North of Scotland 37 Year Old 1972 – The Clan Denny (Douglas Laing)

North of Scotland is one of the closed distilleries, and has been that way since 1980. There doesn’t seem to be much online about it, other than the fact that it possessed the mysterious Coffey stills, and that it also concentrated on single grain whisky. With so little to say about it, onto the tasting.

Colour: sunset, light honey – not all that dark considering it’s been sat in a barrel for 37 years. On the nose: right off the bat, there’s an incredible sweet, thick molasses, with an amazing depth. Hang in there a little longer and you get delightful woody notes.

In the mouth: wave after wave of sugar, all the kinds you can name, but especially muscavodo. Hints of vanilla and repeatedly that wonderful, complex sweetness; yet, at the of it all there is a tang of brine and oak. Perfect weight. Swirl it around and there’s a hint of fire, like the glowing embers at the end of a long, dark night. Single grain whisky is, I’m starting to think, wonderful whisky indeed, with a unique flavour.

The North of Scotland 37 Year Old is up there with the finest I’ve tasted. It really does bring to mind the Nikka 1995 Single Cask Coffey Grain whisky, which I’m a big fan of, and which was produced in a very similar way: single grain through a Coffey still.

In fact, at first I thought the chaps at Master of Malt, where I bought the sample, got them mixed up! But it was only when I started digging around the distillery that I found out they were both very similar in their production methods.

The North of Scotland distillery hasn’t been around for 31 years. There’s something nice about being able to taste whisky that’s way older than I am and from a distillery that’s a distant memory – it feels like a part of the nation’s heritage, or at the very least, something incredibly rare. And there’s something rather pleasing about that. You won’t find this in a Weatherspoon pub, let’s put it that way.

Sazerac Straight Rye 18 Year Old Whiskey (Fall 2011)

I don’t get to drink too much bourbon or rye whiskey. Most of the stuff you get in supermarkets is terrible; it suggests to me that it’s only good for being poured out of the barrels so that the barrels can be shipped to Scotland and used to store single malt whisky. I tried Wild Turkey last, and it was an immensely foul substance, reinforcing my prejudices. I know there’s some good stuff out there, and I’m keen on exploring rye a little further, so tried a sample of the Sazerac Straight Rye 18 Year Old Whiskey, which comes from Buffalo Trace’s Antique Collection. Previous incarnations of this bottle (2008) have been celebrated in the Jim Murray Whisky Bible. Would the 2011 bottle have the chops to satisfy?

Colour: so deep crimson for a whiskey, it’s like like a battered old Chesterfield sofa (somewhere between the brown and red types). On the nose: sweet as hell: rich, beyond dried fruits to the point of smelling like cherryade; beyond that and you can get a little of the typical vanilla showing (though merging with molasses); touch of mint, touch of fire. It’s a really long nose.

In the mouth: nowhere near as sweet as I was expecting at first, but there’s a really impressive sensation, dry but heavy, like a bold red wine. A really grainy bitterness, like the tannins, and – if I’m honest – the oak can seem a little over-powering at first. Floral. Earthy. Heavily spiced, cinnamon and nutmeg. Not as much going on inside as I’d hoped from a whiskey with such a good reputation. The finish goes on nicely, and is pleasantly warming and mouthwatering.

A bottle of this is pricey, around £100 (hence the reason I tried a sample). It’s a good whiskey. It’s enough to convince me of the good rye out there, but I can’t see this in the same class as some of the whiskies I’ve tasted this year. It just lacks soul.

Old Pulteney 12 Year Old

It’s a long way to Wick, tucked up in the far corner of the Highlands. But up there is the Old Pulteney distillery, currently producers of one of the world’s finest Single Malt Whiskies according to Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible 2012 (no serious whisky drinker should be without one). However, it was the entry level bottling, the 12 Year Old, that caught my eye since it was on offer – and who am I to refuse cheap whisky from a good distillery? Besides, it had been a while since I’d tasted something from Old Pulteney.

To the whisky itself then. Colour: ale-like, amber with a red tint. On the nose: very sweet, vanilla, sherry, orange peel, descending into dried fruits, sultanas, raisins, but all very gentle. Delicate malt flavourings. Nice coastal tang. Quite promising.

In the mouth: light, nippy, sweet, zesty, briny, good note of barley, but generally in and out pretty quickly. It’s very light with not much body to it, not much of a good mouth feel. I was hanging around for the finish, but I think it finished without me.

Later impressions: there’s complexity there, waiting to get out, but it seems to be muted for whatever reason.

