Transcript

Irish Coffee

What a sight to see. Out on the horizon, above Foynes Airport, a silver metal beast - its wings and fins flashing beams of sunlight to the shore. 

Tucked away in the belly of this great bird, weary passengers were feeling a mixture of excitement and relief as the green green grass of Ireland beaconed them on.

It was a historic day in the world of aviation. Four days earlier, this Pan Am Boeing 314 had taken off from Port Washington, New York on the maiden flight for a new transcontinental service between New York and Southampton, England. The first such service of its kind.

Known as the Yankee Clipper, this cruise-line of the air carried 77 passengers in what Pan Am had branded as “one class” luxury. For the impressive sum of $675 (or $12k in today’s money) the guest would have every need attended to. Waiters served five and six course meals. And guests ate, drank, smoked, and slept in this grand flying hotel. If not for the endless fog that grounded them in Newfoundland for three days, it might have been the most luxurious flight in history, up to that time. 

With this flight, passenger airline service had crossed a major milestone. It had been only 20 years since Alcock and Brown had made the very first transatlantic flight. Yet even the Yankee Clipper wasn’t quite ready for today’s modern airstrip. Land based planes just didn’t have the range yet to carry that many passengers on such a long trip. So in 1939, the job would be left in the capable hands of Boeing’s flying boats. 

But even with the ability to land on water, these airships were still slow enough that they required frequent refueling. Once on the European side of the Atlantic, the most convenient terminal to land at was Foynes Airport in County Limerick, Ireland. It was such an obvious choice that in 1935, the U.S., British, and Canadian governments all made an agreement to utilize that airport. And with Ireland’s neutrality in World War II, it would become one of the busiest civilian airports in Europe.

With so many Europeans traveling to or through Foynes during the war, some fresh blood was needed to run the restaurant and cafe at the airport. 

Fresh from his successes in Dublin, Brendan O’Regan latched onto the opportunity. Hoping to dish out the best of impressions of his homeland he sought the services of a first class chef. While going through his mail, he stumbled upon the most curious of applications.  The letter simply stated, “Dear Sir, I’m the man for the job. Yours sincerely, Joe Sheridan.” O’Regan was so curious, he called the man in immediately for an interview and hired him forthwith. 

It was an inspired choice. For just a few months later, on a stormy night in November, Chef Joe secured his name within the remarkable history of the Foynes. It all started when the airport began receiving distressing news in the form of morse code, from one of the planes that had left its terminal for New York. It seems that the flying boat had run head on into a bad weather front and the captain needed to turn the plane around to wait it out at Foynes. 

With cold, wet, and likely ill-tempered passengers coming back to the airport, the staff was called back in to provide hot food and beverages. 

It was then that Chef Joe had a brainstorm. “This should warm them up!” He poured some coffee in a stemmed glass, added sugar cubes and cream, and then topped it off with an inspired ingredient - Irish whiskey. 

His customers loved it. And one man was so inspired, he began prodding Chef Joe for more information. “Is this Brazilian coffee,” he asked? Joe looked at the man without batting an eye, “no, it’s Irish coffee.” 

Joe’s concoction became such a hit, that passengers started spreading the news of it far and wide. The perfect Irish coffee, according to Joe had "Cream as rich as an Irish brogue, coffee as strong as a friendly hand, sugar as sweet as the tongue of a rogue, and whiskey as smooth as the wit of the land."

But as the war came to an end, so did the need for flying boats and Foynes was being abandoned for the new landing strip at Shannon Airport. Yet, the Irish coffee lived on, as Chef Joe Sheridan and his boss Brendan O’Regan would transfer over to the new air strip. And Shannon would pick up the mantle left by its predecessor by witnessing the first transcontinental proving flight thanks again to Pan Am in 1945. And Dr. O’Regan would have one more gift to bestow on the airline industry, as he would open the world’s first duty-free shop at Shannon two years later.

