Tag Archives: Whisky

Liquid gifts

A spirit of generosity

First published in Prestige Magazine (June 2012 edition).

As it appeared – page 1.

As it appeared – page 2.

I’ve walked into the umpteenth shop only to leave again, short on ideas, long on frustration.  I’d set aside an hour of my busy day, and so far it’s taken three and counting.  It might be Father’s Day, a birthday, Christmas, or any number of other gift-giving occasions.  I just can’t seem to find that appropriate gift without a struggle.  I could resort to a voucher, or just compromise and settle on any old thing, but I can’t bring myself to do it.  It seems so callous; a gift should indicate that one cares enough to invest both money and thought (even if it’s not the case) otherwise it’s all a bit pointless.  This has been an unfortunate recurring episode in my life.  Sound familiar?  Fear not, help, such as it is, is at hand.  There is a genre of gifts that is ubiquitous and generic enough to be expedient, and yet varied and personal enough to convey a fulfilling sense of consideration.  I’m talking about fine spirits of course, the doyens of which are whisky and cognac.   I did a bit of shopping recently (sadly only of the window variety) and identified a few highlights.

Chivas Regal

Royal in both name and stature, Chivas Regal is quite likely the world’s most gifted spirit.  This iconic brand, now well over a double century in existence, has carved for itself an enviable reputation as a supreme purveyor of deluxe whisky.  Millions of people can’t be too far wrong; as a gift Chivas (pronounced shivers without the r) hits all the right notes.  It is flavoursome and interesting to the connoisseur – at the heart of the blend is Strathisla, a single malt from what is said to be the oldest continuously operating distillery in Scotland.  And it is accessible to the novice – its mild, fruity flavour is easily acquired and its pricing, at least for the entry level 12 year old (a smidgen over R200), is entirely reasonable within the premium whisky bracket.

Chivas Regal is available on our shelves as either a 12, 18 and 25 year old.  The former is being offered in a package with two complimentary whisky tumblers during special gifting occasions, and the latter two are available year-round in attractive, top-end presentation boxes.

Remy Martin Louis XIII

If cognacs were stones, this one would be a diamond.  There are some that are more expensive, others that are more popular, and others still that are decked with a brighter glitter, but nothing else possesses the same cachet, shines with the same aura, or enjoys the same acclaim as Remy Martin Louis XIII.  Verbalised by the cognoscenti as “Louis Treize” (French for 13), this brand is an enduring classic.  I’ve seen advertisers gratuitously use the term “a mark of distinction” to peddle their wares.  Remy doesn’t need do this for Louis XIII (and Remy certainly doesn’t peddle).  If ever there was a product that was a mark of distinction then this is it…but it’s an unspoken fact, simply understood where that understanding is required.

Cognac is known for its excessive, some would say over-the-top, packaging.  The Louis Treize was one of the products that blazed this trail.  It has since 1937 been bottled in a Baccarat crystal decanter that itself probably costs more than most other cognacs.  Decadent as this may seem, given that some components in the blend are over a hundred years old, it’s somehow elegantly appropriate.

Pricing is steep – expect to pay in excess of R17 000.  I would perhaps suggest that this a gift to be reserved for those held in the very highest esteem…or for those needing to be convincingly impressed.  The latter might explain why the Remy Treize, along with cognac as a whole, has become so popular in the East, where there is an entrenched gift-giving (and favour currying) culture in the working environment.

Richelieu XO Cognac

Isn’t Richelieu a brandy?  Well, as of last year, the brandy in the age-old French tradition is now offering us an age-old French tradition – cognac.    I’ve had the pleasure of tasting Richelieu XO, and I can report that it is magnificent, demonstrating complex flavours of fruit and spices and a full-bodied, silky mouth-feel.  The liquid is supplied by Richelieu’s stablemate Bisquit, but unlike their VSOP, which I find too cloying, this product manages to be both bold and restrained, each in the right place.

At circa R1600 it’s worth highlighting that it represents good value for an XO cognac.  It might just be the perfect gift for a new father – to accompany the obligatory cigars.

Michel Couvreur 1983

Here’s something one doesn’t see everyday.  Michel Couvreur has launched one of world’s only truly unique whiskies:  a 1983 vintage single cask…which is individually bottled on request.  The bottle comes inscribed with the name of the purchaser, and with the date and time of bottling.  It’s also accompanied by a certificate verifying its authenticity.  The individual bottling process means that each and every bottle will spend a different period of time in wood, and, as a result, will in theory be a different and unique whisky.

