Visiting The Grants. Part 1
7 Nov
Aberdeen. Although it may posses charms unknown to me, secret beauties and inestimable qualities, they are well hidden on this visit by a veil of drizzle, the kind which seems indigenous to Scottish skies and mornings. I have arrived at 8.40 am by train from Glasgow, I discuss the ever looming spectre of potential Scottish independence with my taxi driver as he takes me to the airport. He tells me about the oil upon which this city has spread its financial wings over the recent decades. We wind our way through the streets and early traffic, the cars run wet and steamy, like mechanical blood along the cold fissures of road that lie between the granite of the city. At the airport I run to the terminal against the sting of the rain, a smudge of hurried green against a tapestry of grey. Inside I meet Wayne, Debbie and our host for the next twenty four hours, the terminally enthusiastic and cheerful Ian Murray. We muddle with luggage, clench against the rain once again, find our ride and then we’re off, getting the hell out of Aberdeen and all its slate washed splendour.
The drive to Glenfiddich feels like a long one, we are all tired from early starts. The grey of Aberdeen seems fused to the nibostratus umbrella that covers Scotland but as we move deeper into Speyside the colours change. Trees, already stripped bare by over-eagre autumnal winds, stand like charcoal bones against the dull light of the sky. Their larger counterparts, still bristling with ageing foliage, lend further muted shades to dark green fields and the sandy stubble of spent barley crops. Hay bales still litter the land, sponging up the last weeks worth of rain. The mercurial, oily scum of the road spatters up from tires onto our windscreen but gives way soon enough to cleaner air and the pristine glisten of old, wet B roads. Occasional pockets of sheep keenly ignore us as we go past, they are too busy ignoring the weather, simply existing in the way that sheep tend to do. The colours of the land are rendered dark by the impenetrable cap of the sky and the air is alive with cold electricity, in other words, perfect whisky making weather.
We arrive to a Glenfiddich that has dressed for the occasion, kitting itself out in matching stonework and slate regalia, an outfit that offsets its surroundings and rainwater soak perfectly. Our first port of call is lunch. If you are visiting this part of Scotland, even if distillery bagging is not your thing, I cannot recommend the food on offer at Glenfiddich highly enough. For my money it is one of the most delicious menus of any distillery in Scotland (and this coming from someone who spent two summers working at Ardbeg so high praise indeed). We ate a fantastic two course lunch, I had the Haggis, Neeps & Tatties, which had been fused into some kind of Scottish culinary meteorite and drizzled with Glenfiddich whisky sauce. It was my first taste of haggis in over a year and, as is the tradition with this particular meal, I found it difficult to move afterwards, as if I had eaten a cluster of blowling balls or a curling stone. As we ate Ian talked passionately about the Grant family and their distilleries, his enthusiasm for his job and his whisky is a refreshing one when you consider the number of people you meet in the whisky industry with such a dry, feigned enthusiasm for their product, one that can rarely be bothered to mask its true disinterest.
Warehouse 1. As seen from the shelter of the visitor centre.
The tour at Glenfiddich begins, like at many larger distilleries, with a video. The one they have is very nicely shot with a glaringly professional sheen. It is keen to impress upon us the sheer force of willpower it took to get the distillery built. A process that was apparently done by hand over the course of a year by William Grant and his (willing?) children. The video also seemed to suggest that they were building the distillery on a site that resembled the battle of the somme, in weather conditions that had evidently been perfectly recreated for our visit in order to give a feeling of genuine authenticity. The presentation went on to emphasise how the distillate produced today has never changed and is made to the exact recipe that William Grant developed back in the late 1800s, this is something I particularly disagree with but I’ll leave it to you to make up your own minds about that one. I have never really been able to take these videos seriously and while certain elements did come across as a little ridiculous, I must admit it was very beautifully shot and edited and a long way above the usual woeful standards of these tour starting points.
Just two of the many epic washbacks at Glenfiddich.
