It seemed like a swell idea at first. After learning that I’d receive a sample of a twenty-seven-year-old Buffalo Trace bourbon—one of a trio of exceptional bottles released this month through the posh, London-based spirits curator the Last Drop Distillers—I had planned to sip it while asking Buffalo Trace master blender Drew Mayville a few questions. Then my nerves set in. I mean, every Last Drop bottling is ultra-rare, including the fifty-five-year-old Scotch and twenty-two-year-old Japanese malt whisky that flank the mere 508 bottles of bourbon in its 2025 collection. The suggested retail price for the bourbon alone is an astonishing $10,500. (I shakily tap a calculator to figure that just my wee sample dings in at $420.) Plus, twenty-seven years old? Is my palate worthy of a bourbon with such seniority? I have visions of fumbling for what to say about it or—nightmare scenario—fumbling my glass on Zoom.
In the end, I’m rescued by the sample not being delivered until a few minutes after I finish speaking with Mayville, happenstance that allows me to decompress and give my pour the focus it deserves later that evening. I find it deserving indeed, delivering deep character and complexity befitting of the time and trouble that produced it. Notably, while it’s much mellower than one would expect of ultra-aged bourbon, which sometimes grows harsh over so many seasons in the barrel, the surprising 121.8 proof still leaves a bit of heat on my lips. It ranks among the most pleasurable bourbons I’ve experienced, rendering me too content to conduct a full cost-benefit analysis. But Mayville had plenty to say on how the whiskey came to be and why even older bourbon may be in the distillery’s future. So why not hear from the man who blended it?
Were 508 bottles all that three barrels could fill after twenty-seven years of “angel’s share” evaporation?
No, the final number of bottles depended not only on the barrels we selected, but also on how much of each barrel we blended. If we’d blended all of each barrel, it wouldn’t have the same characteristics as the proportions that appealed to me most. Picking three barrels was the hard part—like choosing between children—but we had to pick what we thought was best for this particular blend. One will complement the other. The three barrels were from 1995, 1996, and 1997, so twenty-seven years is actually the youngest, with some of the juice at twenty-nine years old when bottled last December. These are some of the oldest barrels we have sitting around—there are fewer than ten like this.
I understand that all three barrels had been aging in Warehouse P. What can you tell us about this senior living center for bourbon?
We’ve invested $20 million to create a state-of-the-art maturation facility, which is part of Buffalo Trace’s whole program to create better whiskeys. We don’t give up all the secrets, but if you visited Warehouse P, you’d have to put on a coat, and unlike most rickhouses, there’s a concrete floor and it’s not open on the ends. These three barrels weren’t in there for their entire lives, just transferred from normal aging warehouses for the last five years or so. The purpose is to experiment, so we’ve put in different barrels from different warehouses filled with distillate that’s new, moderate, and already well aged. Ultimately, we might be able to age bourbon for fifty or one hundred years.
So does this Last Drop release further refute whiskey nerd common wisdom that the sweet spot for aging bourbon is ten to fifteen years?
You know, I’ve been in this industry for forty-six years now, and back then people thought that aging bourbon six to eight years was best. That’s been changing and maybe now leaning toward fifteen years. People have the idea that age equals quality. That’s not always true, but with this release, we’re getting there. What we’ve been able to do is find a way to control the environment so that the final product of even an ultra-aged bourbon isn’t overly oaked or tannic. We’re really pushing the boundaries of distilling, maturation, and blending.
Go ahead, hit us with some fancy tasting notes.
On the nose, aromas of seasoned oak immediately greet the senses followed by decadent cherry and medjool date. Baking spices and dark fruit notes intertwine with an emerging peppery rye influence that adds complexity. The palate opens with oak tannins, offering a deep, woody foundation that builds into layers of caramel sweetness and dark chocolate–dipped cherries with hints of tobacco and supple leather. The finish is long and satisfying, with dried fruits and caramel lengthened by the tingling oak spice.
How do you picture the circumstances of someone opening and enjoying such a special bottle?
Well, first thing I imagine is me sitting there and drinking it with them. My advice is to nose it first to enjoy those aromas. Then take a small sip so that your palate gets used to the alcohol and you pick up on more of the complexities. Maybe sip your pour over a period of a half hour.
I can’t wait. Still, is any bourbon worth $10,500?
Honestly, I think we just proved it.
