Mashbill Memoirs - Clinton Dugan

07/21/2026

Always experimenting, always pushing ahead 👀

07/09/2026

One of my favorite things is when a reviewer understands exactly what I wanted the finished whiskey to do and writes about it without me ever having to explain it.

That’s what I loved about this review of Sapsquatch.
“Without question, this is the most unconventional maple-finished bourbon I’ve encountered. The maple component remains visible from start to finish, yet spice consistently commands attention.”

That was the goal.

I never wanted Sapsquatch to taste like maple syrup with bourbon added to it. The maple should be there from start to finish, but the bourbon and especially the spice still has to command your attention.

When someone tastes the whiskey and understands the intent behind it, that means more to me than just about anything.

Love this review.

110 proof.
A- / $90

Maple syrup barrel-finished bourbon has become increasingly common over the past several years. In most instances, bourbon is transferred into used maple syrup barrels, and consumers may be told wh…

07/08/2026

I don’t agree that the bourbon boom is over.
I think the easy bourbon boom is over.

For years, almost everything worked. Put whiskey in a bottle. Find a distributor. Get it on a shelf. Call it allocated. Create scarcity. Raise the price. Consumers were chasing bottles faster than brands could make them.

That market needed a correction.

Yes, there is too much inventory. Consumption patterns are changing. Some companies built production capacity around growth curves that were never going to continue forever. Too many brands entered the market assuming that simply being in bourbon was enough.

But I don’t see the end of bourbon. I see the end of lazy bourbon.

The consumer has more choices than ever, and that means a label, an age statement, a big marketing budget, or artificial scarcity is no longer enough. The whiskey has to be good. The price has to make sense. The brand has to give people a reason to care.

And for those of us actually working with whiskey every day, I think what comes next is far more interesting than what came before.

There is more mature inventory in the market. Better access to barrels that were once nearly impossible to find. More opportunities to blend across ages, mash bills, distilleries, states, and maturation environments. More room to experiment with finishing and secondary maturation. And more pressure on every brand to actually earn the consumer’s attention.

Ten years ago, bourbon was largely a distillation story. Where was it made? Who made it? What was the mash bill?

I believe the next decade will be a maturation story.

Where was it aged? How did the warehouse change it? What happens when the same whiskey spends years in different climates or different parts of a warehouse? What can the right secondary barrel add? How do different ages and mash bills work together? What decisions actually make the whiskey better?

The boom may be over for anyone who believed bourbon would simply sell because it was bourbon.

For the people willing to make better whiskey, make harder decisions, tell better stories, build real communities, and give consumers real value?
I think the most interesting part is just getting started.

07/02/2026

The Blender’s Notebook

Entry No. 002 – Does Barrel Placement Matter?

Walk into a whiskey warehouse and all you see are barrels.

Rows and rows of them.

To most people, they all look the same. To a Master Blender, every one tells a different story.

Our warehouse isn’t climate controlled. It breathes with Georgia’s seasons. In the middle of summer, the barrels near the roof can be 20–30°F warmer than the ones resting on the floor. Every hot afternoon pushes whiskey deeper into the oak. Every cool night pulls it back out. Thousands of those cycles shape the whiskey over time.

Then there’s sunlight. Those skylights aren’t just there to light the warehouse—they create different environments. Add in the south wall soaking up the afternoon sun while the north wall stays noticeably cooler, and suddenly identical barrels aren’t living identical lives anymore.

So here’s the question...

If I filled four barrels with the exact same bourbon on the exact same day, then aged each one in a different location, would they taste the same years later?

I think they would.

Over the next few entries, we’re going to find out. I’ll start pulling samples from different parts of the warehouse, taste them blind, and share what I’m finding along the way.

Because great bourbon isn’t just shaped by the mash bill or the barrel.

It’s shaped by where that barrel has lived.

Next Entry: Can I identify a top-rack barrel from a bottom-rack barrel in a blind tasting?

06/30/2026

The Blender’s Notebook

Entry No. 001

Every Barrel Has a Story

For the past several weeks, we’ve been buried in inventory.

That probably sounds like spreadsheets and barcode scanners.

It’s not.

Inventory in a whiskey warehouse means touching every single barrel. Reading every tag. Looking for leaks. Watching how the wood is changing. Checking fills. Confirming locations. Listening.

When you have more than 1,600 barrels, you start noticing things.

A barrel that’s darkened more than its neighbors.

One that’s breathing a little harder in the summer heat.

One tucked away on the coolest side of the warehouse that has quietly become something special.

Every pass through the warehouse teaches you something.

This week I found myself stopping over and over, looking up at the racks.

The barrels near the roof.

The barrels on the floor.

The ones sitting beneath the skylights.

The ones hiding in the corners.

Same whiskey. Same barrel. Same fill date.

Completely different lives.

As a Master Blender, that’s what fascinates me.

I’m not just tasting bourbon—I’m tasting where that bourbon has lived.

Over the next few weeks, I’m opening my notebook.

We’ll pull samples.

Test theories.

Challenge assumptions.

