Casks Down Under - Sullivan’s Cove

I stare into the massive pair of eyes as I slowly chew on my bacon. This is the weirdest breakfast I have ever had. I lean back to take in the equally massive pair of fluffy ears and swallow. A very weird breakfast indeed. There is nothing more surreal than watching koalas laze about while you're munching on your sausage, bacon and eggs. What my studying of these eucalyptus-masticating beasts over breakfast led me to realise was that they are fairly pointless animals. They barely move and if they do it’s only a couple of feet to a branch of fresh leaves, and that's their lot in life. Move, eat, sleep... On reflection there's something quite human about that. Existential musings aside, if there was one thing I needed to ease me into a day of looking at bizarre mammals with pouches, bizarre mammals with beaks and bizarre mammals that lay eggs, it was a whisky. But I was a long way from home and a long way from a good Scotch. It is only now with hindsight that I should have realised that the Aussies, in all their enthusiasm for wine and beer, would clearly make whisky. It would be a lot longer after this trip that I would finally get my hands on some Australian whisky but finally, I did. The whisky I managed to procure comes from that island off Australia’s south coast that is home to those destructive little devils immortalised in the cartoon Taz. The whisky was Sullivan’s Cove double cask; a combination of both bourbon and port casks and the resulting whisky is like nothing I’ve tried before.

Sullivan’s Cove Double Cask
40% - No Age Statement - Tasmanian Distillery – Port and Bourbon Matured
Nose: Wood and batter announce themselves first followed by pepper and hazel and cashew nuts, with a faint aroma of botanical gardens.
Palate: Creamy with a high presence of wood.
Finish: The batter returns with fresh yeast.
Overall: Clearly a young whisky. There is something about it that shows promise, although some tweaking may be necessary to bring out its full potential. I’d like to try some of their other releases and maybe some other Australian whiskies if only to see if there is a general style. There is however something there, I just wish I could put my finger on it. One's thing is for certain I think the angel's share has become the koala's!

The Glen Ord 25 - Look Sharpe

Big rock anthems, scaling mountains, pepperoni pizza and any time Sean Bean hits someone in a movie, are moments in my life where I regress to being a thirteen year old and want to scream, ‘Hell Yeah!’ I imagine it’s the same feeling stockbroker’s get when they hit the big one, or what base jumpers have plummeting towards oblivion, or what politicians had when they finally got one over News International. It is that welling up of adrenaline in the chest and the perhaps not profound realisation that life should always be dominated with this ‘Hell Yeah’ sensation, it drives people to think, to hell with the desk job, buy a campervan and ‘experience’ the world.

The Bean in 'Sharpe'

The Glen Ord 25 year old gives me this same feeling. It is a massive cask-strength whisky that screams ‘hell yeah!’ it is unpretentious in it’s size and grandeur. It overwhelms the sinuses, it Rugby tackles the tongue and it roars down the oesophagus like a dragon after a thieving hobbit. I wouldn’t describe it as a clever whisky; indeed I wouldn’t describe rock anthems or pepperoni pizza as being a thinking person’s cup of tea. However, the Glen Ord 25 overpowers silly thoughts of subtlety, complexity and elegance, and sometimes that isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes we need to spontaneously get up rip off our shirts and air guitar like there’s no tomorrow or anybody watching. Sometimes we need a whisky that keeps us grounded and reminds us what a whisky should be - big, strong and fun - kind of like Sean Bean. Man crushes aside this is a whisky to cap off a meaty barbeque, when the beers have led conversation to less refined topics and you want to finish on a rush. Slainte!

Glen Ord 25 Year Old
58.3% - Bottled 2004
Nose: Intense thanks to the high ABV, orange peel and ginger stomp around with rum butter and nutmeg calling from the sidelines. Candle tallow whips up a smoky fug that gives the Ord a more rounded character.
Palate: Orange and chewy with a good malty kick of power.
Finish: Long, stomach warming, throat burning and deeply satisfying.
Overall: Incredible body, positively obese. Rip-roaringly good.

