American whiskey loves its heritage stories. Generations of master distillers. Kentucky limestone water. Hand-selected barrels resting in century-old rickhouses. Every premium bourbon has a version of this narrative.
But here's what I've always wondered: do consumers actually care who owns the distillery? When Brown-Forman (Jack Daniel's, Woodford Reserve) is competing for shelf space, does corporate ownership matter? Or does only the liquid matter?
I ran a study with six US whiskey consumers to find out. The answer is more nuanced - and more actionable - than I expected.
The Participants
I recruited six personas across a deliberately wide range: a project manager in New Hampshire, a volunteer caregiver in rural Missouri living on $1,600 a year, a COO in North Carolina earning $720,000, an education coordinator in rural Nebraska, a field technician in Texas, and a sales representative in rural Maine.
Ages ranged from late 30s to mid-50s. The income spread was enormous - from under $2k to over $700k. What they had in common: they all drink whiskey, they all have preferences, and they all have opinions about what justifies a premium.
Ownership Changes Narrative, Not Liquid
The most striking finding was how consistently participants separated ownership from quality. Corporate ownership affects how they think about the brand story - but not how they evaluate what's in the glass.
One participant, a COO at a major company, put it directly:
"Ownership mainly changes the brand narrative, not the liquid."
This is someone who could afford any whiskey he wants. His decisions remain "rooted in in-glass quality and consistency." He rejects "packaging-driven uplift" - he'll pay modestly more for demonstrable liquid superiority, but not for corporate storytelling.
Across all income levels, the same pattern held. Taste, proof, and consistency drive decisions. Corporate pedigree doesn't.
The Heritage Scepticism
If heritage stories don't build trust, what do they do? For many participants, they trigger scepticism.
A project manager in New Hampshire demanded what he called "hard transparency" to replace "heritage fluff." He wants age statements, mash bill percentages, batch information - concrete specifications, not gauzy narratives about tradition.
Rural participants were particularly pragmatic. A volunteer caregiver in Missouri and an education coordinator in Nebraska demonstrated functional value focus - they want to know what they're getting for their money, not where the distillery was founded.
The concern isn't that heritage is false - it's that it's often used to justify prices that the liquid doesn't support. One participant described this as a "marketing tax" - a premium for storytelling disconnected from product quality.
Transparency Restores Trust
So what does build trust? The data was clear: transparency. Specifically:
Age statements - how long the whiskey actually aged
Mash bill percentages - what grains, in what proportions
Proof and batch ranges - consistency information
Process notes - fermentation, distillation, aging details
Ethical sourcing disclosures - labour and environmental practices
This isn't about cynicism toward corporate brands. It's about wanting proof. Several participants noted they'd give corporate scale credit for "QA and availability" - they appreciate consistency and widespread distribution. But they're simultaneously sceptical of marketing premiums that aren't backed by verifiable quality differences.
The Price Premium Problem
I asked specifically about the price gap between Jack Daniel's and Woodford Reserve - both Brown-Forman brands, roughly $10-15 apart on shelf. The finding was precise:
A $10-15 gap feels fair. Beyond that reads as "portfolio pricing."
Woodford's premium is accepted only when "it reliably shows up in the glass" - tighter oak, cleaner finish, repeatability. Without demonstrable liquid superiority, higher pricing looks like margin extraction rather than quality justification.
The COO participant characterised unjustified premiums as "funding ad copy." And multiple participants mentioned using side-by-side tastings and per-ounce maths to evaluate whether premiums are justified.
As a sales representative in Maine put it: premiums require "tighter oak, cleaner finish" and repeatability. Without that, you're not getting her money.
Gifting Changes the Calculus
Something interesting emerged around gifting occasions. The decision framework shifts.
For personal consumption, participants lean toward value and are willing to experiment. For high-stakes gifts - important occasions, relationships that matter - they default to recognisable brands that ensure recipient satisfaction and reliable availability.
In this context, ownership becomes a "tie-breaker, not a deal-breaker." When quality and pricing align, several participants lean toward independents for "story and local impact." But when stakes are high, predictability wins.
A field technician in Texas demonstrated practical splits: Jack Daniel's for mixing, premium selections for neat consumption. The use case, not ownership philosophy, drives the choice.
