by Amy Stewart
Corn was domesticated so long ago that its ancestor no longer survives. Botanists assume that early corncobs were much smaller, the size of a finger, perhaps. They probably resembled their cousins in the Zea genus, many of which look like ordinary tall grass with an unremarkable seed head. These weedy relations are called teosinte. They look nothing like modern corn. Instead of producing a sturdy central stalk, they take the form of a wide, bushy clump of grass. The seed heads hold five to ten small seeds in a straight line, as opposed to a few hundred arranged around a corncob.
A team of archeologists led by Michael Blake at the University of British Columbia now believe that early corn might have been selected and domesticated not for its grain but for its juice. Cornstalk quids—bits of plant fiber that were chewed and then spit out—have been found at archeological sites dating to 5000 BC, suggesting that people prized the plant for its sweetness. And analysis of human remains found at those sites indicates that they were getting corn sugar in their diet but not much corn grain.
Over time, through some combination of human selection, chance hybridization, and mutation, corn came to resemble the plant we know today. When Columbus saw it for the first time, the ears might have been smaller, but it would have been obvious that its real value came from the kernels of corn, not sugar from the stalk. Columbus brought a new sweetener to the Americas in the form of sugarcane, and from that time on, cornstalk sugar declined in importance.
But cornstalk wine didn’t disappear entirely: A few centuries later, Benjamin Franklin wrote that “the stalks, pressed like sugarcane, yield a sweet juice, which, being fermented and distilled, yields an excellent spirit,” suggesting that the practice was still alive. Even today some tribes, such as the Tarahumara of northwest Mexico, continue to make the wine as a traditional tribal practice. The stalks are pounded against rocks to extract the juice, which is mixed with water and other plants, then naturally fermented and consumed within a few days.
Corn beer, called chicha, was the other corn beverage Europeans encountered. Its exact origins are a bit of a mystery, but the rather sophisticated process was already centuries old when the Spaniards arrived, and the tradition continues today. Like other grains, the starch in corn has to be converted to fermentable sugar before the yeast can go to work on it. In Peru and surrounding areas, it is made by chewing uncooked, ground corn, then spitting it out and mixing the wads of chewed corn with water. Digestive enzymes in saliva are effective at converting starch to sugar, so the spit was an integral part of the process.
Archeologist Patrick McGovern, who studies the ancient origins of alcoholic beverages, worked with Dogfish Head brewery in Delaware to brew a batch using the traditional method. The experiment reads like the setup for an old joke: two anthropologists, a brewer, and a reporter from the New York Times walk into a bar. But what happened next was no joke. Behind the bar was a batch of ground purple Peruvian corn that they planned to chew, spit out, and mix with a traditional recipe of barley, yellow corn, and strawberries. But chewing the corn was almost unbearable: the reporter compared the texture to uncooked oatmeal, and the wads they spat out “resembled something a cat owner might be familiar with, if kitty litter came in purple.” One very small batch came out of the experiment, and that was the end of it. With a brewery full of modern equipment, chewing raw corn was clearly not worth the effort.
Apparently Dogfish Head is not the only brewery to come to this conclusion. The chicha sold today in Latin America is made using methods more similar to modern beer making. Like pulque, the agave-based beer, chicha is made on a small scale, served fresh, and often flavored with fruit and other sweeteners.
THE SEX LIFE of CORN
Next time you pull a piece of silk from between your teeth while you’re eating a fresh ear of corn, remember that you’ve just spat out a fallopian tube. Corn has a curious anatomy: the tassel at the top of the plant is the male flower; when mature, it produces two million to five million grains of pollen. The wind picks up those grains and moves them around.
