Whisky Online Blog

The following report comes somewhat out of time. It should have been up when I visited Kentucky while traveling through the states late last July. Unfortunately I lost all my photos of the trip when I had my laptop stolen a week or so later in Oakland. Without the detail of these photos I decided, with great frustration, to abandon the reports. However, due to the diligent and generous efforts of my couch surfing host (and good friend) Corbin with whom I shared the photos at the time, I now have the photos back. So without further ado… a blast from the not to distant past.

I had never been to a Bourbon distillery (or any distillery in America for that matter) before that day we took the forty minute drive from Lexington, through Versailles, to Woodford Reserve. Corbin drove us through the lush farmland of Kentucky. The dual state signatures of horses and guns being proudly evident in the small details of signposts, banners, shop windows and the fences the decked out rolling fields and brilliant green trees. Kentucky is a state that wears its southern heritage proudly, the Derby, bluegrass, the NRA and, not least, Bourbon. But images you might have of bible thumping southern hicks should be swiftly dispelled. Though these stereotypes exist for a reason and Kentucky is a southern state through and through, the details are far finer and broader than you can imagine. My first night in Lexington was spent with Corbin and her friends cycling though the leafy dusk of the city. Corbin works in a bicycle repair shop for the university, encouraging green living and the general usefulness of cycling. We cycled through the jumble of Lexingtons old wood-paneled, porch-decked housing, shady streets and out through the fields on the outskirts of the city. Old red brick factories mingled casually with the high rise shine of the city’s center. The town is one of education with a size-able student populace, often in shared accommodation, milling to and fro between the many bars and coffee shops. That night cycling I saw fireflies for the very first time and won a prize for managing to come last in a game of horseshoes. I was undeniably proud and drank my fill in PBR to celebrate it. Looking back one of the most striking things about my time in America was the breadth and depth of southern hospitality. From New Orleans, Louisiana, though Nashville, Tennessee, Richmond, Virginia and finally Lexington, Kentucky, the people in these places were some of the most welcoming, personable and warm hearted characters you could hope to meet. Lexington only compounded the fact that there is so much more to this part of the world than the old images of bible thumping and gun slinging that we all too often hold so dear in our European minds.

In the posts I wrote while traveling last year I spent quite a bit of time discussing the heat of the south. I’m sure I will repeat myself to some extent but it is worth reminding ourselves about it here. If for no other reason than it is such an inescapable and integral part of life in this part of the world. The remorseless, drenching humidity of the afternoon is often so intense that it inhibits almost all outdoor activity between 11am and 5pm. Driving in cars without air conditioning is unthinkable and the very idea of living in this part of a world in a time before houses were air conditioned seems torturous. Of course that is the perspective of a pale blue Scottish visitor. The locals who live their whole lives in this climate grow to be accustomed over time. On the day we went to Woodford the air was as typically humid and pulpy as all the days of the summer that had gone before, the sun was beating down on the rooftops of the valley like an iron forge and to stand outside in the shade only for moments you would feel the prickling promise of sweat beading across your body. It is this environment in which the bourbons of Kentucky are made and you cannot understand the importance of this climate on their flavour until you set foot in it yourself. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

We head for the visitor’s centre and sign up for the tour which begins with a short ride in a vehicle resembling a stretch golf buggy down the steep slope to the distillery. Our guide begins in classical fashion with some history of Woodford, the most interesting factoid being that it is the oldest of the nine operating distilleries in Kentucky, the original name being Oscar Pepper Distillery. It changed to Woodford in 1993 after 25 years of mothballed silence when it was re-purchased by current owners Brown Forman. The guide mercifully leads us indoors out of the sun for the production explanations. First up is the explanation of the mashbill, something that is  sadly all too alien to Scottish distilling techniques. The mashbill at Woodford is 18% rye, 10% malted barley and 72% corn, this quite rye-heavy mashbill is central to creating Woodford’s quite earthy and spice infused character. I’ve often thought it would be very interesting to do more experimentation with mashbills in Scottish distilleries, it could be quite an original way to create a single blend. I’m sure someone already has, maybe we’ll see the fruits in years to come.

Our tour guide (who's name I shamefully forget) talking us through the mashbill.

As the tour progresses the one thing that really strikes me is how similar it is in many way to Scottish whisky production. All the principles are the same but the aesthetics of it all are also very close to walking round a Scottish distillery. The mash tun, the open-top, wooden washbacks (or fermentors as they would call them) and, perhaps most striking of all, the small copper pot stills with their sloping lyne arms and shell condensers. Overall it has the effect of hitting home how simple changes can create vastly different spirits.

