Can whiskey express a sense of terroir? For collectors and seasoned drinkers, the question has grown increasingly relevant as producers around the world look beyond mashbills and age statements to highlight this concept by focusing on grain varietals and single estate expressions. On the flip side, some distillers argue that the process of distillation itself negates any sense of terroir that might come from the specific type of grain used, and maturation has the greatest impact upon flavor considering how long most whiskeys are aged inside a cask.

As a certified Advanced Sommelier with a long background in wine, I’m especially drawn to whiskeys that claim distinctions rooted not in recipe, but in where and how they were matured. And given that some producers point to individual warehouses as the source of these distinctions, my curiosity turned into investigation. To test whether these nuances truly register in the glass, I examined three brands—Hardin’s Creek, Old Forester, and Russell’s Reserve—to see if warehouse influence could be tasted, and not merely used as a marketing device.

Hardin’s Creek

Hardin’s Creek, a limited-edition label produced at the James B. Beam Distilling Co. (the home of Jim Beam Bourbon), offers perhaps the most explicit case study. It was developed by eighth-generation master distiller Freddie Noe, the son of seventh-generation master distiller Fred Noe and grandson of the late, legendary Booker Noe. The brand draws from Beam’s historical footprint in Clermont, Kentucky, where the family has been distilling in some form or another since 1795, though the modern James B. Beam Distilling Company was formally established post-Prohibition in the early 1930s.

The Hardin’s Creek Warehouse Series is unique in its use of one-, five-, and nine-story maturation warehouses, each positioned at different elevations with varying exposure to wind, humidity, and nearby water sources. With the one- and five-story warehouses slated for replacement due to modern efficiency and safety standards, the team recognized a narrowing window to study their effects on the whiskey. To isolate the differences in each warehouse, all three expressions were created using whiskey made from the same mashbill, water source, and proprietary yeast strain, all aged in level four charred oak barrels for 11 years and bottled at 110 proof.

The resulting releases—Mushroom, Beaver, and Owl—offer a side-by-side look at how warehouse architecture and environment shape flavor. “For us, there's a lot of similarities, but we're really dialing in on what a warehouse can do,” said Jim Beam global brand ambassador Tim Heuisler.

Mushroom originates from the windowless, one-story Warehouse R, where barrels sit close to the earth in a dark, cool environment. Named for the fungi that thrive under similar conditions, the whiskey in this warehouse matures slowly and gently. The resulting flavor profile feels cool and earthy rather than fruity, with subdued oak spice and a notably tactile mouthfeel that is dense, grippy, and chalky.

The lack of windows limits airflow, a factor Heuisler believes plays a greater role than temperature in how the barrels “eat, sleep, and breathe,” as he puts it. This is because the rest of the warehouses on campus all have open windows, typically increasing the rate of maturation. So while you’re not going to get eighth floor rising heat here, it still gets notably hot in the summer. “No warehouse [regardless of height or size] is fun to work in in July,” he said. 

Beaver is drawn from the five-story Warehouse W, with barrels pulled from multiple floors. Slightly taller, bigger, and more ventilated, it’s situated closer to the river and experiences higher humidity and different wind and sunlight patterns. These conditions increase evaporation and subtly alter flavor concentration. In the glass, Beaver feels sunnier with ripe orange citrus flavors at the forefront and a more lifted, juicy mouthfeel than Mushroom’s denser texture. It also has a faint saline edge that may reflect the humidity and proximity to water.

“Doing something in a cool or damp place versus a very hot or dry place is the same reason we're going to see very different styles of maturation from our friends over in Scotland or in the mountains of Japan,” Heuisler pointed out, referring to parent company Suntory Global Spirits other distilleries. “I don't think either one is better or worse, but they do provide very different finished products.” 

Lastly, Owl was matured in the nine-story Warehouse G, a rarity in today’s bourbon world as few warehouses are built this tall anymore. The Hardin’s Creek team likens it to an owl perched above the forest canopy, exposed to yet another unique microclimate. While barrels from higher floors are often associated with aggressive oak extraction because of higher temperatures, Owl proves unexpectedly elegant. Honeyed peach, apricot, and cola notes dominate, with a lighter, more ethereal structure than its counterparts, underscoring that height alone does not dictate heaviness.

Old Forester

While Hardin’s Creek relies on the differences of its warehouses to create unique whiskey expressions, Old Forester takes a different approach with its warehouse series, concentrating on floor selections along with varying proof and aging. Spanning everything from its entry-level 86-proof to rarities like Birthday Bourbon and President’s Choice (what master taster and brand ambassador Melissa Rift jokingly calls “corn dog to caviar”), the brand’s identity is rooted in precision.