Couvreur is a whisky artisan of long standing, based in Burgundy in France, and known in particular for his highly cultivated maturation process, in which he ages Scottish new-make spirit in individually selected Solera sherry casks.  He and his small team are the remnants of an almost-forgotten golden era of whisky craftsmanship.

The Couvreur range of whiskies was launched in South Africa last year and is available in strictly limited quantities.  The 1983 retails for R4999.

Glenmorangie

Glenmorangie is one of the “maisons” in the LVMH group – the world’s largest single owner of luxury brands, and home to epic labels such Louis Vuitton, Dior, and Bulgari.  One would thus expect the guys at Glenmorangie to exhibit a swaggering command when it comes to gifting.  And indeed they don’t disappoint – every year bringing out gift offers that set a benchmark for the industry.  Their latest gift-pack whilst not their best is compelling nonetheless.  It’s a beautifully designed carton containing a bottle of Glenmorangie Original, and a complimentary dinky bottle of Nectar D’Or, an expression from the brand’s pioneering extra matured range (this one specifically was finished in Sauternes casks).

Pricing is at around the R400 mark.

Down the hatch

Guidelines for drinking whisky

First published in Prestige Magazine (June 2012 edition)

As it appeared.

Whisky is not self-evident.  It has a certain seductive mystique that is central to its allure.  The pursuit of whisky – like that of all worthwhile endeavours – requires measures of application, perseverance and patience, efforts that are amply rewarding (and rewarded).  As one embarks on this path perhaps the most pressing query is that of how to drink whisky.  This question has been repeatedly put to me (as a whisky lover), and it should be answered very seriously.  It is undoubtedly the single most critical whisky matter to be encountered by the casual drinker, since it has a direct and immediate impact on enjoyment…and what’s more important than that.  I’ve heard people in the industry answer it in blasé and somewhat self-serving terms:  “Anyway you like it” or “there’s no right way or wrong way”.  Really?  Think of a word that starts with B and ends with T.  Here are five basic guidelines for the optimal appreciation of whisky.

Rule #1:

Enjoy it.  Drinking whisky should be fun.  I’ve seen people get so caught up trying to identify flavours that the act of drinking whisky begins to seem like a task or a chore.  Learn in order to enjoy, don’t learn just for the sake of learning.  To me there’s nothing better than a lose-myself-to-the-moment drink when I don’t have to concentrate on anything other than my own pleasure and some good conversation.

Rule #2:

Don’t mix aged or premium whisky.  There’s nothing wrong with drinking whisky and Coke, if that’s a personal preference, but make a cheap whisky.  Anything else is a waste of money (and whisky).  Once a whisky has been doused with a typically sugary mixer it would be exceedingly challenging, even for an expert taster, to appreciate the complexity of flavour that sets it apart from its younger, more regular brethren.

Rules #3:

Don’t forget to nose (i.e. smell) the whisky.  Flavour is made up of both aroma and taste, and yet we seem fixated on taste, maybe because it’s the pre-culminating moment in the consumption process, and because it’s the act of consumption itself that gives the most satisfaction.  Ironically though, on a sensory level, taste is relatively limited and less interesting when compared to smell; there are only four primary tastes but 32 primary aromas.   So, savour the nose – it’s the gateway to a “hidden” dimension of enjoyment that’s waiting to be discovered.  I’d also advise using tumblers with a narrow, inward-tapering rim that concentrates the aroma-carrying vapours and thereby facilitates and accentuates the nosing.

Rule #4A:

Add water.  This is contentious.  Some whisky folk prefer to drink their drams neat as a matter of course.  All power to them – I fully endorse their right of individual choice.  Some people also choose to believe that the earth is flat.  In both cases however there’s good reason to believe that there’s a better alternative.  Adding a splash of water to your dram is known as “releasing the serpent”- the water reacts with and breaks down flavour-bearing congeners and in doing so unlocks their flavour, and opens up the whisky.  It’s difficult to prescribe how much water should be added.  The arbitrary rule of thumb is equal parts water to whisky, but this can and should vary according to individual taste, and to the nature of the whisky and its alcohol content.  I find that very little is usually required.  Water also softens the alcoholic edge of the whisky, which can otherwise be lightly anaesthetising, although die-hards will claim that saliva does the same job.  I think not.