The latter stages of the open top fermentation at Woodford.

Woodford's three copper pot stills.

The fermentation process in most bourbon production involves something you may have seen on the bottles called sour mash, this is the process whereby the fermentation of a fresh batch of wort is started using the fermented remnants of the last batch. The reason this process is so common in bourbon production is due to the prevalence of indigenous yeast strains at each distillery. These individual and specific yeast recipes are considered essential in flavour creation, the process of sour mashing helps to maintain consistency in this respect. At Woodford they use a surprisingly small amount of sour mash to trigger each new fermentation, possibly due to the simple fact that they employ exceptionally small washbacks. The fermentation length is by contrast one of the longest in the industry at 5-7 days. If only these kind of fermentation techniques still existed in Scotland. Oh well, ho hum.

Strikingly small pot stills are used at Woodford, if they look familiar it's because they were made in Scotland.

Triple distillation is practiced at Woodford, a simple three stage distillation across three separate stills giving a resultant new make with a strength of 158 proof. The lack of a column still is quite a distinction from other bourbon distilleries and almost certainly another essential component of Woodford’s character. The viscosity of the final spirit with its oily mouth feel is no doubt aided by the copper heavy distillation regime.

In Woodford's warehouses.

To step into a bourbon warehouse is a different experience from that of a Scottish one. Firstly that dank must of dunnage is not there, instead you get a hot rush of oily woodshop, varnish and aged wood spice aromas, the smell of vanilla seems to creep in there as well. It is quite an experience, and just as the aroma of a dunnage warehouse seems to soak into so many great aged Whiskies, so too the aroma of a barrel house seems to impregnate some of the best bourbons. At Woodford one of the most important aspects of maturation is that the warehouses are temperature controlled. They say it allows them to concentrate various aspects of maturation and impose more wood influence upon the distillate. I’m sure that temperature control does afford the whiskey maker more influence over the outcome of the spirit but I am dubious as to how much and to what extent it can affect the actual quality of the bourbon. For me all spirit production should be about the facilitation of natural processes and when it comes to the mysteries of maturation, efforts to tamper with that process usually never make for better whisky/key than when the casks are left to fend for themselves in whatever environment they happen to be. Temperature control seems quite clinical next to letting the casks breath with the whim of the seasons. Some parts of whisky/key making just feel better when approached with a ‘hands-off’ attitude. This is not to say Woodford is a bad bourbon from this perspective, quite the opposite, it just feels like a bit of a shame that they don’t follow through with their otherwise commendably rustic production process. After all, when you’ve got such a naturally rigorous and potent climate, it seems a shame not to allow it to stamp its natural finger prints on your distillate.

After the warehouse we were taken to the bottling hall, this is where I had a serious strop about American drinking laws and culture in general. We were given a leisurely tour around the plant that finished by a row of full casks. The last one the tour guide opened, much to our excitement, and proceeded to draw off a sample with a valinch (or a wine thief as they call it). It was a large measure of invitingly dark, 8yo Woodford fresh from the barrel. The tour guide held on to it while telling us how he used to pass it around his tours but had to stop doing that because people would always drink it. He then gleefully threw it over his shoulder and jettisoned the liquid onto the floor. The empty, and gorgeously aromatic, glass was then dully passed around the tour. My issues with this are multiple. Firstly it was an utterly futile exercise. If the US laws are so ridiculously uptight and pathetic about alcohol in bond then just leave it where it is and don’t tempt people. What was done was a pointless stunt the served only to frustrate me and other people on the tour and to waste some perfectly good bourbon. I may seem to be over reacting but I find this kind of stupid, wasteful showmanship quite offensive. If you want to promote respect and enjoyment for your drink then don’t throw rare and expensive examples of your own product into the dust in front of a potentially impressionable audience, or at the very least put it back in the barrel. Secondly it served as a timely reminder of just how sad and ridiculous the laws surrounding alcohol still are in the states. Throwing that glass of bourbon on the floor was a perfect echo of the effects of prohibition that have damaged US drinking culture down through the decades and clearly still resounds today. In Scotland it is common practice for people to get a taste in the warehouse from a cask and maybe it is for special tours in Kentucky distilleries as well. If this is the case and this really was just a stunt for standard, everyday tours then that’s even worse. To add insult to injury, upon our return to the visitor center we were greeted with a tray of plastic shot glasses containing the standard Woodford and some chocolates. It seems that they know how to make great bourbon here but not how to encourage its enjoyment.

