“The bottles bear the imprint of the Kentucky distillery Woodford Reserve, and are engraved with the words KASH PATEL FBI DIRECTOR, as well as a rendering of an FBI shield. Surrounding the shield is a band of text featuring Patel’s director title and his favored spelling of his first name: Ka$h. An eagle holds the shield in its talons, along with the number 9, presumably a reference to Patel’s place in the history of FBI directors.” — The Atlantic
Crack the seal on this uniquely squat bottle and, right away, the Woodford Reserve Director Ka$h Patel Kash Patel FBI Director signature bourbon opens with notes of cherry, a secondary zest of orange peel, and lingering funk of insurrection on the nose. It’s heady and strong, eager to prove its worth.
The vision for this spirit seems to dart in many different directions at once. At times, it gives distinct hits of cinnamon and cardamom. At others, it leans heavily into impropriety and hubris. All of these sweet spices do a dance—possibly faked—on the tongue but quickly arrest your whole mouth with unquestionable, if unqualified, character.
So much happens so quickly that it almost defies judicial review. But there’s no escaping the fact that the palate doesn’t fit the nose; it’s like a borrowed jacket that’s a hair too big. But it knows it. And it doesn’t care. And it would appreciate it if you stopped bringing it up.
The aggressive sweep of the senses continues, unabated, taking the taste in directions you wouldn’t have predicted—rich caramel, honeyed stonefruits, baking chocolate, and something that we can only describe as . There’s a leather note in here. Not soft, buttery, luxurious cowhide; more this-chair-came-with-the-office.
Even more interesting things happen when you set it aside for a term. Wait twenty minutes. Put on some tunes. Something by an up-and-coming young country artist, maybe a song that’s suspiciously similar to the Beastie Boys, whatever. When you come back, you’ll find more oxidized, emboldened sensations. Adding a drop or two of fresh spring water brings out new coconut flavors and baking spices — barley and rye are immediate culprits. Wait, no, it’s the oak lactones from the charred new oak barrels to blame. Our bad.
The sedate proof—a precise 90.4—is deceptively mild for something this pushy on the backend. The finish arrives like a hostile subpoena: jarring, poorly timed, longer than it has any right to be. A quirky spice note returns, brash and bold, unwanted but unconcerned. All man.
Off the very back end, there’s a weird, briny flavor. Is that… seashells? And there’s an astringent, overextracted aftertaste that is not pleasant, like licking the laminated balsa wood of a gold medal-winning hockey stick.
It’s certainly a rare bourbon, the kind of bottle you only get by calling in lots of favors (or having something really damning on your supplier). But is the Director Ka$h Patel Kash Patel FBI Director edition Woodford Reserve bourbon destined to sit alongside a King of Kentucky 17-year? A Heaven Hill 22? Or a POTUS 47? We’ll have to wait and see. You’ll know because we’ll tell you. It’s doing a great job. It’s a critical part of your liquor cabinet. Even though you might not see it back there, hiding behind taller bottles, it’s suited for regular, if not excessive, drinking.
Sip it neat or guzzle it in a locker room.
Trickle it over a big icy rock before Congressional testimony.
Pound it on a DOJPJ1 going anywhere your boo desires.
Bourbon like we’ve never seen before.
People are saying it’s the greatest ever.
1 This was not reviewed at altitude on a private jet, which may have affected the taste.