Growing Up... Kilchoman 100% Islay

I came to a strange realisation recently that I had crossed 'the line'. I was entering the grey and dangerous world of adulthood, I was growing up. Computer games hold little charm, I find certain comedy routines to be tired and unoriginal, and I struggle to see the point of Quentin Tarantino. Then I thought about it, was I becoming more and more immature? I can't deny that I enjoy animated kids films, the Incredibles and Toy Story are undeniably movie greats, and I did spontaneously buy a Lego set when walking around Canary Wharf the other day. Then it dawned on me, growing up isn't about rejecting the spontaneity and vibrancy of youth and it isn't about becoming entrenched, reactionary and right-wing. It is the selection of the best of both worlds through the well polished lens of experience (i.e. Lego is fun, Tarantino is overrated). We make decisions based on our experiences to maximise our overall pleasure (apologies for the Utilitarianism), ergo growing up should be about maximising pleasure... probably.

When thinking about growing up. It dawned on me that I used to almost exclusively drink heavily peated whiskies but more and more I shy away from them. Although I still enjoy peaty beasts I rarely seek them out. Today I tried a peated whisky that was so satisfyingly peaty that it brought me back to those early years drinking Islay whiskies as if they were an antidote to the Lowland and Speyside whiskies I was trying to get my head round. The whisky was the latest release from the guys at Kilchoman, the 100% Islay bottling. The concept being that the whisky is entirely produced on the Island from the barley to the bottling, and it demonstrates excellent interaction with the peat. This is a whisky that, like me, is growing up.

Kilchoman 100% Islay
50% - No Age Statement
Nose: Mounds of hay smoke, soft and warming with gentle iodine notes. Underneath there is the suggestion of mascerated red fruit and a hint of citrus.
Palate: Warm smoky charcoal, a grassy quality I associate with Kilchoman and a meaty mouth-coatingly oily texture.
Finish: Slow but builds into a campfire in your stomach with autumnal fruits following.
Overall: Exceptional balance, there is plenty of Islay peat here. It is a central flavour but it doesn't exceed its limits at any point. Another example of how great this distillery is and how brilliant it will continue to be.

The PC8 - The Gorgonzola of the Whisky World

Sometimes I say, think, raise attention to, something only I can see. No matter how much I insist and argue other people adamantly disagree with me and tell me I am uttering utter heresy for even daring to make such observations. I like to think I am a twenty-first century Galileo but in truth I am most likely just misguided. However it is very difficult to let such things go because they always stay imprisoned in my head waiting for somebody else to realise the truth behind my revelations.

Recently I ran a peated whisky tasting and I concluded the night with the peat troll that is Bruichladdich's PC8. I made a claim that aside from the intense peatreek there was a very real stink of cheese about it. This resulted in sneers and jibes as my tasting notes were ridiculed and thrown to the lions. I should say my audience were actually very pleasant and enthusiastic and were wholly polite in their calm and measured destruction of my final tasting note. Yet no matter how much I insisted no-one agreed with me. Maybe I should treat this as a lesson and learn to understand my nose can be wrong, or... I could stubbornly put my notes up here.

Port Charlotte PC8
60.5% - 8 Years Old - Bottled by Bruichladdich
Nose: Reams of thick peat rising like a noxious fug off the surface of the whisky with gargantuan notes of gorgonzola and smoked cheddar creating an earthy cheesy quality with later notes of sawdust.
Palate: Thick peat again followed by burnt sugar and caramel lending this dram a sweet undertone.
Finish: Peaty with a chemical solution of chlorine and salt. Shorter than I expected but powerful.
Overall: Well I get cheese even if no-one else does. This is truly a peat-ridden whisky to satisfy even the most hardcore of peatfreaks. My only criticisms would be the finish could have endured longer and there was an overall lack of complexity. Still, smoked cheese anyone?

Lake Placid... The Ardbeg Alligator

"Row row row your boat gently down the stream, if you see an Islay-gator don't forget to scream. Arghh!"