The sample that was soon to be wasted by our tour guide.

Having ranted my spleen out in the above paragraph I feel I should make it clear that the most important thing I took with me from Woodford was the impression that it is a spirit produced with a level of faith to historical production techniques and style that is sadly lacking in Scottish distilling culture. It is a charming, rustic and quite beautiful distillery that oozes personality (when the branding machine does not stand in its way). I only wish I could have had a more in depth look at its workings, not to mention a more in depth tasting of its wares. Hopefully that is something we will be able to remedy sooner rather than later, although shamefully not on these pages today. If you are in Kentucky and have the opportunity I would urge you to go and visit Woodford, as well as the other great distilleries there. If you like whisky and know some Scottish distilleries, you will be surprised by how much the experience informs your appreciation and knowledge of Scottish distilling.

Thanks once again are due to Corbin for making the effort to get me these photos back. If you’re ever in Lexington then go and borrow one of her wonderful bikes and support what they do: http://www.sustainability.uky.edu/node/115

Next up… Buffalo Trace

Last tuesday saw the second pre-sale tasting at Mulberry Bank auction house where I work as the whisky specialist. As you will see below it was a step up from the last tasting we did, this time featuring eight wonderful drams and a break for some delicious Scottish cheeses. Like last time it was a thoroughly enjoyable night and I should take a moment here to say a big thank you to everyone who came and supported us and helped make the evening truly memorable with their fine company and delicious ‘bonus drams’.

Bruichladdich 1971-2010 39yo. ‘Liquid Gold’. Private Cask. Bottle number 54 of 88. 39%. 70cl.

As you may or may not already be aware, I already wrote some notes for this particular bottling. However, my notes came from a miniature sample, so lets see if there is any change in scores and impressions with the full 70cl bottle sample.

Colour: Rich gold

Nose: A thick and almost pungent fruit quality at first. Layers of melons, gooseberries, guavas, greengages, apricots, wet grains, toasted cereals, oats and a fantastic, fleshy mineral quality. Superbly coastal as well with bags of wet pebbles, flints, crushed sea salt, seaweed, lime juice, oysters and sandalwood. Hints of briny preserved lemons, wax, hessian, coal dust and touches of menthol. Just wonderful. I remember loving the nose on this one last time and that hasn’t changed a bit. Absolutely exemplary early 70s Bruichladdich character with minimal wood interference. Obviously from the best kind of tired old cask.

Palate: Soft delivery but not without bite. Quite a resinous combination of honey, salt, camphor, hints of tcp, eucalyptus sweeties, olive oil, wood spices and green tea. The palate is not as light as I remember it being, there is quite a lavish and textured delivery. Goes on with notes of lemon grass, chamomile, fresh melons, grapefruits, toast and graphite. Delicate, beautiful but a little short.

Finish: Sadly a bit short but there are still some beautifully biting notes of salt, old wood, herbs, tea, lemon oils and green fruits.

Comments: It’s pretty much as I remember it. The nose would be 90+ material but the undeniable shortness of the palate brings it down a little. It’s still a fascinating old whisky though. That naturally low strength allows all these fragile but really beautiful old organic, oxidative characters to shine through. The coastal qualities are quite spellbinding.

Score: 86/100  That’s two points up from the last time I tasted it. Does that mean the full bottles tastes better than the miniatures or is it down to fluctuations in the mood of my palate?

Bruichladdich 1970-2002. OB. Bottle number 739. 44.2%. 70cl. 

Colour: Gold

Nose: This one is surprisingly similar to the 39yo but only much thicker, oilier and more focused on a big, crusty saltiness and layers of  dense green and slightly tropical fruits. Bags of melons, guavas, pineapple, grapefruit, banana, greengages and cider apples. The freshness is quite remarkable with these huge seashore and fresh air qualities. Hints of vanilla ice cream, ginger bread, dried herbs, sandalwood, touches of tar and eucalyptus oil. A definitive example of this beautiful late 60s/early 70s Bruichladdich style. Almost unmistakable in some ways, no other distillery seems to display such a concentration of coastal qualities and these almost hyper-fresh green aspects. The age is worn so lightly as well, it’s pretty gobsmacking stuff.