All in all, it was a bit average, but I can’t complain too much, since it was on offer for around £20 – and certainly worth it at that price. I am, however, rather keen on sampling their 21 Year Old single malt, since that’s the one everyone’s talking about.

Bunnahabhain Darach Ur – Batch 6

I have a soft spot for the Bunnahabhain distillery (pronounced: Boona-Har-Vin). My first proper dram, when I was 17 years old and on holiday in Scotland, was a Bunnahabhain (yes, I know that was underage, but when you’re out in the middle of nowhere I’m certain whisky is a health benefit or something). I remember it being ‘very smooth’ such was the limit of my taste buds back then. However, 13 years later and I’ve not been impressed by the core bottling Bunnahabhain 12 Year Old.

Perhaps this sense of nostalgia caught up with me, as I was going on holiday again, so I decided to give their Darach Ur a go. It sounded very interesting: Darach Ur means ‘new oak’ in Gaelic, and it had been matured in virgin American oak casks (not something that has previously contained bourbon or sherry, as is the case with many whiskies). This, then, was a Bunnahabhain experiment, and I do enjoy whisky experiments.

Colour: heather honey, golden syrup. On the nose: massive punch of sultanas or raisins. Hint of vanilla. Lovely creamy notes, gentle salt, mulled wine.

In the mouth: lovely, velvety, sweetness of the dried fruits which balances very well with the bitterness of the malted barley. This is something ‘very smooth’ indeed (I’m channelling my 17-year-old self, but it genuinely is) and mouth-watering. Touch of oak, but not overwhelming. Nothing outrageously complex, but a marvellous, thick, treacly finish that ends on a bittersweet note with Turkish Delight.

There’s plenty going on here, and it’s a great dram. An earlier batch of Bunnahabhain Darach Ur scored very highly in Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible. I wonder if Bunnahabhain Darach Ur – Batch 6 will be available as a mainstream release? Currently, I think it’s only available in travel retail at around thirty-something pounds (no tax!) and bottled at 46.3%. I picked this up at the marvellous World of Whiskies at Heathrow. Speaking of which, behold their cabinet of magnificence (not to mention expense – some of these were worth thousands):

Bruichladdich Islay Barley 2004 – Kentraw Farm Foreland

Terroir. Stella Artois, Blossom Hill or Famous Grouse drinkers need not read on.

Terroir is from the French, terre: “land”. Specifically in terms of drink-making, people talk of terroir: how the environment, weather, land, and so on, all shapes the particular product that you consume. Regions bring different expressions to the wine grape, and therefore wine; so why not whisky?

Why not, indeed. So the experimental folk at Bruichladdich took it upon themselves to distil a whisky where the barley comes from one farm, and one farm only (Kentraw Farm – one mile from the distillery); and where the entire production process takes place on one island. This is the first time this has been done for many years – of course, it used to be like this hundreds of years ago, but what you drank was possibly more ropey. Contrast this with most modern whisky production, which hauls in barley (and other grain) in from hundreds of miles away, stores the barrels in a variety of places, all under the direction of a huge corporation, and you start to really appreciate what Bruichladdich are doing. (Especially so when you realise the impacts of such local-thinking on an island economy.)

The final whisky is called Bruichladdich Islay Barley 2004 – Kentraw Farm Foreland, bottled at 50%.

Colour: pale straw, very light indeed. Quite a young beastie, only being seven years old, so hasn’t been sitting in the wood for long. On the nose: thick, intense barley. A waft of baking pastry. A few herbal and earthy notes. Green tea. Clotted cream. A little citrus.

In the mouth: the malted barley is incredibly prominent, and with a pleasant peppery tang to it. Gentle. Thick. Smooth. A touch of oak and vanilla. Not much on the finish, but that’s okay, because it is very mouth-watering and warming. Very similar to The Organic, in my opinion: it’s not remarkably complex (that doesn’t seem to be the point here), but for a young whisky there’s a lot going on; there’s something very precise yet again, very considered and very pure.

This is a pure shrine to local barley; a worthy experiment, a wonderful experience. A very good whisky. A bottle will set you back £36.

Nikka 1995 Single Cask Coffey Grain

Time for something different: single grain whisky, which is made from grains other than just barley (which is used for standard single malt) and distilled in column stills (the sort of thing used for bourbon). It seemed a little unusual, and life is all about the exploration of unusual things, right? Nikka are a fine distillery, and I was very much impressed by their Nikka From The Barrel (which went down a storm at the SFX Weekender).

Colour: somewhere between gold and amber, a touch syrupy. Seems to darken every time I hold it close, but when up to the light it goes pale again. Nose: strong oak. Once you get past the alcohol, there’s an incredibly rich and briny molasses. Very unusual. Very strong.

