🥃 Rickhouse Rants: Is 1792 Single Barrel Just Pretty Packaging — or Premium Pour?
1792 Single Barrel Bourbon
Shape. Color. Style.
They all influence how we see something.
That’s not some grand revelation — we all know this — but we don’t always recognize how deeply it shapes our interpretation. And in the world of bourbon, where branding and shelf presence are half the battle, those subtle cues aren’t just happy accidents. They’re calculated.
Designed objects — especially those crafted by corporate advertisers and consumer engineers — are made not just to function, but to implant ideas. If they’re good at their jobs, you won’t even realize it.
And yes, I’ve got feelings about that.
“No kidding, B — you’ve got feelings on everything.”
Well… yeah. It’s my rant.
But seriously: if the product is good, does the packaging matter? Or should the packaging match the quality of what’s inside?
I don’t know for sure. But I do know this — the folks at Barton 1792 (owned by Sazerac, who also owns Buffalo Trace, which they’ve marketed nearly as well as Nike did with Michael Jordan) definitely had a plan when they launched 1792 Bourbon.
🥊 The Real Reason 1792 Exists? To Take a Swing at Woodford Reserve.
Let’s not pretend otherwise.
1792 was designed to steal market share from Woodford Reserve.
Don’t believe me?
It launched in 2002 under the name “Ridgewood Reserve 1792” — a little too close for comfort to Woodford Reserve. So Brown-Forman (Woodford’s parent company) sued. Barton lost. The name was changed to “1792 Ridgemont Reserve”, and later shortened to just “1792 Bourbon” during a 2015 rebrand.
So why target Woodford?
Because Brown-Forman intentionally crafted a bourbon that was inoffensive.
Not too peppery. Not too spicy. Not too soft. Not too bold.
In other words — boring. But boring sells.
Wrap it in a rounded-shoulder bottle, slap “Reserve” on the label, and boom — you’ve got mass appeal.
Sound familiar?
Take a look at the 1792 bottle.
It resembles a Woodford bottle — those same round shoulders. Gold accents. Gold top. Gold foil. t’s selling you either French Royalty or The Great Gatsby, depending on your mood.
This is Sazerac’s answer to Woodford’s populist appeal —a lifestyle in a bottle.
They even had a “1792 Style” section on their website offering men’s fashion tips.
(They haven’t posted since 2021. Do better, Barton.)
🧃 So… Is the Juice Worth the Squeeze?
For me?
Regular 1792 is a mixer.
I don’t buy it. It’s forgettable.
But I run a bourbon channel — so bottles come and go.
That said:
The Bottled in Bond? 🔥 Solid.
The 12 Year? 💎 Excellent.
The Full Proof? 💥 Certified banger.
The Sweet Wheat? 🌾 Actually kind of fascinating.
But tonight, we’re pouring a 1792 Single Barrel.
I remove the fancy gold (plastic) lid from the wide-shouldered bottle and pour myself a glycerin stream of success.
Honestly? I should be in a pinstripe suit, standing in a Manhattan boardroom, one hand in my pocket as I survey my empire.
Instead, I’m at the breakfast table. Wearing a sweatshirt older than my preteen son. Crocs on my feet.
My sarcasm knows no bounds. But I’m giving this an honest shot.
You deserve that.
👃 The Nose, the Sip, the Plum?
First impression on the nose?
Caramel. Straight-up burnt sugar. That kind of sweetness that makes you expect dessert.
First sip: The caramel deepens.
A bit of pepper hits mid-tongue, and then that oak finish brings balance.
The label says you’ll find butterscotch, caramel, fruit, and toffee.
I agree with the sweet notes — absolutely.
There’s even a tartness there. Not aggressive, but noticeable.
Maybe that’s the plum?
Let’s be clear — this is absolutely a step above regular 1792.
I’d buy this long before I buy Small Batch.
💰 The Price vs. The Pour
I did a quick search — Total Wine has 1792 Single Barrel for around $55.
Is it worth it?
Yes.
There are bourbons galore at that price point, but if you’re going to grab something from the 1792 line, skip the Small Batch. Go for the Single Barrel. It’s got more flavor, more identity, and a little more honesty, if I’m being real.
🧠 Final Thought
1792 Single Barrel is the corporate version of individuality — like painting your Honda Accord red and calling it a sports car. But hey — it’s a good paint job.
It looks like Gatsby, drinks like Barton, and sells like Woodford.
And in this bottle? The contents actually live up to the costume — at least this time.