Palate: A perfect delivery. An intense, biting but never overpowering delivery of thick, syrupy fruits and coastal zing that is almost like a beautiful clean and salty acidity drenched in minerals. So reminiscent of an aged Riesling. The attack is warm and alive, very punchy, mouth-coating and complex with layers of texture and a perfect equilibrium between all the various fruit, coastal and mineral components. The wood is virtually invisible. The best qualities of youth and age seem to have been preserved perfectly without any of the negative aspects of either. These smoky, buttery notes of flints, wet pebbles, salted almonds and ripe pears continue with toasted brioche, fennel seed and hints of ripe mango and pineapple syrup. This is devastatingly drinkable stuff, it just seems to get bigger and fruitier as time goes on.

Finish: Super long and bursting a the seams with freshness and bite. Tons of citrus, saltiness, cereals, butter, herbs and more of these endless fruit notes. Beautiful.

Comments: Probably my favourite Bruichladdich ever (so far anyway). The level of perfection in the balance and the poise of the flavours and textures is quite mesmerising. Not to mention the way that the age is almost indefinable but in such a way that it seems not to matter at all. I could drink litres of this stuff quite merrily.

Score: 94/100

The unnaturally dark colour happened within within two days of the bottle being opened and was due to an oxidative effect and reaction to the spring cap seal.

Martell 3 Star. OB. Spring cap. Rotation 1930s. No strenght or capacity stated but almost certainly around 70 Proof and 26 2/3 fluid ounces. 

It is worth noting that this bottle had obviously reacted with the spring cap seal as it turned quite a dark coca cola colour after it was opened and, as you will see from the notes, was not in the best condition.

Colour: Green cola (???)

Nose: A rich cocktail of metal polish, stewed raisins, aluminum filings, hints of butterscotch, quite a heavy old bottle effect in the shape of metallic notes, steel wool, blood and a sinewy kind of cured meat quality. There are also some very pleasant notes of jam, figs, blood oranges and rancio at the back but the metallic aspects really dominate. It seems that there really has been quite a reaction with the spring cap on this one (see photo). That metallic flavour and the resultant darkening of colour with a green tinge is something I’ve seen in old whiskies as well. Develops some more pleasant fruit syrups and spices like turmeric and stem ginger.

Palate: The strength is still quite vibrant but these metal notes of have become almost sour now with notes of cardboard, soot, oily rags, rotten fruits, over sweet candied peel and something slightly bitter and rancid at the back. It’s a shame because I’ve had other bottles from this batch which were quite spectacular but this one is really flawed. Not much point in going on.

Comments: It’s a shame because you can still get glimpses of how good it was without that odd infection from the spring cap. I suppose it goes to show that although spring caps were the best seal ever for maintaining a bottle’s level and remaining airtight they too had their flaws. You can see a picture of the broken inner seal below that shows how the metal decays and the card disc beneath reacts with the spirit. The solid tin spring caps they introduced in the late 1940s effectively eradicated this problem and were far superior.

Score: 58/100

The one on the left is from an old 1930s bottle of White Horse, the whisky inside was in top notch condition. The one on the right is from the Martell, as you can see the deterioration of the metal has allowed the materials beneath to affect the spirit over the decades. Thankfully this occurrence is not too common.

Cognac. Vintage 1870. Bottled sometime in the late 1890s/early 1900s. Unknown producer. Bottled by Cockburn & Co of Leith & London.

1870 was another spectacular vintage across the majority of wine regions in France and Cognac was no exception. Produced only a few years before the Phylloxera became a full scale, recognised epidemic, this should be a stunning piece of history.

Colour: Teak

Nose: A rich concentration of dark fruits, madeira cake, fruit conserves, old pipe tobacco, rancio and demerara sugar. Stunningly fresh after such along time in bottle, brandy seems to survive so much better than whisky over the course of a century in glass. Further notes of quince, raisins, toasted walnuts, all kinds of fruit jams and compotes, touches of wild strawberries, leather and furniture wax. Quite a bewildering array of aged aromas all intermingling perfectly with the fruit qualities. The aroma is drier and more complex than the majority of modern aged Cognacs you can taste. Supposedly that is a typical characteristic of pre-phylloxera vines such as Folle Blanche that were typically used at this time. Now very fragile hints of spice, different kinds of wood, like polished hardwoods, the aroma of ancient hardwoods being turned on a lathe and finally hints of minerals, wet soil, hessian and damp sack cloth. A stunning, vibrant, fresh and endlessly evolving nose.