Rule #4B:

A corollary to the last rule – use still mineral water, filtered water, or something similarly pure.  Water purifying chemicals such as chlorine do not belong in one’s expensive whisky.

Rule #5

Use ice with circumspection.  There’s an old expression suggesting that whisky is best enjoyed at the temperature of a traditional Scottish parlour.  It sounds a bit vague but the broad principle is sound.  Like alcohol, cold is numbing and inhibits flavour.  Furthermore, ice melts and introduces uncontrolled dilution into a drink.  Having said all this – we’re not in Scotland.  I’ve found that adding cold water is ideal for drinking whisky under the hot African sun.

As straightforward as these rules may seem good intentions will be put to the test – count on it.  I’ve been asked to serve Royal Salute mixed with Coke.  Most bars will pour whisky into tumblers filled with ice.  The mineral water bottle always seems to be empty come whisky time.  Despite it all though I’ve never gone back.  The whisky tastes so damned much better!  Keep the faith and may the dram be with you!

Jill Daniel’s?

I was surprised this week by the arrival of a media pack for the launch of “Tennessee Honey”, a new whiskey liqueur – surprised because I wasn’t expecting the package and surprised because it’s an unexpected product. Actually I’m probably overstating the situation on both counts. I had heard about the global launch sometime last year, so I was aware of the product, and the marketing dude for this brand had informed me a few months ago that he’d be sending me a package. However there’s been a lot of whisky under the bridge since then so let’s just say that I was nonetheless mildly taken aback.

Image

The reason for my second source of surprise is that this drink bears the Jack Daniel’s name, and is packaged in the same square-jawed, iconic bottle. Jack is a masculine brand – a tobacco-chewing, chest pounding man’s brand. I wrote this sometime last year for my friends at Mojodojo:

“We struggle with availability of American whiskeys here in SA, but you can always count on Jack. It’s not going to blow you away with its complexity but it’s rugged and adaptable – sip it, shoot it, mix it, cocktail-ise it, it’s all good. A live fast, die young, rock star of a whiskey.”

You might also remember my review of Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel.

So how then did a liqueur that seems intended for women (and guys who like sweet drinks) get into this locker room? Al and Laura Reis (of “22 Immutable Laws of Branding” fame) were clearly not consulted. And this from a brand that has built its incredible strength on the back of a tightly focused consumer proposition. The temptation to stake a claim in new territories must be powerful indeed…but I’ll put my marketing strategy reservations to one side for now.  In terms of execution, if the pack is anything by which to go, these guys clearly don’t need any advice (or very little).

It’s high quality (without being excessive or overblown), and it’s relevant, evocative and informative. Check it out for yourselves.

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The only thing that rung false was a label declaring my bottle to be number 1 of 120. I’m not that special, so was this just the luck of the draw? Turns out everyone else also received bottle numero uno. Either this was a concession to practicality (it’s easier to print identical labels) or it was, certainly in this Twitter era, an ill-conceived PR gimmick. We’ll forgive them because the overall effort is outstanding.

Now, before I’m labelled a fraud, I need to make a confession: I haven’t yet tasted the drink. I only received my pack yesterday and I’m currently writing this somewhere above the Horn of Africa, so I didn’t get the opportunity to crack the seal. It’s probably going to be lost on me anyhow – I’m not a fan of liqueurs, and my Spiced Gold days are behind me. I have no doubt however that it’s damn good (although I’ll get my wife to verify). These guys don’t often create new products, a fact which they point out at great pains, so you can be sure that when they do it would have been expertly concocted.

Enjoy the week ahead. May the dram bee (☺) with you!

A night of big sherry

Last week I scrounged a back-door invitation to a GlenDronach tasting.  It was hosted by the Bascule, and after I’d arrived it gradually dawned on me that I had kind-of gate-crashed a get-together of their whisky club.  I felt bad about it, but sometimes these things need to be done in pursuit of a higher purpose.

It turned out to be well worth the momentary embarrassment.  During a tasting that was expertly led by the amicable, Scottish-accented (which always lends a certain authenticity) David Wyllie, we were served a sextet of exquisite drams from a stable renowned for their sherried whiskies.   I’m a big fan of sherry-casked whisky – you could say that I’m the sherry equivalent of a peat-freak – so this was quite a treat, and also the motivation for my dubious presence at the event.