As for Chef Joe’s creation, the Irish coffee would get a face-lift in a most unexpected way. Sometime around 1951, a travel writer and Pulitzer Prize winning author Stan Delaplane found himself sitting in Chef Joe’s coffee shop at Shannon. He marveled at how simple and wonderful this creation was. 

When he returned to his home in San Francisco, Stanton went to his favorite coffee shop the Buena Vista Café and asked the owner Jack Koeppler if he would be keen on trying to recreate this incredibly warming beverage. The two dived in with zest and tried out a variety of combinations of coffees, creams, and whiskeys. In fact, they were trying so intensely, they almost passed out on caffeine and liquor. 

Everything was right but the cream. They reached out to their friend, San Francisco Mayor George Christopher for advice. The mayor owned Christopher Dairy, so surely he would know what to do. He suggested they use cream that had aged for 48 hours, so it would be the right viscosity to float on top without sinking too quickly into the hot coffee. 

The concoction was perfect and on the 10th November 1952, the Buena Vista Cafe would introduce San Francisco to Irish coffee. And soon, through Stan Delaplane’s writings, the world. And all thanks to a little port in the storm, a shot of Irish creativity, and topped off with some American Ingenuity. 

Tullamore D.E.W. (2022)

As I sat in the tasting room at the Tullamore D.E.W. distillery, listening to our guide tell that story, I wondered why I had never questioned the origins of Irish coffee? 

Maybe we just get so used to hearing about things that they just become like toast - no one questions the origins of toast. Or maybe it was because I’d only had one so-called Irish coffee in my life. Watching the bartender intently, they made it just like I thought it would be made - black coffee, topped with some Jameson. “Do you want cream with that?” he said. “No, I drink my coffee black.” How was I to know?

But today, I was watching in amazement as our tour guide went to the mixing table and began crafting enough Irish coffee for the entire tour of 8. 

When she set it in front of me, I thought, that thing is a work of art. It looks like a mini-Guinness with its creamy head and dark tan middle layer and dark rich coffee beneath.  It was a wonderful addition to one of the most satisfying storytimes I’ve had in a while.

She mentioned that Tullamore D.E.W. was an early component of Irish coffee. Of course, me, Mr. Igottaknow hit the internet hard when I got home to try and find some kind of evidence of that claim. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t track down anything more than guesses, but what I did discover was “Tullamore D.E.W.” in the center of controversy around the coffee - specifically the American version. 

A San Francisco Chronicle article from 2006 suggested that the Buena Vista Café had become America’s largest consumer of Irish whiskey, using 18,720 liter-sized bottles in a year. However, a scandal had erupted when the bar inexplicably    changed from a private blend of Irish whiskey, sourced from John Teeling’s Cooley Distillery to Tullamore D.E.W. Apparently though cooler heads prevailed, and it seems the controversy is long forgotten, as long time bartender Paul Nolan mentioned in a recent article that Tullamore D.E.W. was the first whiskey used at the cafe and the one that is still used.

After our bellies were satisfied and glasses emptied, our guide walked us over to a set of visuals placed on the wall and verbally took us through the process of making whiskey. I started to think that maybe this experience had already hit its peak. Are we not going to get to go into the distillery and see the actual equipment? But once she completed her spiel, the vertical slats that featured drawings of each of the stages of whiskey development opened, revealing the most pristine distillery I think I’d ever seen. It honestly looked like someone had just taken the wrapper off of it. Chrome mash tuns and washbacks, those beautiful copper pot stills…although they were quite a distance from sight. There was a huge empty space in the middle of the floor and I noticed a lack of pipes and equipment crowding up the place. Photo ops are limited in this distillery, so I snapped some photos from there, before heading in.

We walked past a photo of one of the workers from the former distillery that was shut down in the 1950s. The man had come back to catch a glimpse of the new distillery when it opened in 2014. Before William Grant & Sons (of Glenfiddich, Balvenie fame) bought the name and built the distillery, the whiskey and brand were owned by Irish Distillers Ltd., the large conglomerate that monopolized the Irish whiskey industry for a large portion of the 20th century. Tullamore had all but gone dark, when it came to whiskey - its still sold off to neighboring Kilbeggan.