In the mouth: Whoomp! There it is.

It’s thick, really thick. Heavy in the mouth. You’re disarmed by the strength and flavour at first, but then there’s even more going on after that. Unique. Incredible. Stacks of flavour: sweetness, vanilla, oak, barley – standard stuff for a whisky, sure – but then a syrupy coffee, bitter dark chocolate, rum truffle, sweet, sour, beyond balanced… what’s the point in describing this? It’s immense. So much going on within one dram. It’s one of the finest whisky drinking experiences you’ll ever have, seriously.

I can’t track down many bottles online (you’d be looking to pay upwards of £150). However, you can buy 30cl samples from Master of Malt, which is what I did.

Though, the sensation is a bit like having a one-night affair with Scarlett Johansson and waking up with a goodbye note on your pillow. A weaker whisky drinker might never be the same again.

This is quite simply one of the best whiskies I’ve ever tasted. For the love of god, I need to find a reasonably priced bottle.

Hakushu Heavily Peated Single Malt Whisky

The Japanese make a mean single malt whisky, as I’ve said many times before. This is my first taste of whisky from the Hakushu distillery, which is located deep in the forests of the Southern Japan Alps.

Being a fan of peated whiskies, but not having tried one from Japan, I opted for the Hakushu Heavily Peated.

The colour is a reasonably light amber, perhaps straw. On the nose: a surprisingly gentle smokiness and not the full whack you’d expect; there’s a distinct sweetness, mixed with briny notes. A touch of sour cream, too.

In the mouth: boom there’s the smoke, but an incredible balanced sweetness to go with it. What a lovely, chewy, peppery, mouth-watering sensation. So much so that the peat is quite understated and bound up with the whisky. It doesn’t hang about in the mouth too long (possibly a fairly young whisky all in all – not that it’s a bad thing), but there’s a wonderful sugar-coated barley aftertaste. This is remarkably well constructed, a masterclass in balancing whisky.

For some reason, I can’t help but think this would be the perfect winter whisky. It’ll set you back around £65 – pricy for most, perhaps, but the evenings are drawing nearer, so you could treat yourself… I’ve really not been let down by any Japanese single malt I’ve tried to date.

To finish, it’s worth adding that the Hakushu distillery is owned by Suntory, so it merits a final word from Bill Murray:

Bruichladdich 10 Year Old

Ten years ago, the gates of Bruichladdich distillery opened and they began distilling once again. It was a new venture, financed on a small-scale, and it saved the distillery from permanent closure. The new owners were an independent team, too – not financed by the mega-corporations that dominate the whisky industry like a ‘cartel‘.

This new team wanted to focus completely on the single malt exactly how they wanted, with no crude marketing gimmicks and pictures of glens (hence the wonderfully designed labels). They poached a master distiller from Bowmore, another nearby Islay distillery, and commenced experimenting in what seems a refreshingly honest and authentic manner (their work ethic alone is to be celebrated). The 10 Year Old is the product of their first wave of gruelling efforts – a landmark whisky in the new era at Bruichladdich, based on newly distilled barley and not previous stocks.

But is it any good?

Colour: a real rich honey, darker than you think at first. On the nose: very aromatic, sweet and briny. Floral. Herbs with a touch of citrus. A waft of icing, but that doesn’t last long.

In the mouth: it’s a bold whisky, with lots going on here. Very peppery. Warming, like a mulled wine, but with a chewy, dried fruit sweetness to it. Dry, a little light on the tongue. Not the big heavy mouth feel of one or two of the other Bruichladdich offerings (such as The Organic or the First Growth Château Margaux – a particular favourite). Honey and green tea leads you out to a long, coastal and warming finish – the sort of pleasant feeling you get with peat, but this is unpeated. Perhaps with a touch of dark chocolate, especially when you sniff the glass again. It’s brash, almost cocky, yet mature.

It’s safe to say the first ten years at Bruichladdich have been a roaring success. This is more complicated than many of the others in the range, though not quite my favourite (they make a lot of very good whisky). An excellent introduction to the distillery, this is bottled at 46% and will set you back around £35.

Bruichladdich 17 Year Old Rum Cask

I’ve rambled on about the Bruichladdich distillery many times before. I consider myself fully signed up to whatever they produce, as more often than not you’re going to get something unusual.