A Lesson in Age - Bunnahabhain 31 Year

There is something decidedly aspirational about age. When I ran around the playground on my first day of school I thought that the 11 year olds in the final year looked positively glorious in their twilight years. Wisdom and experience seem to exude from them like a halo of knowledge. They appeared to sweat a canny ability to interpret the world with an oracle-like divinity. When I reached senior school the 16 year olds became my idols. I was only eleven, what could I understand of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll. These acne scarred veterans of the GCSE campaign were prophets of the word on the street, of that mystical 'cool'. I turned sixteen then eighteen and so on always aspiring to be older, always seeing the greener grass on the other side. Until I realised with age comes more worry and uncertainty, so I thought to hell with it, I'm happy as I am. However this pursuit of age is as applicable to whisky as it is to life. The debate roars on the quality of aged whisky. Are we chasing the flavour or the heritage? In a number of blind tastings I have damned many highly aged whiskies to my shock and horror. So maybe things don't improve with age as much as I'd like? I have however found one whisky that I think benefits enormously from long ageing, not that I think younger expressions are poor by any means, and that is the Bunnahabhain.

Bunnahabhain 31 Year Old
47.9% - Bottled by Single & Single - Sherry Cask
Nose: Rich orange citrus opens the symphony with sweet vanilla harmonising perfectly. Light brown sugar arrives at the chorus with a touch of dry Somerset cider.
Palate: Full is the word here, that 47.9% ABV really gives this aged whisky the force it requires to drive through a brass section of dried fruits.
Finish: The finish is long with a cadence of Demerara sugar and treacle that play out for hours.
Overall: A bloody brilliant whisky. Layers of flavour and complexity coupled with a lesson in balance, structure and length. In a word - perfect.

Get it here.

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.

The F-Word - Longrow C.V and Springbank 15 Years

In starting a new blog I felt that I should refrain from using the word 'favourite' and all its connotations of single-mindedness and rejection of the new and exciting. So in keeping with Obama's spirit of change, I will attempt to avoid using the f-word. However I find with whisky, as in music records, I have drams that become short time favourites. The whiskies that you discover then tell everyone who is interested, everyone who isn't and anyone packed uncomfortably close to you on the tube about.

I have a couple currently that I have been using unreasonable force to get people drinking. These whiskies hail from a distilling region, that for reasons I cannot fathom, I've never really explored. This region, and I apologise for my ignorance, is that of Campbeltown, on that long thin peninsula off the West coast of Scotland. Fortunately, I've had plenty of opportunity recently to try the Campbeltown malts. Many have stood out but there are two that I think are the most drinkable; in a: 'I want to relax with a whisky, I may finish the bottle I may not, but by God I won't be disturbed. For these whiskies are sublime' kind of way. These two are the Longrow C.V. and the Springbank 15 year old. I was lucky enough to do a vertical tasting of the smoky Longrow malts and I loved them all, and you can expect complete tasting notes for all of them soon. However it was the C.V. that really turned my head therefore gets first dibs. With the Springbank I thought it had near perfect balance and became an instant dram to canvas to the unwitting around me. Here's what I thought:

Longrow C.V
46% - No Age Statement - Bottled by Springbank
Nose: Salt and a leathery smokyness come to the fore in a maritime combination I like to describe as a Harbourmaster's Jacket.
Palate: Light and sweet, a great contrast to the nose.
Finish: That salty smokiness returns from the nose providing a deeply satisfying ending.
Overall: I love the entire range of Longrow but the C.V. stands out as it combines a great quality whisky with fantastic value.

Springbank 15 years old
46%
Nose: Grape and rhubarb dominate the nose in unison, with light smoke providing backbone and structure.
Palate: The grape returns with a dry and forgiving mouthfeel.
Finish: A long, silken, returning finish begging you to have another!
Overall: Delicious and unobtrusive with a balance of flavour and weight that all whiskies should aspire to, a region defining malt.

