B’s Rickhouse Rant, Vol. 9 – Baker’s 7: The Spoiled Society Sandwich Bourbon

Jun 26

Sometimes, you just want something to complain about. We’re all guilty of it. You get a new car and suddenly the khaki interior is a shade too tan. That shiny new driver you bought crushes golf balls down the fairway… but maybe, just maybe, it’d be better with a different shaft. Your team wins the game, but dang it—should’ve scored more points!

It’s the side effect of living in a society overflowing with choices. We’re spoiled. Drowning in good options. Always looking for the one flaw in the nearly perfect.

And that’s why a bottle like Baker’s 7 throws us off. It checks all the boxes—so we get suspicious.

Let’s break this down.

You want age stated? You got it: minimum 7 years old, and it’s a single barrel to boot.

You want proof? It’s sitting pretty at 107—right in the pocket.

You want availability? No password, no sketchy handshakes, no bribing a clerk or promising your firstborn child.

You want price? $50. Let me repeat: Fifty. Freakin’. Dollars.

That’s what I call a unicorn hiding in plain sight. No hype machine. No over-designed label. No “distilled under a blood moon while Taylor Swift rerecorded a B-side in the next county.” Just a straight-up, delicious Beam bourbon.

Let’s nose it: boom—caramel and vanilla like a warm bakery at dawn. It’s inviting. It whispers, “Come on, B. Let’s dance.”

The sip? Pure nostalgia. Toasted Jif peanut butter—and I’m not talking about the reduced fat kind, either. I’m talking lunchbox royalty. Add a little Pepperidge Farm bread, a dollop of jelly, and we’re making sandwiches in a glass. Oh, and don’t forget the vanilla, and a nice kick of pepper and spice on the back.

And then—ah, the finish. That sweet, Kentucky hug. The kind your sweetheart gives you on the porch after a night of courtin’. There’s a little brown sugar, a touch of allspice, and the kind of warmth that makes you feel like things might be okay after all.

And again: Fifty bucks.

Meanwhile, you just dropped $100+ on a bottle of EH Taylor Small Batch (plus shipping because you couldn’t find it locally). Or maybe you blew through a speed trap racing to the ABC store for Weller Special Reserve—only to leave empty-handed, $200 lighter, and two points deeper on your license.

You could’ve stayed home. Had a leisurely Saturday brunch. Walked calmly into your local store. Picked up a bottle of Baker’s 7. Swung by Krispy Kreme. Watched Stranger Things with a pour in hand. Bliss.

But no—because we’re hardwired to overlook the obvious. We chase the hype. We ignore the extraordinary when it’s sitting right in front of us.

No, Jim Beam didn’t pay me to write this. Frankly, they’d probably pay me not to. But in a complicated, overpriced, overhyped bourbon world—maybe it’s time to appreciate the simple brilliance of something like Baker’s 7.

It’s age stated. It’s single barrel. It’s full of flavor. It’s 107 proof. And it’s waiting on the shelf.

Cheers, y’all.