The Rickhouse Rant Vol X: Bib & Tucker – “Sourced, Styled, and Perfectly Fine”

Jul 1

Ah, it’s a Wednesday evening. I’ve just wrapped up a day of incredible business deals that will surely make shareholders giddy—pat me on the back. So I settle into a fine leather chair that should’ve been handcrafted in western North Carolina but was, naturally, outsourced to China. I pour into a glass, probably made in Indonesia, while my brand-new 4K television—assembled from a global scavenger hunt of parts—flickers in the background. I need a bourbon to match this mood. Something that screams, “Hi, I’m marketed perfectly. I’m the bottle you see in an ad with a German car that whispers, ‘success.’”

Enter Bib & Tucker.

Why this rant, B?

Because this is the perfect gateway to talk about sourced bourbon.

Bourbon drinkers come in types:

Group 1: Shows up at the liquor store on a Tuesday at 9 AM, grabs the biggest jug of Kentucky Gentleman for $9.99, drinks it by 10:30, washes it down with a pack of menthols for lunch. This rant isn’t for them—they’re living life, unbothered.
Group 2: Most of us. We like bourbon, we don’t overthink bourbon. We want something that looks impressive, tastes nice, and helps us crawl toward Friday. This rant is for you.
Group 3: The up-and-coming bourbon “enthusiast” (aka sometimes giant pain in the ass). Armed with Google knowledge on mash bills, the Lincoln County Process, big opinions on age statements, and three-grain vs. four-grain debates. Yep, that’s me—and this rant is definitely for me.
Group 4: The bourbon hunter. They chase trucks, run secret Facebook groups, have spreadsheets, text chains, and backup plans if the primary store is dry. Like beanie baby chasers of old, only infinitely cooler. God bless them—pour me some too.

So what’s that got to do with Bib & Tucker?

Bib & Tucker is what most people in Groups 1 and 2 don’t realize exists: a completely sourced bourbon.

Bib & Tucker doesn’t distill. They don’t have picturesque Kentucky rickhouses or tour guides with matching flannels. They buy bourbon distilled by an undisclosed Tennessee distiller (spoiler: it’s George Dickel). You can’t visit Bib & Tucker’s distillery—because there isn’t one. No master distiller handshake, no signature on your bottle.

Their magic? Marketing. Gorgeous old-timey bottles that look like something you’d find under your great-granddad’s floorboards—ornate, flask-shaped, all antique charm. A website that’s beautiful and on-brand, carefully not revealing that Bib & Tucker is more about branding than barns and barrels.

Should you care?

Honestly? I’m not sure.

I wrestle with this like a flag in a July 4th breeze. I’m writing this on a Mac—designed in California, sourced globally. Later I’ll take my kids to AMC, which didn’t make the movie or the popcorn bucket. We live surrounded by labels that mean little about actual origin. So why care about sourcing in bourbon?

Maybe because we like to believe bourbon is different. It’s heritage, rural America, honest dirt and sweat. We see it as a craft that starts with American farmers growing corn, wheat, rye, barley. Then comes harvesting, malting, distilling. Cooperages handcraft barrels, torch the inside, fill them with clear spirit that—over years—becomes that caramel beauty we sip by the fire.

So for some, when a brand skips that story and focuses on fancy glass, it stings. It’s your right as a consumer to care. Same way you might choose local furniture or farm-fresh milk.

But let’s not get too precious. We all live in a tangled web of compromises. Why not bourbon too?

So… how’s it taste?

Bib & Tucker is perfectly fine.

It’s soft, approachable, with vanilla, caramel, light spice.

Nose: Vanilla ice cream, caramel corn, faint oak.
Palate: Sweet up front, friendly spice (think cinnamon), oak shows up nicely at the end.
Finish: Smooth, thanks in part to Dickel’s Lincoln County charcoal filtering.

It’s the bourbon you pour on a Wednesday night when your brain’s too fried for complex palate gymnastics. You can sip two or three pours, avoid a nasty headache, and watch that stress from the 2-hour team meeting melt away.

The bottom line

Bib & Tucker is a $55 six-year sourced bourbon in a fun bottle. If that fits your vibe—great. If you want something complex that you need to swirl for 10 minutes before it wakes up, look elsewhere. Either way, it’s your choice.

Because at the end of the day, there’s room for all of us in bourbon. Just know what you’re paying for—and enjoy it however the hell you want.