Cocktails rule. You don’t have to remind me. I see it all the time—whenever two or three people are gathered together, mixed drinks appear.

Fine. But those who worship only at froth and sugar and ice cubes are missing a serious thrill.

Whiskey.

Especially in the winter, there’s nothing like a single malt spreading warmth through your chest. Well, okay, there is tequila. And let me not overlook brandy.

My newest thrill: rye whiskey. Aged a decade. 100% rye. 100 proof. A bargain at $65 to $70.

Whistlepig.

Whistlepig—the name refers to the sound a groundhog makes when scared—is the brainchild of Dave Pickerell. For 14 years he was Master Distiller at Maker’s Mark, which was selling 175,000 cases a year when he started and a million when he left. He is, many say, The Man.

How good is Whistlepig? In its first year, Wine Enthusiast scored it at 96—its “highest ever” rating for rye whiskey—and Spirits Journal also gave it a “highest recommendation.”

But ignore the experts. Listen to my tongue. Which had a party with a single sip. Because Whistlepig has more going on than any iteration of “Mission: Impossible.”

Start with a sharpness, a freshening of taste buds. Then the fireworks begin. Smoke. Clove. Several kinds of mint. Anise. And then comes, as Pickerell likes to say, “a finish so big it needs its own zip code.”

If rye is so damned good, why do we hear so little about it? Because it’s costly. And a bitch to brew. It takes a master to make it. Did I mention that Pickerell majored in chemistry at West Point?

Whistlepig is making its home on a 500-acre farm in Vermont. Not the Vermont of cabin fever and mud season so severe that even 4-wheel drives tremble. Think: a Ralph Lauren Vermont. Think…this:

Until it is fully operational in its Vermont home, Whistlepig produces 1,000 cases a year. Which is actually plenty. For once, a little really does go a long way.