Quick Punishment for Downgrades
One finding should concern any brand that's quietly modified their product: consumers notice. And they punish quickly.
"Proof cuts and shrinkflation are punished quickly."
Multiple participants cited proof cuts as brand abandonment triggers. An education coordinator in Nebraska and a sales representative in Maine both demonstrated rapid switching behaviour when liquid quality appeared compromised.
This connects back to the transparency point. Consumers don't necessarily object to changes - they object to undisclosed changes. If you're adjusting proof or formulation, tell them. Stealth modifications destroy trust far faster than honest disclosure.
Segment Differences
While the core findings held across segments, some notable differences emerged:
Rural, price-sensitive buyers prioritise per-ounce value and functional utility. They tolerate conglomerate consistency but reject inflation pricing. Their scepticism centres on perceived cost-cutting rather than authenticity concerns.
Trades-oriented, pragmatic consumers evaluate spirits like equipment - reliability, repeatability, proof and price-per-ounce. Storytelling and brand mythology prove largely irrelevant.
Ethics-oriented professionals add transparency and ethics as tie-breakers. Disclosure of age statements, mash bill, sourcing, and labour/environmental practices can neutralise ownership scepticism. This segment shows willingness to pay premiums for verifiable provenance.
High-income executives surprisingly aligned with value-focused buyers on rejecting marketing premiums. Despite significant income, decisions remain rooted in in-glass quality. Affluence doesn't equal tolerance for unjustified pricing.
What This Means for Premium Whiskey Brands
If I were advising Brown-Forman or any major whiskey portfolio, here's what I'd take away:
Prove premiums experientially. Side-by-side tastings directly address the "marketing tax" narrative. Blind preference testing is essential validation before premium positioning.
Swap heritage for specifications. Consumers want age, proof, mash bill, process notes. Gauzy heritage copy triggers distrust. Hard transparency on production fundamentals restores credibility.
Respect price guardrails. The $10-15 premium corridor represents observed tolerance. Approaching 2x positioning reads as portfolio pricing without sensory validation.
Protect liquid integrity. No silent proof cuts or shrinkflation. Consumers punish perceived downgrades rapidly. If changes are necessary, disclose them.
Use occasion-first portfolio guidance. Gift contexts favour predictability; everyday consumers will experiment. Architecture should reflect this.
The Bigger Picture
What struck me most about this research was how sophisticated these consumers are. They understand the whiskey industry. They know that corporate ownership often comes with benefits - consistency, availability, quality control. They're not reflexively anti-corporate.
But they're also not going to pay extra for stories. Heritage storytelling validates premium pricing only when the premium shows up in the glass. Without that sensory proof, the heritage narrative becomes a liability - a signal that you're paying for marketing rather than product.
The path forward isn't to abandon heritage. It's to substantiate it. Pair the stories with specifications. Back the narrative with transparency. And most importantly: make sure the liquid actually justifies what you're charging.
Because at the end of the day, consumers judge whiskey by what's in the glass. Everything else is just context.
What the Research Revealed
We asked real consumers to share their thoughts. Here's what they told us:
If a friend asked you about craft spirits, what would you tell them? What would you say are the benefits? What would you warn them about?
Rebecca Metzler, 44, Sales Manager, Franklin city, TN, USA:
Short version: craft spirits are a nice-to-have when they drink better than your house pour. Not a religion. I buy them for taste and story on my terms, not because a label is yelling local at me. Mild Franklin night, old-fashioned on a big cube, that’s the use case. This week my patience for hype is at zero, so clean labels only. What I like about craft:
Flavor variety: Warmer spice, interesting finishes, less vanilla sameness.
Entertaining: One local bottle sparks a real conversation and still pours well.
Gifting: Signals thought and supporting makers without a billboard.
Tasting rooms: Quick, fun flight, meet the team, judge it in the glass.
Price creep: If it crosses my $60 rye ceiling, it better drink like a weekend, not Tuesday.
Inconsistency: Batches swing. I’m not running QA on someone’s hobby.
Scarcity games: Blink-and-miss drops are cute until game day and the bottle is gone.
Label fog: No age, no mash bill, no distillation info. Hard pass.
Form over function: Wax caps, heavy glass, corks that crumble. Save the wax for candles.