Palate: The strength and structure is quite magnificent after so long in glass. Pin sharp notes of fruit on top of thick truffle flavours, walnut oil, marzipan, dark chocolate, vandage tardive wines, balsamico, rancio, ancient madeira, the list of flavours goes on. The concentration in the mouth and the way it engages every part of the palate is quite astounding. Becomes syrupy, herbal and earthy with an unusually pungent green quality arising in the shape of aloe vera and eucalyptus oil notes. It is almost gloopy on the palate. This is undoubtedly up there with the two pre-phylloxera cognacs we had in Alsace a couple of years ago. This is a masterpiece.

Finish: Treacle, dundee cake all kinds of fruits, nuts, chocolate, gently drying herbs, toffee, different brown sugars, honey, never sweet or cloying, never too tannic, just long, lingering, fresh and stunning.

Comments: What an incredible drink. It seems to have benefitted from the perfect combination of wood and glass maturation, this was probably barely 30 years old when it was bottled and after a century or so of mellowing in glass it has become a truly profound liquid. Perfectly balances, endlessly complex and utterly beautiful. Glorious stuff.

Score: 95/100

Glen Grant 30yo. G&M. White screw cap. Rotation 1960s. 70 proof. 26 2/3 fluid ounces. 

This one would have been distilled sometime around the mid 1930s.

Colour: Amber

Nose: It’s one of these unmistakeable pre-war aromas that seems to combine a completely unique style of peat with camphor, resins, rancio, dried wild mushrooms, metal polish, raisins, ancient cognac, coal dust and a bewildering array of different fruits. Citrus, glazed, stewed and tropical fruits galore. It first seemed a bit tired when I poured it but now it’s just growing and growing with more of these rich fruit notes and all those glorious old style aromas of leather, old books, boiler sheds, farmyards and that stunning, fragile metallic peatiness. It’s hard to describe this style of whisky, I would just urge you to seek it out and try it before it disappears forever, it is one of the true joys of drinking to smell something like this.

Palate: All kinds of oils, fruits, herbs, resins, fruit oils, huge waxy notes, honeycomb, dark fruits, metal notes, it’s like all these characteristics have been condensed into liqueur form. The peat qualities are just so beautiful and completely unique to this pre-1940s style of distillation. How they achieved these flavours and aromas is probably something we’ll never know for certain but it is a style that you won’t find in any distillate from the last fifty years. The whole thing is not too potent perhaps, the palate is a tad weak but only a touch, this is very much nitpicking in what is otherwise a small masterpiece of whisky making. The wood influence and the sherry are both quite luscious and stunning as well giving a delicate bitterness on top of these elegant fruit cake and tropical fruits that balance it out perfectly. I think we should stop now.

Finish: Long, delicate, warming, drying and beautiful. More ancient tobacco, metal, peat, fruit, oil and pre-war wonder.

Comments: I’ve said a lot about this kind of whisky before, I’m not sure it will do much good to reiterate those points here. Suffice to say you’re a madman if you ever pass up the opportunity to taste this kind of whisky.

Score: 93/100

Caroni Navy Rum. 90 proof. Bottled 1930s/40s.  

Caroni was a Trinidad distillery that operated between 1918 and 1993. There are still bottlings of it to be found on the market todaay and, like many closed Scottish distilleries, there are still quite a few casks of it maturing. I’ve never seen an example this old before. This one was probably bottled sometime in the mid 1930s or early 1940s.

Colour: Copper

Nose: Elegant and soft at first approach, lots of those classic fresh brown bread aromas on top of bandages, antiseptic, ginger, fresh melon, lime juice and brown sugar. Heavy notes of mint, molasses, demerara sugar and treacle, very Mojito friendly. This was probably quite young when bottled at the time although with hot climate maturation it is hard to say. Given the style of the bottle this would almost certainly been considered a premium product at the time. the nose has a great richness but also feel quite gentle, probably due to the effects of such long bottle aging. Like the Cognac this seems to have weathered its time in glass exceptionally well. Goes on with hints of raw sugar cane, vanilla essence, wood spices and pot-pourri. Very sensual and aromatic, wonderful to nose.

Palate: The strength has survived on the palate exceptionally well but it is still remarkably silky and soft. Lots of geranium, cactus, bread, sunflower seeds, olive oil, all kinds of dark sugars, buttered toast, tcp, calpol medicine and brazil nuts. For all its history and age it is not so far away in character from many modern rums. Perhaps Rum, like Bourbon, is a drink that has remained relatively unchanged in it’s style over the decades. In comparison to Whisky at any rate, I may well be wrong, I’ll just have to drink more Rum from the 1930s, bugger! Becomes quite leafy with notes of tobacco, banana skin, raisins, cocoanut liqueur, toffee sauce and something oil and a bit industrial like camphor. The freshness and liveliness is quite impressive.

