Quincy Street Distillery: Hand-Made Artisan Spirits

Derrick Mancini is the founder and master distiller behind Quincy Street Distillery, where he brings a deep appreciation for history, craftsmanship, and innovation to every bottle. Operating out of a restored historic storefront in Riverside, Illinois, Derrick blends his background in science and engineering with a passion for heritage spirits to create small-batch, historically inspired concoctions. Under his guidance, Quincy Street Distillery has become known for reviving classic formulas and developing original expressions that reflect both the local culture and the timeless art of distillation. DeliveryRank features an exclusive interview.

Quincy Street Distillery takes inspiration from Riverside’s historic heritage and classic distilling formulas—how do you blend local history and traditional techniques into your modern spirits, and why does that storytelling matter to your customers?

Our location was a major inspiration. Riverside itself is historic, often described as the first planned suburban community in the United States, designed by Frederick Law Olmsted. Originally, it was more of a summer retreat for wealthy Chicago merchants, while just across the river, Lyons had long been a center of the French fur trade dating back to the 18th century. That deep history inspired us to make historicity central to our identity as a craft distillery.

We started over 13 years ago—one of only five craft distilleries in Illinois at the time. Today there are more than 65. From the outset, we wanted to connect our spirits to the region’s agricultural and cultural roots. Being in the middle of the corn belt, it made sense to emphasize corn-based products, especially bourbon. What many don’t realize is that Illinois was a major hub of alcohol production in the 19th century, particularly after the Civil War. Bourbon was produced here on an industrial scale before Prohibition wiped out much of that history.

Rather than copy the flavor profiles that dominate today’s whiskey market, we chose a different path. With our small copper pot still, we recreate historic styles of whiskey, particularly bourbons that reflect how they evolved through the 19th century. These high-corn bourbons differ significantly from what most people think of as bourbon today. For some, that uniqueness is exactly what makes our spirits special; for others, it’s surprising because it doesn’t match modern expectations.

Still, our approach has built a loyal following among those who appreciate authenticity and history in every sip. For us, it’s about honoring tradition while creating something distinct—spirits that connect people not just to flavor, but to the story of the place itself.

With a rotating selection of handcrafted spirits—like the rare malt rye whiskey, honey-based Prairie Sunshine™, and barrel-aged Railroad Gin—what’s your process for experimenting with new recipes, and how do you balance innovation with staying true to authenticity?

One of the challenges I face is balancing innovation with business practicality. As a retired physicist with degrees in history, creating spirits is both a craft and a creative outlet for me. While many distilleries stick to a narrow range of products, I’ve always been drawn to experimenting—often guided by historical inspiration or documented recipes.

Our honey spirit is a good example. I’ve been making mead as a hobby for nearly 40 years, so when I first began distilling, I used mead for a test run. The result was fascinating: rum-like in character, but with the aroma and finish reminiscent of mead. Friends who tasted it encouraged me to produce it commercially, and it became one of our earliest spirits. Interestingly, while mead has an ancient history, a distilled mead spirit has virtually no tradition. It’s not even an official category in the United States, though it is recognized in parts of Europe. Today, perhaps a dozen distilleries make something similar, and many of those are run by former interns of mine. In that sense, we helped seed a small but growing category.

Of course, honey is one of the most expensive sugars to ferment, which makes this spirit costly to produce. Still, we continue to make it—and even use it as the base for our absinthe—because it’s unique, distinctive, and deeply tied to my personal history. For me, it represents the one exception to our otherwise historically inspired lineup.

Most of our other spirits come directly from historical research. For instance, our Railroad Gin is based on an 1819 recipe intended to rival imported gins of the era. Unlike today’s London Dry style, it’s closer to old-style genever, with a whiskey-like base and rich juniper botanicals. Similarly, our bourbons reflect the evolution of American whiskey-making: from the small, smoky, ruby-colored spirits aged in 10-gallon barrels by frontier distillers, to the larger-barrel, longer-aged bourbons that emerged after the Civil War and eventually defined the modern profile.

What excites me is that each spirit tells a story. Some customers love them because they’re unexpected; others find them approachable precisely because they differ from modern whiskey norms. For us, it’s about connecting people not only to a flavor, but also to history—reviving spirits that once existed, and in the case of honey spirit, creating something entirely new.

