Category: Scotch
Dewar’s White Label
I’ve got this tendency to be a bit high-minded about things I get interested in, to initially think that there is a “right way” and a “wrong way” to go about it. Whether it’s food, whisky, wine, or even fishing, it’s usually the case that I begin pursuing a new interest from this perspective. Really sort of an achilles heel when you get right down to it.
In most cases, this perspective changes gradually over time, becoming tempered as it is eroded by actual experience. I find out for instance, that Budweiser definitely has a role to play in the beer world (think bleedingly hot summer days), or that fishing with a spin-reel for bass is actually a whole lot of fun (and you catch fish). Without a doubt, this extends to whisky as well.
In fact, whisky is tailor-made for this kind of high-minded approach. The distinction between single-malt whiskies and blends is perfect for enabling the avowed single-malt drinker to look down their noses at blended whiskies, what with their unnamed hodgepodge of different malts and grain whiskies. In the end, all this will really get you is a reputation as a whisky snob, and many missed opportunities to taste some wonderful whiskies that just happen to be blends.
Of late, I’ve been rethinking my perspective on blended whiskies, as I’ve begun to recognize that they’re not lesser whiskies, but simply different whiskies. They may not have the specificity that a single-malt whisky does, but the good examples (and there are several) offer a drinkability that is difficult for many single-malts to achieve. In fact, some of the blended whiskies that I’ve had have also been some of the most drinkable whiskies I’ve had.
Last week, I attended a whisky tasting hosted by John Glaser of Compass Box. He’s been producing unique blended whiskies for the past decade, and their range of flavors and expressions is very impressive. We tasted seven Compass Box whiskies that evening, some that contained grain whisky and some that didn’t, and all were top-notch whiskies, highly recommended. Compass Box is pretty open about which distillery’s whiskies go into each of their bottlings, and this makes for a great opportunity to see how different distilleries’ whiskies all bring a unique expression to the final, harmonious blend.
But the experience that really opened up my eyes took place a couple of weeks ago. I was on a flight back home after a brief trip out West, and I ordered a Scotch, straight-up. The stewardess brought me a 5cl bottle of Dewar’s White Label. I had low expectations for this glass of whisky, and was entirely taken aback at how enjoyable the liquid in the glass was.
Here was a corner of the whisky world that I had largely ignored to this point, the big name blended Scotch whiskies, and I was thoroughly enjoying it. “Sacre bleu!” one might say. On the other hand, one might say, “wait a minute, have I been missing something all along?”
John Dewar & Sons, producers of the Dewar’s whiskies, was founded in 1846 by John Dewar, Sr. As with most blended whiskies of the time, John Dewar was initially a merchant who sold whisky (among other things) before commissioning his own blended whisky. The company was successful, and in 1899 introduced Dewar’s White Label, a blend developed by master blender A.J. Cameron. In 1925, John Dewar & Sons was absorbed into Distillers Company Limited, and there they remained until being sold to Bacardi in 1988.
Today, the Dewar’s company is owner of five distilleries (Aberfeldy, Aultmore, Craigellachie, Royal Brackla, and MacDuff), with Aberfeldy the most notable of the group, and the only one available as a single-malt. In the Dewar’s blends, Aberfeldy typically is the most prominent whisky. That being said, in the White Label anywhere up to 40 malts are included in the final blend!
Dewar’s employ what they call a double-aging process, wherein following the blending process, the newly blended whiskies are returned to casks to age for up to 6 months. The casks used for this process are typically old and worn-out, so that they will remain neutral and impart as little character to the whisky as possible. The benefit of this step is that it allows the whiskies to marry together more gently than if the whisky is simply thrown directly into a bottle and packaged up for shipping.
Tasting Notes
This whisky pours a soft, lemony gold with dusky highlights. The nose has soft, sweet notes of fresh cream, vanilla wafers, hay, and a whisper of smoke. The palate is medium-bodied and soft with a gentle, coaxing texture carrying flavors of whipped cream, simple syrup, custard, and a thread of sea-smoke. Custard flavors make up the gentle, albeit brief finish.