During the tour, we were told of the power of three that surrounds Tullamore D.E.W. They use three barrels for aging their whiskeys, they triple distill, and they make three types of whiskey - a grain whiskey made from corn and malted barley, a single malt, and a single pot still whiskey that is made from a 50/50 blend of malted and unmalted barley. What is unique about this facility is that there are separate stills for each type of whiskey they make. Three stills make the pot still whiskey, three make the single malt, and outside a column still makes the grain whiskey. One of the wash stills has its neck curiously off center. 

Then we boarded a small bus and went to do some tasting in the warehouse. Back in the corner, we found what our guide referred to as a snug. Apparently, back in the days when so-called respectable women needed to be separated away from the drunk men in the bar, they would go back into a corner or little room known as a snug. Our sample was drawn directly from a barrel, “dipping the dog” as she referred to it. It is mighty tough to get a good nosing of a whiskey when you’re in a warehouse filled with angel’s share, but I did my best. I also snuck some away into my secret weapon, a little empty mini-bottle.

You see, with all of this driving around, I don’t want to sip too much whiskey and then get behind the wheel. In Alfred Barnard’s day, there were no drink driving laws, but the current Irish rules are pretty strict. And after we boarded the bus and passed by the column stills that rest outside, we headed into the tasting lab and had three more samples waiting for us. 

As we started heading to the gift shop, I noticed a phoenix in one of the rooms. When I asked about it, I was told of a great fire that destroyed the town of Tullamore in May of 1785. It seems that this new invention called a hot air balloon was set to take off over the town during a local fair when suddenly it snagged a chimney and collapsed on some buildings and set the town ablaze. It is considered the first air disaster in history. The town refused to let this mark its end and the phoenix became its symbol.

I got some good suggestions on places to eat in Mullingar. I was running on fumes and day two was going to be a busy one. Three distilleries to visit. 

Rest wasn’t going to come easy. The pub I had stopped in was finishing up service on a wedding reception. As I waited for my meal, I decided to check in with my 19th century traveling buddy Alfred Bernard as he stopped off at his second Dublin distillery. 

John’s Lane Distillery (1886)

Our next abacuses expedition was to John’s Lane Distillery, which is situated a short distance from Christchurch Cathedral. Soon after starting we had our first experience of an Irish shower, and received on our devoted heads some portion of the heavy libations poured on “Ould Ireland,” which make her fields so marvellously green; they made us look ruefully blue. Fortunately it did not last long, and by the time we reached our destination the sun shone brightly. 

The Distillery, is a large work and reaches from Thomas Street to the Quay. It was founded upwards of a century ago by Mr. James Power, the great grandfather of the present proprietors, who owned the noted hostelry from which the mail coaches started for the north and west of the island.

In the year 1791 this hostelry was converted into a small Distillery, making about 6,000 gallons annually; its chief motive power being a horse mill. But it did not long remain at that small output. The founder was a man of energy and enterprise, and year by year, as his business increased, he continued to extend the Distillery. Since 1871 the whole place has been rebuilt in a handsome and modern style, and every known appliance in the art of distilling added thereto. The establishment now covers six-and-a-quarter acres of ground, and the offices, which abut on the busy thoroughfare of Thomas Street, form a neat and substantial frontage to it.