Finish: Quite long and very warming, full of delicate medicinal touches, spice, black pepper, oils, woody notes and more dark sugar notes.

Comments: A very pleasant Rum, not in the same league as some of the stunning single casks you can find nowadays but an excellent example of how bottle aging has almost certainly invisibly improved what was once probably quite a basic spirit. A wonderful time capsule piece.

Score: 85/100

Dalwhinnie 36yo. 1966-2002. OB. 15oo bottles. 47.2%. 70cl. 

Colour: Amber

Nose: A wonderful attack full of wax, toasted breads, green fruits, wood spices, hints of tar, lots of menthol and fruit liqueurs. The perfect balance of bite, freshness and concentration of aroma. The wood quite restrained and gives way to lots of waxy fruit notes, farmy qualities such as various oils, wet earth and stables. Notes of greengages, dandelions, apricots and kumquats. Gentle, aromatic and quite beautiful.

Palate: The attack is rich and biting, more wood now as expected but also wonderful notes of brioche, toasted cereals, butter, vanilla cream, garden fruits, wild flowers, mead, honeycomb and simmering espresso. Ancient peat, metal polish, some wonderful notes of sarsaparilla, root beer, medicine and engine oil. There is almost a distant hint of something Ardbeggy about it in fact. Quite a stunning palate, unusually well in keeping with the quality of the nose.  Develops along drying notes of wax, hessian, bonfires, wood lignins, pastis and wood resin.

Finish: Long but quite quiet and soft, all on herbs, wax, flecks of minerality, soft gummy peat notes, metal and green fruits.

Comments: I had tried this several years ago and though it was good but not spell-binding. I don’t know if something has changed in me or in the bottle during the intervening years but this is a spectacular dram in my book. Wonderful old whisky that walks a perfect tightrope and never lets the wood dominate all the other delicious, often very old school characteristics. Definitely the best Dalwhinnie I’ve ever tasted, well worth trying if you can.

Score: 93/100

Glendronach 1970. Cadenhead’s White Label series. Bottled mid 1990s. Cask number 25. Bottle number 263. 58.9%. 70cl. 

I’m particularly excited about this one as it’s from a legendary era of production at Glendronach but also from refill wood so we should get a rare glimpse at the distillate in a more naked form without the usual cloak of dark sherry around it.

Colour: Straw

Nose: Neat it is a warm confection of butter, cream, soft vanilla, wax, all kinds of mineral notes, clay, paint, cactus and white flowers. This could have easily been a Rare Malts bottling, in fact it is very reminiscent of the Glenlochy 1969 we had at the last tasting. It develops along lines of white fruits but also some much earthier and farmier aspects such as hay, silage, earth and manure (in a good way). Fresh grass, parley, coal dust, charcoal, flints, wet pebbles and a tiny touch of antiseptic. The very definition of old highlands style in my book. Lets see what happens with water: an almost acrid burnt note seems to come out of it now, like smoke from an ancient chimney or something. More camphor, lamp oil, hessain and dunnage aromas with white pepper, tar, coal, little flourishes of mint and more white flowers.  A truly uncompromising animal this one.

Palate: Up front it is very consistent with the nose, the alcohol is very quiet, in its place is a huge, thick fug of natural vanilla, drying minerals, wax, hessian, hay, stables, flashes of peat, motor oil, old boilers, herb liqueurs, cured meats and grass. Quite an astonishingly grumpy whisky, brimming with personality but, as was to be expected, very difficult too. With water:  it becomes drier still as the water cuts through some of that fat oiliness, but it also produces more savory notes of bread, pastry and something like a ripe goats cheese. There are further notes of lemon juice, a rich saltiness, green peat, more grass, sorrel, parsley again and more pepperiness. This is a huge whisky that takes no prisoners with these constantly big, bold and difficult flavours.

Finish: Long, waxy, thick, drying, mineral, tarry, meaty and at the same time floral and complex. Quite a show-stopper.

Comments: It is a joy to get closer to that bold and boisterous distillery character. It’s little wonder that whiskies from the same year are still maturing so well in big, potent sherry casks. This is a stunning but undeniably difficult and totally uncompromising dram, full of grumpy personality, completely unsexy and old school to the end. I love it, some won’t but for me it is up there with all these old Clynelishs, Glenlochys and Millburn style malts with its big waxy and mineral profile. A great and rare privilege. Technically not as high as it goes emotionally but then what is…

Score: 91/100

This was going to be the end of the tasting but because the Martell was out of condition I decided to have a bit of a dig around in my stash and find something to make amends.

