Whisky Online Blog

What is the value of whisky to you? There is much talk of whisky speculation, investment, expanding markets, developing markets, collecting, consumption, branding and super-premium these days. Is it a coincidence that it all seems to have come at a time when I’ve just started a new job in a relatively youthful auction house? Or is my position a symptom of circumstance or, worse still, the ‘market’? I know for a fact that my job exists because its existence facilitates profit. We talk a lot about value these days. I see all the rants, raves and comments about it coagulating like puddles on the shores of social media. I hear it when I speak to the retailers. Margins, allocations and profits are getting tighter and tighter, the auctioneers are winning and the retailers are fighting up hill. Is this all because there is less and less of the old stuff to go around, the juicy old bottles that everyone wants. The spiraling auction prices and the increasing feeling that the old bottles and new releases are two separate worlds would seem to suggest so.

The star bottles in our latest auction. How many of us can now afford to obtain, let alone open, bottles such as these?

But there is a bigger picture here I think. All this increasing talk of value or perception of value seems indicative of a trending change in the way many of us think about whisky. How many of us can now afford to open old 1960s Laphroaigs or 1950s Macallans? These bottles have become tokens, they are symbolic of their perceived worth, in short, they are currency. Ten years ago there was McTears in Glasgow, they held whisky auctions no more than four times a year. Christie’s and Sotheby’s did fine wine auctions but that is something still far divorced from whisky in terms of the truly astronomical prices and quantities, it was then and it still is. Now we have the online specialist aucitoneers Whisky Auction, Scotch Whisky Auctions and more on the horizon no doubt. We have McTears (now on ten auctions a year), Bonhams and, most recently, Mulberry Bank Auctions, where I work. There will almost certainly be further additions to this list in the next year and I haven’t even mentioned all the smaller auction houses in Britain that do occasional whisky auctions or specialist sections of larger auctions dedicated to whisky. There has been an explosion of whisky at auction over the past decade, in both prices achieved and quantity sold. But what does it all mean?

One of the best illustrations of why whisky has value is Ardbeg Manager's Dram. Bottled in 1999 it was a single cask of astonishing quality and character. The bottles were practically given away at £69 a piece. Now enough people want one of these incredible bottles that the price is nudging £2000 a pop.

With straightforward analysis it means that the desire to drink great whisky, coupled with the cumulative effect of three decades worth of cheap to fairly priced, good to outstanding quality whiskies being steadily released around the world, has created a huge demand and an ever dwindling supply. Their inevitable consumption means there are more people who want to hoard/collect and drink than there are bottles left to satisfy these demands. It also means there are many people who kept or own these bottles, for whatever reason, and are increasingly persuaded to part with them, almost always because they seem too valuable to justify keeping. Or they were keen eyed enough to spot an opportunity and played it with an eye to raw investment. The bottom line is money has the power to exert influence over our perceptions of what something is for and what we are willing to do with it. I swore I would never part with the small selection of very special bottles I had gathered throughout the previous decade, but then in 2010 I had an overdraft and I badly wanted to go traveling . Needless to say I soon found out that I wasn’t so attached to them after all, I could no longer justify sitting on several thousand pounds worth of bottled liquid. Do I miss those bottles? No, not really, one or two that were unique and I’ll never see again, but I’ve been fortunate enough to taste most of them already in my lifetime and I’ll taste many more great drams so I don’t feel too precious about it. But the point is they evolved in my mind from potential bottled memories and stored olfactory beauty into the achievable fantasy of black ink on my bank statement instead of red and a few more stamps in my passport.

Unlike Whisky, it's impossible to put a price on the best experiences in your life. After the time I had in South America I'll never regret selling my bottles for a second.

People rant and rave about whisky being for drinking a lot these days, it is the understandable and ill informed reaction to the many discussions about collecting/investing/speculating (call it what you will). People seem awfully proud to blurt out their philosophy that ‘Whisky is for drinking not for collecting’ every time they hear of a bottle being stored in a dark cupboard rather than immediately cracked open with pristine abandon while the cork burns in the fire. Of course whisky is for drinking, it is after all a drink, that is the very reason these bottles are expensive. Forget the artificially expensive Dalmore (insert ludicrous latin name here) for a minute, these are different beasts altogether. I’m talking about the vast majority of older bottles and the more desirable, modern independent bottlings, these whiskies acquire great expense because people want to own and drink them (because word spread out from the many that already have). The number of people acquiring them for purely monetary purposes is nothing like the number of people who want to keep them with a view to one day drinking them.