Read the facts: age, mash bill, where distilled, proof. No hide-and-seek.
Taste check: 1 oz neat, then an old-fashioned. It needs a clean finish and backbone.
Price sanity: Within $10-15 of my mainstream go-to.
Restock plan: Available in Franklin so I can buy bottle two without a scavenger hunt.
Bottom line: craft earns a spot when ROI shows up in the glass. Otherwise I pour the reliable workhorse and move on. Next steps if you want to try some: Saturday after the market, we hit the tasting room, I bring bitters, we run a patio test on a big cube. If it wins, we buy one bottle for the tray and keep a mainstream backup for volume. Owner: me on logistics, you on ice and oranges.
Kaitlin Hoffmann, 31, Unemployed Adult, Rural, MI, USA:
Honest take: I’m not your cocktail girl. I barely drink, and if I want something special at night, it’s tea and a library ebook. But I do see where craft spirits fit, especially around holidays and neighborly thank-yous. What I’d tell a friend about the benefits:
Local feel - When it’s truly from nearby growers and makers, it feels like putting your dollars back into the community. That matters to me.
Seasonal flavors - Michigan cherry, apple, maple... those can actually taste cozy in cocoa or cider without needing a whole bar cart.
Giftable - Small bottles with simple labels look nice in a basket for a neighbor or a host gift. Feels thoughtful without being fussy.
Try-before-you-buy - Markets often give a tiny sip, which settles it fast. If I like the taste, great. If not, no harm.
Price creep - Easy to pay extra for pretty copy that won’t matter once it’s in hot cocoa. If you can’t taste the difference, it’s just money gone.
Sugar bombs - Some flavored stuff leans syrupy. A touch sweet is fine; cloying turns me off.
Faux-local vibes - Rustic fonts do not equal local. If the story feels canned, I’m skeptical.
Inconvenience - I’m not driving an hour for a bottle I’ll use twice. If it’s not where I already shop, it probably won’t happen.
Big bottles that linger - If you don’t drink much, that 750 ml becomes a dusty cupboard trophy.
Meds and sleep - I don’t mix well with alcohol, so one tiny splash max and only when I’m not trying to function later. Not worth grumpy joints or lousy rest.
Pretentious instructions - If it needs a muddler, a torch, and three syrups, I’m out. I’m not bartending on a Tuesday.
My bottom line: craft is a nice gesture when it’s truly local, fairly priced, and comes in a small bottle that plays well with cocoa or cider. Otherwise, I’ll keep my cheap neutral for baking and call it a night with tea. If that sounds cranky, fine. I just don’t pay extra for poetry on a label.
Benjamin Patterson, 27, Vocational Training Student, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
I’d tell them straight up: I barely drink. Money tight, new baby, I like my head clear. Craft stuff looks cool, but it ain’t a big deal to me. I’m back on sweet tea most nights. If they pressed me, I’d say the good parts I’ve seen are:
Supports local. Feels nice when a bottle ties back to the community.
Sometimes smoother. That cousin’s whiskey had a sweet-oak thing that was kinda nice.
Good gift or moment. Birthday toast, pretty bottle, folks talk for a minute.
Price. High for what it is. I don’t see the value most times.
Hype talk. Small-batch, rare, limited... alright, but can you taste it or nah.
Strong. Hits quick. Next morning feels rough, and I still got diapers and church.
Fussy bottles. Wax tops, tricky corks. I like a twist cap and peace.
Hard to find. Not at every corner store. I’m not driving all over.
So yeah... if my friend loves that culture, cool, enjoy. Me, I only mess with it if it’s cheap, smooth, and small so I don’t waste money. Otherwise I’ll sip my tea, eat my wings, and let God handle the hype.
Gabriel Woodruff, 27, Unemployed Adult, Rural, MO, USA:
Short version: I’d tell them craft is a now-and-then treat, not a miracle. Cool to try, easy to overpay. What I’d say the benefits are:
Backs local folks: Feels good to keep dollars close to home. Makes a nice gift or raffle bottle that gets people talking.
Occasional flavor wins: Every so often a rye has some character that plays nice over ice or with Coke. Tastings can be fun if they’re pouring for free or cheap.
Conversation piece: Show up to a cookout with a local label and folks go oh hey, that’s from here.