We tasted the 12, 15 and 18 YO’s from the core range, a 14YO finished in Sauternes casks, a 1992 Single Cask bottled exclusively for the South African market, and, last but not least, a whisky about which we were asked not to publicise details.  This was a special bottling, supposedly not authorised for public consumption.   It’s widely known that a whisky lover relishes nothing more than the opportunity to taste something exclusive and uncommon, so I’m pretty sure that the GlenDronach guys were blowing a bit of smoke up our arses – but I appreciated the sentiment and the whisky regardless.

Interestingly the 14YO, which is sadly not available in SA, was made from a stock of virgin-casked whisky (European oak) which was then re-racked into a variety of casks for finishing.  I found this Saturnes version interesting if somewhat overly woody.  Taste can be suggestible though and I wonder if I would have come to this same conclusion had I not known its provenance.  I suggest that you try it if you get the chance.  Virgin casks are blended into bottlings occasionally, although perhaps with increasing regularity in recent years, but whisky which is made primarily from virgin casks is exceedingly rare.  In fact this style is probably limited to the few available organic whiskies.

Finished virgins.

Amongst the core range the 15YO stood out, at least for me – the signature sherry flavours were offset by the freshness and vibrancy of a pine forest.  It also has a spectacular nose which drew oohs and aahs from the audience, myself included.  The other whiskies were similarly impressive – only enhancing my affinity for this distillery and its creations.

Corker!

I was struck by a final observation before heading home, which reinforced to me why I’m passionate about whisky rather than other potential candidates – i.e. why I’m not spending my time writing about chocolates, or teas, or bicycles, or somesuch.  There is artistry and skill required for all of these and hundreds of others, but whisky has a certain uncommon magic.  The 1992 and the mystery bottle were both from Oloroso casks, probably sourced from the same bodega.  The latter was significantly older.  And yet the 1992 was considerably darker and its sherry flavours more pronounced.  In fact the mystery whisky has citrus notes, which are unusual in sherry casks.  This is the enigma of wood.  It contributes a visceral organicity to whisky which sets it apart from other industrial production, and gives it the constant ability to surprise and to astound.

Father’s Day 2012

The below went out to the WHISKYdotcoza database today.  Please feel free to partake if it’s of interest.

Father’s Day is nearly upon us.  This year it takes place on June 17.  It’s an annual opportunity to specially celebrate one of the most important people in our lives.  My own father kindled my love of whisky, and I can’t think of a better gift for whisky-loving dads than a fine bottle of the golden nectar.

This year, for a very limited time (the offer expires at 08h00 on the morning of Wednesday 13 June), WHISKYdotcoza is offering a complimentary set of six specialist glasses (see below) with every bottle of Michel Couvreur whisky.

Epic glasses!

These are the glasses that I use to drink my whisky – they’re epic glasses for epic whisky.  Note though that stocks are limited, and will be allocated on a first come, first served basis.  However, if you miss out on the glasses, we’ll provide you with a complimentary gift bag and card – there’ll be a little extra for all fathers on this special occasion.

Michel Couvreur is a French whisky craftsman of long-standing.  Read about him and his whiskies here.  We offer his Overaged Malt, and his Special Vatting on our site, but we’ve also secured highly limited quantities (because that’s all that was available) of his super-premium products, about which you can contact us directly (on info@whisky.co.za) .  The unique (and I mean unique) 1983 might be a great option for the more patient dads, who’re willing to wait whilst we arrange an individual, customised bottling.

We wish you and your dads a wonderful Father’s Day.  May the dram be with you!

12YO blended Scotch preview

Whisky – if you’ll excuse this statement of the obvious – has been premiumising steadily in recent years.  New, expensive, lavishly packaged variants are being introduced on a weekly basis.  Older, better, more!  It’s exciting but also a little bit intimidating.  The bar is being set higher and higher, with direct impact on our daily lives.  As an example – it no longer seems enough to offer one’s guests the regular stuff.  Perhaps this is just my peculiar point of view, but I suspect that it rings true for many of us.  A 12YO blend seems to be the new minimum standard.

For this reason I’m embarking on a review of the major 12YO blended Scotches available on the South African market.  If this is the new game then I reckon someone should be carefully checking out the players and sizing them up against each other.