There are more of these old bottles getting opened than you might imagine. That's another reason for their ever increasing value. (And yes I know it's a Cognac but give me a break.)

However, if you’ll allow me to play Devil’s advocate to myself for a moment there is a flip side. Whisky is for drinking. I come back to my original question, what is the value of whisky to you? Is it a drink that stokes the fires of great company and friendship? Is it grease to the cogs of late night imagination? Is it the ink that outlines and shades your greatest and darkest memories? Is it a liquid bound up in tears and laughter, one that toasts the fortunes and mourns the people and joys that happenstance cuts out of your life? This is where our passion for whisky often lies, it is born in the avenues of surprise and exploration and it is a glorious journey. But we are changing, these perceptions are being all too often forgotten and swept away in the face of the behemoth of money and its sticky fingers that latch onto every corner of our lives. We have made an enemy of our own passions. ‘Whisky’ is now an industry with sub-markets, markets forged by the very love we feel for the drink that started us on this journey in the first place. The prices now paid for the great bottlings are a measure of the length to which we are willing to go for our love of ‘the hard stuff’. At the end of the day these prices are paid because there are more than enough people with the money and the will to pay it who want these whiskies. The same money and keen willpower that has fired this expanding market for rare and desirable bottles.

When we speak of wine nowadays it suffers from an image of middle-class, Guardian-reading, bourgeois association. It is linked with wealth, food matching, Michelin stars and snobbery. The mainstream press chooses to forget in these instances (whenever it suits them) the vast quantities of people who nightly chastise their innards with litres of putrid Blossom Hill swill. The predominant and popular image is of finery and privilege. A shame that, amongst these two ends of the spectrum, is often lost the truth that wine was, and often remains, a grassroots, agricultural industry. One that requires great skill and offers simple and delicious reward beyond the obvious financial return. Wine’s rustic origins and proud role in the history of human decadence, zest for life and earned indulgence is often lost or forgotten amidst a global industry hell bent on image, price control and premium products aimed at premium clientele. Whisky it seems, in this sense, is not far behind. The only difference is whisky will never be as big as wine. The idea that a case of old whisky, even something like Malt Mill (God willing!) would match the price at auction of a case of 1870 Latour (if one should ever come up for sale), is somewhat ludicrous. Whisky is acting bigger than it is, and therefore it feels like it is bursting at the seems a little bit. It makes you wonder how much longer these markets can sustain themselves. How much higher in price can these top end Ardbegs and Port Ellens go? Whisky as an industry has always had its big ups and very big downs. It has also quite noticeably always failed to learn from its own history. Probably something to do with it being a long term product that requires great age and, as a result, the people that sell it are often replaced every ten-twenty years with a new set of people with big wide dollar signs in their eyes, all looking straight ahead into developing markets and never glancing over their shoulder to what has gone before. This specialist and rare whisky market is still a relatively new beast, I wonder how long before it, like the the rest of the industry at large has several times already, takes its first tumble? Is it just me or does it feel like we’re in those slow, steep, up-hill moments before the roller-coaster plunges…

A visual history of the Whisky industry.

I know that we all love whisky, with great passion. All this social media debating and all these blogs (including this one) wouldn’t exist without that love. I’ll be honest right now and say I’m not a fan of capitalism and the vast profiteering its structures can facilitate, despite the obvious fact that I am one of many who has undeniably reaped more than my fair share of its spoils over the years in the guise of privilege. With this in mind I have often struggled to reconcile my love of an increasingly expensive drink and the money I’ve paid for it on many an occasion, with the vastly unfair distribution of wealth on this planet. I suppose my musings today have been largely driven by these internal conflicts. Whatever it is, I am increasingly having to remind myself that whisky is, first and foremost, a source of joy, along with art, music, love, sex, films, expression, adventure, exercise, food of greater extravagance than is considered essential, literature and general festivities. These are the apps of life, not just to alleviate pain but to actively provide joy and decadence, to make life worth living. We have an abundance of them here in the west which is partly why so many of us are curdled by gnawing guilt. But the fact is we have them and we should not be ashamed to enjoy them so long as we appreciate our incredible good fortune to have them. I’m just sad to see that whisky is being transported ever upwards and away from these more humble spheres into realms where it is often all too easy to forget (or just to fucking expensive to remember) why we truly love it.