The ear of corn is actually a cluster of female flowers. A young ear contains about a thousand ovules, each of which could become a kernel. Those ovules produce “silks” that run to the tip of the ear. If one of them catches a grain of pollen, the pollen will germinate and produce a tube that runs down the silk to the kernel. There the egg and pollen grain will meet at last. Once fertilized, that egg will swell into a plump kernel, which represents the next generation—or a bottle of bourbon, depending on your perspective.
the birth of bourbon
It was a small step from corn beer to corn whiskey. Early settlers realized that corn was the easiest grain to grow in the unfamiliar terrain they found themselves in. Fortunately, they had the example of experienced local Indian farmers to follow. Clearing fields with nothing but hand-forged tools was backbreaking work, so they must have been relieved to learn that corn could be sown among tree stumps. Transporting a crop to market was difficult as well; farmers had to find a use for their corn close to home. An early corn beer, perhaps brewed with molasses imported from the Caribbean, was one popular solution. From that a fairly rough, crude whiskey was born—and bourbon was not far behind.
Because it was such an easy crop, planting a cornfield became the standard method for settlers to establish a claim on their land. Some early land grants, particularly in Kentucky, were contingent upon the settlers building a permanent structure or growing corn. This bit of history has led to a sort of creation myth about Kentucky and bourbon. Distillers and bourbon enthusiasts are fond of claiming that Thomas Jefferson, as governor of Virginia, offered sixty acres to anyone who would plant corn. In fact, the Virginia Land Law, passed the month before Jefferson took office, offered four hundred acres to settlers who could prove their claim, and planting a crop of corn was just one of several ways they could demonstrate that they’d settled the land. Nonetheless, the idea that a Founding Father practically ordered Kentucky to become the glorious land of bourbon that it is today makes for a better story.
Kentucky had a few other things going for it besides an abundance of corn. Many of the state’s early immigrants came from Scotland and Ireland, so they knew their way around a still. (That information exchange went both ways. By the 1860s, corn had become the grain of choice for Scottish distilleries as well.) The state had another natural resource that lent itself to whiskey making: rich limestone deposits from which clear, cool spring water flowed. Settlers were more likely to set up camp near a spring, so it’s no surprise that early distilleries were built there, too. Among the many benefits of “limestone water” was the fact that it came out of the ground at about 50 degrees Fahrenheit, the perfect temperature for the cooling and condensation process in the days before refrigeration. The higher pH level inhibited iron particles that can give whiskey a bitter taste. And it is possible that the elevated levels of calcium, magnesium, and phosphate encouraged the growth of lactobacillus, a bacteria that plays a role in fermentation. Although corn continued to be made into a rough moonshine around the country, Kentucky took advantage of its natural resources and started building a respectable whiskey industry.
TYPES OF CORN
Dent (Zea mays var. indenata):
A cross between flint and flour, this is a softer corn with a dent on either side of the kernel. Also called field corn, dent is the most widely grown type in the United States.
Flint (Zea mays var. indurata):
With a hard outer layer and soft endosperm, this corn has a lower yield but matures earlier than other varieties.
Flour (Zea mays var. amylacea):
A soft corn primarily ground into flour.
Pod (Zea mays var. tunicata):
An old Peruvian variety in which each kernel is protected by its own husk.
Pop (Zea mays var. everta):
This corn has a large endosperm that, when heated, explodes and turns the grain inside out so that the translucent shell is on the inside.
Sweet (Zea mays var.
saccharata or Zea mays var. rugosa):
A soft, high-sugar corn grown for canning or eating fresh.
Waxy (Zea mays var. ceratina):
A variety discovered in China in 1908 that contains a different kind of starch. It is used as an adhesive and in food processing as a thickener and stabilizer.
Kentucky produces about 90 percent of the world’s bourbon supply. A recent surge in its popularity has created a booming export market, with distilleries working at full capacity and a tourist-friendly Kentucky Bourbon Trail attracting visitors to the state. The water is still one of the state’s claims to fame, but not all bourbon is made with natural spring water today—larger facilities use filtered river water instead. University of Kentucky hydrogeologist Alan Fryer has analyzed the role of water in bourbon; he believes that there is some scientific basis for claiming that the limestone water is superior, particularly when it comes to inhibiting iron in the water, but much of its value cannot be quantified. “It gets to the idea of terroir,” he said. “Our water is used to grow the corn, it’s used for cooling, it’s used in the mash. How exactly that changes the flavor is almost impossible to quantify—but it is important.” Distillers will always make much of Kentucky’s good water: bourbon industry expert James O’Rear was once quoted as saying that “limestone in bourbon lets you wake up the next morning feeling like a gentleman.”
