On June 6, 2023, I committed to a year of not buying whiskey. As of this post I’m now six months in. How has it been going?
When I made the commitment, I had 162 bottles of whiskey at home. Two years prior, I’d rewired my buying patterns to pull bunkering out of the mix, the result being a much more eclectic range of whiskeys on my shelf than before, yet still always hovering around 150 bottles in total. Drinking at my normal rate, I calculated it would take something between three and four years for my shelves to run dry.
But a concern for having X number of bottles on hand was not the motivating factor behind my commitment to a year of not buying. It was more a matter of my having hit a stretch of my whiskey journey in which I felt a disconnect. Around late-2022 / early-2023, I experienced a vague dimming of enthusiasm for whiskey. My journey was feeling a bit like a grind, and less consistently the intriguing pleasure it had been up until then.
In considering the idea of putting a freeze on buying, I determined that, in a year’s time, not only would my own home supply and demand not bottom out, but the worldwide whiskey supply and demand would only increase—as it has been doing these past several years. So, no need to fear running dry anywhere, near or far.
Likewise, any “limited editions” released in my Year of No Buying would likely not be cause for FOMO, since “limited editions” come out a couple times a week these days. And even with a particularly coveted L.E.—like the annual Four Roses Small Batch L.E. or various Wild Turkey L.E. offerings—my home stash is stocked with enough past such releases that I could console myself with one among them should FOMO ever rear its frenzied head.
Another key consideration was why I am on this whiskey journey at all. My personal whiskey journey is ultimately about (1) the pure sensual pleasure of sipping, (2) the gift-giving impulse by which I share whiskey with friends and here on this blog, and (3) curiosity.
That last one, curiosity, drives me most. Though there’s nothing like the word-defying experience of tasting a fantastic whiskey, and although sharing whiskey is a gratifying pleasure, still I do love most what I’ve learned from whiskey. The story of Nathan “Nearest” Green, for example. Or the colonial politics behind Irish Whiskey’s signature flavor profile. Or the complex layers of San Francisco’s history, as escavated during my tour of the city using the career of local bartending legend William Boothby as a map.
I could list so many other examples.
Then there are the great people I’ve met. Cris and Erica Steller of Dry Diggings Distillery. Yana Nogid and Katya Skye of Manhattan Zodiac. Ali and Sam Blatteis of Home Base Spirits. Mike Steine at Woodinville and Jill Kuehler at Freeland. The list goes on. Not to mention casual encounters with fellow whiskey enthusiasts, interesting bartenders in Japan, and those occasional corner store owners who share a genuine enthusiasm for whiskey.
By not buying new bottles for a full year, I knew it was possible my curiosity might diminish. After all, it was a dip in enthusiasm that had spurred the idea in the first place. But I also wondered if an imposed limitation of this kind might actually reignite my enthusiasm, sparking even more curiosity along with it. What in my bunker, long gathering dust for lack of attention, might surprise me? And how might my journey be impacted by my leaving bottles on local shop shelves and online New Product feeds that I would normally snap up?
Only one way to find out.
I went for it!
Window Shopping
In the first couple months of No Buying, I felt acutely aware of just how often I would have bought. Seeing friends post new bottles on social media. Noticing new or unusual releases on my various online New Product Feed prowls. I even continued to scan brick-and-mortar store shelves. I’d see things, feel that infusion of adrenaline enter my bloodstream that would normally prompt me toward a purchase… and let it pass. The fact that 2023 prices have made yet another jump up from 2022 prices certainly helped. An MSRP of $300 for Russell’s Reserve Single Rickhouse? C’mon now.
I continue to “window shop” in this fashion, but gradually less and less, and gradually with less and less adrenaline. I’ve become aware of a certain fog of angst dissipating, just a bit more with each forgone impulse to buy. A couple years back I’d worked consciously to wean myself off FOMO, and thought I’d done pretty well. But I can feel FOMO’s residue still lingering in my joints. Maybe this Year of No Buying will eventually cleanse me of FOMO entirely…!
The Best Buys In Life
Are Free!
Something that’s helped, I will admit, perhaps in the way a nicotine patch helps smokers ramp down their cigarette habit, is a few free bottles sent my way. Westward graced me with two, their late-spring 2023 Two Malts release and summer Artisan Sourdough release. Dry Diggings Distillery kindly sent me a bottle of their inaugural Rubicon Bourbon. I was able to bring home an open bottle of Springbank 15 Year from a whisky tasting event I’d helped organize. And when a good friend I’d not seen in a while visited, he gifted me a bottle of the 2022 Woodford Master’s Collection Batch Proof. Though not purchased by me, these did a little bit to scratch that itch of bringing home something new.