Your speakeasy cocktail bar and educational tours offer immersive visitor experiences. How do these in-person interactions influence product development, customer loyalty, and your brand’s connection to the local community?

One of the things that sets us apart is the tours we offer at our distillery. Ours is a very small operation—nothing like walking from building to building as you might at a big distillery in Kentucky. Instead, we keep our groups intimate, usually eight to ten people, and what they get is less a tour and more a mini-course. Over the span of an hour to ninety minutes, I walk them through how whiskey is made by hand in a copper pot still, while weaving in the history of whiskey and the history of our local area.

Afterward, we gather at the bar for a guided tasting—usually eight different spirits. I especially enjoy leading people through a “flight” of 19th-century bourbons that illustrate the evolution I’ve just described. The experience isn’t just about tasting; it’s about understanding what shapes whiskey and why it tastes the way it does. Many visitors tell us it’s the most interesting distillery experience they’ve ever had. Some even come back to repeat it, simply because there’s so much to absorb the first time around.

What I find fascinating is how these tours spark interest in people who never considered themselves spirit drinkers. Because our whiskeys are distinctive and often more approachable than mass-produced products, they catch people off guard in the best way. The challenge, of course, is that the only reliable way to communicate that is by tasting—and that’s something we can only really do here or at a handful of events.

Marketing has always been the hurdle for small distilleries. Since the early days, this industry has leaned heavily on advertising, with Kentucky distillers even credited with inventing modern American marketing. The truth is, a brand could once sell poor whiskey so long as it had the right marketing. For us, though, the opposite is true: we know our products are good because people tell us directly during tastings. Sometimes I even think about discontinuing a spirit I’m not crazy about—until a loyal group of customers insists it’s their favorite.

But the broader question remains: how do you reach new customers? Social media once offered an easy, guerrilla-style solution. A decade ago, a post on Facebook could go viral overnight. Over time, as platforms became more commercialized, paid content drowned out organic reach. Instagram, and now TikTok, have followed the same path. Without deep pockets for advertising, social media has become nearly useless for small distilleries like ours.

That leaves us scratching our heads. There are simply too many craft distilleries now—thirty or forty times more than when we started—and shelf space hasn’t expanded to match. I suspect many won’t survive the next five years. To adapt, some are becoming pubs or adding other businesses to diversify their income. For us, our small size is actually an advantage: it allows us to partner with breweries, restaurants, and clubs to create bespoke spirits in tiny runs. Since the pandemic, we’ve been leaning into that model, customizing spirits that partners can offer exclusively to their clientele.

It’s not an easy business, but it’s a creative one. The challenge keeps evolving—but so do we.

How do you approach marketing a craft spirits brand in a competitive market, and what strategies have been most effective in communicating your unique story and engaging both local and national audiences?

That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question—and the honest answer is, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone in this business truly does, because the conditions keep shifting so quickly. The entire industry, much like restaurants, bars, and breweries, was transformed by the pandemic. Layer onto that a generational change: millennials turned out to be a natural market for craft spirits, while Gen Z shows far less interest. Those demographic shifts force us to rethink everything.

Ten years ago, it was simple: post something engaging about your product on social media and people would discover you almost instantly. That strategy no longer works. Static posts are ineffective; video content might have promise, though even that space is already evolving. The reality is that survival may now require a business model that’s more than just distribution. That’s why we’re exploring partnerships with other small businesses—creating products with a shared local theme, something bespoke that resonates beyond just the bottle.

Another complication is regulation. Our business is governed at multiple levels: federal rules, state rules, and, in our case, even municipal “home rule” laws. Each layer adds restrictions, often making it difficult to get products into customers’ hands. Larger producers can work within the three-tier distribution system with relative ease, but for small distillers, it’s a major obstacle.

Wine makers faced similar hurdles years ago and successfully pushed for legislative changes that allowed direct-to-consumer shipping and wine clubs, which are now widespread. Distilleries, by contrast, generally cannot ship directly to customers—even within our own state. That limitation is felt every day. Visitors regularly ask if we can ship them bottles after a tour, and I have to say no—it isn’t legal.

I believe the long-term survival of small distilleries may depend on achieving similar reforms: opening direct sales and mail-order channels that would give us a fighting chance against large producers with vast marketing budgets. Until then, we continue to innovate, experiment, and adapt.

If you would like to find out more about Quincy Street Distillery, please visit https://www.quincystreetdistillery.com/