Tag Archives: Whiskey

Fireside chat with Highland Park

One of my most picture perfect whisky memories dates to some 10 years ago. The setting was Shamwari at sunset, the awe of bushveld at its most inspiring. I wish I could claim to be a regular visitor to this magnificent game reserve, but alas my sheckles are too few in number, and my distribution thereof too retrained. I was there on the company dime, and alert to the knowledge that I might not be returning in a hurry, so I was particularly intent on savouring the experience. We had finished a game drive, and had stopped in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere, surrounded by big sky, bush to the horizons, the quiet noise of the wild, and the biting cold of the veld at evening. I sipped on a dram of Chivas next to a roaring fire, contemplated Africa, and wondered if this was how Livingstone must have felt. Ok, admittedly the adjacent Land Rovers and the proximity of a 5-star lodge probably separated our perspectives somewhat. Some may also contend that the Eastern Cape hardly qualifies – can an area so close to Slummies really be considered to be genuine African bushveld? But still, the moment felt huge, and the whisky tasted sweeter than ever.

Shamwari sunset

I’m reminded of it whenever I enjoy a whisky by the fire, which is a bit of a stretch I grant you, but that’s just how the mind works…well mine anyhow. Recently, on a glacial peninsula evening, having put my fireplace to good use, I decided to unleash a bottle of Highland Park 12yo. This wasn’t done lightly, not because it’s expensive or rare, but rather because it’s a whisky that deserves to be shown respect. In my opinion it should only be drunk in the right setting, and if you’re in the right frame of mind – unrushed, relaxed – to appreciate it fully, otherwise it would be a waste. I sat myself down, the toasty glow of the fire at my back and the spirit of the bush in my heart, and I put the golden liquid to my lips.

HP next to the fire - a winning combination

I should declare at this point that I’m a big fan of the Edrington Group, owners of Highland Park and also of Macallan and Famous Grouse. I like their whisky making ethic – I’m particularly partial to a strong sherry wood influence and these guys are the doyens of sherried whisky. I also fondly remember tasting Highland Park for the first time with good friends in London some 5 years ago, so the brand has a certain sentimental value for me. My review as a result may be somewhat emotive, and so it should be I think. Whisky is beyond the purely clinical.

Highland Park is a bit of an iconic brand of whisky, holding the somewhat romantic status of being the northern-most distillery in Scotland. It is located on the Orkney Islands, and the local peat has a pronounced influence on the flavour of this whisky. I’ve mentioned before that whilst I can appreciate an Islay malt I’m not peat-freak. The gentler, honeyed smoke of the Orkney variety as evidenced in Highland Park is more to my taste. Intermingled with the smoke are elements of wispy heather, oaky malt, sweet honey, and, whilst I believe recent bottlings have been upweighted with American wood, a prevailing dense, dried fruit, sherry presence nonetheless. These elements are all beautifully balanced – picture identical twins on a see-saw, one giving way to the other but returning in between to a perfect equilibrium (btw, for best effect imagine twins that look like Scarlett Johanssen, that’s what I’m doing).

I don’t believe in quantitative ratings, and I’ll never make claim to a “favourite” whisky, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out, nay emphasise, that this is one damned good whisky. As Jim Morrisson said (sort of) – get some and it’ll do the rest.

Bain’s Cape Mountain Whisky

I had an eventful last week dealing with the Bell’s Father’s Day promotion – see The return of WHISKYdotcoza.  We’ve now dispatched the bulk of the orders, so hopefully there’ll be a host of happy customers dramming Bell’s Special Reserve from personalised tumblers in the very near future.

Despite all this activity, I managed to work in a few tastings.  No matter how busy you are you can and should always find time to chill out with a friendly whisky.  It’s good for the soul.

On Saturday I went to my brother’s place for dinner, and, true to form, we ate late.  He and his wife like to partake of some extended kuiering and slowly ease into their evening meals…take a long-limbed, ambling fast bowler’s run-up to the crease if you will.  Their inclinations in this regard gave me ample opportunity to settle in with a few unrushed whiskies.  I opted to start with Bain’s Cape Mountain Whisky, with which I was unacquainted.  In fact – North American whiskeys aside – I’m unfamiliar with single grain whisky as a style, so it was a pleasant surprise to have one at hand to sample.  The brand is named after the mind-numbingly spectacular Bain’s Kloof Pass, built, quite fittingly for the subject of this post, by a Scottish settler.

