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.

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.