Texas whisky was not a thing before Balcones, as improbable as that may sound. It certainly still feels odd to Baylor grad and Balcones head distiller Jared Himstedt.
“It’s kind of a funny deal when you think of the stereotypes of the South and the Old West and cattle driving,” Himstedt said. “You just think there was a lot of whisky, right? So the fact that there wasn’t anybody doing whisky in Texas when we got started … How the heck? That’s crazy.”
Although Himstedt (‘99) considered it an industry oversight back in 2008 when Balcones was conceived, he sensed the untapped potential. “There was no real tradition to have to stick to or respect or honor,” said Himstedt. “This was a blank slate. You could do whatever you want.”
About 16 years and several distilleries later, Texas has established itself as a formidable, surprising, and complex new region for American whiskies. Balcones, however, remains a shining example of the scene’s potential, thanks in large part to the head distiller’s vision. Like the distillation process itself, Himstedt considers Balcones only one part of a multifaceted mix of talented crafters.
“There’s a whole family,” he said of Texas whisky makers. “We’re always part of an ecosystem — in a literal sense, and a philosophical sense.”
Despite Balcones’ now well-earned respect, whisky was actually not Himstedt’s first drink of choice. During college, he initially gravitated toward craft beer brewing, and eventually became the home brewer and manager of Waco’s beloved Dancing Bear Pub. But back during school, his knowledge of whisky was primarily limited to the standard (and, by Himstedt’s own admission, lower-tier) names until a college buddy introduced him to single malt scotches.
“It was just like, ‘Oh, this makes sense. What else is there like this?’” he said.
From there, Himstedt and his pal tracked down every new whisky they could find. During this introductory era, he estimates the duo went through a bottle every few weeks, “trying everything we could get our hands on,” he said. He confessed that he can be “a little obsessive with new interests and hobbies.”
Himstedt began a slow transition toward distilling in the ensuing years, although he can’t point to any one defining moment for his new career path. “It was like a hobby that turned into work. … Next thing you know its ‘Well, we better buy a building, because our equipment is starting to sprawl.’ In hindsight, it was very odd,” he said.
Himstedt jokes about his general response when asked how to get into distilling: “Not like I did,” he said with a laugh.
Despite his humility, Himstedt certainly sounds far more confident about distilling today, and what that means for himself as well as the place he calls home. To him, creating whisky feels like a conversation with the place itself, and he wholeheartedly believes Texas is a collaborator in Balcones’ process. He points toward the fact that their whisky casks are not stored in a climate-controlled environment, but rather left to experience the region’s dramatic temperature swings and fluctuations.
“We don’t do anything to fight it, really. We kind of philosophically approach it as trying to get to know a place and then finding out how you link arms and go make something that works and is beautiful,” Himstedt said.
The area’s vast climate swings allow for an intense, rewarding product in a much shorter period of time. Usually, whisky aging can take years, if not decades, to accomplish a desired palate. However, as Texas temperatures rise, Balcones’ whisky cask wood swells, pulling the whisky in before squeezing it back out as things cool down. “So days when there are 30-degree swings are massive for that one part of the process. It’s been a fun dynamic,” Himstedt said.
It doesn’t always work to a whisky batch’s advantage, but Himstedt believes in the importance of getting to know yourself and your product via the barriers, boundaries, and challenges you face. “It has its limitations. Just like any artform, you can’t do everything,” he confesses. But Himstedt said there’s a purity and honesty to keeping the distillation process as much a product of the Texas landscape as possible.
He jokes that, with climate-controlled warehouses, “You’re basically, like – It’s not like you’re making whisky here. You could be simulating some other environment, as opposed to just enjoying and appreciating where you’re at.”
Whether its aging bourbons in virgin oak or attempting to make delicate single malts and all in between, Himstedt returns to the feeling of a “density of flavor,” comparing Texas whiskies to peers like dessert versus table wines. “It’s almost like a reduction. It’s a little bit thicker, it’s a little stickier,” he describes.
It’s a distinction he plans for Balcones to lean into in the years ahead. The ethos is to lean ever more into Texan influences, not away from them, all while “trying to figure out how to stay inspired by the things that sparked the flames in the beginning,” said Himstedt.
“It’s getting better every year,” he said, describing the various farms and strains they are experimenting with for their whisky, all before succinctly stating the master plan: “All Texas stuff.”
“If we’re gonna export Texas whiskey to other places, if you’re a surrogate for a place, you kind of want that voice to be more specific to here,” he reasons.
In the end, Himstedt and Balcones’ whiskies are exemplary of their love of and loyalty to the state of Texas. Describing his environment and decision to remain here could just as easily double as a review for a nice glass of Balcones single malt Texas whisky.
“It’s home, man,” Himstedt said. “It’s precious.”
