Hammer of the Gods - Highland Park Thor

Against the mountainous backdrop, behind the din of thunder and curtain of lightning, stands a figure. At first it is hard to discern whether it is man or beast, but a red beard grizzled with blood, and a stoic stature of a warrior mark this being human if in form only. The wind howls and the storm rages as this giant begins to swing a mighty warhammer about his ironclad head, laughing with a mania that strikes fear in even the most veteran of soldiers. He slowly advances, each footfall carefully planted, centre of gravity low. Then as the hammer reaches the apex of its whirl, it pauses in suspended animation as lightning forks around it, before it comes crashing towards you. Hammer-time. You have just met Thor.

Zeus, Poseidon, Jupiter, Mars, Anubis, Osiris are all deitic names that conjure up instant images of godly figures. The branding of these gods is so proficient that even after hundreds, if not thousands, of years after the demise of the societies that spawned them we all still know the myths that created them. For all of these gods and goddesses, none has such a violent and manic portrayal as the Viking god, Thor; the scourge of giants and mountains. This lusty berserker of a god with his faithful hammer, Mjolnir , is renowned in both myth and film as being something of a boozy mad man, the kind of guy who would bop a foe on the head before asking pertinent questions. Furthermore, his legend is so prevalent, that we even have a weekday named after him and now, a whisky...

What I like about Highland Park is that they are great at tying stories in with their whisky. The Earl Magnus series of the last few years was a romp through Orcadian history. The initial release was the Earl Magnus bottling that detailed the history of the Earl of the Orkney islands. Next came the Saint Magnus bottling that referenced Magnus' canonisation. Finally there was the Earl Haakon bottling (complete with black packaging) that told of Magnus' Viking cousin who murdered him for control of the Orkneys. All of this gives a whisky a bit more drama and character that I think makes drinking the damned stuff a lot more interesting. Highland Park's latest series is that of Valhalla. There will be four releases, each defined by a Viking god (I'm guessing Odin and Loki will turn up in the mix). I have to say, that expense aside, I am quite excited. The Thor bottle (blue, chipped-effect glass) is entombed in a wooden longship design case that lends a Nordic majesty to this rather fine dram. So let us raise our flagons of mead with a hearty roar and salute Thor - the god of war (Rhyme; thor-oughly intended).

Highland Park Thor
52.1% - 16 Years Old
Nose: Fruity red apples, orange, blackberry and a whiff of smoke. Then the is pepper and warm spice, notably nutmeg and cinnamon. With time green apple, fruit-loaf and orange zest become apparent.
Palate: Initially masses of smoke and pepper then red fruit and stewed citrus notes. With water the palate becomes sweeter particularly on the tip of the tongue. More smoke and brine arrives later with a sherbert quality to boot.
Finish: A beach bonfire, ashy, almost abrasive. Next there is boiled sweets and a bit more brine.
Overall: The Orcadian landscape in a glass. Thor has been well represented. For me the nose and palate were so different that it really intrigued me. Truly phenomenal stuff!

Of Whirlpools and Vikings - Ardbeg Corryvreckan

The whirlpool at Corryvreckan

Well once again it seems the economy is turning its back on us. Having gorged itself on sub-prime mortgages it fancies a more continental treat and is pulling its emaciated frame towards the Eurozone like a thirsty man towards a mirage in the desert. It smacks its lips, revealing teeth as jagged as the peaks and troughs in a chart in the FT. It bears more claws than all the backbenchers in parliament and its sight is as blurred as any fiscal strategy seen this quarter. What treat will this monster fancy? A Bassatt's Double Dip or a QE Gobstopper? Who knows? But I can tell you that you could be worse off, you could be a viking called Breacan.

Techno Viking

Breacan was the kind of chap that would do stupid, life endangering things to impress the fairer, and let's face it - compared to Breacan, more intelligent sex. Breacan being a hopeless romantic fell in love with the beautiful daughter of the Lord of the Isles but he knew like any boy in a teen flick that she could never love him. So he decided to show off his bravery and sailing prowess in one foul stroke. So one day he sailed out to the mighty, churning whirlpool ominously named the Corryvreckan. He pledged to stay three whole days within its surf. So in he went and in he tossed the first of three anchors to hold him in place. An entire day passed until the rope could no longer take the strain and snapped. With not a moment to lose Breacan threw in the second anchor and another day passed before it too gave in and the third and final anchor was deployed. Then as this foolhardy viking approached his deadline with the wind ruffling his mane of hair, the final anchor broke free and Breacan was swept down into the eye of the whirlpool never to be seen again.

So although the economy may be tumbling down to a watery demise like Breacan at least you're not the one swallowing water like there's no tomorrow. There is however a whisky from the guys at Ardbeg, aptly named the Corryvreckan, that could make financially hard times more bearable. This whisky is a tidal force of smoke and flavour surfing down the gullet on some cask staves lashed together. Definitely a dram for stormy times.