Not the most complex whisky, but very approachable and drinkable. Take it for what it is, and I think you’ll find that it has a place.
Gordon & MacPhail Millburn 27-Year
There’s few things that I enjoy quite as much as exploring the story behind a dram of whisky. My favorite glasses of whisky are those that lead you down a storied path, learning something new about a distillery, or about how a particular scotch was made, some tidbit of its history. The whisky ends up being enhanced by the tapestry of its story.
This was an especially good dram in this regard, as I got to thumb through two (2!) of my favorite books on scotch while digging into it: Misako Udo’s The Scotch Whisky Distilleries and Brian Townsend’s Scotch Missed: The Lost Distilleries of Scotland. Both are great books, and Misako Udo’s is a must have for all those who are serious about their drams. Millburn was shut down in 1985 after almost two centuries of distilling, and since then most of its buildings have been demolished. So here we have a true artifact of history, a bottle of whisky distilled in 1976 from a distillery that closed less than a decade later, and whose whisky is on the endangered species list today.
Millburn’s roots date far back into Scotland’s whisky history. It was originally established around 1805, first licensed as a distillery in 1825, and passed through the hands of 9 different owners before being purchased by Andrew Haig who renamed it the Millburn Distillery Company in 1904. Haig sold the distillery in 1921, shortly before a fire destroyed most of the buildings the following year. Here’s a recounting from Udo’s book:
When a major blaze stuck [in 1922], soldiers from nearby Cameron Barracks helped to extinguish the fire. They managed to save both the stillhouse and the warehouse. Coincidentally, the 3rd Battalion of the Camerons who saved the distillery was led by Lieutenant Colonel David Price-Haig who had just sold the distillery.
The fire didn’t slow the distillery down for too long, and after being rebuilt it operated continuously until being purchased by DCL in 1943. The next 40 years passed uneventfully, until the distillery was closed in 1985, as part of a series of closures resulting from a downturn in the scotch whisky market.
Townsend writes that,
It could be argued that Millburn had ceased to be viable with the arrival of the new, custom-built automated distilleries of the 1970s and 1980s. It was on a small cramped sight at Diriebught, hemmed in on virtually all sides by steep hill, road and river. Expansion was not possible and, with the growth of Inverness, it sat in an urban rather than a semi-rural setting. Its whisky, although good, was relatively obscure as a single malt. Its equipment and outbuildings were also outdated and too small. Its closure in hindsight was inevitable.
Millburn was a distillery from another time, one that is harder and harder to picture now. A time when distilleries produced their own malt, when each distillery had their own staff of coopers to build and repair barrels, when much of the work was done by hand, and when distillery workers were given daily rations of whisky while on the job. Here’s a couple of stories from Ian Macilwain’s Bottled History:
Back in my lorry driving days I was up at the distillery to take the last load of draff out for the year. There was two with mouth organs and another two dancing the Highland fling in the middle of the malt floor at three in the afternoon! They were well gone. The manager just walked past and ‘didn’t see’. There was never anything said. Things like that would never happen now.
…
So Robbie came round with the big copper flagon and the horn, which is just a measure. It was new-made spirit, called clearic. Everybody working at that area lined up by the sink, put on the cold water tap and Robbie filled it up. I went to the back of queue, as I wasn’t sure what they were on! So they poured in the measure with the horn, into the first glass, the first lad cowped it back, in below the cold water tap, cowped it back, gave it a swirl and handed the glass back to the next one. And back it came and back it came to me. I was thinking, ‘God I’m nae sure about this,’ because I wasn’t a drinker and it was strong stuff. I saw they’d all just put it back in a ‘wunner’ so I thought, here goes…Before I got the water I choked. Robbie asked me something and I was trying to answer him – he says, ‘Hold it up again,’ and I thought it was an initiation, that I had to do two of these! So he fills it up again, fills up the horn, pours it into the glass, and I’m looking at it and he grabs it out of my hand and says, ‘Aye, it’s a poor ship that can’nae carry the captain.’ He probably had one along with the stillman on the way through and then he had another one along at hour end. What a man he was. He lived into his 90s so it didn’t do him any ill!
