Trust, Taste, and the Business of Drinking Better
My end-of-year writings are usually an attempt to make sense of what I learned at Toledo Spirits and Bellwether over the past twelve, and what we picked up along the way from our guests, accounts, distributors, ingredient partners, and collaborators. This year’s reflection kept circling back to the same idea: prioritization. At the end of 2024, we choose not to define 2025 by acceleration, but by assessment. As someone who likes to do several things at once, I found that rather difficult. But, in reflection, it was absolutely the right thing.
Across the spirits industry, from producers to operators to consumers, the prevailing mood has been one of recalibration. New norms. A willingness, or perhaps a necessity, to shake off our old assumptions. For entrepreneurs, that last part is rarely easy but unavoidable. Understanding trends stopped being a matter of curiosity and became a matter of business. The question we asked ourselves at the start of the year was not how fast we could move, but what was worth carrying forward. Nothing can be sacrosanct in that approach, not products, processes, or partnerships. A friend explained to me that this challenge is preventing incumbency from hindering progress. That does not make the process any easier. But it does help clarify what one is up against.
As I tried to keep up with what the industry says about where consumers are headed (understanding trends is important…right?), I noticed renewed attention around so-called “guilty pleasure” cocktails. That framing stuck with me, not because it felt new, but because it revealed something deeper than nostalgia or trend cycling. I believe it signals trust. Guests do not order indulgent, playful drinks unless they believe the people on the other side of the bar know what they are doing. Pleasure, in this context, is not the absence of standards. It is the reward for confidence. Hear me out.
That confidence was built deliberately, and it was expensive. For the past decade, the craft spirits movement invested in educating consumers, raising expectations, and insisting on quality even when it slowed growth. Ingredients mattered. Balance mattered. Intention mattered. Those choices shaped behavior. In 2025, we began to see the return on that investment. Drinkers loosened their grip on seriousness not because standards fell, but because they trusted them to hold. A festive cocktail, a fruit-forward vodka drink, or a rich espresso martini no longer signals a shortcut when it is backed by quality spirits and disciplined execution. In business terms, pleasure is not a deviation from the model. It is the dividend paid when trust has been earned.
The Cosmopolitan martini is a useful example of how perception and trust intersect. For years, the Cosmo has been treated as shorthand for excess or unserious drinking, a cocktail people love to dismiss as “less” without actually examining what is in the glass. When made poorly, that reputation is earned. When made correctly, it is a remarkably disciplined drink: spirit-forward, acid-driven, and unforgiving of imbalance. Vodka, citrus, orange liqueur, and cranberry do not hide mistakes. They expose them. A good Cosmo works only when the fundamental ingredients are sound. The reason it is quietly returning to menus is not nostalgia. It is confidence. Bars that know their craft are no longer afraid of serving a drink that depends entirely on balance and restraint to succeed. Believe me? If not, come into Bellwether and order a Stone Cosmo, and you will become a true believer.
Along those lines, at Bellwether, that trust shows up clearly in what guests order. The Lowertown Old Fashioned continues to lead, accounting for roughly one out of every five classic cocktail orders, with the King & Dane Espresso Martini consistently close behind. That pairing is not surprising. One represents structure and restraint, the other indulgence and familiarity, and both are damn good. What matters is not that they dominate, but that their positions remain stable even as menus rotate and seasonal offerings change. These drinks function as anchors. They give guests a reliable starting point and, more importantly, the confidence to keep reading the menu. In the craft spirits business, this is the single most important realization of purpose: our spirits should make joy more accessible, not more exclusive. This is the purpose we aspire to with each bottle filled and each cocktail shaken.
And here is why: what follows those anchors is where trust becomes visible. The next tier of orders spans a wide range: classic martinis, seasonal sours, fruit-forward builds, and more unconventional flavors. Pickle martinis appear alongside peppermint painkillers without friction. Guests are less likely to announce what they “hate” and more willing to explore what they might enjoy. From a business perspective, that shift matters. It signals that guests believe the bar will meet them where they land. They are not choosing between craft and comfort. They are moving fluidly across the spectrum, often within the same visit. That behavior is not confusion. It is confidence at work.
From an entrepreneurial standpoint, this distinction is critical. Trust changes risk profiles. When guests trust the bar, they are more willing to explore. When they trust the spirit, they are more likely to reorder. When they trust the brand, they bring friends. In an industry facing tighter margins, more deliberate consumer spending, and increasing competition for attention, trust has quietly become the most valuable asset on the balance sheet.
This is where 2025 begins to clarify what comes next.
The spirits business this year has been defined less by expansion and more by friction. Consumers are moderating, and the data supports it. Internationally, exports have become a more volatile bet as trade tensions and access barriers reshape markets. Even within craft, volume pressure and share erosion have made it harder to rely solely on distribution momentum. In this environment, brand trust ceases to be a marketing objective and becomes a business requirement. Authenticity, meaning real provenance, hospitality-driven purpose, and products that behave the same way every time, is how repeat pours are earned. The opportunity in 2026 and beyond is not to be louder. It is to be more believable, and to build offerings that customers will choose again when they are choosing less overall.
For distillers like us, that means distinction must come from pedigree, not spectacle. Lowertown Apple Bourbon illustrates this clearly. Apples are not a gimmick. They are part of our agricultural and cultural lineage that already exists alongside Bourbon. By grounding the spirit in real local fruit and restraint, it earns versatility rather than novelty. It belongs equally in a classic Old Fashioned or a shot glass, which is precisely why it performs.
Heart of Glass Strawberry Vodka follows the same logic. Vodka often competes on invisibility or excessive flavoring. By anchoring it in real local fruit, the spirit gains identity without sacrificing adaptability. The strawberry is present but not candy-loud. It creates recognition, not distraction. In a crowded category, that restraint becomes a competitive advantage.
These choices point to a larger lesson from 2025. Complexity alone no longer signals value. Consumers have become fluent enough to tell when complexity serves the drink and when it serves the ego. The brands and bars that perform best are not the loudest or the most experimental, but the most coherent. Their products make sense together. Their menus tell a readable story. Their indulgences feel earned because a foundation of consistency and care supports them. That coherence is not an aesthetic decision. It is a trust strategy.
Looking toward 2026 and beyond, the opportunity is not to retreat from craft rigor, but to deploy it with intention. Precision should reinforce hospitality, not overshadow it. Technique should, to repeat my earlier purpose statement, make joy more accessible, not more exclusive. Innovation should deepen trust, not test patience. Operators who protect their anchors while leaving room for expression will be better positioned to navigate volatility, control risk, and build relationships that outlast any single trend cycle.
If this year has taught us anything, it is that trust compounds. It is built through repetition, clarity, and respect for the drinker’s experience. When that trust exists, guests are willing to explore, to indulge, and most importantly, to return. In a market where people are choosing less overall, the future of craft spirits belongs not to those who chase attention, but to those who earn confidence, making joy more accessible one glass at a time.