The tour begins in earnest and our guide, along with Ian, is the remarkable and enthusiastic Bert Macor. If you’ve never been round Glenfiddich before, the process itself, apart from a few reassuringly old style flourishes (which I’ll get to in a moment), is relatively straightforward and similar to the majority of modern Scottish malt distilleries. What is so essential about the Glenfiddich experience however is the sheer scale of it all, you cannot fully appreciate what an enormous operation it is to make malt whisky to feed the vast world markets unless you actually come and see it. The cavernous warren of vast wooden washbacks, all frothing away at various points of the relatively long fermentation cycle, the twin Porteus mills, the giddying mash tun and the inevitable 28 stills. This is a distillery designed for overproduction, for the satisfaction of mass demand and the simultaneous generation of a backlog of spirit that can age comfortably for decades, to be drawn on and dipped into on whim or special occasion. I speak to Bert in the gaps as we stroll from one part of the tour to the next. He is from the Netherlands, Rotterdam originally, but has lived and worked here at Glenfiddich for over thirty years, despite this his accent is remarkably well intact and his pronunciation accurate but mesmerisingly imbued with Dutch lilts and ticks. His knowledge is deep and his explanations comprehensive but riddled with clear enthusiasm, like Ian he possesses an untethered admiration for his company and the whisky it produces. They make for an infectious pair of guides.
The violence of early fermentation
Debbie and Ian survey just some of the 28 small Glenfiddich stills.
The direct fired distillation in progress.
One of the things that I find fascinating about Glenfiddich is its continued use of direct fired distillation. Every still uses a gas fired flame and an internal rummager, a moving chain that prevents pot ale and sediments sticking to the base during the boil, not a steam coil in sight. And yet you wouldn’t notice a particular meaty, oily or fat quality in the Glenfiddich make. It is a lighter style of spirit, distinctive but elegant and soft. Doubtless the effects of direct firing are balanced by the lengthy(ish) fermentation, shell condensers and phenol free malt. Yet, it would still be interesting to try an example of the make distilled under the power of steam rather than flame, I’m very curious about the role it plays in the Glenfiddich personality. It also shows that the idea behind it being far too difficult to direct fire rather than use steam is gibberish, if the biggest malt factory in town can manage it with 28 stills then surely the others could have a crack too? Just an idea. I think it is a commendably old school aspect of the production and one that demonstrates there is a real dedication to preserving a particular character and style here at Glenfiddich. Something that cannot be said for many other Speysiders that seem to increasingly be basing their house styles somewhere between Glen Safe and Glen Boring.
A view of the distillery from outside one of the warehouses.
We take a spin round the warehouses. Again the sheer size of the operation is quite overwhelming, not just the vast number of casks but the principal of overproduction is so perfectly summed up in the seemingly random litter of examples that date from the seventies, sixties and fifties. Ancient hoggies, barrels, butts and puncheons lie around after decades of maturation, left to sit and fester without design or purpose other than to be there when the time comes, when an old whisky is called for they simply need to stroll in and pick one. It is a beautiful sight because it is simply so rare to see warehouses full of old stock anymore, most distillers having jumped too quickly and enthusiastically on the malt bandwagon only to find themselves devoid of aged whisky and having to rely on marketing led brainwashing to sell younger, inferior spirit for the same money. It seems the Grants always had the sense of foresight to make enough whisky to leave some for a rainy day. Lucky for us the weather is foul.
Bert explains the outlay of the distillery buildings to Wayne.
After the warehouse we retire to the tasting lounge for a welcome selection of drams. We taste the 14yo Rich Oak, the old and the new 30yos and a spectacularly elegant and herbaceous 1974 cask sample. The ones I selected to write notes for are an intriguing pair…
Glenfiddich ‘Age Of Discovery’. Madeira Finish. 19yo OB. 40%. 70cl.
Colour: Amber
Nose: This is very nice and very open at first nosing, not as drying as I expected from the Madeira, more lush and almost exotic with some very lovely fruit character. Again that Glenfiddich character of apples, pine needles and light spices is dancing around in the background, it’s strange how such a delicate personality can shine through at such a variety of ages, strengths and cask types. Goes on with some nice green notes and hints of camphor, coal, walnuts and touches of balsamico (presumably form the madeira). A very fresh and well integrated finish, on the nose at least…
Palate: Again quite a lush, spicy and nutty delivery but it lacks a little oomph I think. Raspberries, fruit oils, tobacco, nuts, milk chocolate, herbs, pine resin and something ever so slightly tarry. Keeps on going with cough sweets and throat losenges with these little aromatic qualities, further delicate notes of eucalyptus and fresh herbs like thyme and tarragon. Again this is very nice and exceptionally well composed as far as the finishing aspect goes.