By the way, Bottled History is another phenomenal book, combining beautiful images of historic distilleries with quotes from the men who used to work at them, such as those two above.
Millburn is from this part of history, before the rationalization and consolidation of brands that we see today. Anytime you get to taste a whisky from a closed distillery it’s an exciting opportunity. It’s like tasting a bit of history.
Tasting Notes
Millburn was a Highland distillery, and this is very much in the style of Highland whiskies. As I said above, this was distilled in 1976, and is from cask #1598, bottled by Gordon & MacPhail at 46%.
The color is light gold, with the merest of auburn highlights. The nose has elements of beeswax, honey, fresh-cut grass, sugared lemons, and brioche. Sweet-smelling with a fresh, ‘first rays of sun in the morning’ feel to it. The palate is softly textured, with a warming flintiness. Flavors of sugar cookies, buttered muffins, almonds, pie dough, and a hint of citrus, underscored by a surprising thread of smoke. As though your neighbor over the hill has lit a fire in the chimney on the first really cold day of fall, and the smell of the wood fire mingles with the evening’s breeze. The finish wraps things up nicely, with hints of licorice, marzipan, and a persistent faint smokiness.
A very nice whisky, made that much more special by the story lying behind it, and the stories that it leads you to turn up. Highly recommended. As I said, this distillery’s been closed for 25 years, so time is running out to track down a bottle.
Related Posts:
Glenfarclas 30-Year
Not all older whiskies are created equal. Whatever the reason behind it, there are simply some whiskies that age more gracefully than others, reaching a profoundness in maturity that others cannot quite achieve. Similar to some of the questions that I posed in a recent post about a Guatemalan coffee from Stumptown, I’m sure there are factors that play into the aging equation that some distilleries approach differently than others. Perhaps it’s the type of cask used, where the whisky is aged, or some step in the distillation process. But in the end, the reality is that some whiskies just age significantly better than others.
Glenfarclas is one of those.
What’s more, Glenfarclas is a whisky that expresses deep, enticing flavors throughout it’s lifecycle. From their basic 10-year bottling all the way up to the older, single-barrel bottlings, such as the 1968 single-cask that they released several years ago, Glenfarclas whiskies are singularly unique, and very good. But it’s really in their old(er) age that these whiskies hit their stride. I’ve tasted several that have passed the 30-year mark, and all were superlatively delicious.
Why is this? Why is it that this one distillery manages to so consistently produce and bottle such great whiskies?
Part of it surely has to do with their heritage and ownership history. Glenfarclas is one of only a handful of family-owned, independent distilleries, and has been in the Grant family for several generations (since 1865 to be exact). Instead of being part of a corporate portfolio, this is a whisky expressing the values and vision of a family whose heart lies within the distillery walls. Thus, careful attention to detail and a commitment to producing a consistently wonderful finished product are par for the course.
Another part of the explanation is their barrel program. Glenfarclas uses mostly Oloroso sherry casks, an increasingly rare feat in today’s whisky world. Whereas sherry barrels were more commonly used by Scotch distilleries in the not-too-distant past, due to issues with the quality of the barrels their use is more rare these days. Alongside a distillery such as Aberlour (who uses a high proportion of sherry casks, along with bourbon casks), Glenfarclas is one of the few dedicated to using such a high proportion of sherry casks. Furthermore, for their whiskies that will be released as single malts, Glenfarclas uses only first and second fill casks, and for the whisky that will be sold to blenders they use third fill casks.
Why does their barrel program make such a difference? Sherry casks lend such a different character to aging whisky, and I personally feel that whiskies in sherry casks age more gracefully than those in bourbon casks. Or perhaps it is that sherry cask whiskies just show more beautifully at older age than those in bourbon casks. Too, their dedication to using only first and second fill casks ensures that their oldest whiskies spend their whole lives aging in fresher barrels that will impart more character to the whisky, producing complex, layered whiskies after a decade or three.
But after these two obvious reasons, we really have to begin reaching, drawing conclusions that are little more than hypotheses. Does it have something to do with how they distill their whisky? Or the warehouses they age it in? How about the natural ingredients? The malt they use, their water source?