Ardbeg Corryvreckan
57.1% - No Age Statement
Nose: Peat and pepper battle this one out using sugar and vanilla as shields.
Palate: Masses of smoke rising from a fiery bed of red peppers and chilis with peaty water lapping the edges.
Finish: A charcoal pit in a peat bog. One to make you cough.
Overall: Very peaty, a stormy malt that would appeal to peat-lovers out there. I'd argue the Uigeadail or the Supernova have more structure. However this dram has more teeth. Here's to Breacan, slainte!

Rediscovering The Classics: Oban 14 Year Old

I had a minor revelation the other day. In my eternal quest to sample as many different whiskies that I possibly can I have forgotten that some of the all time classics have their own charm that is often blown out of proportion by expensive marketing campaigns. The thing about these whiskies is that some of them are really rather good, it's just a case of working out which ones.

One such whisky is the West coast malt that is Oban. This is a whisky I had completely forgotten about but thanks to a piece of trivia imparted to me, I rediscovered it. So what is this little fact you ask me? The other week I was speaking to a friend of the graphic designer who created Oban's packaging, when he pointed out his friend had drawn a man walking a dog on top of the cliff in the background on the cardboard tube packaging. Yet when you look at the bottle label the dog is no where to be seen and the man is peering over the cliff trying to find him. It was this canine tragedy that opened my eyes to this coastal whisky again and I had to have some.

Oban 14 Year Old
43%
Nose: Brine defines this seaside malt with cedar and mascerated fermenting berries following.
Palate: Light oily mouthfeel with a clean sweetness washing over the tongue.
Finish: That saline briny quality again with a vague fruitiness from a little sherry presence perhaps?
Overall: This dram has a light mouth coating aspect and is certainly an accessible whisky. It didn't have the complexity I really desired and didn't possess any panache. A stand-up whisky but nothing to get excited about.

Glenfiddich - The Guilty Pleasure

We all have guilty pleasures. Some are quite standard such as liking the X-Factor, the Spice Girls and Lambrini. Whereas others are down-right weird, like making a culinary cocktail of baked beans, pickle and spray-on cheese. Guilty pleasures are those secrets we keep to ourselves and it is this secrecy that makes the object of our pleasure all the more delicious. They are something that clashes with the image we project to others. They are dark, dirty and dangerous. Yet somehow, no matter how much we may try to ignore them, to strive to watch BBC4 and not E4, they always come back to haunt us, and we crumble before them. I have a few, and I cannot forgive myself for them. They include Waterloo Road, Ronan Keating and Glenfiddich. Waterloo Road just captivates me with its plot holes and poor story planning. I can’t help but enjoy Ronan Keating’s songs, and as much as I want to reject Glenfiddich’s big brand image, I can’t help it, I love this accessible pub whisky. So when I got the chance to taste the limited release of the Snow Phoenix I was very excited indeed.

The Glenfiddich Snow Phoenix has a story I quite like, and if you have read my Shackleton Whisky review you will know by now that I am partial to a good story. These whiskies could easily be described as gimmicky or simply a marketing ploy, and don't get me wrong I am well aware that these whiskies are largely a sales push. But I don't think that has to be a negative point. A story gives the whisky a sense of place and time. It helps make the whisky more than just a drink. The key is to match a good story with a good whisky. Having tried the Shackleton again, the glow has worn off somewhat. So when I tried the Snow Phoenix I was much more wary. So anyway back to the story...

In January 2010 after extremely heavy snowfall, the roof of a warehouse at Glenfiddich collapsed showering the casks waiting in sombre maturation in snow and ice, leaving a phoenix shaped (although I think angel-like) hole in the roof. Glenfiddich, not one to miss an opportunity, bottled a selection of the casks (aged between thirteen and thirty years) to create the Snow Phoenix, a commemoration of an event in Glenfiddich's rich history that could have been a disaster. I genuinely love this whisky and find it incredibly hard to stop drinking.

Glenfiddich Snow Phoenix
47.6% - No Age Statement (13-30 years) - Bottled 2010
Nose: Toffee and pear instantly grapple with the nose with cherries and dry sherry lend a more complex charm, offset wit soft notes of cox apples and rosewater.
Palate: A busy mix of blackcurrants, caramel and apple with an underlying spiciness. Full-bodied and mouth coating it has an almost grainy dry texture that is somewhat moreish.
Finish: Apple pie with cream drizzled on top that doesn't rush to end.
Overall: Weirdly reminds me of the Shackleton despite their obvious differences, maybe it's the snow-laden story of the two. An absolutely brilliant whisky, I think I may be too smitten to offer a more impartial summary. Normal service resumed next time!