Aberfeldy 19yo OB Manager’s Dram. Bottled 1991. Sherry cask. 61.3%. 75cl. 

Colour: Mahogany

Nose: A perfect sherry aroma! Bursting with figs, toffee, wet leaves, roast coffee, cocoa, dark chocolate, dried mushrooms, treacle sponge and guinness cake. The alcohol is there in the background but it is the wonderful sherry that does the talking up front. Super clean and fresh but with a big, heady scent of age about it as well. Wonderfully balanced in other words. Goes on with hints of old rum and molasses, cigar boxes, walnut oil, camphor and wet gravel. With water: it becomes earthier, direr and more rustic with more notes of dunnage, stables, motor oil, creosote, root beer, molasses, fig rolls and old tobacco. Endlessly rich and compelling.

Palate: Neat it is a powerhouse of strawberry jam, rich Americano coffee, brown sugar, cocoa, mead, rancio, chocolate, wet earth, balsamico, treacle, brioche, cinnamon and root beer. This is one of these perfect sherry profiles that balances the best of youth and age in one with immaculate cleanliness and complexity, it would give the best Macallans a good run for their money any day. With water: now it fleshes out even further and becomes spicier, more complex and softer on the tongue. Rose water, turkish delight, banana bread, walnut oil, strawberry liqueur, more earthiness and wood resins.

Finish: Looooong. Full of all of the above with bags of complexity, it hangs around forever.

Comments: This has got to be one of the unloved gems of the great Manager’s Dram series and my favourite Aberfeldy ever by a mile. It’s a huge whisky but the balance and poise of the flavours and the quality of the sherry are masterful. If you’re looking for a perfect sherried whisky for any occasion that demands one then you could do a lot worse than this beauty.

Score: 92/100

That is the end of the official lien-up that night. Needless to say certain other phenomenal bottles were opened and tasted. These bottles may or may not have included some Lagavulin White Horse bottlings and some 1970s era Glenfarclas (Glenfarcli?)

There will be another of these tastings on the 25th of June. If you are interested or would like a ticket then please feel free to get in touch with me at angusm@mulberrybankauctions.com

Thanks again to everyone who helped make it such a roaring success of a night.

If you were to travel back in time to 18th century Scotland and explore the pandemic culture of illicit distillation that ran through Scotland like a spine in those days what would you discover? No doubt a fledgling industry that was almost completely underground and rural in its nature. You would taste a different drink, one more potent and unforgiving than anything produced in the modern distilleries of today. A drink made by different people, surprisingly few of whom would speak much English. What reasons would these people give for their distilling practices? They might enjoy the thumb-biting aspects of their endeavors towards the Gaugers and men from the revenue, a trait that remains embedded in the Scottish character like a meteorite even now centuries later. They would also say it brought financial reward as they could smuggle it down to Glasgow, Edinburgh or the northern cities of England where they would receive good money for their methanol-laced, liqueur-like wares. What you might also discover as the central reason for their distilling efforts, though it may be harder to pin them down upon, is that they did it because it brought them joy. It may have been a useful way to use up the left over grains from a harvest and to fortify their beer so it might last longer or go further. But the fortuitous result was that it produced a liquid of intense potency that could hold sway over the senses and steel a person’s body to the cold (it would be a number of decades before the link between alcohol and hyperthermia was established). It gave them a drink that went some way to alleviating the harshness of life in the face of Scotland’s unforgiving landscapes and the cruel, fairness-starved society men had built there. Whisky’s invention may have come about as a series of accidental discoveries, happenstance and quirks of history but its purpose was both clear and almost instantaneous once it had arrived. It got you pished, and when life was that hard, it felt good to get pished on the frequent side of moderation.

Jump forward through the centuries and what has changed? On the face of it everything is different. Whisky as drink has not only a new  definition by grace of evolution, it has a language and a respect afforded it as one of the world’s great artisanal beverages. What would the crofter of the 1700s make of our world of tasting notes, single casks, vintages, regional classifications, brand ambassadors, science, marketing, nerdy fervor and collecting? I’m sure they would be deeply perplexed by it all. But look a little deeper, while the drink itself may be vastly different, has its purpose altered all that much? Why do we drink whisky? The most basic answer can only be that we enjoy it, we drink whisky because it makes us happy. It’s just that life is more luxurious for the majority of us these days and thus more complicated, and with that complexity comes a new variety in the ways we define that happiness.

