A lot goes into bourbon besides the grain, yet the element most enticing to regular imbibers is often the thing no producer can control: the air.
Bourbons are defined as corn-dominant distillates aged in new American oak, but Luke Backus, 39, owner and master distiller at Backus Distillery, is proving that they are not all one and the same. This small-batch producer in the Northeast Kingdom is quietly stewarding the evolution of bourbon’s unquantifiable appeal, the very thing hiding in each sip.
Bourbon production is a heavily regulated enterprise, and Backus’ Westfield distillery — composed of a production facility and an aging center housed in two former dairy barns — follows the rules: a mash bill of at least 51 percent corn, aged in brand-new charred oak barrels and bottled at no less than 80 proof.
On the production side of the operation, silos feed whole grain into the space, where it gets rolled by hand, then moved into the cooker, where enzymes convert the starch into sugar. Outfitted with 1,000-gallon fermentation tanks and a continuous column still roughly 30 feet tall, the production facility turns out a distillate not unlike its Southern counterparts. Across a gravel path, however, standard practice gives way to Backus’ intuitive approach to aging.
Inspired by split-level sake distilleries in Japan and informed by his tenure at Seattle’s OOLA Distillery, Backus designed both facilities as uninsulated two-story edifices. His goal: to encourage the interaction between the whiskey and the wood as it ages.
Because the natural, unregulated flow of air is necessary for proper maturation, the uninsulated barn exploits Vermont’s cold, dry winters and hot, humid summers to produce a bourbon that Kentucky’s climate can’t match. Temperature fluctuations daily, monthly and yearly drive the liquid into the wood and pull it back out, and Backus leaves significant headspace in his barrels to allow the air to work itself in. The air becomes a defining ingredient, affecting aroma, color and tannins.
“It’s rare to see people engaging in this type of an aging program,” Backus told Seven Days. “So often you go to a distillery and you see their barrels just sitting there, and it’s 70 degrees, and there’s nothing making it work.”
The barn’s two-tiered layout invites two distinct aging environments and, therefore, two different bourbon programs. Upstairs, where the four-year bourbon lives, temperatures swing aggressively. The lower level captures gentler and slower fluctuations — precisely why it’s home to Backus’ 10-year bourbon, which will reach maturation in 2030.
Copper in color with aromas of charred oak, bottle #21074 tastes of rich vanilla and cooked fruit, with a warm, gentle finish.
“Those years in the barrel, you want to have activity, and the ethos of this whole thing is that you want to make it count,” he said. “So four years, but what four years?”
Backus Distillery began with five barrels in 2019. While 2020 marked the Westfield native’s first production in earnest, he has been immersed in agriculture-adjacent enterprises from a young age. The son of a maple producer, Backus said his interest in distilling spirits grew out of converting sap into syrup. He wrote his senior undergraduate thesis on the birth of distillation. After earning an economics degree from Colorado College and then seeing craft spirits up close on the West Coast, Backus bought the old Westfield farm with his brother, Merlin, co-owner of Barn First Creamery.
While the production barn was initially home to Merlin’s goat herd, these days it’s a genuine rickhouse, stockpiled top to bottom with bourbon casks, each carrying its own distinct identity and sense of place.
Copper in color with aromas of charred oak, bottle #21074 — the 74th barrel from Backus’ 2021 vintage — tastes of rich vanilla and cooked fruit, with a warm, gentle finish.
Distillery tours and tastings are available by appointment, and Backus’ flagship bourbon can be found at select Vermont restaurants and retailers. It’s currently in stock at Jay Country Store and Snow Shoe Lodge & Pub in Montgomery Center, but folks need not be in the Northeast Kingdom to get a taste — Backus pours samples every Saturday at the Burlington Farmers Market, where his single-barrel, four-year bourbon is available for purchase.
On a crisp September afternoon, with the sun dropping steadily from its midday perch and a soft wind out of the north, #21074 seemed to bottle the very essence of the reciprocal relationship between a distiller and his environment — steered, unmistakably, by the Green Mountain air. ➆
The original print version of this article was headlined “Bottling the Environment | Westfield’s Backus Distillery bets that temperature swings are what actually make a bourbon”
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