Young and hot: A lot of craft whiskey drinks green, like fresh oak and nail polish. If it burns going down, I’m out.
Price creep: Cute label, fat glass, tiny batch - and suddenly it’s $40-plus for something that still needs a couple birthdays.
Inconsistent: Batch to batch roulette. Bottle one is okay, bottle two is weird.
No fairy tales: I don’t care about glacier water or hand-numbered corks. Put age, mash, and where it was actually made on the label or I don’t trust it.
Category traps: Gin still tastes like a Christmas tree to me. Vodka is vodka. Craft rum leans syrupy or gimmicky too often.
Availability: If I can’t buy it where I shop, I’m not driving a county over for a refill.
My bottom line: price-to-taste wins. If a craft bottle drinks smooth at 90-100 proof, works neat and with cola, tells the truth on the label, and sits around $25-30, I’ll bite. Otherwise I grab my reliable mid-shelf and call it a day. Craft is great for gifting or a bonfire mixer. For my Tuesday night pour, I want something that doesn’t make my wallet or my throat mad.
When you compare craft spirits to mainstream brands, what actually makes a difference to you? What would a craft spirit need to have or do for you to choose it over your usual go-to brand?
Rebecca Metzler, 44, Sales Manager, Franklin city, TN, USA:
Short answer: it has to beat my house pour in the glass, not on the label. If I can’t blind it next to my usual and pick the craft on taste and finish, I’m not paying extra. Spare me the frontier cosplay and give me clean data and a better drink. What actually moves the needle for me:
Taste + structure: Warmer spice, cleaner finish, no ethanol bite at cocktail proof. It should hold an old-fashioned on a big cube and still be pleasant neat.
Transparency: Clear age, mash bill, where it’s distilled, and proof. No sourcing hide-and-seek. If it’s young, own it and tell me why it works.
Price sanity: Within $10-15 of my mainstream go-to, tops. My craft rye ceiling is $60. If you’re above that, you’d better drink like a special occasion, not Tuesday.
Consistency: Batch-to-batch should be tight. If a release swings, flag it and explain the delta. I’m not running QA on your hobby.
Availability: I can restock in Franklin or a nearby shop. No “blink and you miss it” nonsense for a basic sipper.
Function over theater: Real cork that doesn’t crumble, bottle that pours clean, label I can read. Save the wax for candles.
Values, quietly: Local is a plus, lighter glass is a plus. Don’t lecture me about it on the back label.
Beat my standard in a head-to-head old-fashioned and show a cleaner finish neat.
Stay under my price cap or deliver obvious step-up quality if you want a premium.
Show me the facts on the label so I don’t have to Google your origin story mid-pour.
Prove you can keep it in stock so I’m not re-planning a game-day run because your batch evaporated.
Next steps if you want my money: pour me a 1 oz taste, hand me a straight-talking spec card, price it within striking distance of my go-to, and tell me where I can buy the next bottle in Franklin. If it wins the patio test on a mild, breezy night like this, I’ll grab it. If it leans on hype or scarcity games, hard pass.
Leonard Ugalde, 30, Maintenance Technician, Davie town, FL, USA:
Short answer: cut the poetry. For me it’s price, taste, and honesty. Everything else is noise. What actually makes a difference: - Price that respects my wallet: I’m not paying 60 bucks to read a haiku on the label. Rum under ~35-40, whiskey under ~45 unless it’s truly special. Sale helps. If it’s “craft” but priced like a museum piece, no gracias. - Clean finish: No syrup vibe, no fake vanilla blast, no headache after one or two. If I can sip a finger in this sticky weather and not feel coated, that’s a win. Mixes clean with Coke and lime without turning into dessert. - Transparency: Tell me straight - age, proof, what’s in it and what’s not. No added sugar or flavoring if you say so, then actually mean it. Don’t slap “small batch” on a bottle and sell me hype. - Consistency: Batch to batch shouldn’t be a roulette wheel. I want predictable. That’s why mainstream wins by default. - Availability: If I have to chase drops or drive across town after a 12-hour shift, forget it. Put it where I already shop and at normal hours. - Right proof for Florida: 40-46% is my lane. I’m not trying to wrestle cask strength in 26°C and humidity with afternoon showers. - Packaging that’s practical: Screw cap that seals, not some crumbly cork. Bottle that actually fits my cabinet and doesn’t leak in a backpack if I’m on the bike. - Respectful vibe: Bilingual info is nice. Don’t stereotype Latinos to sell rum. Treat your workers right. Keep the marketing chill - I’m not trying to host Club León again after my neighbor complained. What would make me switch from my usual: - I can taste the improvement in a simple Cuba Libre or one pour neat - cleaner, lighter, not sticky. - It’s priced fair and not acting like luxury cosplay. - I can grab it easily at my normal spot, not hunt it. - Maybe offer a 375 ml or a mini so I can try before committing. - Bonus if it’s local and legit with no added junk. Cool story is fine, but the liquid has to back it up. Hit those, and yeah, I’ll pick the craft bottle. Miss one or two, and I default to the mainstream standby because it’s predictable and I’ve got a 5 am shift.
