Whisky Online Blog

Emperor Cameron indicates the width of his DVD collection.

You can’t help but be impressed by David Cameron; not only does he believe wholeheartedly that he has the right to govern the people of Britain despite only having a mandate from a nano-minority of inbred millionaires who were fortunate enough to be born into a frothing cauldron of sheer luck, he also seems to think that if he doesn’t tell the British film industry how to do things properly then it will simply vanish down the plughole of unproductive left-wing pseudo-art…….. How enterprising of him, how noble and fiendishly clever. Where would we be without David Cameron? It’s a wonder he finds time to watch all the small, independent British films that are made every year. To keep abreast of modern cinematic trends and offer expert insight based on his inspirational levels of industry and textual analysis despite the amount of shite he has to eat and regurgitate on a daily basis is truly admirable. How did he ever find time to see all these films during those years spent arse-licking and principle-shredding his way to the top of the British political manure pile?Wasn’t he too busy pouring scorn on the unemployed for their deliberate and cold-hearted sponging from the state rather than having the good decency to simply inherit money from deceased relatives? Then there’s the pandering to Middle England, making sure at all costs that they never hear anything other than exactly what they expect to. Not to mention the constant and draining process of personally providing regular and clinically thorough sexual gratification to each of his Eurosceptic, Backbench crustaceans in the form of rubbing them all over with cognac soaked copies of the Daily Mail while cooing Laissez-Faire philosophical tidbits in their ear until they eventually stiffen, quiver imperceptibly, collapse in a heap of pipe tobacco and spit-whittled pork scratchings then agree to stop voting against him for the next few days.

Some of David's modern, backbench 'yoofs', keeping it real with the masses. Note the trendy double IPad front right. These 'bitches' were all recently satisfied by David's 'skillful handiwork'.

Given all that, it really surprises me that he’s seen such noteworthy films as This Is England, Fish Tank, Red Road, London To Brighton, Neds, The Guard, Tyrannosaur, Kill List, Shame, Ironclad, Morven Callar, Moon… the list goes on. I mean, how can he not have seen all these films? Who would be crazy enough to wade into a debate they are ill-prepared for, ill-informed about and not welcome in? It’s crazy, you’d think he had something against smalltime British cinema, but surely not? Alas, David Cameron is a traditionalist at heart and a connoisseur of the free market economy. His hatred of art for art’s sake, the BBC and publicly funded stuff like independent British films and the NHS are hardwired into his DNA, just like his distaste of paupers and his joy in exploring other boys bodies in a totally cool way in the dorms after matron has put the lights out. Just ask his fag George Osbourne.

David's Pet Chancellor, George. Together putting the 'N' in Tory Cuts since 2010.

The reality of the British film industry is that it is a complex beast; for every King’s Speech or Slumdog Millionaire that makes a ton of cash, there are several low-key efforts that may not break entirely even at the box office but are no less flush with artistic merit or value. There is also a fair amount of shit, inevitable and acceptable, some might argue necessary, because the process of risk-taking that is film-making invariably yields the occasional jobbie sandwich. To have a film industry at all we need variety, there are countless small budget, often obscure, British films that have enriched the fabric of cinema, popular culture and individual lives in ways we cannot possibly comprehend. To take Cameron’s advice and turn it into a fetid, Hollywoodesque blockbuster excreter would destroy the very nature of something we should rightly all be proud of in this country. That variety, experimentation, fearlessness and breadth of expression is what gives us an Industry. It is the difference between an industry and a factory which is what David Cameron would rather we had; a vacuous, soul devoid machine to crank out capital, one where these annoying, left-wing film makers have no place and no voice. The real root of his comments is one of pure political doctrine, the same one that lies at the heart of the never-ending Tory quest to dismantle the BBC and privatise the NHS because these institutions are largely left-wing, socialist leaning entities. Not always, there are obviously exceptions, David Cameron clearly loves Top Gear, he even cameoed in hilarious fashion in this year’s Christmas special, appearing as comfortable and natural on pre-recorded screen as a bin liner full of shredded chip board. There are also cinematic exceptions, Cameron pointedly singled out the King’s Speech, a character study of other rich people largely devoid of any political overtones, something I suspect he quite appreciated. Although it’s a shame that he has championed it so much, as it leads me to dislike a perfectly good film just because I feel slightly dirty at the thought of agreeing with David Cameron about anything.

