My visit to Reservoir Distillery in Richmond, Virginia, gave me plenty to think about; not just the whiskey itself, but the decisions that go into making it.

Founded in 2008, Reservoir was exploring American whiskey outside the traditional Kentucky playbook before craft distilling became the crowded category it is today. The distillery works with individual grain spirits, experiments with different barrel sizes, and approaches production with an interest in understanding how every decision shapes the final whiskey.

What made the visit particularly interesting wasn’t simply the equipment or the unusual expressions in the tasting lineup. It was the conversations behind them. We talked about why bourbon developed the conventions it did, how much a barrel can change a spirit, why grain selection deserves more attention, and how Virginia’s agricultural history could influence the next generation of American whiskey.

I left with a greater appreciation for the decisions that happen long before a bottle reaches a shelf and for a distillery willing to question some of the assumptions that have shaped American whiskey for generations.

Reservoir’s identity is tied closely to Virginia: its farmers, its grain, its barrels, and the climate in which its whiskey matures. Rather than simply reproducing the flavor profile of a traditional Kentucky bourbon, the distillery explores what happens when those ingredients and production decisions come together in a different place.

That doesn’t mean traditional bourbon needs fixing. It means there’s more than one way to make compelling American whiskey.

And Reservoir has spent years exploring those possibilities.

The Barrel Is More Than a Container

One of the most interesting conversations during my visit centered on barrels and just how much they influence the final whiskey.

We often talk about mash bills, age statements, and proof as if they tell us most of what we need to know about a bottle. But maturation can dramatically change how a spirit tastes, feels, and develops over time. Barrel size, the wood itself, char, climate, and the spirit’s interaction with the cask all play a role.

Reservoir has explored a range of barrel sizes, including five- and ten-gallon casks, and now works primarily with traditional 53-gallon barrels. Smaller barrels expose more of the spirit to the wood relative to the volume of liquid, which can accelerate extraction. That doesn’t automatically make a whiskey better or worse, but it changes the balance of influences that shape it.

The difference became especially interesting when tasting the distillery’s individual grain whiskeys. Each spirit brought its own character to the table, but the barrels were clearly part of the story.

This is where Reservoir’s approach becomes particularly compelling. Instead of treating maturation as a fixed waiting period, the distillery considers how the barrel contributes to the flavor it wants to achieve.

The Story Behind the Mash Bill

Consider a familiar bourbon mash bill of 75% corn, 21% rye, and 4% malted barley.

That recipe can produce excellent whiskey. But the proportions aren’t a universal formula for quality. They reflect one set of choices about flavor, grain costs, fermentability, and the practicalities of production.

Change the grain percentages, and the whiskey changes. Use a different grain variety, and the results can change again.

The same principle applies to other parts of production. The traditional 53-gallon barrel became a defining feature of American whiskey, while smaller casks provide another way to experiment with maturation.

During our conversation, we discussed the practical thinking behind production scale, including the relationship between the amount of grain processed, the size of a production run, and the volume ultimately filled into barrels. A roughly 400-gallon production scale was discussed in that context: as an example of the practical calculations that can connect a mash to a traditional barrel fill.

The larger lesson wasn’t that conventional production methods are wrong. It’s that the methods we take for granted often have practical histories that are worth understanding.

Reservoir can work within those conventions when they make sense and explore alternatives when there is something to learn.

That willingness to question assumptions is one of the most compelling parts of its approach.

Older varieties can have different growing characteristics, yields, and flavor profiles from modern commercial grains. The challenge is to understand which varieties are practical to grow and useful to distillers, not simply to celebrate them because they’re old.

That makes this more than a historical exercise. It is an effort to build connections between agriculture and spirits production, creating opportunities for Virginia farmers while helping distillers develop products with a stronger sense of place.

The project also raises an important question for the broader whiskey industry: What flavors might we have lost as agriculture and production increasingly prioritized efficiency and consistency?

For a distillery that already experiments with single-grain spirits, it’s a natural extension of the work.

Tasting Through Reservoir: From Single Grains to Finished Whiskeys

The most rewarding part of the visit was tasting through a range of spirits and seeing how the production conversations translated into the glass.

These notes reflect the specific samples I tasted during the visit. Some were experimental or small-barrel examples, so they shouldn’t be taken as descriptions of every current release.

Wheat Whiskey: Bright Red Fruit and Maple-Like Sweetness

The wheat whiskey, aged in a five-gallon Barrel Mill cask, was bright and approachable.

Red-fruit notes led the way, with a maple-like sweetness that helped bring the flavors together. The whiskey felt balanced, with the fruit providing lift and keeping the sweetness from becoming too heavy.

It’s a useful introduction to the idea of a single-grain whiskey. Without corn in the recipe, the spirit offered a different expression from the familiar sweetness many drinkers associate with bourbon.