Nishant Krupinski, 32, Unemployed Adult, Rural, OH, USA:
Short take: it comes down to price, taste, and honesty. If those line up, I’ll pick the craft bottle. If not, I’ll grab my usual and keep moving. Longer version - what actually moves me:
Price that pencils out: I’m not paying double for a maybe. If a craft bottle sits within 5-10 bucks of my regular, or offers a 375 at a fair price so I can test it, I’m listening.
Taste that isn’t “young and hot”: No green wood, no nail-polish nose, no sugar-bomb rum. I want a clean finish and some backbone. Rye can bite a little, but it shouldn’t burn like bad decisions.
Honesty on the label: Tell me mash bill, proof, where it’s made, and how old it actually is. Don’t hide behind flowery stories and tiny print.
Proof and stretch: 90-100 proof hits my sweet spot. Stands up in a simple mixer, sips neat on a cool night like this, and doesn’t vanish under one ice cube.
Consistency: If Batch 2 tastes like a different brand from Batch 1, I’m out. I don’t have money to gamble every time.
Local without the guilt trip: I like supporting neighbors, but the liquid still has to be good. Sponsor the county fair, be decent folks, and pour samples so I can try before I buy.
Practical packaging: Skip the heavy trophy glass and goofy corks that crumble. Give me a cap that seals tight and a label I can actually read.
Availability: I need to find it at the little shop off the highway, not drive 45 minutes to some boutique.
No gimmicks: “Smoked this” and “limited that” means nothing if it tastes thin. Save the hype for someone else.
Side-by-side sip where the craft clearly wins on flavor and finish, not just a louder label.
Fair price or a smaller bottle so I’m not stuck with an expensive mistake.
Real transparency about what’s in the bottle and who made it.
Proves it mixes and sips well - plays nice with a splash of cola at a garage hang and still tastes right neat when I’m sitting with Rusty.
Reliable to re-buy next month and taste the same.
If it hits those notes, I’ll swap in the craft bottle. If it tastes like wet plywood and costs sixty bucks, it can keep gathering dust on the shelf.
Brandie Ramirez, 40, Stay-at-Home Parent, Sacramento, CA, USA:
Short answer: put it in the glass and prove it. If it tastes clearly better without drama, I will switch. If it is mostly vibes and a cute label, no. What actually makes a difference for me:
Taste in a blind glass - cleaner, better finish, not harsh. If the rye is less hot and more pepper-toast, I notice. If the gin leans citrus-herbal and not pine bomb, I notice.
Transparency - mash bill, proof, age, barrel, and whether it is sourced or distilled in-house. Just say it. If you sweetened or finished it, say that too.
Price and size - a 375 ml at a sane price lets me try without babysitting a full bottle. I will pay maybe 10-20% over my mid-shelf if it is clearly better. If it is equal, it better be the same price.
Availability - on a shelf I already visit or easy curbside nearby. No waitlists, lotteries, or scavenger hunts. I have school pickup.
Proof and balance - I like some backbone, but not a flamethrower. I want a small pour on a 14°C Elk Grove night that will not wreck my sleep.
Consistency - batch to batch should not swing wildly. If I liked A, B should not taste like a different product.
Use case fit - neat for a quiet night, or 2-ingredient friendly for tacos night. If it needs a chemistry set to be good, pass.
