Photos by Stephanie March and Erik Eastman
Rockfilter Distillery Fence Jumper Whiskey
A bottle of the small-batch Fence Jumper bourbon.
Once we exploded the drinkers’ myth that good bourbon could be produced only in Kentucky, the heavens opened and spilled beams of whiskey-colored light on places all over America. It so happens that one of those beams fell on Spring Grove, Minnesota, where a former fighter pilot-turned-organic farmer opened RockFilter Distillery back in 2016. In this small town, amid the hills and valleys of the Driftless region, some of the best whiskey in the state is planted, tended, milled, and distilled.
Japanese distillers believe they produce the world’s finest whiskey because of their pure spring water. Christian Myrah, 48, thinks they’re wrong: Quality, he contends, comes from the soil. He’s got a strong attachment to that faith. The Myrah family settled this idyllic area early—about 150 years ago—making their way here straight from Norway. The original family farm, and its historic stone barn, still stands.
Myrah’s father started farming organically long before he was certified in 2004. “He just couldn’t stomach that what he was spraying on the field was going into his family,” Myrah told me when I visited on a Friday afternoon, earlier this summer. “He stopped with all the chemicals and figured it out. We never looked back.”
Myrah—a tall and young-looking guy who reads more lawyer than farmer—toed the ground amid a field of barley. “This soil is the starting point of flavor. It’s where it all begins,” he said.
As a kid, he fled the farm life, moving to the Cities to sell mortgages, before eventually joining the military. Myrah flew enough combat missions in F-18s during the war on terror to crave some solitude on a tractor, which brought him back to the farm. But he missed the camaraderie of the service. Starting a whiskey distillery, he imagined, would prove more fun than raising sheep and plants. He soon found his fellowship.
One of his local partners, Kyle Dallefeld, is the grains man. He and his father are the founders of Prairie Creek Seed, an heirloom seed house just over the border in Iowa. His knowledge of rare and ancient grains inspired the unique blend of heirloom Oaxacan green corn and smoked winter rye that helps makes the Fence Jumper bourbon such a bold sip. Tim Blanski, a former Grand Avenue dweller, left the city for Spring Grove, where he makes furniture out of local reclaimed lumber. When he heard about the potential distillery, he jumped on board as chief words man, helping bring the liquid to market.
Rockfilter distiller Christian Myrah with miller Ed Krugmire
Distiller Christian Myrah with miller Ed Krugmire
But I suspect Myrah’s secret weapon is his miller, Ed Krugmire. Schech’s Mill started operating in 1870, on the spot where it stands today. That makes it the oldest working water-powered turbine mill in the state; that makes Krugmire a fourth-generation miller. The same massive French quartz stones continue to do the grinding. Krugmire will happily get them going for tours, for local farmers who need flour, and for hometown whiskey makers. He can coax as fine a grind as you wish from its creaky wooden works. Inside the cool limestone building, webbed from spiders, dusty with flour, we watched as Krugmire opened the gates to let Beaver Creek in. With 5,000 to 16,000 gallons a minute flowing through, the original turbines started turning.
You can argue that a modern mill could do as good a job, if not better. But Myrah will hear none of that. “Every distillery has the same equipment,” he said. “Only we have an Ed.”
Schech's Mill Rockfilter Distillery
Schech’s Mill, built in 1870
The water churning the mill comes from the Karst limestone aquifer—a similar geology to what you’d find in Kentucky. This is the water that goes into the kettles to make the RockFilter whiskeys. While the winter rye is out smoking in a repurposed refrigerator behind the building, Dave Wray, a former brewer from Indeed Brewing, tends the mash. He cooks it, distills it, then leaves it to sit in Minnesota oak barrels with a fairly heavy char.
There are no wicked tricks of science to report, no wonky still innovations. Just exactingly sourced ingredients, handled by the same small team throughout the entire process.
RockFilter Distillery tasting room
RockFilter’s distillery and tasting room lie right in town. When Myrah and company pull open the garage door, it’s the city park across the street. The room, no surprise, is decked with barn wood: Blanski can tell you where each plank once stood. Let him do that while you sip on that Fence Jumper bourbon, made with that green corn. It offers just a lilt of grassy sweetness under the bite of rye smoked over cherry wood. It’s only been aged a year, but it’s a miraculous 1-year-old, unlike any other Minnesota whiskey I’ve tasted.
That bourbon seems to be the favorite (and the winner of a silver medal from the American Distilling Institute last year). This is extremely small-batch with a limited release; less than 500 bottles will hit shelves this year.
I was also smitten with the Red Rider rye. The key ingredient here is the winter rye finished with applewood-smoked oats. The result: a smoky creaminess to the bite.
Both of those whiskeys live up to the premium price—think $79–$99—that they’ll be slapped with on liquor-store shelves. No other whiskey in the state has really gone for that top-shelf space. These two do, and they’ve earned that spot.
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