The small barrel was part of the story, too, giving us a chance to discuss how maturation can shape the final result.

Corn Whiskey: Werther’s Originals in a Glass

The corn whiskey, aged in a ten-gallon Gibbs barrel, took a richer direction.

My immediate association was Werther’s Originals: deep, buttery caramel with a familiar confectionery sweetness.

It was an entirely different experience from the wheat whiskey. Tasting the two side by side helped illustrate how the grain, distillation, and barrel work together to produce distinct profiles.

The takeaway wasn’t that corn whiskey has to taste like caramel, or that one grain is inherently better than another. It was that the starting material matters and that tasting individual grain spirits makes those differences easier to appreciate.

Rye Whiskey: Baking Spice, Green Fruit, and Oak

The rye whiskey, also aged in a ten-gallon Gibbs barrel, brought another shift in character.

Baking spice and green-fruit notes reminiscent of pear and apple were balanced by a substantial oak presence. The fruit helped keep the spice and wood from dominating, giving the whiskey a satisfying balance.

Rye can lean heavily into pepper, herbs, or sharp spice. This pour showed a different side, with the fruit playing an important supporting role.

Taken together, the wheat, corn, and rye whiskeys made a strong case for tasting individual grain spirits whenever the opportunity presents itself. It’s one thing to read a mash bill. It’s another to taste the results.

Hunter & Scott: An Accessible Expression of Reservoir

Hunter & Scott takes a different approach, blending Reservoir’s own single-grain whiskeys with selected Kentucky and Indiana whiskeys.

The goal is to make an approachable, versatile whiskey for sipping or mixing while allowing Reservoir’s distillate to remain part of the finished character.

We discussed how the blend was initially developed for an account looking for a particular style of whiskey. That project became an opportunity to create something accessible and crowd-pleasing without losing the identity of the distillery behind it.

Blending is sometimes treated as a compromise between a distillery’s own spirit and something sourced from elsewhere. In reality, it can be a deliberate tool for achieving balance, consistency, and a particular flavor profile.

Hunter & Scott illustrates that approach. It offers an entry point for drinkers who want an everyday pour while remaining connected to Reservoir’s broader production philosophy.

Holland’s Ghost: Cocoa, Vanilla, and a Richer Side of Reservoir

Holland’s Ghost was one of the standout pours of the visit.

Cocoa and vanilla were the dominant impressions for me, creating a rich, dessert-like character that was immediately appealing.

A bourbon matured in small, heavily charred barrels before being finished in a Richmond stout barrel, the whiskey’s roasted, chocolate-leaning character makes that finishing approach particularly interesting.

Cognac Cask Experience: Red Grapes and a Creamy Texture

The Cognac-finished whiskey offered a very different experience.

Big red-grape notes were the first impression, accompanied by a creamy mouthfeel that kept the fruit balanced and approachable. It was one of the more distinctive combinations in the tasting.

A collaboration with the Cognac house François Voyer, the expression uses a wheated rye whiskey made with 65% rye and 35% wheat, which spent additional time in a cask previously holding Cognac.

The specific pour I tasted emphasized red grape and texture. That made it an interesting example of the influence a finishing cask can have on a spirit’s personality.

It’s also a reminder that experimentation doesn’t always mean inventing a completely new production method. Sometimes the most interesting results come from combining a carefully made whiskey with a different maturation influence.

A Seven-Year Whiskey: Malted Barley and Wheat

Another detail from the tasting was a seven-year whiskey made with two parts malted barley to one part wheat.

That combination offered another opportunity to discuss how mash-bill decisions influence the starting point for a whiskey. The balance between grains, the distillation approach, and the time spent in a barrel all contribute to the eventual character.

It also brought the conversation back to the broader point of the visit: there is no single recipe that defines what an interesting American whiskey must be.

Different grain combinations create different opportunities, and the only way to understand those possibilities is to experiment, taste, and learn from the results.

Inside the Rickhouse: An Old Tobacco Building With a Story

The visit also offered a reminder that a distillery’s character isn’t limited to its equipment or bottles.

Reservoir’s aging space occupies a former American tobacco building, and the building’s history is still tangible. One detail that stayed with me was the residual tobacco oil associated with the center aisle.

It’s the sort of detail that connects a modern whiskey operation with the industrial history of Richmond. The building wasn’t designed around the idea of becoming a whiskey destination. It has its own past, and that past has become part of the place where the spirit matures.

For a distillery so focused on the interaction between spirit and environment, that sense of place feels appropriate.

This piece was written in conjuction with my current Virginia Spirits project. Check out the Bourbon Bishop Virginia Craft Whiskey Starter Trail Here, only on the Virginia Spirits Trail App

If you enjoyed this piece, check out my past distillery visit articles here.

_{This visit was hosted by the distillery. All thoughts are my own and not influenced by the experience.}