So, what is the value of whisky to you?

It seems there are four old Clynelish kicking around my tasting cupboard. What a shame. This distillery evidently needs no introduction or blether from me so we’ll just dive right in if you don’t mind.

Clynelish 14yo. OB. Flora & Fauna. Rotation mid-late 1990s. 43%. 70cl. 

This bottle is actually the reason this tasting came about. It all started when a certain pair of whisky quaffers by the names of Dennis and Tobias exclaimed this to be the ‘best Clynelish you can buy’ or something like that on facetube. I swiftly disagreed and the result was they sent me a sample. With this in mind I’d like to publicly denounce all old official Laphroaigs as dusty fruit free piss water, any pre-war malts as brittle and deeply flawed and early 70s Broras and Longrows as dull and unimaginatively peated blend fodder. Just send the samples to the usual address guys…

Colour: Gold

Nose: Uber typical at first, lots of wax, hessian, shoe polish, chamomile, lilies, pollen and green fruit. It seems to combine a perfect mix of older style, early 70s era Clynelish with some of the modern day 14yo traits. Notes of old Riesling, shoe polish, beeswax, dusty mineral notes, white flowers, fresh chives, a little green tomato chutney and straw. This is really beautiful, I’m starting to feel less confident about blowing this one out of the water with the older ones. A really beautiful old style sweetness that combines elements of natural vanilla and honeycomb is balanced by some fantastically taught and drying coastal notes. Hints of sandalwood, seashore and lemon zest.

Palate: Hmmm, a little dusty on delivery, was this bottle open a long time I wonder? Improves with a few further sips and really starts to bloom with lots of fresh bread, raw sea salt, green tea, more chamomile, wood spice, touches of peat and tar with a really mouthwatering mineral sensation. Still perfectly dry with just twitches of sweetness about it now. Quite savoury and salty, like black olives on pastry. More grass, green fruit, pebbles, tinned peaches, all kinds of oils, eucalyptus sweets and cream soda.

Finish: Long, lively, warming and super fresh. The coastal aspects go into overdrive and you get this big zingy, salty, mouthwatering mineral sensation. The honey flavours come back a bit as it fades. Lovely.

Comments: Well I had thought this one would be easily defeated by the others that are to follow but now I’m not so sure. Surprisingly close to the early 70s style in many ways. Probably from those great batches distilled in the early 80s. A big thankyou to Dennis and Tobias for this one.

Score: 90/100

Speaking of which…

Clynelish 28yo. Douglas Laing OMC. 1982-2011. 238 Bottles. Refill Hogshead. 50%. 70cl.

Colour: Straw Gold

Nose: It’s quite surprising how close this is initially to the F&F bottling. Only a slightly more intense resinous quality belies its greater age. It combines those beautiful qualities of tinned tropical fruits, hessain, huge waxiness, drying coastal notes and white stone fruits that make this such a world class distillate. Further notes of damp straw, coal, creosote, motor oil, vanilla cream, black pepper and celery soup. This one is big bold and intense, it doesn’t quite share the same complexity as the F&F but it compensates with a wonderfully direct intensity of character. Goes on with notes of mint, seaweed, dried herbs and more huge seashore aromas.

Palate: Softer than expected but still a barrel of wax and oil topped up with seawater. This one becomes massively salty after a few moments, a dens saltiness, like chewing whole sea salt crystals, with lemon juice, acid drops, grass, and tobacco leaf in the background. Quite astonishingly coastal and intense this one, smoked salmon, black pepper, metallic notes, chocolate limes, chopped parsley and buttered toast. Great stuff, although you might not want to drink this if you have weak kidneys, the salt might finish you off. Good if you have a sodium deficiency though…

Finish: Bready, salty, savoury, floral, super coastal and long.

Comments: Great stuff, super classical old style Clynelish, is has everything in spades, except for salt, it has that in shovels. You need to like dry, coastal, hyper fresh and salty whiskies to enjoy this one I think. I love it.

Score: 90/100

Clynelish 1972-2010 38yo. The Whisky Agency. 138 bottles. Refill sherry hogshead. 45.8%. 70cl. 

