The premium whiskey market is, to be honest, a bit ridiculous at the moment.

It’s been like this for some time. For instance, Blanton’s was a fine bourbon easy to come by at roughly $48 per bottle just ten years ago. Currently, it’s mostly limited to resale markets with pricing that does not accurately represent its respectable, not outstanding, quality.

Without question, this craving for excellent whiskey that doesn’t have to be top-tier has instigated a surge of fresh competitors in an already congested lane. On the one side, they’re escalating the median bottle cost, causing an inflation of prices that don’t consistently match the liquor you’re buying. Conversely, if they can fill this gap while maintaining affordability of brands like Four Roses or Rare Breed, and consumers don’t mind shelling out over $100 for a bottle, then more power to them.

This is where Blue Run enters the narrative.

Introduced with a price tag of $175, the 13-year old Bourbon offering sets the stage. Is there a history justifying the cost? Does each cask hold a story that Bourbon enthusiasts keenly narrate at gatherings? Surprisingly, the individuality rests only in its costliness.

The venture embarked with the union of an experienced Whiskey craftsman, Jim Rutledge, and a promising enthusiast, Shaylyn Gammon. Their synergy aims at blending Bourbons from varied distilleries. The key catalysts behind this initiative are the ones who enthusiastically foresee the potency of conceiving high-end Whiskey via SNKRS-like drops and limited series.

Despite the lack of conventional lineage that other luxury spirits boast, Blue Run aspires to carve a niche for itself as an exclusive Bourbon, or at the least, motivate enthusiasts to splurge three figures on a fifth of the brew.

Understandably, this seems exasperating, but it holds no significance if the taste lives up to its promise. Today, we take a look at its second batch of the High Rye Whiskey and assess whether it justifies its $100 price point.

Truth be told, the beverage Blue Run, a moniker merely a stroke away from being labeled as “the wine so deplorable it landed in the headlines“, gives the impression of a first-class spirit. Its container is certainly enticing, adorned with a lustrous butterfly situated front and center. At a forceful 111 proof, it portends richness at cask strength and a deep mahogany tint that denotes ample time spent reflecting in oak barrels.

The scent wafting from the bottle is undeniably alcoholic but intricate. Underneath the grainy aroma, you can sense an abundance of hidden fruits and a touch of spice. Could it be nutmeg? Perhaps cinnamon? There’s an alluring warmth to it.

The bite of the drink cannot be ignored, which is to be expected at 55.5 percent alcohol content. Yet it’s not overwhelmingly potent and you can identify a myriad of refined flavors beneath it. Sweet stone fruits make an appearance, accompanied by a hint of spice and a dash of dry sugar finishing it off. There’s a faint insinuation of cinnamon toast present, hard to pinpoint, but I assure you it’s there.

It’s a decent bourbon. Maybe not worth $100, but that’s the reality of our times. I think I’ll drop in an ice cube for my enjoyment. Feel free to deride me for it.

The ice softens the profile without diminishing the deeply imbued flavors, making a potent spirit more drinkable. However, it doesn’t mimic the same profile and strength of the untouched pour. I appreciate it almost the same amount as the original pour. Although some intriguing elements get lost, it’s a smoother, more digestible sip with good repeat appeal, as long as you are ready to spare at least $85 (depending on your local liquor shop) for the next bottle.

The query is not regarding Blue Run’s quality. A group of affluent executives collaborated to guarantee that it would be, at a minimum, above average. The real question is whether it deserves premium sneaker prices and the anticipation of being the next big sensation in bourbon.

After sampling a similarly new and expensive bottle from Kentucky Owl, I am uncertain. It’s an appropriate sip that holds its own against ryes at half its price. If you’re asking whether I’d purchase this for $100 over a Limousin Rye for $35 to $45, I’d choose the Limousin each time.

This is a pass/fail mechanism where I contrast what I’m drinking to my standard cheap beer, the standby from the land of sky-blue waters, Hamm’s. Consequently, the question to resolve is: would I choose a Blue Run High Rye over a chilled can of Hamm’s on a usual day?

Oh, absolutely. But I could get 200 cans of Hamm’s for the starting price of a Blue Run bottle, so this feels… unfair.

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