OLD-FASHIONED
1½ ounces bourbon
1 sugar cube
2 to 3 dashes Angostura or orange bitters
Maraschino cherry or orange peel (optional)
Place the sugar cube in the bottom of an Old-Fashioned glass and give it a few dashes of bitters. Add a splash of water and use a muddler to crush the ingredients together. Swirl the mixture around in the glass, add bourbon and ice, and stir. Although the addition of fruit to this drink is considered a sacrilege in some circles, a true Italian maraschino cherry perfectly complements bourbon’s natural sweetness.
HAVE A NICE GLASS OF CORN
Blended whiskey: Although definitions vary around the world, blended whiskies may contain some corn. Suntory’s Hibiki and Royal brands, for instance, include corn and other grains.
Bourbon: An American-made corn-based whiskey aged in new charred oak barrels. Must contain at least 51 percent corn. Straight bourbon is aged for at least two years, with no added color, flavor, or other spirits. Blended bourbon must contain at least 51 percent straight bourbon, but may also contain added color, flavor, or other spirits.
Chicha de jora: A South American fermented corn beer. Chicha morada is a nonalcoholic version.
Corn beer: Some beers contain corn as an adjunct ingredient, making up 10 to 20 percent of the mash. Examples of beers containing corn include China’s Harbin Beer, Mexico’s Corona Extra, and Kentucky Common Beer, a style that includes about 25 percent corn, still made by specialty brewers today.
Corn vodka: Craft distillers are making excellent corn-based vodkas. Tito’s Handmade Vodka, from Austin, Texas, is a fine example.
Corn whiskey: Similar to bourbon but must be at least 80 percent corn. Can be unaged or aged in used or uncharred new oak containers.
Moonshine or white dog: A catchall term for unaged whiskies, which were made of corn historically and often still are.
Paciki: A Mexican cornstalk beer.
Quebrantahuesos: The name means “bone breaker.” A Mexican drink of fermented cornstalk juice, toasted corn, and the seeds of the Peruvian pepper tree (Schinus molle).
Tejate: A nonalcoholic brew of corn, cacao, and a few other ingredients, made in and around Oaxaca.
Tejuino: A fermented (and only very mildly alcoholic) Mexican cold drink made of corn dough, widely sold today.
Tesgüino: A traditional corn beer from northern Mexico.
Tiswin: A southwestern pueblo beer made of corn, sometimes combined with cactus fruit, roasted agave juice, or other ingredients.
Umqombothi: A South African beer made of corn and sorghum.
choosing the perfect corn
While wines are known primarily by the varieties of grapes used, distilleries have not, until recently, explored unique strains of heritage corn. The grain is still seen as a commodity; whiskey is typically made with No. 1 or 2 Yellow Field Corn, a standard designation that measures only the color and “soundness” of the grain—the amount of grain in a bushel that is undamaged, uninfested, and free of debris. But why not use artisanal, heirloom corn varieties to make bourbon? Master distiller Chris Morris, the brains behind Woodford Reserve’s line of extraordinary, award-winning bourbons, said, “We just want big, clean, dry corn. The starch is what it’s all about. The corn is pretty much just the muscle that we use to make alcohol. We’ve done distillations with various types of corn, and basically, corn’s corn. We even experimented with organic grain and we just couldn’t tell a difference.”