The excellent King's Speech. A film David Cameron found to be thoroughly jolly and is currently rooting for Michael Bay to direct the sequel.

It’s as if he were to suddenly get involved in the Scotch Whisky industry. Oozing in like a seething albino slug, decanting his fetid self into the room and informing all the distilleries they need to be making more sweet, bourbon enhanced, populist malts. As if there isn’t already enough of that going on. Every industry needs quirk and variety if it is to be loved and hold true value. I think Cameron sees everything against some sort of politico-economic barometer that determines it’s usefulness in getting him and his fop-haired, bum chums re-elected. It seems he’s surprised why so many of the smaller films made in Britain might be infused with a left-wing sentiment, but perhaps his lack of comprehension is the most telling thing. Great art comes more often from left-leaning origins than right-leaning ones, not always but most of the time. There must be a reason for this, I’d call it a capacity for empathy and a genuine desire for communication and understanding. He’d call it bleeding heart liberalism and promptly have us all privatised. And then shot. Leave the film industry alone David, I don’t go on telly and tell you how to be an undeserving, spiteful, overly monied android do I?

A soulless, empty, lab grown, non-human, computerised synthetic. And the lovable Data from Star Trek.

After all that ranting I felt like a dram and what’s more it’s high time I dragged this post kicking and screaming back to the safer realms of whisky bloggery. At least then I can rant about something more fluently than I can politics. A simple tasting to wind down today’s furious diatribe should be just the ticket.

Aultmore 1983-1997 OB. Flora & Fauna Cask Strength. 58.8%. 70cl.

This one comes courtesy of Tobias and Dennis, thanks guys. Part of the excellent and now highly sought after Flora & Fauna Cask Strength series.

Colour: Pale Gold.

Nose: Quite sharp and peppery at first with a fairly keen edge to the alcohol. However there are also some beautifully vivid mineral notes along with petrol, white flowers, wet grains and toasted cereals. Some restrained notes of wax, stone fruits, green apples, porridge, grass and camphor. Very nice so far, lets try with water… it softens out quite beautifully, all on lemon oil, vanilla balm, hints of orange liqueur, sunflower oil, butter and brioche.

Palate: Hot hot hot! Very prickly and green with notes of varnish, lemon oil, salt, buttered toast and pear flesh. Quite intense at full strength, definitely needs water. With water has notes of milk bottle sweeties, baked apples, cinnamon, rice pudding and custard. Quite a creamy and spicy confection. Lots of aromatic toasted spice notes, more drying cereal qualities, nutmeg, vanilla pods, grass, pine sap and cornflour. Quite a nice balance between older style dryness and a more modern, up front sweetness.

Finish: Longish with violets, honey, touches of tar, hay, coal, juniper and more mixed spices.

Comments: At times very potent and quite difficult and at others quite lush, juicy and aromatic, a bit of a good bag all in all and never boring. Excellent Aultmore.

Score: 85/100

After a long run of nothing but tastings on the blog I feel increasingly inclined to return to my roots a little more. Maybe it’s something to do with it being a new year, who knows? I think nothing but tastings and reviews can become a little dry over time and it’s always nice to mix things up a bit. I haven’t written about film for a quite some time on these pages. In fact I haven’t given ‘film’ in its own right the attention it deserves, or that I have always felt compelled to bestow upon it, in my day to day life this past year. I was busy being in other places, then I was busy thinking constantly about whisky from the moment I returned (when am I not though), and then there were the inevitable distractions provided by music and all the people, instruments, gigs and sessions that come lashed to and spinning with it. So I have neglected my other great passion in life this past year, that of cinema going, film gorging and general celluloidial ravagings. I didn’t see nearly as many films as I would have liked and I missed many that I wanted to see, I’m still catching up quite a bit. There are a number that I did see that I found particularly profound and brilliant and these are the ones I feel compelled to write about in the coming days/weeks. One of the best films I saw was at a cinema in New York. It was a modern cinema, the kind that feels more like a sweet shop that just happens to show films. An old building that stands vacant and sad in the noise of the city, its innards and soul lobotomised by merchandise and hollowed by the spoons of profit margins. But a cinema nonetheless, one that still had the decency to switch out its lights and play a film with the correct focus and an audio track pitched in sensitive synchronisation with the picture. The film I saw was The Guard.