I’m kicking off the review with a tasting – for which I’ve enlisted some of Cape Town’s whisky luminaries to assist.  Marsh Middleton, Bernard Gutman, and Hector MacBeth will be joining me at the Bascule tonight to sample the following whiskies:

Johnnie Walker Black Label

Chivas Regal

Ballantine’s 12YO

Dewar’s 12YO

J&B Jet

Grant’s 12YO

One of the whiskies we’ll be tasting.

If you happen to be in the area please join us for a dram and a chat.  There’s nothing better than whisky and good company – generally but particularly on a miserable, stormy day like this one.

The review will be published in the September issue of Prestige Magazine, and then on this blog later in September.

May the dram be with you!

Waiter, there’s a speck in my whisky

The good and bad of chillfiltration

As it appeared.

First published in Prestige Magazine (May 2012 edition).

My parents taught me that a discussion of religion and politics should best be avoided in polite society.  I decided instead to avoid polite society.  A note to posterity:  if I ever warrant quotation then please make this my defining quote.  There’s a lot to be said (literally) for a bit of impropriety and irreverence.  In whisky society – where things can get quite impolite after a few drams – the parts of politics and religion are often played by a red-rag-to-a-bull known as chillfiltration.   Prompted by Bunnahabhain’s recent launch of their unchillfiltered range I decided to wade into murky, or should I say hazy, waters to confront this messy beast of a topic and poke it with a stick.

What is chillfiltration?  Let’s start with the converse situation, in which whiskies are alternatingly termed unchillfiltered or non-chill filtered.  The industry seems to have shown standardisation the finger and chosen divergent grammatical paths, but whatever one’s predilection for prefixes, hyphens and contractions, the meaning is the same.  I’m going to opt for concision and use the former henceforth.   A whisky, when it comes out of its cask after maturation, is loaded with fatty acids and oily compounds (known in more scientific terms as congeners), from which it derives much of its flavour.  These congeners however also tend to bond together and precipitate (i.e. form a haze) when the whisky’s temperature and/or its level of alcohol are lowered.  This is an unchillfiltered whisky and it poses certain problems…at least for some.

To the uninformed a hazy whisky is aesthetically displeasing; and it gives the (misleading) impression that it might be decomposing.  The motivating reason for chillfiltration is to eliminate the occurrence of this hazing in whisky.  The process works like this:  the whisky is cooled to a temperature of around 0°C (give or take – some whiskies are more aggressively chillfiltered than others) and then passed through a mesh filter, thereby trapping and removing certain congeners.  The result is a clear, cosmetically attractive liquid.

To the informed whisky lover however chillfiltration is a double-edged sword: remove the congeners, remove the flavour.  It’s a somewhat ruthless solution.  There are other gentler ways to mitigate hazing; for instance an alcohol level of 46% ABV would guarantee solubility at room temperature, without any flavour removal required.  Unfortunately, if the temperature drops, and if ice or cold water is introduced, the hazing would reappear, so it’s at best an incomplete alternative.  Also, at 46% a whisky is circa 15% and 7% more expensive than at the statutory minimums of 40% and 43% respectively, hence affecting its commercial proposition.  Some brands have nonetheless followed this course in the quest to offer unchillfiltered whiskies, but they’re in the minority – primarily single malts for whom the flavour stakes are higher, and whose consumer base is likely to be more aware of such peculiarities.

Until recently I’d been part of the faction that poured scorn on chillfiltration.  It was, in my opinion, a creation of laziness and greed.  To be fair though it’s a bit of a prisoner’s dilemma – it doesn’t make sense to invest in education on the matter individually, so invariably the bulk of the industry has taken the path of least resistance, but, regardless, depriving us of optimal product in doing so.  Some producers claim that chillfiltration doesn’t affect the flavour in their whiskies, but the force of contrary logic and the self-interest inherent in these justifications would suggest otherwise.  Others yet claim that they chillfilter less aggressively, which still results in flavour still being extracted, just less of it than would otherwise be the case.  So it seems clear-cut then that chillfiltration does a disservice to the flavour-seeking, pukka whisky lover.  Maybe, maybe-not.

Conventional wisdom is all well and good, but evidence is the only way to discover what’s really true about anything.   There’s little publicly available data on chillfiltration but I recently came across some research by Matthew Ferguson-Stewart (a whisky aficionado) that poured fuel on the chillfiltration fire.   His experiment involved a blind tasting of unchillfiltered and chillfiltered versions of four whiskies by a small panel of experienced tasters.  The shocking conclusion: the tasters identified the difference but preferred the chillfiltered versions.

