a few of the places now carrying us. We'll be updating the list periodically. Please ask for us at your local establishment early and often:

Restaurant/Bars: Island Creek Oyster Bar, Stella, Four Seasons Bristol Lounge (starting in July), L'espalier, Hungry Mother, Savin Bar and Kitchen, Pettite Robert (South End and Needham).

Liquor Stores: Urban Grape (Newton), Liquor Land (South End), Wine and Cheese Cask (Sommerville).

Distillery Olympics

The greatest tangential benefit of starting a distillery is the massive amount of exercise you get moving the raw material around – barrels, molasses, wheat, water. Our daily routine is akin to ESPN 2 “Strongest Man in the World” competition…if the competitors were weak and had hair. We usually kick things off around 7 AM with some hydration and light stretching. Because there is no air conditioning, and the equipment is scalding hot, temps are already in the eighties, so it’s important to maintain strong fluid intake. The first event is usually the “Pallet Jack Haul”. This involves hauling 2,500 lbs of water all 80 feet of the distillery to pump into the mash tank. Incredible quad work out because you’re doing this walking backwards. The “Pallet Jack Haul” is akin to the “Tractor Trailor Haul” that Lou Ferigno won in 1983. We haven’t been keeping records, but I did notice Dave looking at his watch while I was doing my haul this morning (we haven’t discussed this yet).

Next event is the 25 gallon “hoist”. This is actually a team event, which I learned the hard way (I tried doing it alone and doused myself in 160 proof alcohol. Dave could have “Zoolandered” me into oblivion by lighting a match, but he didn’t because we’re bros). The “hoist” involves each man grabbing a handle on a 25 gallon tank, which holds our “feints." The feints are made up of “heads” and “tails”, elements that add flavor to the overall mix but are a bit stinky on their own. We store the “feints” and then add them back for flavor. If I completely ruin my back doing something at the distillery, it will be doing the “hoist.”

Next up is the main event: “The Mash.” “The Mash” is the Everest of distilling events. It’s a four hour affair that kicks off with one of us lugging 16, 50 lbs bags up a step ladder, dumping them into 190F degree water, and then mixing with a paddle. After drawing the short stick on Monday, I gear up by donning my distilling hoodie, which I wear to avoid getting burned by the tank, and which has the added benefit of making me feel like Rocky. Using a four foot stainless steel paddle, I mix in the 800 lbs of wheat flour until it’s a viscous consistency (think oatmeal). The work is excruciating, and I often worry about losing consciousness and falling into the tank, but Dave keeps me going with random outbursts intended to pump me up: “C’mon man!! By the power of Grayskull!! Scoreboard!!” I don’t even know what he’s talking about, but the intensity in his voice is inspiring. And so after paddling what feels like 12 miles up the Charles, “The Mash” is complete. The mash tank is now full of beautifully smooth, tan colored nectar, which after it sits for four days and is distilled, will be the source of roughly 100 bottles of pure sipping enjoyment.

Time for lunch.