Colour: Amber

Nose: A big explosion of lush green and tropical fruits with all kinds, honey, coastal notes, oils, waxy qualities and background cereal touches. Just gorgeous and unmistakeably early 70s Clynelish. The nose is incredibly fresh for 38 years and that balance of intense fruit and regulating coastal notes is just stunning, there is some oak in the mix but it is perfectly subdued, just soft wafts of dark chocolate and stewed fruits betray the sherry. It also reveals menthol, pipe tobacco, touches of rancio, lemon green tea and muesli. Orange liqueur, dates, bitters, caraway seeds and cornflour.

Palate: On the palate the wood is clearly a little louder but it is not overly astringent, the waxiness is still huge and the distillery character is still very much in play. Lots of resin, salt, camphor, black tea, raisins, hints of cognac, sandalwood, toasted cereals, mint and green fruits. Some really beautiful citrus as well with hits of tinned fruits, fruit syrups and more salty seashore notes. This is perilously drinkable and despite that slight woody edge is really delicious, in fact the wood works quite nicely in holding everything together and keeping the whole profile lively and focused. Another stunning old Clynelish in other words.

Finish: It’s not the longest ever but it remains all on fruit resins, wax, touches of wood, chocolate, mead, coal and mint.

Comments: I suspect most of these early 70s casks will not last too much longer before the wood starts to take over. This one was just on the cusp but it was still reliably stunning.

Score: 92/100

Clynelish 1972-2009. 36yo. G&M for LMDW. Cask 14301. 197 bottles. 59.4%. 70cl. 

Colour: Gold

Nose: This one is bigger, more austere, more mineral and more gravely at first nosing. Some clean oak, loads of tight and sharp coastal notes, wax, paraffin, resin, tons of honeycomb and pollen. We’re not really that far away again from the F&F 14yo, it’s just much bigger, more intense and more compact due to much greater age and strength. The focus of the flavour is quite impressive though. Becomes more floral with a bit of time showing notes of white flowers and dandelions. With water: now it’s just a hotbed of warm honey, green fruits and simmering spices. Green peppercorns in brine, charcoal, oysters, lemon drops and a whole coast line.

Palate: Tha alcohol is quite imposing at first sip, the austerity is still resolutely there with a big crisp saltiness, salt and vinegar crisps in fact. All the usual suspects are here, wax, lemon oil, flowers, flints, seashore, minerals and tiny flecks of peat as well. But you can feel it needs waster… with water: Wow! It opened up perfectly, a thirsty whisky if ever there was one. Bags of bay leaves, green tea, lemon skins, apple peelings, seashore, sandalwood, oysters, wild flowers, all kinds of fresh fruits, wet earth and pebbles. Just lashings of everything, a stunner.

Finish: Fantastically long and packed full of the same spellbinding complexities as the palate. Clear, direct, balanced and intense. Beautiful!

Comments: I’m sure there can’t be many more casks like this one still to be bottled. They’ll start getting harder and harder to come by soon, I suggest you taste one of these old Clynelishes before it’s too late if you haven’t already. Its a unique distillate that anyone serious about whisky should try at least once in their life. Sends all these modern malts back to school as far as I’m concerned.

Score: 93/100

ps: A vatting of all four is utterly magical!

Seeing as this series is in danger of becoming the ‘Rocky’ of whisky blog posts I think this will almost certainly be the last one. After Port Ellen, Ardbeg and Lagavulin it seems logical that we will cover Laphroaig, the final Islay southerner. So unless someone wants to send me a stash of old 73/74 Longrow or early 70s Brora samples then I don’t think we’ll see parts five or six anytime soon.

Anyway, without further prattle and ado…

Laphroaig 20yo. Douglas Laing. OMC. Sherry Hogshead. 50%. 70cl.

Had this sample kicking about for some time, sadly no image to go with it I’m afraid. I adore sherried Laphroaigs though so I’m keen to try this one.

Colour: Dark amber

Nose: A strange kind of grizzly fruitiness at first. Very Laphroaig, loads of tincture, iodine, tcp and other medicinal qualities but with a lovely metallic edge like wet iron and steel wool. Smoky bacon, dried herbs and salt, bacon crisps? Flat cola, peat, cola cubes, hot tar, rope, root beer, wet earth and hints of dark rum. Quite a superlative nose really, great distillery character but with that classic, surprisingly clean, sherry slant. Unctuous, leafy, salty and thick with big notes of liquorice, key lime pie, lemon curd, wax, hessian, flints and other assorted mineral notes. Gets quite briny with a thick and turfy peat quality with some nice dried dark fruits. Great stuff, very enjoyable.

