A new bourbon appeared on the shelf recently. Textured bottle, gilded — more rococo than vanity project. The brand rep even left a product postcard, which tells me someone's got some coins.

Spirits aren’t my lane, not really. I lean on my Pompette partner-in-crime, Tawanna Pettus, to steer us right. She took to this one immediately, telling customers how the bourbon inside was dedicated to a young botanist whose work with vanilla changed the course of history. I clocked the story, nodded, moved on. But curiosity has a way of circling back. And today happens to be Tawanna’s birthday, which feels like the right moment to slow down, look closer, and give this bottle the attention it’s been asking for. This one’s for her.

Vanilla gets a bad rap. Simple. Plain. Boring. To be “vanilla” is shorthand for unfortunate. And yet — there was a time it was a symbol of status across the globe.

Vanilla began as a wild orchid vine along Mexico’s Gulf Coast, flowering just once a year and, for centuries, pollinated by a single native bee. Its green pods — bitter, almost medicinal, with notes closer to dark chocolate than dessert — were prized and luxuriated by the Aztecs. When vanilla reached Europe, it triggered an orchid mania: the vines grew, but the fruit never came. No bee, no seed. No one could coax the flower to yield. Its complexity was studied obsessively, mythologized, misunderstood — until the method was finally cracked.

That breakthrough came from Edmond Albius, a Black child born into enslavement on Réunion Island, who discovered a simple, elegant technique to hand-pollinate the flower. His insight rescued a collapsing colonial economy and turned vanilla into one of the world’s most valuable agricultural commodities — a flavor that would feed the world to this day. The value of that contribution is hard to overstate. The honor is well-earned.

And the story doesn’t end there.

Behind the liquid is a woman of color — Tracie Franklin, master distiller. I’m excited. We love a female level-up, and so do our customers. Bottles like Abisola, Uncle Nearest, La Gritona, and Doce don’t gather dust — they move. Consumer representation isn’t a talking point here. It’s a reality.

photo via Whisky Advocate

Tracie Franklin didn’t come up through the traditional spirits pipeline. Before bourbon, there was Broadway, baby. From the stage to shows at sea, Tracie was letting her voice be heard — a skill that would serve her well very soon. Between performances, she slung drinks. A means to an end. And the beginning of what she calls her romance with bourbon.

“It was the one thing I could drink and still sing in the morning.”

What followed was a blink-and-you-miss-it rise through the ranks as a brand ambassador, placing her in rooms where she was often the only Black woman pouring Scotch and bourbon with authority. Glenmorangie. Angel’s Envy. Johnnie Walker. Everything was coming up roses — not that it was easy.

“There weren’t women of color, at least not in Scotch. I was often alone.”

So in 2014, she co-founded Whersky, an education platform built for the people the industry kept ignoring: women, LGBTQ+ folks, people of color — anyone who walked into a whiskey bar and felt like it wasn’t for them. The work paid off. By 2020, Whisky Magazine named her Scotch Whisky Ambassador of the Year.

That same year brought a break she never saw coming. In 2020, Uncle Nearest Premium Whiskey and Jack Daniel’s launched the Nearest & Jack Advancement Initiative, a $5 million program designed to widen the pipeline for Black and underrepresented talent in American whiskey. Tracie became the first apprentice in its Leadership Acceleration Program — not a photo op, but a hands-on, technical immersion into distilling and production.

That access mattered. "As a Black woman, I was breaking stereotypes,” Tracie has said. “And now everyone in the industry in Scotland knows my name. I belong.”

Her apprenticeship eventually led her to Pronghorn — the company behind Edmond’s Honor — and that’s where the story takes another turn.

The Diageo Question

Pronghorn doesn’t look like a company that came out of nowhere. New venture, real capital, real reach — so I followed the money. A $200 million commitment from-- Oh. Diageo. Flag raised. Then I kept reading. Oh. Diddy. Another flag.

Pronghorn’s co-founder Dia Simms spent 15 years at Combs Enterprises, rising from executive assistant to President, and was instrumental in turning CÎROC vodka into a multi-billion-dollar brand. She left the company in 2019 — years before any lawsuits against Combs were filed — to launch her own ventures.

As a person in power, a woman of color, she’s been clear about one thing: no performative diversity theater.

The receipts show motion. In its first year, Pronghorn invested in 19 Black-owned brands, placed dozens of Black executives into industry roles, and reports a growing pipeline of open positions with six-figure average salaries.

But we still need to talk about Diageo.

In 2025, Diageo faced class-action lawsuits alleging that tequilas labeled “100% agave,” including Don Julio and Casamigos, contained non-agave alcohols. Diageo denies the claims; cases remain pending. Still, the tension is real. The same company writing nine-figure checks to fund Black entrepreneurship is also being accused of ingredient misrepresentation at scale.

Make it make sense.

Why Ingredient Integrity Matters to Us

At Pompette, ingredient integrity matters. To you. To us. To how trust is built.

Which is why we’re clear about Edmond’s Honor. Unlike the tequila lawsuits — where alleged additives were hidden — Edmond’s Honor is transparent about its vanilla finishing. It’s on the label. It’s in the marketing. The vanilla is the story, not a secret.

The bourbon is made from a high-corn mash aged in American oak, finished in French oak cognac casks infused with Madagascar vanilla, then blended with real Madagascar vanilla essence. Not artificial flavoring. Real vanilla — from the place Edmond Albius made possible. The labeling is approved. The process is disclosed. The liquid is what it says it is. That distinction matters. ⸻

Why This Story Matters

Less than 1% of U.S. distilleries are Black-owned. Black women make up a fraction of spirits executives. The barriers aren’t about talent — they’re about access to capital, distribution, mentorship, and rooms where decisions get made.

Pronghorn is attempting to systematize what usually happens by luck or relationships. It’s imperfect. The Diageo connection is uncomfortable. But the result is bottles like this — a bourbon that tells the story of Edmond Albius, created by a Black woman who spent years navigating an industry that didn’t make space for her.

Corporate support is messy. It’s transactional. But it’s also how Tracie Franklin got to make this bourbon. And now we get to pour it.

Edmond Albius died in poverty. History forgot him — until now.

That’s the story in the bottle. And it’s worth telling.

Edmond’s Honor Bourbon is a high-corn straight bourbon aged in American oak, finished in French oak cognac casks infused with Madagascar vanilla, then blended with real Madagascar vanilla essence. The process is disclosed. The flavor is intentional. The story is layered — like the history it honors and the woman who made the liquid.

Available now at Pompette Wines. 750ml · 43% ABV · $58

We’re always happy to talk through what’s in the bottle — and why it matters.