Local with receipts - I will pay a little more for real local work and plain talk. Spare me the small-batch poetry.
Win the glass - side by side, it needs a cleaner nose, calmer heat, and a finish that lets me turn off the lights without waking at 3 a.m.
Tell me the facts on the label - grain, age, proof, barrel. If it is sourced, fine, just own it.
Offer a half-bottle - let me buy in small. I am not decorating the pantry with mistakes.
Keep the premium modest - better by the sip, not double by the sticker.
Be easy to get - Raley’s, warehouse club, or a straightforward local pickup. No clubs, no subscriptions, no nonsense.
Pass the Tuesday test - simple vodka-soda tastes cleaner than my usual, or a neat pour of rye feels composed after dishes, dogs, quiet house. If it only shines in a cocktail I never make, useless.
Respect my time - clear info, no novella of tasting notes. A QR code with the hard facts is fine. Gracias.
If the world feels loud - and lately it does - my bottle needs to be the opposite: steady, honest, quiet. Do that, and I will swap brands without blinking. If not, I will stick to my boring reliable mid-shelf and sleep with the white noise on.
Tell me about the last time you bought or tried a craft spirit. What was the experience like? What prompted you to choose that particular bottle or drink?
Jessica Tyler, 40, Chef, Rural, GA, USA:
Short answer: never. I do not buy it and I do not taste it. Closest I got was a farmers market booth pushing a peach-whiskey sample. I smiled, said no thank you, took their postcard so I was not rude, and tossed it later. Another time a bride’s mama asked for bourbon in bread pudding. I swapped in vanilla and sorghum and everyone cleaned their plates. I do not buy it as a gift either because I do not want that tied to my name. Clear line, no fuss. It is like keeping coffee off my menu - one rule saves ten arguments. Does that make sense for what you are asking?
Benjamin Patterson, 27, Vocational Training Student, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
Last time was at my cousin’s birthday in Port Arthur. His boy walked in with one of those Texas craft whiskeys, wax top, fancy label. He poured me a tiny splash in a plastic cup. Smelled strong. Little sweet, some oak, kinda vanilla-cinnamon thing. Warmed my chest, then I chased it with sweet tea. I said, yeah that’s smooth... and set it down. I didn’t buy it. He handed it to me and was like, support local. I took a sip to be polite and see the fuss. Price sounded crazy for what it is. I’d rather keep that money on diapers and gas. I went back to wings, dominoes, and kept my head clear. Let God handle the hype.
Nishant Krupinski, 32, Unemployed Adult, Rural, OH, USA:
Last time was a couple weekends back at the town holiday market. Brisk day, hands in my pockets, my girlfriend wanted to look at candles, and I spotted a local outfit pouring tiny samples. I figured, alright, one or two sips won’t wreck the grocery budget.
What I tried: a rye and a spiced rum. The rum was dessert-sweet, not my lane. The rye had a nice pepper snap and a little dill thing going on. Also a touch hot, like it could use another year in the barrel.
Why I picked it: I grabbed a 375 of the rye to bring to a buddy’s garage for the game. It felt right to show up with something local, and the guy behind the table looked like he actually runs the still, not just reads a script. Price wasn’t stupid for the half bottle, so the math barely penciled out.
The pour: neat it nipped the tongue. With a single cube it opened up and settled down. We passed it around with venison sliders off the griddle and it played fine. No one was raving, no one was grimacing. Solid middle of the road.
Afterthoughts: good hang, good story to tell, bottle was gone by the end of the night. I liked supporting them, but for my own shelf I’ll go back to the regular budget stuff until payday looks friendlier. Craft hit the spot for the occasion, not for the habit.
So yeah, it was a fun little detour. If I stumble on another sample table, I’ll sip again. If it’s just a fancy label and a $60 tag, it can sit there and look pretty for somebody else.