Palate: Massive, syrupy peat on delivery with big drying sherry right behind it, reminds me a little of some old peated Glen Gariochs (high praise indeed) with more earth, dried mushrooms, tcp, mouthwash, liquorice, charcoal, barbecue sauce and some lovely green fruits. Very medicinal, lots of medical sub complexities with big herbal liqueur qualities as well. Baked apples, smoked mussels, creosote, cola syrup, tobacco and seaweed soup. A perfect balance of sweet and dry.

Finish: Lemon curd again, fresh oysters, brine, menthol toothpaste, hessian, creosote, tar, tcp, wax and fading green fruits.

Comments: I really love Laphroaig in sherry and this one doesn’t disappoint. Displays the very best attributes of the modern style and is probably helped a lot by a top notch sherry cask. Clean, vibrant, resinous and powerful. Douglas Laing seem to have a had quite a few of these fresh sherry cask Laphroaigs from the late 1980s recently. Lets hope there are still plenty to come because they’ve all been great so far.

Score: 91/100

Laphroaig 1981-2008. 27yo. OB. Five oloroso sherry casks. 736 bottles. 56.6%. 70cl. 

Huge thanks to Nick for this one.

Colour: Dark Rosewood

Nose: A different level of sherry entirely. Super thick and intense with a much more subdued level of peat. At first its all on fresh tar and concentrated aromas of charcoal, dates, prunes, figs and other dark fruits. Lots of sultanas stewed in cognac, furniture polish, salted brazil nuts, chocolate, molasses, natural caramel and hot fudge. A very rare instance where the sherry has taken over from the peat, quite a potent cask selection indeed. Definitely need time. With a bit of patience it starts to become much more tropical and accessible. There is also a much bigger coastal presence, lots of wet rocks, seaweed, beach bonfires, iodine and kipper notes. Some resin, wax and putty as well with a slowly encroaching aged peat quality in the background. Very earthy, dry, thick and syrupy. Notes of cola and gomme syrups and something like redcurrant jam. With water: a tropical fruit and nut cocktail now. Lots of soft tropical notes on top of crushed walnuts, pecans and salted almonds. Then lighter vegetal qualities, more tar, geraniums and salted dark chocolate.

Palate: Neat it is a powerhouse of a Laphroaig, orange bitters, peated marmalade (what) burnt wood, barbecue sauce, masses of molasses (ha), herb liqueur, rancio, wild mushrooms, cola cubes again, bacon, brown sauce, tar, lashings of medicine and a warehouse full of dark, fruit laden sherry. Drying and moist like swallowing a whole Guinness cake. Loads of mixed nuts, phenols, quince jelly, muesli, juniper, gentian root, root beer, coal, creosote, salt cured meats and bovril. A monster of a Laphroaig, but more so because of the sherry than the peat it has to be said. With water: ok it’s softer but it is still very drying, thick and syrupy. Lots of fat eucalyptus notes, seaweed, tar, smoked fish and black pepper. A smattering of mineral notes and then more leafy fruitiness, orange and lemon notes with bay leaves, thyme and ginseng tea.

Finish: Incredibly long, like waiting for the credits to roll on Return Of The King. You practically have to scrape your mouth clean of peated sherry afterwards. Buy a new toothbrush!

Comments: In any other whisky this level of sherry would be too much for me and I’d be tempted to mark it down but the sheer power and force of personality that Laphroaig possess seems to have held everything together brilliantly, although I doubt these casks would have made it to 30. Fantastic, a whisky for those that like them black and potent (unless you’re a Loch Dhu fan in which case you’re on the wrong blog). Anyway, a real power house dram, intense, extreme and brilliant.

Score: 94/100

Laphroaig 1964-1981. Berry Brothers & Rudd. Sherry cask. 43%. 75cl.

Sadly no picture for this one. A rightly legendary bottling from Berry Bros.