This is how I remember the nursery rhyme going... I think. Today's review has no unnecessary story precluding the stuff about the whisky. The Alligator is a story in itself. The basic background information you need to know is that Ardbeg charred ex-Bourbon casks to the maximum, leaving an alligator skin-like effect on the inside of the barrels and the result is a massive, hold that thought... MASSIVE whisky. To put that into context; aside from my good self I have seen two other people sample the Alligator, all three of us took a sip and went "Oh!?" Followed swiftly by, "Arghh!" as the finish took hold. The Alligator is aptly named: The nose is massive and meaty although softer than I expected leading me into a false sense of security, the palate took me by surprise, then the finish pulled me under the surface to a dark demise.

For me the Alligator has a sentimental value. It is the first whisky I have waited anxiously for and it was reading blogs about it months ago that inspired me to begin the one you are reading currently. Needless to say I was excited to finally get hold of this snappy (pun intended) whisky. Besides my sentimentality I was also excited to battle this Alligator because if there is one thing I like about whisky it is experimentation, so to try a whisky from an experiment that aggressively chars casks was always going to be a winner for me. But enough of this tittle-tattle; the whisky... [cue Jaws theme tune]

Ardbeg Alligator
51.2% - No Age Statement
Nose: A marshmallow smokiness I associate with Ardbeg quickly muscled out of the way by pounds of smoked bacon. As the dram opens up vanilla, bubble gum and soft fruits emerge with a smell I associate with sandy beaches. Finally a charcoal element crowds in reminding us of this reptile's Islay heritage.
Palate: Very rich with a snap of lollipop fruitiness, creamy with with white chocolate mixed in. Throughout all of this peat lurks in the background, stalking its prey...
Finish: Arghh! This is where the Alligator keeps its teeth, massive chimneys of smoke, an earthy quality that crashes in waves and remains for a very very long time. I woke up 6 hours later still tasting peat smoke.
Overall: A whisky to dwarf all whiskies. I don't remember the Supernova being this punchy, although like the Supernova the Alligator has perfect balance and an incredibly long finish. A big meaty barbecue of a dram. Now to watch some Crocodile Dundee!

English Summer Rain - Snow Grouse

Our rather wet summer holiday
in the British Isles

There is something quintessentially British about commenting on the weather. It permeates all conversation. You can be discussing the ins and outs of post-modern thought and still get round to that awfully horrid twenty minutes of rain last Tuesday. Furthermore it is profoundly British to complain about the weather during the summer. We could have weeks of sunshine but it will be the downpour at the end that we remember. Unfortunately, I remember the good weather all too well. In fact I have a very accurate memory of sitting at work listening to the air conditioning stuttering to a wheezing halt as the task of cooling a room reaching solar temperatures became all too much for it as it had the temperature control equivalent of a cardiac arrest. As I sat there mopping a torrent of sweat from my scalding brow, I craved everything from water to an ice bath, and had I been aware of it, I would probably have begged for a chilled whisky. Except I know better and know that outside of a cocktail that would never work. Famous Grouse, of course, disagree. They have produced what they have, very originally, christened the Snow Grouse. The concept is a grain whisky that you chill before you serve. Despite being all too aware of the novelty value that this whisky would of course have, I was very cautious. Nevertheless I had to try it and wasn't completely disappointed. It offered a very spirity drink that was refreshing but I thought could have offered more. I would like to have seen some extreme louche effect from non-chill filtration and some more complexity and, although I think that it offered a new approach to whisky, I just feel that if Compass Box had done it I would be much more impressed.

Snow Grouse
40% - No Age Statement - Bottled by Famous Grouse
Nose: Medicinal here with notes of wet paint. I also got the TCP I never get but everyone else does from Laphroaig. Finally this smelled more of vodka than whisky.
Palate: Very creamy with a solvent edge.
Finish: Creamy again with sultanas and bananas.
Overall: A novelty most definitely but fun for it. Interesting but I wouldn't buy a bottle. Goes well with scones surprisingly.