The pass from above

I’ve driven through it on several occasions and it ranks in my opinion as one of the most epic stretches of road in the country.  So the name is a winner, conjuring up the right frame of mind to relax, sip whisky, and unleash one’s imagination.  Onward then.  This is an easy drinking, immediately accessible whisky.  I’d suggest that it would be an ideal introduction to whisky for the novice drinker.  My brother felt that it had more in common with bourbon than scotch, and I wouldn’t disagree.  The verbage on the pack talks about double maturation in first-fill, otherwise unspecified oak casks, but it tastes as if it was aged in virgin wood.  Its overwhelming impression is one of sweetness, a touch cloying but not unpleasant, with notes of vanilla, toffee, and very ripe fruit – apricot and maybe a bit of guava on the palate.   Strikingly, it lavishes you with a great full, thick mouthfeel.  All considered this is a commendable effort by the local industry.  Let’s hope we forge ahead with more challenging, more complex offers in the future.

South African single grain whisky

For the love of whisky

First published in Spatula Magazine.

Of all the epicurean pursuits, is there any more magical than whisky?  I’m asking the question rather than making the statement, because I can’t be relied on for objectivity.  I’ve been known to refer to whisky as the golden nectar of the gods, because not since Jesus turned water into wine has a divine hand been more apparent in the crafting of a beverage.   I am a whiskyphile, pure and simple.  Nevertheless, that grain, yeast and water, as rudimentary a recipe of ingredients as can be imagined, could yield such an astounding array of flavours, is inarguably cause for wonder no matter what your palatary persuasions.  I think I have a case.

Whisky was thought to have first been distilled in by Irish monks during the Dark Ages (so perhaps it’s true that God invented whiskey so that the Irish would never take over the world).  From there it spread to Scotland first, and then much later to the rest of the world, suffering an etymological schism in the process.  Today the Irish and Americans (with a few exceptions) call their product whiskey (with an “e”), whilst Scotland and the rest of the world have stuck with the original spelling.  This aberration occurred because the average Scotch of the late 19th Century was reputedly of such poor quality that the Irish and Americans wanted to set their whiskeys apart.  These semantics, whilst interesting, don’t really make much of a difference to anything other than signalling that as the craft spread various countries have each added their own individual expression to create a wonderful, diverse world of whisky.

Much has since changed and today the Scots are the frontrunners, producing whisky of undisputed quality.  A typical person’s whisky journey would begin with drinking Scotch blends such as J&B, Johnnie Walker or Ballantine’s, before graduating, if the bug bites, to single malts, and the discovery of other styles.  At the early getting-to-know-you stage whisky can seem mystifying and challenging, and I guess that’s part of the appeal, but the basics are actually quite straightforward.  One whisky differs from another primarily because of the type of grain used in its making.  Single malts and blended malts use malted barley (peated and unpeated), Scotch and Irish grain whiskies use wheat, corn or a combination of these grains, Irish pure pot stills use a combination of malted and unmalted barley, blends are as the name suggests combinations of these styles, and bourbon is predominantly corn, mixed with either rye or wheat.  There’s more to it of course, in fact there’s always something new to learn even for seasoned whisky lovers, but this is the foundation.

Some people drink whisky because it’s cool.  They’re drawn to the mystique, the glamour, the lore, and the culture.  Most people drink whisky, and keep drinking it, because of its intrinsics, because of the flavour.   It was the lure of flavour which once prompted someone to remark: “The last time I turned down a whisky, I didn’t understand the question”.

Flavour refers to aroma and taste, and engaging with it can initially be off-putting.  Certainly that was my experience.  Just one look at an anorak (a whisky nerd) swilling a nosing glass and spouting forth with tweedy pompousness is enough to make you shudder.   As fascinating as flavours of sandalwood incense, mid-growth east coast heather, and Anatolian figs (not the common variety) may well be, at first sight it all seems a bit pretentious.

The trick with flavour is to trust your instincts and your imagination.  Your nose and palate interpret flavour in an individually specific manner.  There is no single, specific right answer.  Whilst there is a theory to flavour, and certain parameters, at the end of the day you’re answerable only to one person.  Remember that the whole whisky tasting endeavour is undertaken only to further your own satisfaction.  You don’t have to be a Jim Murray (there can be only one).  It’s not a test.  You drink whisky to enjoy it.  And once you’ve started to master the identification of broad flavours in whisky – the smoke of Scotch, the spice of Irish, the butteriness of Bourbon – something that can certainly be done on the hoof, there’s no limit to the variety to be explored, and the enjoyment to be savoured.