Down the rabbit hole... Orangerie

I’ve had some weird meals in my time, including, and this is by no means an exhaustive list: undercooked student fare, ostrich, camel, crocodile, by way of fire ants, scorpions and pig’s small intestine. However a trip to the Sanderson Hotel provided another meal to my gag inducing collection. For a modest £25, I got to sample their bizarre Mad Hatter’s Afternoon Tea, which would seem to be inspired by Mr Heston Blumenthal for its ingenuity and kaleidoscopic weirdness. Starting on ice cream lollies with popping candy surprise, I sipped at the ‘Drink Me’ bottle, which changes flavour from apple pie, to lemon curd to toffee. I had a lollypop of which one side was cold the other hot, and I observed a spectacular Jasmine tea that looked like an alien sea plant rather than tea. So I thought, has there ever been a whisky that has ever truly shocked me. Then one burst into my mind like a hare with a stopwatch out of a hole to Wonderland.

Orangerie:
40% - No Age Statement - Compass Box
Nose: Mulled oranges, tangerine and Satsuma, with a sweet liqueur essence.
Palate: Dry! On the nose I was expecting a sweet orange juice whisky liqueur. But what I got was a light whisky flavoured like orange peel and spice.
Finish: Almost tannic, puckering the mouth, with the orange becoming a fine mist.
Overall: Absolutely surprising. The syrupy sweetness associated with whisky liqueurs was nowhere to be found. An enjoyable drink but weird, very weird!

Out with the old, in with the new? Glenfarclas 1961 Family Cask and Great King Street: Artist’s Blend

My monoprint of my
ever suffering girlfriend.

Last weekend I braved the caterpillar slow trawl along the Southbank in the Thameside heat, dressed in shirt and tie, to experience the extravaganza that is the Vintage Show at the Royal Festival Hall; a hotpot of style, fashion and bad hair. After braving a queue for my determined girlfriend to get made up 1950s stylee (we managed two hours before she gave up), we experienced a myriad of decades under one roof. From 40s Lindy Hop to a 80s warehouse rave with dry ice and strobe lighting in ecstatic abundance. From Emin inspired monoprinting to ration-era upcycling. However amongst this fashion show come jumble sale, ‘we’re in a recession lets turn this jacket into a bag’ excitement, I began to question myself. Is there too much concentration on the retro, the old school and the past, and does this apply to whisky?

We all find comfort in the certainty of the past and revel in nostalgia. That’s what makes old whisky great. It isn’t just the depth of flavour that a 30, 40 year whisky can have, it’s the knowledge that it has sat slowly minding its own business whilst the world has changed and rocketed about it. One such whisky I had the pleasure of tasting, courtesy of the ever entertaining and interesting George Grant of Glenfarclas, is the 1961 Glenfarclas Family Cask. Bottled in 2010 this 49 year old whisky was immense, and all the better for knowing it had seen out the Cold War, the Winter of Discontent and 90s breakdown rap. Here’s what I thought:

Glenfarclas 1961 Family Cask:
46% - Bottled 2010
Nose: Rich dried fruit notes balanced with the presence of sherry wood with overtones of varnish and a cherry/oak hybrid.
Palate: Full and oaky, but perhaps a tad tired from the time spent in the barrel.
Finish: Long with that classic sherry presence emerging again, but also a little shorter than I expected for such an aged whisky.
Overall: Despite being ever so slightly over oaked, this is an incredible whisky. Big in flavour, beautiful mahogany in colour and steeped in history, this is a whisky that deserves respect for its age alone if not for it massive punchy flavour.

However. This is not to say that there isn’t too much emphasis placed on highly aged whisky, and too much on the old and pure. Compass Box have released their inaugural blend of their new Artisan Range: Great King Street, named after the location of their Edinburgh premises. It aims to provide something that will attract new people to whisky and having tried it I can see why.

Great King Street: Artist’s Blend:
43% - No Age Statement - Bottled by Compass Box
Nose: Banana and marshmallows create a soft aroma that is borne upwards with a citric twang of lemon that insures that this whisky has plenty to offer.
Palate: Very light with bananas doused in single cream with a touch of lemon zest.
Finish: Unsurprisingly with its soft attributes and lightness on the tongue it has a fairly short but not abrupt finish but in no way is this a criticism.
Overall: Light remaining the word here, this is a whisky that has potential to entice new people into the haven of whiskydom, but regardless of this I may still get a bottle as it has something pleasantly enjoyable about it that is unpretentious and new. A whisky that looks forward can only be a good thing for fans of the spirit, and Compass Box, as always, are blazing a trail for us all to follow.