What should one make of this?  Perhaps the experiment was too limited.  Certainly it should be verified on a wider and larger scale.  Perhaps some congeners, in this case the balance of those removed, are somehow offensive.    For the moment though it has made a contentious subject even more inflammatory.  Given that the bulk of whiskies available to us are chillfiltered, I find his results encouraging.  We can’t draw any definitive conclusions yet, but there’s hope now that the typical whisky that we’re drinking isn’t in fact a diminished version of itself, as we had previously believed…and that can only be good news.  May the dram be with you!

No age statements

The dark side of whisky

First published in Prestige Magazine (April 2012 edition).

An aside: The opinion I express is this column is somewhat contentious.  In a recent twitter exchange on the subject  I was informed by an esteemed whisky writer that I was “just plain wrong”.  The why was, and still is, not as clear.  In the interim thus this presumably snot-nosed, impudent upstart of a whisky blogger stands by his opinion.

As it appeared.

I’m often guilty of looking at the whisky world through rose-tinted glasses.  I am after all a self-professed whiskyphile, so a certain extolling of the virtues is part of the job description.  My natural inclination is to be mostly positive.  The reality however is that whisky is a human endeavour, and, like any other, is prone to human failings.  A cast which includes moonshiners, bootleggers, smugglers, gangsters, and all manner of dodgy bastards, have featured prominently in its story, a story whose aspect has been transformed – by the passage of time, and by subsequent regulation and legitimisation – from criminal to colourful.  Today a few huge conglomerates dominate production.  The industry is seen as venerable, and its members as responsible corporate citizens.  But are things really as proper as they appear?  I wouldn’t be self-respecting if I didn’t blend my admiration with a dash of scrutiny.

Marketing – if one was to adopt a cynical stance – is akin to commercial propaganda.  The discipline, in somewhat Goebbels-esque fashion, is no stranger to large-scale institutionalized deception.  In the marketing of whisky one of the more insidious examples, in my opinion, is the so-called No Age Statement (NAS) whisky.   The age, or to be more accurate (and lyrical) the duration of maturation, of whisky is a subject of lengthy debate.  To avoid labouring the point, let’s just conclude for our purposes that age is of distinct importance to the whisky drinking public.  Research published by Chivas Brothers last year revealed the following actualities: “94% of consumers believe the age statement serves as an indicator of quality” and “93% believe that older whiskies are better quality”.

It follows then that people expect expensive whiskies to be old – since one expects to pay for quality.  As the whisky market has boomed beyond forecast over the last three decades, suppliers have struggled to keep up with the demand for older stock.   This crisis has been to some extent remedied by the proliferation of the multi-vintage whisky – a blending of old and young whiskies.  In itself this was a tidy “innovation” (these had existed before but as an exception) presenting whisky lovers with an extensive new diversity of flavour and style, and stretching the dwindling quantities of older liquid.  There was however an accompanying dilemma – Scotch Whisky regulations require that any age claim must refer to the youngest component in a whisky.  This nagging inconvenience – upon which the integrity of Scotch whisky is largely built – would potentially motivate a cap on pricing and/or the expensive need to re-educate the market…or maybe not.

The low road was and is an option to withhold disclosing the age, creating a situation where the average whisky buyer automatically assumes these whiskies to be older than they are in reality.  There is no doubt in my mind that multi-vintage NAS whiskies have been designed to foster this misconception.  Witness Johnnie Walker Double Black in particular (in the context of Black Label): a derivative and misleading name, similar packaging, higher pricing, and no age statement.  Is this whisky 12 years old – or even older – as one might reasonably be led to assume?  I think not.

This example and others like it I believe are lies of omission, occurring when an important fact (and we know that age is undisputedly important) is deliberately withheld, or not made explicit, in order to perpetuate deception.   Despite the obvious moral dubiousness these lies have become common practice.  There’s a glimmer of hope though that this may soon change.