As to the how, this is where I do a 180 and turn prescriptive.  The target is flavour, and you can’t hit a target if there are obstacles in the way.  Some younger whiskies, particularly Americans and Canadians, may be suited to mixing or as a base for cocktails (such as Mint Juleps and Manhattans).  But not older, more premium, nuanced whiskies…at least not unless you want to waste your money (and if you do there are better ways).  These can be drunk neat, and if that’s your inclination you won’t be alone.  There’s a Scottish proverb that reads:  “There are two things a Highlander likes naked, and one of them is malt whisky”.  Personally I find that the undiluted 43% strength is anaesthetizing.  Ice, in modest quantity, is optional, but it too can be numbing, can over dilute, and can generally get in the way.  The ideal is to add a splash of filtered or mineral water at room temperature, or rather the Scottish version thereof, hence, for those of us under the African sun, the allowance for a bit of ice.

I think my case is made.  Whisky towers high, there’s no doubt.  I remain partial but am able to call on two last, reputable advocates in my support – the market economy that has valued this beneficiated mix of grain, yeast and water as highly as £13 000 a bottle and Mark Twain who once wrote: “Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough”.  Worth a retweet I think.   May the dram be with you!

Bell’s Special Reserve at Hemingway’s Bistro

It’s strikingly appropriate that this post is about Bell’s Special Reserve, for which we’ve just launched a Father’s Day promotion (see the The Return of WHISKYdotcoza), and also a bit of an homage to my dad and his favourite restaurant.

My dad is an unpretentious man.  He certainly can and does appreciate fine things, but I think that he reserves his greatest enjoyment for genuine, down-to-earth, simple pleasures.  When he finds something that he likes he embraces it enthusiastically, be it a wine, a restaurant or a rugby team.  This passion is most evident in his support of the Sharks.  He came to this country not knowing much about rugby and having played only a solitary game (the how and why were lost on a child’s ears), but it struck a chord with him, and today he ranks amongst the most ardent fans in the province, one of those with a pedigree dating back to the old B-Division days.  He takes the same approach when it comes to restaurants.  We’re a family that enjoys our food and we’ve celebrated many wonderful family occasions over a meal at a restaurant.  When the first of the Keg restaurants, the Keg & Thistle, opened in Durban, he was one of the most steadfast patrons; some 5 long, loooong years had to pass before we dined out anywhere else, such was his loyalty.

Today, and for some time now, the Keg’s place in my dad’s heart has been taken by Hemingway’s, a substantial step up (I was going to say “in my opinion” but it’s indisputable so take it as fact).  Hemingway’s is located in the lower Glenwood area of Durban, in a charming Victorian style house that’s been renovated and converted into a restaurant.  Half the tables are on a terrace out front, alfresco always being a useful format in the east coast sauna, and the other half inside.  It’s small enough to feel intimate, but large enough to feel vibey, so suited to just about any dining event I can imagine.  I’ve obviously had many meals at Hemingways – this much should be clear by now – but recently I sampled their new menu for the first time.  It offers a wider selection than the previous, and the medium-rare fillet with blue cheese sauce that I selected was fantastic.  I also finished off a few of my companions’ dinners – I’m nothing if not true to my dustbin nature – so I achieved a fairly broad familiarity with menu and I honestly couldn’t fault a thing.  The service is excellent too.  My dad engages with restaurant staff in very dad-like fashion, but these guys seem to get him.

Victorian? Passable knowledge of whisky. Dangerous knowledge of architecture.

Onto the bar.  So far there’ve been words but too few of them on whisky.  The usual suspects were front and centre – but I was pleasantly surprised to see a few older representatives of the Glenfiddich family also in attendance.  I let my eyes linger on the 15yo Solera, but good as it is I know it well so I wanted to give something else a try.  I decided on Bell’s Special Reserve.  Blended malts are a hugely underrated style of whisky, and as a result relatively uncommon.  It’s little known by the whisky drinking everyman that a single malt, the “pure” style of whisky, is in fact blended – different casks of different wood from different years can typically be used.  So there’s not much by way of conceptual superiority of single over blended malts.  A single malt is representative of a singular place and style, in a way that a blended malt can never be, but a blended malt can call upon a variety of malts and the blender’s skill, and thereby draw from a virtually limitless flavour palette to create something that might be just right for you, for me, for a particular occasion.