The Guard was directed by John Michael McDonagh, the brother of Martin McDonagh the man behind the equally great film In Bruges. Fittingly the films themselves feel like siblings in many ways. The spirals of philosophy, ruminations on human nature and wide open endings all lurking beneath a blackly comedic veneer are cornerstones of both films. As is Brendan Gleeson, a man with a face like the inside of a kettle and the ability to automatically improve any film by 22% simply by being in it. He’s a man we’re more accustomed to seeing in supporting roles, flexing is characterful jowls and munching down huge chunks of scenery while pasty famous people flounder attempting to wrench whole scenes back from his loot sack. So it is a rare treat to see him carrying a film here, and carry is no understatement. The film is brimming with fantastic actors giving brilliantly nuanced turns, Don Cheadle, Liam Cunningham, Mark Strong, David Wilmot and Fionnula Flanagan all deserve special mention here. But it is Gleeson’s film entirely, he moves through it with a majestic and glorious waddle, creating in his wake a character of extremes, wit, nuance, charm and complexity. He plays Sergeant Gerry Doyle, a police officer who’s chief concerns are, in no particular order, laziness, prostitutes, harvesting drugs from deceased boy racers, healthy disregard for rules and regulations and casual racism. The film hinges around his dealings with an FBI agent (Cheadle) who arrives in town to investigate drug trafficking, and their subsequent investigation. The plot is almost an excuse around which to hang the characters and their various virtues and vices, each of them offering a window or a mirror into a different corner of humanity.

Brendan Gleeson as Gerry Boyle in The Guard

The greatness of the film lies in the unknowable gaps between performance and moment, those hidden niches of the film where it somehow becomes even greater than the sum of its parts. I saw it in a room full of happy, popcorn chugging Americans in the heat of a New York summer evening. I’ve never been to Ireland but the common ground between the characters of Irish and Scottish people and their landscapes made me a little thirsty for home. But perhaps the film’s greatest power is its most simple and obvious one, it is achingly funny. It treads a fine line between crudity, wit and character driven comedy that is wonderful enough but, best of all, it doesn’t pander to an audience, it has a great awareness of where audiences are these days in terms of humour. The film lays out a smorgasbord of political in-correctness and instead of shying away from the obvious race jokes, swearing and lunacy, it embraces them. It’s the extreme teasing kind of humour shared between friends comfortable enough to call each other the foulest names under the sun and relish every exchange. It’s a rare film that manages to avoid all the pitfalls of crassness in these kinds of humour and retain its deeper streak of nobility, warmth and genuine connection with its spectators. At least that’s what I imagine happened in European cinemas, the American audience I shared it with gasped at the mention of the word cunt.

I normally find a whisky to match the film or song I’m nattering about in these kinds of posts. In the case of The Guard I’d much rather pick an Irish whiskey, the film really does have a strong Irish identity and I’d like to doth my dram to that but sadly I have zero examples of Irish distilling to hand. So we’ll just have a completely unconnected and pointless tasting instead with a sample that landed on my desk this morning, one that I’ve been quite excited about now for some time…. a new dark sherried Caol Ila. Islay is pretty close to Ireland right…?

Thanks to Hasse for the sample and Magnus for providing such an easily stealable photo on facetube.

Caol Ila 2000-2011. G&M Exclusive for Magnus Fagerstrom & Slainte. Fresh sherry hogshead. 302 bottles. 57.9%. 70cl.

A big thankyou to Hasse for sending me this sample.

Colour: Indian Rosewood

Nose: Sharp at first and full of smoky bacon, puy lentils, tcp, bandages, buckets of hot tar, menthol, toothpaste, hints of molasses, demerara and muscovado sugars and brown bread. Quite a powerhouse of a nose and very far from shy, an extroverted Caol Ila. Develops these wonderful notes of crushed mint leaf, mint julep and mojito (not that I’d say this was ideal mixing whisky). The alcohol softens quite nicely after a little time and more of these smoky bacon, meaty sherry notes come through with hints of green peppercorns in brine, medicine, fish nets, motor oil and quite a modern sherry quality. That’s not to say the sherry is dirty, it has more of this very modern, thick meaty character to it. Quite dense, sinewy, earthy and robust with notes of struck flints and fruit resin (what?). Lets try with water… with water it becomes much more elegant with a surprisingly complex medicinal structure and a richer earthy quality. A little more classical maybe, the peat and the sherry really are perfectly integrated now.