The Lost Distilleries Chapter 1: Brora

Rarity comes in many forms: Anne Widdecombe’s sex appeal, the skeletons still in Ryan Giggs' closet and Boris Johnson’s self-awareness. Rarity in whisky is often synonymous with collecting, a divisive trait among whisky lovers. To collect or to taste, that is the question? The compromise of course is both but - alas, few of us can afford such a luxury. My approach has been to collect tastings. I try to add as many new whiskies to my collection of tasting notes and this way at least I don't have to invest in a cellar. Even better for me is that there are more whiskies than I could possibly taste. The Benriachs, Longmorns and Tullibardines still elude me, as do many others. Hence it has become my noble quest to taste as much of the whisky that this planet can provide for me. However, I couldn't just set about this quest, this mission, this journey without adequate preparation and planning. There have to be priorities. Some whiskies knocking around today may not be in ten, fifteen, twenty years and at least if they are, they are going to be rather pricey and probably locked and bolted in someone's vault. Although I am sure I am capable of an Ocean's 11-style heist to free such whiskies from the dastardly collectors, I have neither the will nor the want.

Brora Distillery

So my priorities are the whiskies of the Lost Distilleries. These distilleries fall into a tragic chapter of the Scottish whisky saga. In the eighties thanks to the damn economy (déjà vu anyone?), many distilleries had to be closed. The reason was often because the distillery didn't contribute to a major blend or didn't have the tourist appeal of another (Rosebank being a good example here). So this led to perfectly good or dare I say it perfect whisky falling out of production. Port Ellen, Rosebank and Brora are just a few examples of these. Of course 30 years down the line, some of the better whiskies have aged rather nicely and have become very popular indeed, hence their rarity. Brora is the one that became my initial target, as I had already tasted Port Ellen thanks to my girlfriend's vain fixation with her namesake. Then came the day that I had the opportunity to help host a fine and rare tasting, and top of the list was Brora - and I would not be disappointed.

Brora 30 Year Old
54.3% - Bottled 2010 - Distillery Release
Nose: Tobacco and chlorine intermingle first with light peat following. Caramel and treacle then take to the stage with phenol dancing in the background. Next raspberry and fruit compote enter stage left with an encore of nettle.
Palate: The smoky embers of a beach-side fire provides structure whilst there are layers of flavour including white pepper, roasted peaches held together with a slight acidity.
Finish: Soft and creamy with dry sherry wood and peach. The finish continues in waves, softness then fruit comfit recurring.
Overall: An enthusiast’s malt, complex and intriguing. Rare and collectable it may be, but this is a whisky for drinking. Now where are the dregs of that bottle?

Less is More? Ardbeg Blasda

I’ve been known to have a certain scepticism of the phrase ‘less is more’. It seems somewhat contradictory, an oxymoron of epic proportions. How can less of something good be better than a larger serving? I know it’s somewhat greedy and selfishly gluttonous of me to be drawn towards bigger rather than smaller portions. Perhaps, I should blame the consumerist nature of the Western world for my egotistical cravings for the extra and the additional. Maybe, I should adopt the more chaste life of a hermit, immersing myself in meditation and a strict diet of grubs and carrot juice? Of course, this being a whisky blog, it took a whisky to show me the way.

This whisky was the Ardbeg Blasda. Having been brought up drinking big smoky whiskies from a moderately young age courtesy of my dad. I’ve always had trouble with most Speyside and Lowland whiskies. So when I read that the Blasda was a less peated Ardbeg (only 8ppm) I was nervous. Like most whisky fanatics I have enormous respect for all of Ardbeg’s output, but the idea of a lighter dusting of peat made me a little nervous, and if I’m honest, a little ill. However, after getting my hands on a bottle I was taught a very important lesson. Less can be more. No longer would I be piling my plate to the ceiling at buffets, no longer would I be cranking my stereo up to eleven and no longer would I judge the quality of a whisky on it’s ppm value alone. For I had been shown the way.

Ardbeg Blasda
40% - No Age Statement
Nose: Apple arrives first with a robust organic smell of bark and floral heather to match. Then comes the cherry lending another fruity dimension to an already full aroma. Finally chocolate éclairs pull up to have a sweet affair with the Blasda’s, finely balanced, lightly peated quality.
Palate: Willow smoke is instantly present with subtle fruits and vanilla. A herbal presence works with the fruit to create a flavour reminiscent of Refresher sweets.
Finish: Vanilla concludes this dram, as it slips calmly down, and slowly falls asleep.
Overall: A real lesson in the virtues of lightly peating a whisky. The Blasda is beautifully pale in colour but retains so much flavour. Ardbeg, as ever, have hit the spot.