After making ourselves and the object of our visit known to Messrs. James and Thomas Power, the present partners, we were conducted upstairs to their private office and shown some relics and ancient documents relating to the founder of the Distillery, which greatly interested us. After inspecting these we were introduced to the Manager of the Works, who conducted us through the place and explained the modus operandi from the beginning. Passing through the lofty and spacious public offices, we crossed a paved court and entered the noble block of buildings devoted to the storage of grain. They are five stories high, well lighted, and measure 192 feet long by 100 feet broad. The barley is carted to the Distillery by the farmers, and lifted by hydraulic hoists to the receiving rooms. At the entrance to this department there is an enclosed office, with glass roof and sides, in which sits the corn-sampling clerk; a portion of each delivery is handed to him for comparison with the samples of the purchase, which hang in bags upon a frame on the wall. If the sample is not up to the mark he refuses delivery, and reports the fact through the telephone to the corn-buyer’s office. So scrupulously particular is this firm as to quality, that all contracts are void if the delivery is not exact to sample.

From the corn receiving department, the corn runs into the two patent cleaning machines placed at a lower level, which are of very clever contrivance, made by Vangelder and Apsiun in Liverpool. The visitor would be surprised to see how every particle of foreign matter is eliminated from the corn. We saw pieces of metal, nails, buttons, bits of granite, and small seeds, which had been abstracted from the corn during the process; the small corn is also separated from the bulk, and is used for feeding young horses. From these machines the corn is dropped into a shoot on the ground floor, and sent from thence by elevators to the required lofts, where it is spread out on the floors 2 feet deep to become seasoned, and afterwards is sent through continuous screws to the different departments as required. 

From this point we began in earnest to attend the death, burial, and resurrection of John Barleycorn. The first process of the manufacture of Whisky now begins, by the corn being sent from these floors to the two Kilns adjoining, whither we next bent our steps. 

Crossing a gangway over the yard, we stepped on to the top of the Brewing Coppers, which are protected by an iron floor screen, which runs along over the whole of them. These vessels are so large that they occupy a house to themselves, and all of them are heated by furnaces. Descending by an iron ladder, we reached the ground level and entered the Brewing House, which is under the Meal Loft. It contains two Mash-tuns, each 33 feet in diameter and 7½ feet deep, possessing the usual stirring gear, and each capable of mashing 35 tons daily. The false bottoms of these Mash-tuns are composed of perforated iron plates, 3 feet by 2 feet, each numbered and ingeniously arranged in order. The worts drain from this vessel into the Underback, from which receptacle one of Drysdale and Co.’s three-throw pumps sends them into the Worts Receiver,, from whence they flow through the Refrigerators into the Wash-backs. The wash is pumped from these backs to the Wash Charger, which is placed at an elevation in the Still House, and contains 34,000 gallons.

A noble-looking building is the Still House. It is 68 feet long, 66 feet wide, and 57 feet high, containing five Pot Stills, all kept as bright and clean as burnished gold; the wash flows by gravitation to the two Wash Stills, each holding 25,000 gallons, and said to be the largest Pot Stills ever made. The product from these stills called “Low Wines” is pumped up to the Low Wines and Feints Receiver and Charger, both of which hold 10,000 gallons each; passing from thence into the Low Wines Stills, each holding about 20,000 gallons, and afterwards to the Feints or Spirit Stills, each of the same capacity, where, by the various distillations, the spirit becomes perfected Whisky. At one end of this house there are five Spirit Receivers, each with an average capacity of 7,000 gallons.

On the north side of the yard, connected with the Still House, there are three circular wrought iron worm tubs, the only iron ones we have seen. The Can Pit Room is opposite the Still House, and only separated by a narrow passage. In former days cans were placed in the pit underneath the Receivers to catch the spirit, hence the name of Can Pit. In this room we were shown the safe, a very handsome and elaborate instrument, 20 feet long, composed of solid mahogany and brass, the most ingeniously-arranged one we have ever seen; it was designed by Mr. Henry Angus, the late distiller in this establishment. 

Following the progress of the Whisky, we next visited the Spirit Store, a lofty apartment, where there are three vats to receive it, of an average capacity of 3,500 gallons each. Here the spirit is reduced with water to an average strength of 25 over proof. It is then filled into casks, weighed, and taken account of by the excise, before being sent to the different Warehouses. Of these there are seventeen in the Distillery, which contained at the time of our visit, upwards of 12,000 casks. 