Bell's Special Reserve

My occasion was an after dinner dram with my dad.    We savoured the first sweet, then peppery-spicy flavour, and reflected on a great meal, and a great moment in time spent together.  If I had to analyse it more closely I’d say that this whisky could use a bit more time in its casks.  I feel much the same about the Grouse blended malt.  But then again if that was the case we wouldn’t be able to pick up these 100% malt gems for under R200 a bottle.  There’s an extrinsic component to our perception of flavour, I guess that’s why such things as marketing and branding exist.  In this case the Bell’s Special Reserve was the perfect complement to a much enjoyed father-son occasion.

The return of WHISKYdotcoza

Since going live we’ve had some technical glitches that required us to take the site off-line.  We had always anticipated certain teething issues, but had been hoping to resolve these without interrupting operations.  The difficulties we encountered were primarily to do with our credit card platform, and as much as we’d like to be giving whisky away to for free (hey we’re all part of the great whisky brotherhood), we had heard somewhere that in business it’s a fairly important to get paid, hence the more dramatic measures.  If you’ve been trying to access the site in the past week, a big thanks for your patience and for bearing with us.  I guarantee you that it will have been worth it.

The return to live status was also delayed because we were adding a special feature to the site – a Father’s Day offer courtesy of Bell’s.  The guys at Bell’s have kindly allowed us to extend the offer to readers of Words on Whisky, and to the fledgling customer base of WHISKYdotcoza.  The promotion is specific to Bell’s Special Reserve, the blended malt in the Bell’s portfolio, which I recently had the opportunity to taste (the report is here), and it includes a set of custom engraved tumblers and delivery to anywhere in SA, both gratis.  If you’re keen to partake simply click here and follow the instructions given.  I’d also like to encourage you to visit the Bell’s website and join the Bell’s Fraternity of Connoisseurs so that their team can keep you informed about future offers and events.

Bell's Father's Day promotion at WHISKYdotcoza

Please try the site and let us know your thoughts about it.  We are committed to becoming the country’s premier whisky e-tailer, and we’re very serious about what potential customers think and feel about it.  We can’t promise to implement all the feedback, but we will read and consider each and every single suggestion.

So, as we face a brave new week, may the dram be with you.

WHISKYdotcoza live

Almost a year after the initiation of the project, and after many months of increasingly intense preparation WHISKYdotcoza is now up and running.  Phew!  Even as I’m breathing this sigh of relief I know that this is actually only the start of the journey.  It’s a milestone nonetheless.

Live and dangerous!

It all began back in 2002 when I secured the domain whisky.co.za, with what was then the very vague intention of creating a whisky e-tailer.  The market simply wasn’t ready at the time (neither was I), but the dynamics have changed dramatically since.  Firstly whisky consumption has grown steadily – in 2010 South Africa was effectively the 4th largest export market for Scotch whisky worldwide (Singapore was actually 4th but I reckon it’s just a thoroughfare, so doesn’t really count) buying £168 million worth.   In 2005, never mind 2002, SA wasn’t even in the top 10.  Secondly internet usage and the incidence of online shopping are in an exponential growth phase.  An estimated 6 million South Africans have access, of which 51% are believed to be shopping online.  We’re still well behind the first world, 10-15% of our population is online compared to 90%+ in a country like Denmark, but we’re catching up quickly.  The e-commerce era has arrived, and I believe whisky is the type of product that’s ideally poised to get on board.  It’s popular, it’s credibly branded, there are no sizing/fit issues, and it’s high value and compact so delivery is cost-effective.

Having said that, it’s going to be a slow burn.  Although there are other online whisky shops operating in the local market, it’s by and large an unfamiliar format; people here are unaccustomed to using this channel to purchase their whisky.  However, I’m confident that the benefits will speak for themselves, and that conversion will follow awareness.