Molly Moran, 28, Elementary School Teacher, Arlington city, TX, USA:
Last time was a friend’s birthday at a distillery in Fort Worth. I went straight for their rum flight because I’m a rum girl, and I wanted to be fair. First sip smelled nice - vanilla, a little banana - but the finish was hot and super oaky, like chewing on a barrel stave. The spiced one tasted like a cinnamon broom from H‑E‑B. I ended up with a daiquiri made with their white rum - fine, but at $13 for a small glass I was doing grocery math in my head. Why I picked it: group pick, cute copper-still vibes for photos, and they had a little teacher discount that knocked a couple bucks off, so I figured, ok, support local, be nice. I did not buy a bottle - $55 plus tax is a nope when my bring-home cap is $25-30. Fun outing, pretty lighting, but for home I’m back to my regular Dominican bottle that behaves in coquito and doesn’t wreck my budget. Bonus: a few weeks later I grabbed a small-batch gin as a housewarming gift because the label was bonita and they were sampling. I tasted it - very Christmas tree, very rosemary soap - not for me, but the host loved it, so fine.
When you think about craft spirits—things like craft gin, vodka, whiskey, or rum—what role, if any, do they play in your life? How important are craft spirits to you compared to mainstream brands?
Jessica Tyler, 40, Chef, Rural, GA, USA:
Short answer: none. I do not drink and I keep my cafe alcohol-free, so craft spirits and big brands are the same to me because I do not buy either. I respect local makers keeping folks employed, but I do not want alcohol tied to my name, my shop, or church events. Folks offer samples or sponsor money now and then, and I politely decline. Clear line keeps my choices simple. It is like leaving coffee off my menu so my standards stay consistent. Does that make sense for what you’re asking?
Molly Moran, 28, Elementary School Teacher, Arlington city, TX, USA:
Honestly, craft spirits are background noise in my life. I’m a rum girl by culture, so if I’m buying, it’s the Dominican stuff my tío swears by, not a $45 small-batch with a moody label. Gin tastes like a Christmas tree to me, vodka is fine but boring, and whiskey still reminds me of one terrible college night, so no gracias. I’ll try a local pour if it’s happy hour or a friend plans a distillery thing in Fort Worth - fun once, too pricey after. For family stuff, I make coquito at Christmas with the regular brand because the recipe matters more than the flex. So craft vs mainstream? Mainstream wins on price and consistency, and with 7 a.m. duty and Zumba, I’m not chasing rare bottles - maybe a cute craft bottle as a gift once in a while, but that’s it.
Benjamin Patterson, 27, Vocational Training Student, Beaumont city, TX, USA:
Short answer: not important to me. I barely drink. Money tight, new baby, I like my head clear. If somebody shows up with a fancy bottle at a birthday, I might take a little sip, say yeah that’s smooth, then I’m back on sweet tea. Church stuff is dry. Family cookouts we keep it chill. All that small-batch talk feels like folks trying to sound fancy. I don’t taste some big difference, and I’m not paying extra for a pretty label. If I ever buy, it’s whatever’s cheap and steady, maybe for a holiday toast. Craft vs mainstream? Craft sits at like a 1 out of 10 for me. Main thing is price and not acting a fool. Let God handle the hype.
Nishant Krupinski, 32, Unemployed Adult, Rural, OH, USA:
Short version: craft spirits are a nice-to-have, not a need. Long version:
Day to day: I’m not a collector. If I keep anything on the shelf, it’s a steady, affordable bottle that mixes clean and tastes fine neat. Craft stuff just doesn’t pencil out for me most weeks.
Taste vs price: I’ve had some small-batch bottles that were real smooth and interesting. I’ve also had a few that tasted young and hot, like they were rushing it. Hard to justify double the price for a coin toss.
When I do buy craft: gifts, a special dinner, or if a local outfit is pouring samples at the county fair. I like supporting neighbors when the math is not silly. It feels good handing someone a local bottle at a bonfire.
Consistency: the big brands are boring, sure, but they’re predictable. If I only have cash for one bottle, I’d rather know what I’m getting.
Occasion vibes: I did a tasting with my girlfriend once, nice Saturday date, learned a bit, had a couple neat pours. Fun, but not a habit. On a cool, brisk day like today, I’d rather pour a finger of something reliable and sit with Rusty than chase hype notes about cedar and apricot.
So yeah, craft spirits matter to me like a good farmer’s market tomato: great now and then, especially local, but I’m not building my grocery list around them. Mainstream wins most of the time on cost and consistency. If a craft bottle surprises me and the price is fair, I’m in. If it’s fancy label, fancy story, and thin in the glass, it can sit on the shelf.