Last year the new Consumer Protection Act came into effect.  Here’s a little snippet:

False, misleading or deceptive representations

41. (1) In relation to the marketing of any goods or services, the supplier must not, by words or conduct—

(a) directly or indirectly express or imply a false, misleading or deceptive representation concerning a material fact to a consumer;

 (b) use exaggeration, innuendo or ambiguity as to a material fact, or fail to disclose a material fact if that failure amounts to a deception; or

(c) fail to correct an apparent misapprehension on the part of a consumer, amounting to a false, misleading or deceptive representation,

I don’t lay claim to any striking legal insight, but it seems clear to me that were a challenge to be made this piece of legislation could terminate the existence of the NAS whisky in South Africa.  The veil would be lifted and we would be able to appreciate the real Double Black, ostensibly at a reduced price.  Law aside, isn’t it just basic ethics that all material elements to a transaction be disclosed?

Perhaps I’m being optimistic.  This is an entrenched agenda which will take some shifting.  Nonetheless it’s encouraging to hear industry voices seemingly supporting this position, whether out of self-interest or not.  Christian Porta, head of Chivas Brothers, was quoted as follows: “In an age when consumers of luxury goods increasingly demand transparency and authenticity from brands, it is vital that we empower consumers with knowledge so that they fully understand the value of what they are buying.”  Mr Porta, I salute you; you renew my faith.  May the dram be with you!

In humble worship of the holy trinity

Expect an epiphany when delving into the mysteries of the “Big Three”

First published in Prestige Magazine (March 2012 edition)

As it appeared

In my lapsed Catholic psyche the drinking of whisky can at times best be regarded as a religious experience.  I reckon you’d have to delve back some two millennia, when Jesus turned water into wine, to find a more apparent divine hand in the creation of a beverage.  There’s good reason why it’s known as the ‘golden nectar of the gods’.    Whisky too, like the religion of its progenitors, has a trinity:  Scotch, Irish and American – the big three of the whisky world, prominent in all places of worship.  As a novice drinker I was as mystified by this spirituous threesome as I had been by their spiritual counterparts.  Beyond the obvious, what was the difference?  Familiarity might breed contempt, but in this particular case I had anticipated delight instead, and I wasn’t to be disappointed.  Let’s take a short-cut through the catechism.

“In the beginning was the malt, and the malt was with barley, and the malt was barley” Anon.  Whisky by convention, and in many cases by law, is defined as a spirit distilled from cereal grains, the most reputed and famous of which is malted barley.  Whilst there are of course many other points of difference, it is this, the grain from which it is made, that on a basic level most clearly distinguishes one denomination of whisky from another.

Single malt, the high priest of Scotch, is made from malted barley which is often peated i.e. dried over a peat fire rather than a coal fire as would be the case with an unpeated malt.  The influence of the peat is evident in a smoky flavour, of which Islay whiskies are striking examples.  Whilst Scotch is not exclusively smoky (by any means), and whilst smoke is not exclusively Scotch, it is a broadly identifying feature, its bindi if you will.  There is a cult of Scotch whisky fans so devoted to this peated style that they have become known as ‘Peat Freaks’.  Sound appealing?  You’d do well then to try the most heavily peated whiskies on the market, said to be Bruichladdich (pronounced Brook-laddie) Octomore and Ardbeg’s aptly named Supernova.

The Irish too have a tradition of single malt, although theirs are most commonly unpeated.  However, their most emphatic prophet, whose rich, sweet and spicy flavours are converting untold numbers to the faith, is the single pot still, made from a recipe of predominantly unmalted barley.  This is the master component in the Jameson blend, Ireland’s most prolific whiskey by some distance.  The Midleton Distillery, producer of Jameson and currently the only exponent of this style, has just released the Midleton Barry Crocket Legacy, which at some €170 (≈R1770) a pop is the most premium single pot still available today.  I was lucky enough to taste this splendid whiskey late last year, and whilst I’m tempted to tell you more, it would be akin to speaking in tongues such is my gushing, uncontrollable admiration.

American whiskeys (and Canadian whiskies), of which Bourbon is probably the best known, generally have softer, sweeter, buttery flavours, a product of the largely corn based recipes (with rye in the minority adding a spicy kick).  Notably American whiskies are also somewhat fundamentalist.  They’re distinct from each other and from other whiskies not only by grain but also by age and by maturation.  An American whiskey must have been aged for a minimum of two years to be called a straight whiskey, and maturation of straight and other legislatively “named” whiskies must take place in virgin oak.  Iconic examples include Jack Daniels, a specialized Bourbon-style known as Tennessee whiskey, and Jim Beam, but those who’ve concluded their rites may prefer more complex and sophisticated options such as the highly-acclaimed George T. Stagg, or Parker’s Heritage Collection Bourbons.