They’re by far the most interesting distillery in the world, let alone Islay, both in what they produce (trying lots of different finishes and so on), as well as their progressive attitude. There are few marketing gimmicks around those guys: no twee pictures of glens, no claims that age always makes a better single malt (it doesn’t always, ignore the age statements). So, this weekend I acquired a bottle of their experimental 17 Year Old Rum Cask from the local whisky shop in Nottingham, to expand my Bruichladdich collection.

Colour: pale gold, autumn sunlight. Surprisingly light for something that’s been sitting in wood for 17 years. On the nose: it’s pretty unusual for a whisky. Tropical notes above the malted barley, fruity – mango, blood orange, the waft of some Caribbean cocktail by the beach.

In the mouth: I don’t know how Bruichladdich consistently get this wonderful, full, velvety mouth feel, but it’s here again. Delightful balance between the gentle flavours of the cask (oak and, of course, rum) and the headiness of the malted barley, but this isn’t something as heavily sweet as a sherry finish; there’s a wonderful dry edge, not dissimilar to a good red wine. Everything about the flavours is subtle and mellow; the grape-like fruits, the interaction with the barely. The finish is exclusively an encore from the barley.

I tell you what though: most definitely an everyday dram for the summer, something I didn’t think I’d find. Most whiskies, especially the peaty ones, generally make you want to curl up by a wood burning stove while you stare out the windows at a roaring gale, but this is a different dram entirely.

All in all, another fascinating and successful experiment from the guys at Bruichladdich. A bottle of this will set you back about £60.

While we’re on the subject of whisky, my latest blog is up at the Huffington Post – Matching Books with Whisky. It was only a matter of time really…

Bruichladdich Peat & Waves

These were two small samples taken from a Bruichladdich tasting set, which in general is a great way to test a wide variety of whiskies, and not get in debt or become an alcoholic.

Bruichladdich Peat

Colour: light honey, barley in the sun.

On the nose: heavily peated, the smoke comes rushing on (you can smell it with the glass at arm’s length). Closer up, there’s something a lot sweeter – it isn’t as smokey as you think. Sometimes the smoke seems to vanish altogether, and you’re left with fruitiness, bold sultanas or grapes. Note of honey. Strangely yet beautifully layered.

One the mouth: what a lovely balance between sweetness and smoke. For a youngish whisky, there’s so much going on. Fruits again, strong notes of vanilla, rum, malt. Briny notes. Not particularly weighty in the mouth, but still holds nicely. Better than whiskies three times its age. This is marvellous stuff.

If you are an aficionado of peat whisky, this should definitely be on your list. Available for around £35.

Bruichladdich Waves

Colour: light oak, honey. On the nose: a very zippy, fresh note of sweet malt, strong sherry. Seaside notes. In the mouth. Lively again, all the same experiences, not too complex but layered enough. Strong malt again, some oak perhaps, a little waft of smoke, but deliciously sweet. A sugar-coated beach pebble. Really lingering, with a warm peppery finish.

Again, this shows that age statements really do have nothing to do with quality and is simply marketing rubbish. If there is a Bruichladdich misstep, I’ve yet to find it. A bottle of this will set you back £30. Both outstanding single malts.

Clynelish 1992 / 17 Year Old & Brora 30 Year Old

Two more whiskies from a Highland tasting set, from Master of Malt.

First up, Clynelish 1992 / 17 Year Old / Un-Chillfiltered.

Colour: remarkably pale for an older whisky, paler than straw. Makes you wonder if the casks had been reused a few times over. That said, there’s still a strong aroma of vanilla on the nose, a little fruit, but not a huge amount going on. In the mouth this really comes alive: superb mouth feel, heavy, oily, chewy with incredibly strong malt flavouring. There’s also a kind of vague, aubergine pesto note (that’s the closest that comes to mind) with a not-unpleasant metallic tang. Then a long aftertaste of warm, gentle spices. Impressive. It doesn’t seem to be widely available any more (this tasting was from a sample), but it would have been around the £40 mark, I think. Either way, I’ll be certain to look up more from the Clynelish distillery.

Brora 30 Year Old (2009 Release).

Colour: Pale gold, barley. On the nose: a lovely briney sweetness. It’s bottled at cask strength, 53.2%, so I didn’t leave my nose in too long.

In the mouth: all sorts of things going on. A wave of strong malt, touch of smoke, deceptively light on the mouth. Thin, elegant, coastal tang, distant sweetness, almost out of touch at first. A very spicy finish, a lingering buttery note. Yet, it didn’t seem to have much soul.

You don’t want to know how much a bottle of this costs (okay, around £250). Thank goodness it was only a sample. While still pleasant, certainly not remarkable – you can find much better Bruichladdichs or Ardbegs for a fraction of the price.

One for the Brora fans, probably…