Jim Gaffigan has built a career around mining everyday life for absurdly funny observations—finding punchlines in everything from Hot Pockets and bacon to parenting and middle age. Now, the stand-up comedian, author, and actor has another subject of obsession: bourbon. “Bourbon combines this rich heritage and booze,” he says. “I mean, two perfect things.”
Jokes aside (for a moment), Gaffigan developed a serious appreciation for the spirit in recent years. “I was never a hard-alcohol guy, but as I got older beer was too filling,” he says. During the pandemic, he and his wife, Jeannie, would steal a little quiet time most evenings to sip old-fashioneds and talk while their five children were otherwise occupied. “That was when I really embraced whiskey—specifically bourbon.” That hobby eventually grew into Fathertime, a line of small-batch bourbon he cofounded with college friend Stu Pollard in 2024.
Photo: Courtesy of Fathertime Bourbon
Fathertime Fourth & Long bourbon.
With Fathertime, Gaffigan isn’t just lending his name—he’s hands-on in selecting and blending barrels for each release. Each batch is bottled in both a lower-proof version and a higher-proof Empty Nester strength and is named for some facet of his perspective as a dad. The upcoming November release, Fourth & Long, nods to the challenges of raising a big family. “When you have multiple kids, that fourth child is when you’re really getting into a ‘no-man’s-land’ of parenting,” Gaffigan says. “We drew the comparison of when a football team is facing fourth and long—the odds are against it, but if you can pull it off, you feel invincible.”
We recently sat down with the Indiana-raised Gaffigan in Louisville, where the comedian performed a short run of bourbon-themed material. Over a pour of Old Forester Birthday Bourbon, he expounded on his whiskey journey—which frequently takes him through the South—fatherhood, and the true intent of dad jokes.
What made you want to start a bourbon brand?
Being in the entertainment industry, you’ll occasionally be approached with opportunities—I was usually approached for food things—but I was always reluctant. Then I was approached to do a bourbon, but my experience with celebrity spirits is that the quality isn’t always there. That prompted me to reach out to a college friend who’s from here in Louisville, and he was like, “It’s a gamble. You might end up with some [unsold] bourbon.” And I said, “Well, at least it would be bourbon I’d enjoy.”
I’m the youngest of four brothers, and the brothers would all come down [to Kentucky] and we’d sample. When you’re sampling bourbon, it’s a labor of love. That’s not to say there aren’t moments where you’re like, “I don’t know how I can discern between the ten of these,” and I’m not as experienced at spitting out as I should be, but it was through that that the seeds of my fascination grew.
The great irony of my bourbon journey is that in some ways it’s almost the opposite of college. You go to college to learn, but you end up drinking more. And in bourbon, you think you’re just going to drink, but you end up learning.
What’s the most “bourbon-geek” thing you’ve caught yourself saying?
I’ve had to stop myself from saying “juice.” I have a joke where I address that. People are so helpful in the bourbon industry…and they’ve been patient with me, because I’m like a puppy who’s excited. I’m glad there’s no footage of me going, “Hey, so what is a bunghole?”
The name “Fathertime” has a few meanings, beyond the time it takes to age bourbon.
I have five kids, and during the pandemic we really went into “teenage land.” I had no idea how mentally ill teenagers are. I say that with affection and also awareness that I was once a crazy teenager—we all were—and the toll that takes on parents. In some of that initial bonding of my wife and I sharing a glass of bourbon, it made me appreciate and change my perspective on my view of my father and just [develop] a deeper respect for fatherhood in general. With Fathertime, the joke is that it’s not “father time” as in the time you spend with your kids; it’s the time that a father earns—that the joy is earned.
On the label is my grandfather, who made dentures. He was the first in our family to break the cycle of, like, working in coal mines—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but his work made it possible for my father to go to college. I like to say that my father’s sacrifice made it possible for me to tell diarrhea jokes.
Bourbon is associated with the South, but of course it can be made anywhere in the U.S. Do you have thoughts on bourbon’s sense of place?
Because I get to tour around doing stand-up, I’ve been able to acquire a bourbon from all fifty states. The thing I’ve come to understand is that particularly in the Southeast there is a shorthand knowledge on bourbon. If you go to a bar in Charleston or even Charlotte and ask for the whiskey list, it’s going to be much more extensive. Obviously, there are great whiskey bars throughout the country, but what people think is an extensive whiskey list in some Northern cities would be laughable in the Southeast. You can also have a conversation about bourbon with an absolute stranger, and that’s fun.
You toured some bourbon material in Kentucky and Tennessee earlier this year.
The tour was called the Bourbon and Whiskey Run, and it was prompted by a few things. My three brothers wanted to do another trip, so we hit places like Chattanooga and Owensboro that we hadn’t visited yet, and we did it by bus. It also coincided with my son’s spring break, and he opened for me a few times. I understood it would not have as broad appeal as my other stand-up. I’ve always prided myself on having stand-up [that appeals to] diverse ages and mentalities, but this is more twenty-one-and-up material—it helps if you’re over thirty and out of shape.
Is there anything different about developing a bourbon joke? Does bourbon help?
Obviously both men and women drink bourbon, but I think that the male relationship with bourbon—or [being] bourbon geeks, if you want to call it that—is unique. I’ve joked around about this with other guys who are into bourbon—because my wife considers it a kind of midlife crisis—I’m like, “This is better than having an affair.” Obsessing over bourbon and wanting to complete your collection is, I’m not going to say it’s healthy, but it’s more productive than doing something reckless and more accessible than collecting cars. Some people collect action figures, and I joke that bourbon bottles are like action figures filled with liquor.
What’s the most memorable sip you’ve had—not necessarily the best, but most memorable?
What I’ve learned through my stand-up is that when I come up with material where I’ll make fun of something, I will then go do that thing. I made fun of hiking. I enjoy hiking. I made fun of grapefruit juice. I love grapefruit juice now. I’m from the Midwest, and one of those was making fun of all these Midwestern dads who have basement bars, and now I have a bar I constructed. But sharing a drink with my brothers and their spouses in that bar is one of my favorite moments.
A friend of a friend sent me a bottle of eighteen-year-old Willett, and that transformed my opinion on exceptional bourbon, and then my favorite dusty I’ve ever had is an Old Crow Chessmen.
What do your children think about your bourbon collection?
The bourbon thing is like, “Oh, Dad and his bourbon.” I’m into stand-up comedy, and I’m into acting. I’m very into gardening, too. It’s like there are these obsessions that Dad has, and bourbon is one of them. They also know not to touch any of my bourbon, or I’ll kill them. Although my son did ask, “So, when you die, who gets all this?”
OK, lightning round: When’s the best time to have a bourbon?
I’m not a day drinker, and I’m usually, like, two and done. But if I’m here in Louisville and we’re sampling, then it’s a whole different thing.
Neat, rocks, or cocktail?
I’m a “big rock” guy, but I like it neat. It has to be of a certain quality to be neat. I do like things cold. I mean, I look like a snowman. I should like ice.
What’s your best “worst” dad joke?
Here’s the thing about dad jokes—the enjoyment that a father feels in doing a dad joke is the discomfort it inflicts on the child. It’s not about it being funny. Like, eight-year-olds, they think it’s funny. They’re just figuring it out. They’re dumb. But it’s about the annoyance it provides to a teenager. It’s the punishment of it.
Tom Wilmes is a journalist based in central Kentucky, specializing in bourbon and other spirits. A contributor for Garden & Gun, he has also written for Whisky Advocate, The Local Palate, Southbound, and various other publications. Follow @kentuckydrinks on Instagram.
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