Today's whisky tastings would no doubt be a thing of utter mystery to the crofters and distillers of the 18th century.

The most obvious way we garner enjoyment from whisky is through the sharing of it. The passion we hold dear for its flavour, power and character, shared and communicated with those of like mind throughout the world, the subsequent memories and friendships it nurtures and the good times that ripple forth through the years. Those are the most commonly lauded foundations of a love for whisky. But whisky’s power lies not only in the creation of joy, it is equally a master at the staving off and prevention of sorrow, the absence of pain can be the presence of relief. The numbing of a tired soul, the smothering of regret, resentment and anguish, these are all weapons in whisky’s armory, ones that harken back to the reasons of the distillers and drinkers of centuries gone by much more directly than our more commonly acknowledged celebratory patterns of consumption.

In moments of despair whisky can soothe you at a base and dark depth more so that any other drink. It reaches down your throat into the pit of your being like a loving hand decked in gloves of velvet fire. It calms the swell on oceans of thought and inner turmoil and holds at bay the monsters at your mind’s door. Of course it’s all well and good to write so poetically or romantically about the process of seeking solace in the bottom of a glass of spirits. It’s very easy to write such things but the fact is we all know that such a path leads to alcoholism if left unchecked. A story that has been repeated ad nauseam throughout Scottish history. From the glory days of illicit distilling in the early 1700s, throughout the clearances, then urbanisation, industrialisation and the days of empire, war, factories, shipbuilding, tenements, poverty, class-segregation and post-war rejuvenation. Scotland holds an embarrassed and fragile veil over the darker angles of its domestic history. Peel away at the edges and you will find a bottlomless pit of the same stories and their all too repetitive buzz-words: poverty, alcoholism and domestic violence. Women racing to the pub to stop their husband spending every last penny of his wages on drink only to receive bruises and slurred vitriol for her efforts.

A cartoon from 1825 depicting a Glasgow couple fighting whilst unaware that their child drowns in the dishwater. This was an all too common domestic scene throughout the 1800s.

This is an extreme I’m talking about but the fact that it has been such an undeniable blight on this country for hundreds of years cannot go ignored. Yet despite all the ruin that whisky (and alcohol in general lest we be unfair to just whisky) has wrought over the years through those that turned to it or made it as a source of escape and solace, despite all that it still has the power to comfort us in a more decent way. If I feel down I tend not to drink so much purely because I am out socialising less, I steer clear of the pubs and clubs out of a desire not to inflict my misery guts tendencies on others who are having a perfectly good time. When I do drink it is almost always a dram, not many of them, but one or two different ones. It is in these times that the flavours of whisky can be at their most comforting and nourishing, the distraction they offer, the quiet contemplation of their character, poise and beauty is something I find quite positive and uplifting to focus on. To simply be at peace and let the vapors, textures and flavours wash through you feels somehow cleansing and relaxing. As if each sip of flavour dissolves with its passing another tendril of tension. In fact I might go as far as to say that the happier I am the less often I drink whisky. I wonder what that says about it’s power and effects? Is it by nature the toast of the miserable? Or am I simply a bit of an enigma wrapped up in a blithering twit?

I must have been particularly miserable on this occasion. The twit theory clearly holds quite some water as well.

A love of whisky knows many avenues and reasons. I think for all our focus upon it as a social drink, and rightly so in light of the chronic negative aspects of its various darker histories and domestic associations, we should not be ashamed to acknowledge the more traditional restorative powers with which it is imbued. Not necessarily physical, but emotionally and spiritually it can have a powerful and positive effect upon a person. We rightfully celebrate whisky as a social drink, but we should not be afraid to acknowledge the other strings it bears on its bow. To take a drink in quiet solitude has negative connotations, some not unfounded but there is room here for reclamation. Whisky is not without guilt, it has been the spark to many a fire of violence, the call to addiction and the rot of physical ruin. But these are not its true purposes or aspirations as a drink, it is an intellectual spirit, wild with complexity and bearing a stamina of character that few other drinks can match. It lends itself to a multitude of moods and circumstances, that it can be equally a drink of comfort as it can of joy is something truly worth remembering and celebrating. After all, the joy of friendship, love and good society is not always appreciated without the heavier moments of loneliness, sadness and loss in our lives. That we have a drink that can bend to the needs and nuances of both instances is a remarkable thing indeed.