Stranahan's distillery tour gives a look at the science behind the art of distilling. You couldn't ask for a better guide than Dave Nice. The avid cyclist and braniac of booze took me on a tour of the Stranahan's distillery - the first and only legal one in the state. You see, I happen to know a guy who knows a guy. Not that you need those connections, though. Stranahan's offers guided tours on a time-available basis - just call ahead. Compare Stranahan's operation to the verdant Scottish highlands distilleries or bourbon distilleries settled in the Kentucky countryside and it's pretty unassuming. The warehouse on Blake Street, which shares operating space with Flying Dog Brewery, makes one thing clear: They sure as hell won't be selling any of their premium small-batch tipple on image. In fact, for a field where high-dollar tours are big business and cash in on an operation's history and geography, Stranahan's is an odd man out. But it's fitting for a whiskey as different as it is. Nice took me from the whiskey's genesis to completion to prove the point. The partnership with Flying Dog begins the process. The brewery pumps out several thousand gallons a week of wash, a sort of proto-beer where barley has begun its fermentation. Nice described it as "baby Stranahan's." He drew a little beaker out for tasting. "If you go to Jack Daniel's," he said, "or a distillery in Scotland and ask to taste their wash, they'll probably look at you funny. It's kind of vile." Stranahan's wash comes off like flat beer, but overall agreeable, which Nice credits to the filtration and storage tanks. The giant steel tanks don't make for a winning photo the way the old-style open vats with their barley sludge do, but they keep the wash fresh. From there, it's piped into a series of custom-made stills - a unique hybrid of the Scottish pot still and American stovepipe still. Here, the wash is boiled and the alcohol is separated and condensed. It's the first spot in the process where you can really call the product "whiskey." In the long view, these stills are where the whiskey stops coming off like Scotch and starts being made in the bourbon tradition, which continues in the rack room. The distillery may feel like an oven at 85 degrees, but try the rack room, where humidity is kept to a dank 70 percent and the smell of alcohol permeates. It's like a hundred drunks hit the sauna to sweat it out. Nice pointed out that the conditions of the rack room turn an old tradition on its head. During aging, most whiskeys lose a small percentage of alcohol to evaporation, colloquially called "the angels' share." Stranahan's cut those freeloading angels off. In that warehouse, where barrels check in for a two-year stay, the damp conditions cause the barrels to actually lose water to evaporation instead of losing alcohol, creating a more slightly potent whiskey as it starts taking on the color and flavor of the barrel. "As far as I know," Nice said, "we're the only whiskey distillery in the world that aggressively climate controls." Of course, in the arid Colorado climate, the alternative is losing a great deal of whiskey to evaporation and watching the barrels fall apart. Stranahan's had hit an ominous milestone on my visit: The aging of barrel no. 666. Nice put the size of their operation into perspective. That wasn't even the 700th barrel since distilling began in 2004. At any one time, he said, an operation like Jim Beam has a million barrels aging to keep up with demand. After two years of aging and cutting down to about 92 proof, the product is ready. The unusual blend of scotch and bourbon methods gives Stranahan's an unusual character - sweet like bourbon and as complex as a good scotch. Give it a try. And if you want to learn more,visit www.stranahans.com and set up a tour.