There are two primary reasons why people are increasingly turning to e-commerce in general – because they can shop whenever they want (i.e. it’s convenient), and because they can make purchase decisions that are better thought-out than they would be in the bricks and mortar world.   On the internet, you have an endless amount of information at your fingertips.  You can quickly and easily compare pricing and specifications, and dig into product details – in short ensure that you get exactly what you want for the best possible price.  Time is a valuable.  Why would busy professionals want to spend 2 hours of their Saturday schlepping to Makro and back, when they can buy from us at similar prices, get some decent advice to guide their purchases, and have 3-4 bottles delivered for between R42 and R50 (in the major cities), the cost of their petrol alone?  Well, that’s the theory anyhow.

The many advantages of convenience

We’ve set out to create an e-tailer that will be a benchmark not only locally but internationally.  We can’t offer the same variety as international e-tailers such as Whisky Exchange and Master of Malt, that’s simply not possible here, but in aspects of functionality, usability, and relevance, we think we’ve on our way to matching, and in certain aspects exceeding, these titans.

Thanks for indulging my sales pitch.  I’m not going to make a habit of it on this blog.   As I recently mentioned to fellow local whisky blogger I’m 100% committed to offering an independent and impartial viewpoint on all things whisky, but when it comes to the retail aspect, well, I’m going to have to make an exception, declared upfront.

One last thing – I have a favour to ask.  The site is complex, and despite the talent of our incredibly hardworking and dedicated web designers (Milk), it’s inevitable that there will be issues.  I’d be grateful if you could give us your thoughts, feedback and suggestions.

Thanks again, enjoy the weekend, and may the dram be with you.

Johnnie Walker at the Taste Festival

I attended the Taste Festival over the weekend, courtesy of tickets from my friends at Liquidity. I ambled over to their stall on arrival to say thank you, and sampled their Pyrat rum (part of the Patron stable) whilst I was there. I’m a big fan of rum and this one did not disappoint. With its bold orange taste it’s a great option, indeed one of the very few options, if you’re looking for an aged rum in SA.

Classy Pyrat Rum advertising

The Festival itself was well put together and populated by an interesting variety of stalls, mostly restaurants, but also wineries, bars, and an assorted mix of food and beverage brands. As I mentioned I didn’t pay for my tickets, but I would have been mightily disappointed if I had. It seems that all the entrance fee got you was the opportunity to spend more money. It certainly didn’t seem to have subsidised what was on offer. Tasters from the various restaurants were priced at between R20 to R40, and ranged from ok-fair-enough deals, such as Savour’s Salmon carpaccio and Solms Delta’s Cajun seafood, to ludicrously bad value, witness Nobu’s microscopic yellowtail sashimi. I once had the dubious pleasure of dropping 200 large (as in Sterling) on supper at Nobu, and had to stop at a Burger King on my way home to fill the gap, so no surprise there.

A message then to the organisers: come on guys, we like what you’re doing, but don’t take the piss.

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, to the serious business i.e. whisky, of which there wasn’t much to be found at the festival. I kept looking however, kept walking if you will, and my efforts were rewarded. I came upon the Johnnie Walker (JW) stall, beckoning to me like an oasis in the desert…and I needed no second invitation.

A few facts about JW– it’s the best-selling whisky in the world, it’s part of the Diageo stable, and its product philosophy is “Big Flavours”. I’ve pondered the latter often. For marketing purposes it’s great positioning. Whisky is all about flavour, so what could be more appealing than big flavours. Bigger is better after all.

At this stage it might be worth having a quick aside on the topic of chill filtration. Chill filtration is a process that takes place before bottling in which whisky is cooled and passed through a fine mesh filter, trapping and removing certain congeners (fatty acids and oily compounds) that tend to precipitate at lower temperatures. The finer the filter and the more extreme the cooling, the greater the amount of congeners removed. This is done for aesthetic purposes, so that the whisky does not appear hazy, especially when ice is added. However these congeners are a significant contributor to flavour, so many whisky-makers choose not to chill-filter their whiskies, labelling them “non-chill filtered”.  The bottom line is that chill filtering extracts flavour from the whisky.

Ok, back to JW. My question is – does the “Big Flavours” philosophy represent the reality of the product or is it just a line fed to consumers? Well, the range of JW’s is chill filtered. In fact if my industry sources are to be believed, Diageo has a particularly aggressive approach to chill filtering, using fine filters, and low (-4°C) temperatures. I can’t definitively confirm if this is true either generally or specifically for JW, but for the sake of conjecture let’s assume that it is. What does this say about the commitment to “Big Flavours “? Isn’t the removal of flavour at odds with such a claim? Perhaps “Style over Substance” would be more accurate?