Palate: Neat it is no less big than on the nose. Initially a big sweet peatiness comes through with more sea salt, smoked bacon, fried pancetta, aspirin, turmeric, hessian, concentrated peat oils, damp sackcloth, glazed cherries, cocoa and cola cubes. The sweetness is quite fascinating, it’s almost greasy in its manifestation with a few more slightly dirty/earthy qualities coming through now. Notes of beef jerky, erasers, pencil lead and cannabis. With water: now there is more earthy, leathery, meaty qualities, it becomes much drier and these notes of salt are still pronounced but joined in droves by mineral notes, lemon juice, camphor, mixed spices, liquorice, touches of lavender and wood smoke. There is a prevailing dirtiness in the background that is a borderline hindrance for me.

Finish: Long, drying, salty and full of earthy, herbaceous, chocoaltey sherry and some green chewy peats.

Comments: Not as great as I was hoping from the darkness of the colour but this is still an excellent whisky with a great integration between distillate and cask, or peat and sherry to be more blunt about it. Sherried Caol Ilas are bloody hard to find and can be spectacular (James MacArthur London Scottish anyone?) this is not up to those standards but it is a great dram and if you’re in the mood for something big and flavoursome then you could do a lot worse than this beast. I think two or three more years in cask would probably have propelled it past 90. If G&M still have any of these sherry hoggies maybe they could sit on a few of them for a while and trckle them out from 15 onwards? I know I know, just an idea.

Score: 87/100

Well that wasn’t particularly suited to the film I suspect but it was a great dram and as such would probably go fine with The Guard if you happen to be out of Redbreast. Not that matching whiskies to films should be taken too seriously mind you. I’ll let you into a little secret, don’t tell anyone this by the way, we’ll keep it just between ourselves, but the thing is, this whole matching whiskies to films or songs business, well, it’s just a bit of silly fun really. I know, shocking right? Remember not to tell anyone, I don’t want to loose street cred now.

Before Peter Jackson went to Middle Earth and made an epic trilogy about mad wizards and sexually repressed midgets he used to enjoy blowing up sheep with rocket launchers and decimating graveyards full of zombies with kung fu priests. I am talking of course about the films Bad Taste and Braindead, the latter of which is rightly considered a cult, gore sodden, masterpiece. We live in a sad climate of repetitive, dull, often misogynistic torture porn flicks, films like Hostel and the eternal Saw franchise. I have my theories about these films being some kind of knee-jerk, post 9/11 cinematic reaction but lets not get into the meandering, academic mind dross of an anally retentive ex film student right now. The point is Braindead is the kind of endlessly inventive, witty and hilarious horror/comedy the likes of which we rarely see these days. This trailer sums it up quite well.

Braindead is a film that is so far removed from reality with its cartoon, hyper-violence that it barely counts as violence in some ways. Hardly an inch of the film passes, once it gets into its stride, where there are not some entrails or shattered zombie craniums draped/splattered across the scenery. The film is almost a breath of fresh air these days, there is a limit to how many screaming American teenagers you can watch being dissected in micro detail by eccentric European lunatics with a delectation for chisels. In short, Braindead = wit, fun, style, invention and thrills as opposed to the dirge of modern eyeball poppers. It is a guilt free joyride, its easy to enjoy a crop of zombies being stylishly despatched with a lawnmower and not feel you are watching something particularly rooted in reality. Unlike watching young girls being ruthlessly hacked to death by nutters in a way that seems to suggest such intense violence is perfectly ok as a spoon fed ocular diet. Its the kind of film that is best watched late at night when arriving home with chums on the joyful side of a clutch of bevvies. It is endlessly re-watchable and eminently quotable, roar with laughter as the priest dispatches Zombies with holy flair, hoot with mirth at the instant Zombie pro-creation scene (you need to see it to understand) and marvel at the plethora of mad characters that populate this visceral kiwi vista. Its outrageous, mischievous and its production doubled the value of corn syrup on the stock market for several years (probably).

Laphroaig, the only known cure for an infected Zombie bite.