That philosophy begins with Old Forester’s maturation environment. Unlike Hardin’s Creek, Old Forester’s warehouses sit shoulder-to-shoulder at Brown-Forman’s Shively distillery on the outskirts of Louisville. They are made of brick, eight stories tall, and heat-cycled—an intervention that minimizes seasonal variations by generating steam in colder months to gradually raise temperatures, ensuring that the interaction between whiskey and wood remains active. The result is a more stable maturation environment and fewer dramatic differences between the warehouses themselves.

This controlled approach is exactly why Rift is cautious about framing Old Forester’s releases as expressions of single-warehouse personality. “That's not to say that these single warehouse expressions don't have their own personalities,” she said. “But I think the warehouse alone as an isolated variable doesn't tell the whole story.” Instead, she views warehouse, floor, age, and proof as being interconnected. “It's less about showcasing the overall personality of Warehouse H and more about telling the story of the bottom two floors,” she explained. The brand’s 117 Series functions as an innovation sandbox to explore these narrow cross-sections (as well as other factors), rather than as a declaration that one warehouse inherently tastes different from another.

Within the series, three single-warehouse releases—K, H, and I—illustrate how floor placement and maturation can shape flavor even within a highly standardized system. Warehouse K, the first release from 2021, pulls barrels from every floor and has emerged as the spiciest of the group, bottled at a high 110 proof. Warehouse H, sourced exclusively from the bottom two floors and bottled at 98 proof, leans fruit-forward, highlighting tropical and orchard notes attributed to Old Forester’s proprietary yeast strain. Warehouse I, drawn from the top floors and aged 11 years—significantly longer than the others which are aged four to six—delivers a more oak-driven profile of baking spice, honey, and pear at a restrained 95 proof.

Rather than disproving the influence of place, Old Forester’s approach reframes it. Here, terroir is not about dramatic environmental swings between warehouses, but about carefully isolating how heat, height, time, and proof interact within a tightly controlled urban aging ecosystem.

Russell’s Reserve

Russell’s Reserve, the premium small batch bourbon and rye line from the Wild Turkey Distillery in Lawrenceburg, Kentucky, occupies a middle ground between the experimental rigor of Hardin’s Creek and the controlled consistency of Old Forester. Its warehouse philosophy acknowledges variability without attempting to neutralize it.

All of Russell’s Reserve Camp Nelson rickhouses stand seven stories tall, but uniformity ends there. Some sit higher on the property, others closer to the Kentucky River; some are shaded, while others absorb direct sunlight throughout the day. According to master distiller Eddie Russell, wind patterns coming off the river shift throughout the year, subtly altering temperature, humidity, and airflow inside each building. Unlike Old Forester, Russell’s Reserve does not use heat cycling. But like Old Forester, they embrace deliberate floor selection to frame each release.

The Single Rickhouse series—beginning with Camp Nelson C in 2022 and followed by F, B, and E—was designed to be a snapshot of how location and microclimate influence maturation. Russell openly believes each rickhouse possesses its own form of terroir, shaped both by its surroundings and where a barrel rests inside the structure. “Where a barrel sits—temperature, humidity, airflow—all of that plays a major role in how the whiskey matures and picks up flavor,” he explained, noting a particular fondness for the center cut where he tends to find his favorite barrels. 

Floor selection plays a central role in differentiating the releases—floors three and four for Camp Nelson C; four and five for F; five for E; and six for B. Each is bottled at barrel strength, with no attempt to standardize proof across the series. The only variable, Russell emphasizes, is environment. Camp Nelson B’s hilltop position results in greater sun exposure, while Camp Nelson E’s proximity to the river creates a cooler, more temperate microclimate—especially interesting because E clocks in with the highest proof of the bunch. 

In the glass, the flavor distinctions are unmistakable. Camp Nelson C (112.4 proof) is the prettiest and most delicate, offering apricot fruit, subtle baking spice, and a rounded, honeyed texture. Camp Nelson F (117.6 proof) deepens into sweeter caramel, molasses, and candied orange flavors, finishing with a flash of cinnamon red-hot heat. Camp Nelson E, drawn from the fifth floor and bottled at a formidable 128 proof, is the most intense—oak-forward and bracing, with a force that snaps the senses to attention like an ice bath after a cozy nap. Camp Nelson B, sourced from the sixth floor, lands somewhere between power and poise, delivering musky florals alongside balanced oak spice and sweetness.

So, what did I conclude after this exploratory journey? I have to admit that I still don’t have a single, universal framework for defining terroir in spirits. When flavor differences are driven by clear production choices—secondary maturation, mashbill variation, or level of barrel char—the causes are relatively easy to trace. But when whiskeys share the same mashbill, the same barrels, the same proof, and even comparable aging, yet still taste materially different, the explanation becomes less concrete.

There might not be a tidy scientific model for terroir in spirits. It's likely that no one is going to be focusing on north-facing whiskey warehouses the way they do north-facing vineyards any time soon. I guess I have to agree with Heuisler, who told me that ultimately it’s up to nature. “It’s all very romantic,” he said with a laugh. “We control the science; the warehouses control the art.”