I’m being harsh of course. Almost all blended whiskies are chill filtered, at least to some extent, so this is standard practice. And the JW range is superb and flavourful to a man. You don’t get to the top without having the chops. Nevertheless, food for thought…

The tasting itself was exceptional; short of the Glenmorangie Signet sonic tasting, probably one of the best I’ve experienced. The hosts were knowledgeable, the props, lit display cabinets containing flavour cues, were perfectly atmospheric, and the whiskies, as I mentioned, were superb. JW Red is not amongst my preferred whiskies – the Talisker inspired salty-smoky flavour, whilst interesting, is a bit abrasive for me – but Black and Green, the other variants showcased at the tasting, are standouts.

On that note – keep reading (my blog), keeping drinking (responsibly) and keep well.

Black

Red

FAIL

Yesterday I came out firing like an American soldier in a Pakistani mansion.  Now, here I am eating a public slice of humble pie.  I’m not sure where that expression comes from because pie tastes good and this doesn’t.

Anyhow, here it goes.  Despite my apology yesterday I still thought that I was somewhat right.  I have now established beyond a doubt that I was wrong.  Very wrong.  My government will be happy about this – she reckons that she doesn’t hear me say it often.

In my defence the SWA briefing was somewhat unclear, nay absent, on the point – I have their DVD at hand to prove it.  I suspect that they may have gone over to the Dark Side after the whole Glen Breton saga.  But I won’t lie, it’s a paltry defence.  I’ll take my stripes.

This to conclude the Regional GI storm in a teacup:

Dear Patrick

Campbell has passed on your enquiry about regional geographical indications to me.

Speyside Scotch Whiskies are a sub-set of Highland Scotch Whiskies. That has been the traditional practice since at least 1909, and the definitions of the regions in The Scotch Whisky Regulations 2009 have not changed that.

A Scotch Whisky qualifies as “Highland” if it is distilled north of “the line dividing the Highland region from the Lowland region”. All Speyside Scotch Whiskies therefore qualify both as “Highland” and as “Speyside”. It is a matter for the distiller which description is used.

Kindest regards

Magnus Cormack
Senior Legal Adviser
Legal Affairs Department
Scotch Whisky Association

As Bart Simpson would say Ay Caramba.

Glenfarclas again

I mentioned some time ago that I was a language purist – see the post Whisky or Whiskey. At times I can also be a hair splitter. Recently I commented, on a post by fellow whisky blogger G-LO, that Glenfarclas would probably be forced to change their labels in the near future, due to a particular stipulation in the recent Scotch Whisky Regulations of 2009.

I came across this knowledge because late last year I attended a briefing on the regulations hosted by the Scotch Whisky Association (SWA). With South Africa having in 2009 become effectively the 4th largest export market for Scotch worldwide (Singapore was actually 4th, but I think we can assume that they’re just redistributing), these guys are paying attention to us down here.

Specifically I’m referring to a point related to Geographical Indication. The SWA have defined 5 official Scotch whisky regions: Speyside, Highlands, Lowlands, Islay, and Campbeltown. No sub-regions, no “Islands”, and none of the other deviations that have evolved over the years. Furthermore they have unequivocally stated that in order to claim regional provenance a whisky must be “wholly distilled” in that region. Maturation it seems can take place anywhere in Scotland.

This brings us to Glenfarclas, which is located in Speyside, near a town with the wonderfully Scottish sounding name of Ballindalloch. Yet its label proclaims it to be a Highlands whisky.

Hence I logically assumed that it would need to change. Concerned however about my journalistic integrity I decided to write to Glenfarclas to verify my assumption. G-LO, apologies, it seems that I’m wrong. Here’s the reply from George Grant of the Glenfarclas Grants:

Patrick,

Thank you for your email.

Simplest way to explain, all Speyside whiskies are Highland Whiskies, but not all Highland Whiskies are Speyside. In the small print on our labels we do put Speyside. Macallan also does the same put Highland rather than Speyside. The Speyside region is a relatively new region. And Glenfarclas has been a Highland Whisky for over 100 years before the Speyside region came about. Hope this helps.