And maybe bust a few bourbon myths along the way.

Because the best whiskey isn’t made by accident.

It’s built one barrel—and one decision—at a time.

Next Entry: Does barrel placement really matter? Top rack vs. bottom rack. South wall vs. north wall.

06/27/2026

Yesterday I posted a picture of a ladder in a hot warehouse, staring at barrels.

A lot of people asked the same question…

“What are you actually looking for?”

Truth is, I’m not looking for more oak. I’m listening for balance.

When we double oak a bourbon, the goal isn’t to overpower it with wood. It’s to find that moment where vanilla gets deeper, baking spice becomes richer, caramel stretches across the palate, and the finish hangs around just a little longer. Push it too far and the oak starts drowning everything else out.

That’s why every barrel gets tracked over time.

I taste. I compare. I take notes. I watch how compounds like vanillin, furfural, eugenol, syringaldehyde, and 5-HMF evolve. Every one of them tells part of the story, but none of them matter by themselves. It’s the relationship between them that makes a barrel sing.

The South makes this even more interesting.

Our summers pull whiskey deep into the oak. Cooler nights give it a chance to settle back out. Every heat cycle is another conversation between spirit and wood, and every barrel responds a little differently.

One experiment I’m especially excited about is something we’re calling Country Roads Cask.

Instead of using identical staves, this barrel alternates toasted and charred staves all the way around. The theory is simple: toasted oak builds sweetness and texture, while charred oak adds structure, depth, and classic bourbon character. Together? Hopefully something neither could create on its own.

Will it work?

I honestly don’t know yet.

That’s the fun part.

Every great whiskey starts with a question… and sometimes a ladder.

06/26/2026

A day in the life of a master blender…

I stare at barrels. A lot.

Today I found myself halfway up a ladder, just listening.

It’s hot in the warehouse, and the barrels are hot too. That’s when they start to talk.

Pops. Creaks. Groans.

As the whiskey expands with the heat, pressure builds inside the barrel. The oak flexes, and sometimes a tiny amount of whiskey seeps through the wood or around a stave. It might look like the barrel is leaking, leaving behind a dark stain, but most of the time it’s simply the barrel breathing.

Those dark spots? That’s often whiskey that made it to the surface, then evaporated, leaving behind color compounds from the spirit and the oak. Not every stain is a problem—many are just signs the barrel is alive and doing what it’s supposed to do.

Most people hear a warehouse.

I hear thousands of barrels quietly turning clear spirit into bourbon, this fall everyone will understand why these days mean the most.

06/17/2026

Quick stop at Gate E28 before heading to Louisville.

One of the unexpected benefits of having a location inside ATL Airport is the amount of feedback that comes through the bar every day. Travelers from around the world, one of the busiest airports on the planet, and bartenders who hear it all.

It’s become a surprisingly good place to study how people discover whiskey, what they’re ordering, and how they interact with brands in real time.

Now it’s time to head north and talk barrels.

06/16/2026

A lot of people ask what I do all day.

Some days it’s blending whiskey.

Some days it’s climbing rick racks, pulling samples, or staring at spreadsheets that somehow turn into barrel projects.

Lately, it’s been a lot of listening.

Talking to customers. Reading emails. Watching what sells. Watching what doesn’t. Paying attention to what people are actually excited about instead of what the industry thinks they should be excited about.

One thing I’ve become convinced of:

Ten years ago bourbon was a distillation story. Today it’s becoming a maturation story.

The conversation is changing.

People want to know about the barrels. The wood. The warehouse. The finish. The blend. Why one barrel tastes different than the one sitting right beside it.

That’s the stuff I love.

That’s also why I started this account.

Not to sell bottles.

Not to be a brand page.

Just a place to share thoughts, experiments, barrel projects, ideas, successes, failures, and whatever else is rattling around in my head while walking through warehouses.

Some of it will be useful.

Some of it will probably be bad ideas.

A few of those bad ideas might become whiskey.

Welcome to the behind-the-scenes side of bourbon.

🥃🪵📓

06/08/2026

Ever been on top of barrels?

From up here, one thing becomes obvious: warehouses aren’t just storage. They’re ecosystems.

People talk about barrels as if every barrel ages the same. They don’t. In a warehouse like this, a barrel’s location becomes another ingredient. The whiskey inside might be identical on day one, but after years of heat, airflow, and seasonal swings, the barrel’s address becomes part of the flavor.

One concept I think about often is density. A tightly packed section of barrels almost creates its own microclimate. The barrels on the outside experience more airflow and greater temperature swings. The barrels buried in the middle are insulated by hundreds of barrels around them. I sometimes think of it as a thermal forest. Just like the center of a dense forest stays cooler and more protected than the edge, the middle of a barrel stack can live a very different life than the barrels exposed to open air.

That means two barrels filled on the same day, from the same batch, and stored in the same warehouse may mature differently simply because of where they spent their time. Some locations encourage more evaporation, more oak extraction, and faster development. Others age slower and preserve different characteristics.

Time matters. But so does the neighborhood.