This Warehouse consists of four floors, all equally well filled. On ascending to the ground level, we visited No. 12 Warehouse, which is 120 feet long by 80 feet, a dry and well-ventilated bond; the other fifteen we did not enter. The firm have splendid bonds at Westland Row and The City Markets.

Following our guide, we visited the Boiler House, where there are several Boilers, 35 feet long and 7 feet in diameter; afterwards to the Saw Mill, Carpenters’, Engineers’, Fitters’, and Coppersmiths’ Shops. The chimney stacks are 95 feet and 120 feet high respectively, and are of ornate design.

The model Stables, which attract many visitors who are fond of equine pursuits, next claimed our attention. They were built under the immediate superintendence of one of the partners, who is a noted breeder of hire horses. The Stall Stable is built of enamelled bricks and has an ornamented open roof, the sides of each stall being lined with close fibre matting and paved with blue Staffordshire bricks. From the lofts at the side are corn sluices running down to the manger, by touching a button one bait of corn only is delivered at a time. Adjoining these Stables is the Harness Room, containing the usual Weighing Machine and other appliances. On the other side are three loose Boxes, and across the court a Horse Hospital, or “Slick Boxes,” built of enamelled bricks, same as the stables, and paved with blue Staffordshire bricks. The Coach House and other buildings complete this department.

The Offices before-mentioned are very complete, and combine Excise and Clerks’ Offices, Waiting Rooms, Luncheon Hall, Sampling Room, private offices for each of the two partners, Telegraphic and Telephonic Rooms, Lavatories, &c.

There are twenty-five clerks and two hundred and fifty workmen employed on the premises. The water used in this Distillery is principally from the “Vartry,” hereafter described in another chapter. Some of the old-fashioned customers of this firm still send with their orders two empty casks - one to be filled with whisky, and the other with water from a special tap on the premises, with which they reduce their whisky on its arrival at its destination, thus uniting once more the same natures so rudely separated by the Still!

The Distillery, altogether, is about as complete a work as it is possible to find anywhere; being built on a hill, and running down from the main street to the quay, it thus has the advantage of natural gravitation.

The annual output is 900,000 gallons.

On completing our tour of inspection over the Distillery, we accepted the hospitality of the partners, and did ample justice to a substantial luncheon. We had previously sampled the firm’s make of 1885, which we thought good and most useful, either as a blending or single whisky. The old make, which we drank with our luncheon, was delicious, and finer than anything we had hitherto tasted. It was as perfect in flavour, and as pronounced in the ancient aroma of Irish Whisky so dear to the hearts of connoisseurs, as one could possibly desire, and we found a small flask of it very useful afterwards on our travels.

Who Gave Us Whiskey?

As I woke the next morning, preparing for my drive through the Irish countryside, I pondered a bit on what differences I would find in Irish distilleries today versus back in Alfred Barnard’s day. One thing I had already encountered was the strong proclamation that it was the Irish who gave whiskey to Scotland.  Having just visited 129 Scotch distilleries, there was little doubt some biases may have been developed in Alfred before he crossed the Irish Sea, and being that I had visited some 40 distilleries in Scotland and was only heading to my third overall in Ireland, I felt a small dose of pride in my Irish hosts when the subject came up. 

The competitiveness between the two countries is good natured, but you do tend to see some seriousness behind the boasts of who makes the better whiskey, when you walk into an Irish pub. I dare you to find a bottle of scotch on the whiskey wall. That said, I can’t say I remember seeing a bottle of Irish whiskey in a pub in Scotland either. 

I love both countries but I hate to break it to them, but I don’t think either country has a concrete claim on this idea of inventing whiskey. 

Let me explain. 

It is fairly certain that the origins of alchemy and the art of distillation reach all the way back to ancient Mesopotamia, but by no means were they distilling grain to make whiskey and a great fire at the library in Alexandria during the 1st century BC would bury just about any chance we have of seeing what was being distilled and for what purpose in the Middle East. 