Best regards,

George Grant

It was very kind of him to respond to my nit-picking. I was indeed aware that Speyside had previously been considered a sub-region of the Highlands, but post-2009 it seems to me that this officially no longer applies. Perhaps the fine print resolves the issue…I don’t have sight of the detail of the regulations so can’t comment definitively. But fine print or not, the whisky is still claiming Highlands origin, despite being distilled  in Speyside, and from a broad common-sense point of view this seems to be contrary to the spirit of the regulations. I wrote to the SWA to get their views on the matter, and I’ll let you know if they bother to respond.

George’s response also raises the issue of whether these regulations are fair or not. If indeed my interpretation is correct, why should Glenfarclas be forced to change a claim that they’ve legitimately made for over 100 years? More importantly does any of this make much of a difference. There is so much variety within the regions, that they are no longer (if they ever were) a consistently reliable guide to flavour. Even relatively homogenous regions such as Islay have startling exceptions (witness the unpeated Bunnahabhain). They are peripheral, more relevant to the culture of whisky than the product itself.

Fascinating nonetheless. I love this stuff!

Glenfarclas tasting and independent bottlings

I was privileged during the weekend to be invited by a good mate to taste a very special whisky; special because it was intrinsically so, and also because it’s a vintage dating from the year in which his late brother was born.  We drank a toast in remembrance – rest in peace Warren.

The whisky in question was a Douglas Laing independent bottling of Glenfarclas that had been distilled in 1967.  It’s part of their Old Malt Cask range, comprising uniquely of single casks all bottled non-chill filtered at 50% abv (sometimes referred to as “the golden strength”).   They have their reasons but it seems restrictive to me.  What would happen if the cask strength for a particular older cask was below 50%?  Worrying, but I only let this view into the abyss deter me momentarily.

Malt that's more mature than me

This is a whisky that was wholly matured in sherry casks, so I was expecting resinous, raisiny, leathery, tannic flavours, and I was conscious that at 42 years old it might be overly oaked.  It turned out to be a tight, well-integrated, balanced whisky, purposeful and sure of itself, and without any excessive wood influence.   Over and above I also identified some nutty aromas, restrained sweetness, and a bit of spice on the palate and finish.  The only drawback was that I had anticipated something more vivid.  The cultivation of tasting ability is a progressive exercise and I’ll admit that mine is still a work in progress, so I may well miss some subtle flavours, simply through lack of experience and education.   I’m not going to get too hung up about it – I don’t want to transform myself into either an anorak or a Hilton old boy (the dark sides of the dram) – so I’ll just trust my instincts:  good, even great whisky, made even better by the company in which I enjoyed it, but not animate enough to be spectacular.

This experience also prompted me to reflect on the whole concept of independent bottling, which I think is fascinating.   Typically an independent bottler would secure new-make spirit from a distillery, mature the spirit themselves, and then release a single-malt under both its name and that of the distillery.  Duncan Taylor, and Gordon and Macphail are two such well known examples.  Some bottlers do not associate their single malts with the distillery of origin, either on the insistence of the distillery (to prevent dilution of their brand name) where this has sway, or so as not to be committed to a specific source of supply.  In certain circles these are known as bastard malts, but I find this descriptor unfairly disparaging.  I’ve tasted some that are simply magnificent.  Some distilleries have employed practices such a teaspooning as a deterrent.  It sounds kinky but disappointingly isn’t.  The most famous practitioner is Glenmorangie, reputed to add a teaspoon of Glen Moray to spirit that they sold to blenders – under the name “Westport” – to prevent it from reappearing later as independent bottlings under the Glenmorangie name.  Curiously I’ve seen Westport labelled as a single malt, and not a blended/vatted/pure malt, so either someone is taking a chance, no-one is too bothered about the teaspoon, or the story is a myth.

Completely unrelated

Fascinating indeed.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – whisky appeals to me because of its integrity, its complexity and its variety, and independent bottlings really contribute to that variety.  They allow for a wide range of different products to be crafted from the same new make spirit.  Unfortunately availability is scarce in SA – the upper end of the market is not mature enough, and the process for bringing new liquor into the country is a contortion of epic proportions.  These add up to be a roadblock for niche products.  There’s hope however: SA is today the 5th largest export market for Scotch whisky (4th if you don’t count Singapore), and the premium segment continues to grow.  Hopefully the dynamics will change as we continue to leap forward.