Laphroaig came easily to mind when thinking about a whisky to pair with Braindead. Not, you understand, because its excessive consumption can lead to actual Braindeath (although one of my most memorable hangovers was aided into existence by a hip flask full of the official cask strength). No, Laphroaig just seems to come naturally to mind when you think of Zombies, think about it, in the eventuality of a Zombie apocalypse, what bottle do you reach for? I’ll bet its the Laphroaig cask strength every time, apart from its consolingly epic concentration of flavour it also possesses a variety of practical applications. Firstly it is the only know liquid to cure an infected Zomble bite, here its medicinal aspects really do come into their own, that concentration of phenols has been scientifically proven to combat the spread of the living dead virus. It is also one of the most highly flammable whiskies, now I hate to burn whisky as much as the next man but as we all know one of the best ways to dispose of a heaving mass of hungry zombies is fire. Laphroaig with its high concentration of fusel oils and congeners mixed in with all that alcohol burns hot and fast in these situations. However I’ll admit it is more likely that you’ll be watching a Zombie film than actually tackling a thronging bundle of the skin munchers face to face. Thankfully Laphroaig is still your ally in this situation, most likely you will be watching this film with friends late at night, in this situation any potential dram must contend with numerous pints of limp wrist lager, cider and old jock. Not to mention the possible ‘munchies’ situation, pizza, chips, curries, fried chicken, these are all on the cards. In Glasgow there are further highly advanced dangers such as ‘chips n cheese’, deep fried haggis and even deep fried pizza. Laphroaig is one of the few drams that can cut through all this greasy cud and still show unscathed. You could go for Ardbeg or Lagavulin but there are often complexities in these two that are more susceptible to burger-infused palates, Laphroaig is the most robust and sturdy whisky in terms of structure and delivery of flavour against all odds. It is also the right whisky for the mood, its whisky that shouts it flavours from the rafters, you don’t need to spend time pouring over its intimate complexities, it arrives in your mouth and says “Its me. I’m here and I’m feeling good! Don’t worry about a thing, watch the film, relax, put your feet up. I’ve got things from here on in. Together we can get through this.” Its a whisky that takes charge, its a comfort, another mutual friend in the room that you can all depend on. Obviously you need a modern Laphroaig for this situation, not one of the glorious, uber-fruity bottles of liquid perfection from the days of yore, that would be a waste. You need ballsy, uncomplicated, cask strength, modern Laphroaig, something to warm you through the night and provide a gentle accompaniment as the laughter grows and the body count rises.

The Zombie baby in a blender. He should have gone to Specsavers. (pass the Laphroaig)

Lets finish with a quick tasting, I’ve had this sample knocking about for a while and now seems like a suitable occasion to give it a whirl.

Laphroaig 12yo. Douglas Laing. Bottled 2009. 50%. 70cl. code: OMC 1654.

Colour: White wine

Nose: Typical, good, modern Laphroaig from refill wood, very ashy, lemony, coastal, dry and minerally with almost no fruit other than some citrus. Lime juice, white flowers, soot, mercurochrome, tcp, bandages and all kinds of medicinal hospital aromas, germoline, bleach (but good bleach) and wet pebbles on a shore, very nicely accentuated coastal freshness. After time some oiliness and farmy notes like horse stables and old hay bales. A little grassy, its a light -medium example of Laphroaig where all its more subtle aspects are allowed to come through, the nose is really very attractive. Now there is that typical gentian root element with some camphor and hessian in the background. A good cask this one so far methinks.

Palate: A little Ardbegy up front surprisingly enough but it quickly settles back into that super dry, very ashy and compact Laphroaig style. Notes of composted seaweed, shammy leather, fresh oysters and lemon juice and more very sharp medicinal aspects. This thing really is bone dry and these ashy and sooty qualities are really dominating, some oily phenolic elements come through but they are not as prevalent as in other Laphroaigs. Some tarry/fragrant soapy notes after time in the glass with additional notes of wet decomposing leaves (very autumnal). Its not super complex but its a perfectly composed, wonderfully clean and very focused flavour profile.

Finish: Long long long. Good development on some antiseptic, eucalyptus and oily peat. Very nice.

Comments: A textbook example of good young, modern Laphroaig without any wood tampering, a very naked and honest malt. Its not the biggest Laphroaig but its big enough for a late night Zombie film marathon, a great potential session malt in other words.

Score: 88/100

Zombie compatibility: 7/10