Ask most Irish whiskey historians and they will point to Arabic peoples who invaded Spain as the likely source of the alembic stills that would eventually make their way from the Iberian Peninsula to the Irish shores - thanks to Franscican monks. The Moors made it to Spain around 711 AD, while the Franscisan monks made it to Ireland by the 13th century. 

Yet this theory ignores a huge piece of Irish history that could have seen distilling entering the island much earlier. In the early 9th century, a school opened in the town of Solerno, Italy. Not much is known about the early years of this school, but its focus was medicine and it became famous throughout the region, and drew in students and the afflicted alike. Distillation for medicinal purposes was one of the arts eventually practiced at that school. 

In 563 AD, an Irish monk St. Columba would travel up through western Scotland, establishing a monastery on the Isle of Iona. Columba would become one of the most important saints in Scotland and is also considered one of the Twelve Apostles of Ireland. The kingdom he traveled through was known as Dal Riata, which covered Western Scotland and much of today’s Northern Ireland. It is a tie that can still be felt in the cultures of both lands. 

From the monastery at Iona, the seeds of Celtic Christianity would be born. A network was developed across Western and Central Europe, which eventually extended down into Italy. It is quite possible it was the Celtic Christian monks who first brought distilling to the island, years or centuries before the Fransciscans. And if they first brought it to Iona, Scotland would gain the upper hand.

Yet, when it comes to naming the inventor of whiskey, neither argument wins.

The problem is, the monks had brought distillation, but any mention of the spirit they created, sounds more like the origins of brandy rather than whiskey. 

Wherever these early distilled spirits show up. They are referred to as “the water of life.” In Italy, this would be “aqua vitae,” in France “eau-du-vie,” in Scandanavia “aquavit” and in Ireland and Scotland “usice beatha.” That name likely came from the fact it was purified liquid for medicinal use. It would have been quite harsh to drink and one wonders if that “water of life” claim was ever questioned when people went blind after drinking it straight off the still.  

And any records that have been found point to aqua vitae being made out of grapes, spices, and aromatics - even in Ireland. As weather patterns changed and grapes became harder to source, Irish and Scottish distillers would turn to various types of grains including oats, rye, wheat, and barley. 

The first mention of aqua vitae in Ireland can be found in the Red Book of Ossory from 1324, the first mention of a grain based aqua vitae isn’t found until a century and a half later when the Exchequer Rolls show an order for 8 bols of malt for the king’s pleasure - sourced from Friar John Cor at Lindores Abbey in Scotland. Yet this wouldn’t really be what we would call whisky today. It was not aged in barrels from what we know and aromatics were still being used to doctor this strong spirit.

It all comes down to who can find the oldest record that shows the exclusive use of grain, free from any flavor additives, and aged in a barrel. My guess is, as time evolves, the goal post on who holds this claim will move further and further back and between borders, as records are uncovered. 

As an outsider, without a dog in this fight, I have to say, while it is going to be impossible to definitively declare a winner in this battle, it’s going to be fun watching the fireworks.

Whiskey Lore is a production of Travel Fuels Life LLC

Production, stories, and research by Drew Hannush

If you can’t get enough whiskey history, make sure to check out my other podcast Whiskey Lore: The Interviews, where I turn the tables and let distillers, historians, authors, and distillery founders tell their stories. 

Also keep up with the visuals from my journey across Ireland by following Whiskey Lore on Instagram and Facebook. And make sure you’re subscribed to this podcast because the Irish journey continues as we tie the history of the potato into the history of the Irish/English conflict and that first license to distill that Bushmills talks about. And I’ll continue my historic trip around today’s Irish distilleries with a visit to a castle and 300 year old mill turned distillery and we’ll hear some Irish myths and legends along the way.

Thanks for listening! I’m your host Drew Hannush and until next time, cheers and slainte mhath!

For show notes, transcripts, and links to books and social media, head to whiskey-lore.com.