Scheduling Time
Off The Wagon
Similarly, an August trip to Japan provided a planned fall off the No Buying wagon. One of the caveats I’d granted myself when I made my No Buying commitment was to do a bit of whisky shopping on this trip. I had a great time in Tokyo and Kyoto, doing many other things in addition to whisky hunting. But in the end I did come home with a bottle of Wild Turkey 12 Year, three bottles of Wild Turkey 8 Year, one bottle of Fuji Gotemba Riku, and a 180ml bottle of Yamazaki.
It was not lost on me that my whisky shopping in Japan was stressful. My most desired item was that great Kentucky export to Japan, Wild Turkey 12 Year. I went to eight different shops in Tokyo, from the grubbiest corner joint to the highest-end Ginza boutique. Nobody had it.
As I left each successive store empty handed, I could feel that familiar prickly heat crackling in my chest. FOMO’s fire was gradually blurring my vision with its smoke. On our last evening in Tokyo before moving on to Kyoto, with a filter of it’s now or never distorting my senses, my very patient partner followed me through the bustling Shibuya streets as I rushed from shop to shop with increasing desperation, hoping to find my prize. No luck.
I finally did find a bottle in Kyoto, on a bottom shelf in a nondescript liquor chain store down a thin side street. When I emerged from the store, bag in hand, my partner snapped a photo of me in my triumph.
The elation at finally bagging the prized catch was real. And the anti-climax that almost immediately followed was likewise real. It was just a bottle of bourbon, after all, and one I’d had before. Also, it was an American bourbon and I was in Japan. I felt at once satisfied and silly.
Surviving The Hunt
Hiding In The Bunker
But my bout of buying more than scratched the ol’ itch. And the timing was perfect—right on the cusp of Bourbon Hunting season! With my influx of gifted bottles and Japan purchases, I found myself quite relaxed as all the Kentucky “limited editions” began their annual parade across the social meds.
I’ve continued to watch them pass by, enjoying the game from the stands while sipping a glass of Elijah Craig 23 Year or Jefferson’s Presidential Select 20 Year or Anderson Club 15 Year. I’ve felt very content this autumn to enjoy the new 2023 releases vicariously, watching YouTube channel reviews and liking my friends’ Instagram and Facebook posts when they announce their latest acquisitions. And somehow I feel the biggest challenge of this year is now behind me. If I can survive Bourbon Hunting season without cracking, I can survive anything!
I’ve found myself looking at my bunker differently, more openly. In addition to those bottles mentioned above, there are other bunkered rarities I’ve uncorked that I might not have done otherwise. I opened a trio of pre-“Willett” Willett bourbons, for example—a 2016 Johnny Drum, 2016 Pure Kentucky XO, and 2017 Noah’s Mill. Comparing them was a blast! Before the Year of No Buying, it may have taken me three years at least to get to all of them.
I opened my last bottle of 2001 Wild Turkey 101, which I’d been saving for… for what? I likewise cracked one of my two remaining ~15-year Knob Creek single barrel store picks. I made cocktails with these and other pricier, higher-quality, and/or rarer whiskeys like Rieger’s BiB Rye or Blue Spot Irish Whiskey or a 22 Year Auchentoshan Single Malt I’d been nursing.
Last Call
(for now)
We’ll see how the next six months go, and what the sum total impact of the year will have been. So far it’s been an interesting experiment. I’m enjoying it. I’m also noting my bank account and liking what I’m seeing there, so, this year will be revealing on a number of fronts!
But my primary interest remains the same: Curiosity. What happens when we consciously disrupt our patterns of behavior?
And my primary hope remains the same: That my year of abstinence from buying whiskey will add positively to my whiskey journey, rejuvenating it with surprise turns in the road that offer new perspectives on familiar territory.
Cheers to the journey!
Past Whiskey Journey Posts
Part 1 – Getting Started
Part 2 – Checking In
Part 3 – Why I Whiskey
Part 4 – On Weller Antique 107 and the Art and Practice of Letting Go
Part 5 – What have three years of writing whiskey notes done to me?
Part 6 – Nosing The Grind
Part 7 – What would happen if I didn’t buy whiskey for a year?
The Right Spirit 