Each region has endured its reformation and travelled its own path, but it’s worth giving some consideration to the similarities as well as the differences.  That only 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 unifying wonderment no matter what your sectarian persuasions.  In the worship of whisky, each mass, wherever it may be held, is an enriching prospect.  May the dram be with you!

New whiskies from the mouth of the river

An Islay whisky made from unpeated malt?   In the context of single malt whisky this is a stroke of positioning genius.  The whisky is Bunnahabhain of course, and it has been as intrinsically and intelligently set apart as could be imagined.   I don’t know whether this orchestration was deliberate or a fluke of circumstance, but as a student of marketing I find it quite beautiful to behold.  It would come as no surprise then if I were to reveal that I have always had a predisposed affinity for Bunna.  I sought it out since I first became aware of it, and I quickly came to the conclusion that it was damned good.  Now, much to the delight of all Bunna fans, it has ostensibly become even better.  Last week, at an elegant lunch held at Five Flies restaurant, the brand officially launched its new range of unchillfiltered whiskies in South Africa.

Picture perfect setting

A point of order quickly:  Bunnahabhain is pronounced Bũnna-ha-venn.   You might well have known that the gaelic bh is a phonetic v, but were you aware of the nasal u?  I wasn’t.  You live you learn, and if you can do the learning whilst eating good food and sipping great whisky…well that’s just a bonus.

Bunna chow!

It’s been my impression that whisky events have increasingly tended to be diluted by all sorts of distractions.   It’s understandable – there’s a lot of competition for people’s short attention spans – but it can all become a bit tiresome at times.  This particular function was a refreshing return to the basics, played out with gravitas.  The focus was kept firmly where it should be – on the whiskies, no gimmickry required.  We were hosted by Brian Glass and Pierre Meintjes:  two of the most experienced whisky men in the country, boasting between them some 75 years in the business.  Pierre is in fact known as “Mr. Whisky” in local circles so we could not have hoped for a more credible and authoritative presenter to conduct our tasting.  If you’re South African and interested in whisky you’d do well to attend one of Pierre’s events and partake of of his abundant knowledge.

Pierre holding court

Despite my enthusiasm for this whisky, the realities of my personal budgetary environment meant that I had only been acquainted with the previous chillfiltered 12YO, so it was a real treat to get to taste both the new version, as well as the rest of the amplified core range.   I found the 12 and 18 YO’s to be similar, with flavours typical of a sherry cask influence.  Bunnahabhain has actually taken the unusual initiative of disclosing its cask profiles – the 12YO is made from 25% sherry cask whisky, and 75% bourbon cask whisky, the 18YO has a 40:60 split, and the 25YO sits at 10:90 – and I applaud them for it.  Their transparency in this regard shows the respect that they have for their consumers.  Would that this practice were more prevalent amongst other distilleries and bottlers.   Anyhow, whilst the two variants are similar, the 12YO is a more restrained.  The 18YO is sweeter and woodier with a little bit of salt evident, as one might expect given its specification, its age, and the location of the maturation warehouses (abutting the ocean).  Interestingly Pierre mentioned that it was developed as an ideal whisky to accompany a cigar.  I have a Partegas hibernating somewhere, so I’m dead keen to put their efforts the test (budget permitting).  The 25YO was distinctly different: creamy, rich, caramelized, and exceptionally well balanced.  I enjoyed it tremendously but at R2k odd a pop I don’t expect it to be crossing my lips again anytime soon (budget definitely won’t be permitting).

The new range

I’ve lingered about dispensing pleasantries, and sincerely so, but in the process I’ve been skirting around the meat of the matter.  The launch was an uncomplicated affair – a judicious introduction to the reincarnation of a range of superb whiskies from an iconic distillery – so I felt it deserved an uncomplicated retelling.  The elephant in the room is chillfiltration, and it’s a messy beast of a thing.  Given the premise for this launch it can’t be avoided, but it can be postponed.  I’ll leave you for the moment with my pleasant memories of an excellent lunch, enjoyed with some excellent people, accompanied by some excellent whiskies.  If you have the appetite join me next time as I wade into some muddy, or should I say hazy, waters.

The whisky fraternity

Photos courtesy of Bunnahabhain and Nico Gründlingh at Image Solutions.