Finish: Medium to Long, leaves some beautiful notes of wild mushrooms, wet leaves, truffle oil, garden fruits, green tea and muesli.
Comments: The problem here is the strength, that slight weakness on the palate will cost it a few marks in my book, if this was at 46% I think it would be a real winner. The finishing has been done exceptionally well in my book, interesting considering that they rarely finish the spirit for more than a few months, a length of time that is usually far too short to effectively alter a spirit beyond colour and minor obvious changes to the flavour. Maybe they use exceptional casks but I think the real reason is that Glenfiddich (like Glenmorangie in many ways) is light enough to bend easily to the lilt of new wood and wine influences without loosing its own character along the way, instead of war in the cask you get compliance. Anyway, amateur theorising aside, this is a fine dram.
Score: 85/100
Glenfiddich 30yo. OB. 2010 rotation. 43%. 70cl.
Colour: Bright Gold
Nose: A whole orchard of apples. Seriously, red apples, baked apples, golden delicious, green apples, the whole caboodle. Lots of other super fragrant aromas too, notes of linseed oil, pastry, dried herbs, camphor, leather, beeswax, pine resin and wild flowers, very fresh, elegant and appealing. There are some typically Glenfiddichesque spices as well such as notes of cinnamon and ginger biscuits then forest flora and berry fruits.
Palate: Quite a bold delivery all on wax, crystallised fruits, paint, eucalyptus, mulling spices and more very typical apple qualities. Further notes of mead, touches of heather smoke, coal dust, pine cones, Christmas cake, dates, raisins, mid-aged Armagnac and marzipan. A very typical aged speysider in character but there is a lot of distillery identity in this one, which is always refreshing. Not overly complex on the palate but very beautifully composed and quite elegant. Dangerously moreish too.
Finish: Surprisingly long and full of resin, pine needles, wax, drying oak notes, more of these ‘Glenfiddich spices’, baked apples and custard.
Comments: I always like the Glenfiddich 30yo, this new batch seems to be even better than the old blue box bottling. Evidently a lot of time has gone into the cask selection and it has really paid off. I’ve always thought that Glenfiddich’s hallmarks are apple and spice qualities and this one has them in spades, like all good Glenfiddichs the distillery character just seems to hang around for decades. The only problem, yet again, is the strength, this is an expensive bottling and I think there is no reason it shouldn’t be at cask strength. I suspect the bottling strengths at Grants are based on a more traditional philosophy about whisky, which is fine, but I can’t help but think this would be stellar if it was bottled at full strength, even 46% would be better. Great whisky but that slight weakness docks it a mark or two.
Score: 89/100
I know many people who take pride in disliking Glenfiddich, or who make the common statement “Balvenie is alright but Glenfiddich is mass made crap!”. Well, I really have to disagree. As much as I love many of the Balvenie bottlings, I just think that it needs quite a bit more time to find its stride in cask. Glenfiddich on the the other hand seems to show well after 10-12 years and can keep going, often for a further 50 years with luck. Yes it is a lighter spirit but what’s wrong with that? What’s more lightness seems to be the recipe for a multitude of possibility in terms of whisky making, it finishes well, it ages well and it drinks well. Most importantly however, it always managed to taste like Glenfiddich, sure you can get many other malts that leap more readily out of the glass and announce themselves more clearly, but Glenfiddich has always had a quiet distinction about it, one that can be spotted so easily in so many of its bottlings, as those two examples just demonstrated. But, leaving aside issues of character and distinction, the most important thing this really shows us is that you don’t need a tiny, artisanal, micro-distillery to make great whisky, under such conditions it should strictly speaking be much easier to produce great whisky. The real difficulty is in consistently making a distinctive and classy whisky on such a huge scale, a feat which Glenfiddich has taken to an unparalleled level over the past century. You can slag it off all you like but, really, the proof is in the glass, you just need to open your mind to it and your nose and palate will follow.