But Joel Elder, from Tuthilltown Spirits in Gardiner, New York, sees it another way. “People say that the artisanship is in the distilling, and I fundamentally disagree. My opinion is that the distillation is the easiest part. The further back you go in the process—fermentation, grain handling and storage, growing—the more artisanal it becomes. Look at wine. In wine, we talk almost exclusively about the grape. Nobody does that with bourbon.” He has experimented with a number of different heirloom corns, including Wapsie Valley, known for producing red kernels. (The legend behind Wapsie Valley is that at corn shuckings, any man who found a red kernel could kiss the girl of his choice, and Wapsie Valley could turn an innocent gathering into a free-for-all.) He also grows Minnesota 13, a dent corn that was widely used for moonshine during Prohibition. “We get a big, buttery popcorn flavor out of these,” he said. “Does the variety of corn make a difference? I can run separate distillations of just those two varieties and make a believer out of anyone.”
THE CORK OAK
The native Portuguese oak Q. suber provides another essential ingredient to wine and spirits: the cork. The trees live for more than two hundred years, and by about age forty, they have produced enough of their thick, spongy bark to produce a harvest of four thousand corks. Stripping the trees of their bark does not hurt them because the bark regrows. In fact, cork growers argue, the ability to harvest the bark provides an economic incentive to leave massive stands of old oak trees intact.
The increased use of screw tops and synthetic caps has hurt the cork industry in Portugal, Spain, and North Africa, where most cork forests are found. Growers insist that the natural corks are not only more authentic and better for the wine but are actually kinder to the environment than a synthetic replacement.
Angels’ Share: In storage, a small amount of alcohol escapes the barrel through evaporation. Distillers call this lost alcohol the angels’ share. Whiskey and brandy makers estimate that the angels get about 2 percent of the alcohol in a barrel each year, although that can vary depending on humidity and temperature. Fortunately, they can afford to lose some, as most spirits are aged at a higher proof than the final bottling. (Some water is lost as well, which can help keep the overall percentage of alcohol from dropping too much.)
one result of this slow leakage of alcohol is that it attracts a strange creature rarely seen outside of distilleries. the black fungus Baudoinia compniacensis feeds on ethanol and appears as a black stain on the walls of caves and warehouses where scotch and cognac are stored. european distillers in particular are not bothered by it; in fact, it is seen as a friendly companion and a mark of authenticity.
OAK
Quercus spp.
fagaceae (beech family)
Nothing tames a rough spirit like an oak tree. The practice of aging whiskey or wine in a barrel might have started as a practical solution to a storage problem, but it was soon obvious that something wonderful happens when alcohol comes in contact with wood—and oak in particular.
Oak trees have been around for about sixty million years. They emerged as a distinct genus not long after the mass extinction of dinosaurs. Taxonom
ists disagree about the exact number of species; depending you who you ask, the number ranges from sixty-seven to six hundred. However, we are only concerned with the handful of American, European, and Japanese species used by barrel makers for wine and spirits.
Wooden barrels have been in use for at least four thousand years, judging from archeological evidence, and oak was probably the natural choice from the beginning. The wood is hard, dense, but still pliable enough to bend into a slight curve. It was used for shipbuilding, and surely one of the first pieces of cargo to be loaded on the ship was a barrel of wine for the crew.
What the first barrel maker might not have known was that the anatomy of oak is perfectly designed not just to hold but also to flavor the liquid it contains. Oak trees are “ring porous,” which means that the vessels that carry water up the tree are found in the outer growth ring. As the tree matures, the older vessels become plugged with crystalline structures called tyloses, and as a result, the center of the tree—the heartwood—doesn’t conduct water at all, making it well suited for use as a watertight barrel. American oaks are particularly rich in tylose as compared to European oaks. In fact, the European trees have to be carefully split along the grain, rather than cut, in order to avoid rupturing vessels and creating a leaky barrel.
The trees also happen to produce an astonishing array of flavor compounds that break free from the wood in the presence of alcohol. European oak, Quercus robur in particular, is high in tannins, which give wine a certain roundness and full-bodied quality. American white oak, on the other hand, releases the same flavor molecules found in vanilla, coconut, peach, apricot, and cloves. (In fact, artificial vanilla is made from a sawdust derivative because it has such high levels of vanillin.) Those sweet flavors might not be what a winemaker is looking for, but they are pure magic in bourbon.