Colour: Amber/Brown

Nose: A stunning combination of resinous peat, crystalised and tropical fruits and perfect sherry. This is followed by super dense coastal notes, raisins, wet earth, coal dust, aged cognac, smoked almonds, marzipan, hints of rancio and a little aged antiseptic. Just brilliant, one of those perfect noses. Ancient dry phenols, peat, wax and little dustiness. Then fresh oysters, preserved lemons, smoked mussels, camphor, and some phenomenal vegetal and herbal notes. I could go on but I might never taste it, a staggering nose.

Palate: Enormous, fat, drying, dusty, organic peat. Completely covers and engages every part of the palate, then an avalanche of tropical fruits, an incredible delivery. Develops along more complex lines with dark brown sugar, old vanilla, honey, camphor, pine resin, huge herbaceous notes and a big growing saltiness. Notes of salted beef, sarsaparilla, gentian eau de vie, root beer, dark chocolate, seaweed and yet more drying peats. Lets stop this wonderful, wonderful madness.

Finish: Long and filled with waxy peat, herbs, vegetal, earthy and coastal qualities. Then finally a mineral and beautiful fade.

Comments: One of those bottlings that makes you remember why you’re into whisky in the first place. Massive at 43% in a way that only Laphroaig seems to be able to pull off. A masterpiece of complexity, poise, intensity, length and balance. Brilliant!

Score: 95/100

A legendary old Samaroli bottling of Laphroaig

Laphroaig 1970-1986. Duthie for Samaroli. 720 bottles. 54%. 75cl. 

No much needs saying about this legendary bottling. Eternal gratitude to Patrick for these last two drams.

Colour: Straw Gold

Nose: A mesmerising combination of seashore, coastal and fresh peat aromas. Hugely complex with lashings of citrus, oysters, salt, iodine, mint, kippers, white pepper and old rope. Develops onto tar, seaweed, coal dust and, after time, luscious notes of fresh lime juice. Then eucalyptus oils, more pristine saltiness and massive notes of brine that lend the whole nose a stunning freshness. Just incredible really. Perfectly dry and a complex with exceptionally elegant notes of minerals, smoked tea, old style peat and, eventually, fruit. The fruit is perfectly tropical but also surprisingly resinous and crystallised which lends the whole profile an extra layer of depth and complexity. With water: some super salty blue cheese, lemon juice, papaya, coal dust again, more minerals, buttered toast, herbs, shellfish and peat oils.

Palate: A tropical whirlwind. Just epic amounts of passion fruits, guavas, greengages, melons and lemons. Absolutely brilliant delivery. Further notes of fragrant smoke, black pepper, smoked cereals, tar, green peat and motor oil. Still massively coastal and balanced. With water: Not too much change, the coastal aspects got a bit bigger till they’re almost equal to the fruits. Layers and layers of complexity that I can’t even begin to get into now, salty, tropical, oily, peaty and medicinal in myriad ways, it just keeps on going…

Finish: No comment!

Comment: An utter masterpiece. This is the sort of bottle that really sets the bar for all others to be measured against. At least I think it does.

Score: 96/100

Well that ties up this little series of masterpieces quite nicely. It’s been a pretty devastating path of uninterrupted peaty beauty, one that leads only to the point where you could instantly start again or go for something new and equally mind blowing. We’re all searching for the new, the unknown bottling, all seeking the next hidden masterpiece. Sadly, as with all whiskies of this calibre, that is not always an option and one day, probably in the not too distant future, it will stop being an option for every body. These bottles wont last forever, the liquid will inevitably die, although, long before that happens, they will already be out of grasp to any buyer. When there are only three and then two bottles left of the Laphroiag 1970 or the Port Ellen 1969, what will happen then? I think distillers should be made to taste whiskies like these ones, if the people that make whisky don’t know how good it can be, if they don’t fully comprehend the organoleptic heights to which these spirits can soar then how can we ever hope to make whisky this good again. There are many who say it can’t be done but that is complete baldershit if you ask me. It is purely a recipe, a process governed by the whim of chemistry and practice. Great whiskies like these could be made again. It just needs someone with the will power to do it, the understanding of what made the greatest whiskies so great and the balls, madness and sheer bloody mindedness to do it.

Oh and money. Lots of money. Perhaps therein lies the problem. Perhaps someone should donate a sample of Ardbeg Kingsbury 67 to Bill Gates and see if he fancies taking a punt on funding a distillery…? Just an idea.