In the end, we can only really conjecture as to why Glenfarclas whiskies age so wonderfully. What we can do with certainty is enjoy the whiskies themselves!
Interesting tidbit: All of the male members of the Grant family are named either John or George. The current chairman is John L.S. Grant, and the current brand ambassador is his son George S. Grant.
Tasting Notes
The color of this whisky is an alluring deep golden with auburn tints. The nose is rich and sweet, and just goes on and on displaying notes of figs, red fruits, honey, and beeswax. The palate is medium textured, soft and supple without being heavy. There are velvety notes of salted caramel, creme anglaise, marzipan, rum-soaked fruits, and mesquite honey, all underscored by a layer of dry oakiness. On the finish, some citrus makes its way into the picture, accompanied by honey and fruit.
Overall, this is a very sweet, fruity, and fairly full bodied whisky, and an absolute pleasure to sip unhurriedly. It’s very gentle, and (unsurprisingly) I wonder what it would have been like at cask strength. The Scotch Malt Whisky Society occasionally offers older bottles of Glenfarclas, which of course are all single-cask, cask-strength bottles, and while I’ve never tried one, they are invariably one of the whiskies among their offerings that always arrests my attention. One of these days, I’ll have to take the plunge and order one. Hopefully before this bottle is kaput, as a side-by-side tasting is definitely in order.
Related Posts:
Signatory Ben Nevis 1992 16-Year Cask-Strength Collection
Signatory is a whisky bottler that I’ve been tasting a number of very interesting malts from recently. They have two lines that I’ve been tasting whiskies from, their cask-strength and single-barrel offerings.
The single-barrel offerings have been interesting, and have included both sherry and bourbon casks. Each bottling is reduced to ~43%. Interestingly, many of these feature a very similar quality, a sort of soft luster, similar to old Hollywood films where they would use soft-focus when shooting close-ups of star actresses. These Signatory whiskies all tend to have this overtly pleasant, approachable element to them. They’re quite tasty and enjoyable, but not necessarily thought-provoking.
The cask-strength (often also single-barrel) whiskies are another beast entirely. Each is a pretty unique expression of the distillery in question, and the flavor spectrum tends to be rather dynamic and interesting. The whiskies bottled in their teens have been fairly exciting, and the older whiskies a bit more austere and difficult to approach. But all in all, a pretty good series of whiskies, highly recommended.
This bottle of Ben Nevis is from the latter series. The distillery is owned by the Nikka Whisky Distilling Company of Japan, who are themselves well-known for the whiskies they produce in their home country. Founded in 1820, Ben Nevis went on to become the first distillery to produce both malt and grain whisky when a Coffey still was installed in 1955. Today, Ben Nevis produces only malt whisky, to the tune of approximately 2 million liters per year. Bourbon, sherry, and French wine casks are used for aging.
This bottling is from a sherry butt, and is bottle 54 of 550. It was distilled on 7/3/1992 and bottled 16 years later on 8/15/2008. As I said, it’s cask-strength, weighing in at 54.6%.
Tasting Notes
The whisky is coppery gold in the glass, with some very nice, compelling beading along the edge. The nose is sweet and fruity, with rich, woody, sherried notes, maple syrup, and an undercurrent of citrus. The palate has a beguiling, mouth-coating texture, and is powerful and a bit overwhelming at full strength. The flavors are rich and sweet, with brown sugar, candied apples, rum-soaked fruit, a whiff of smoke, and a hint of citrus. The finish is long-lasting and spellbinding, with incredible notes of oak, creme brulee, caramelized turbinado sugar, and brown sugar syrup.
All in all, a great whisky. It took a fair amount of water to tame, but afterwards was both gentle and rich in the glass. Like I said, Signatory’s been bottling some very nice whiskies as part of this cask-strength line, and I’d highly recommend giving them a roll next time you’re on the hunt for a tasty malt to add to your collection.
Related Posts:
Gordon & MacPhail Linkwood 1969 33-Year
As time has passed and I’ve had the good fortune to taste a wide range of whiskies, from new make spirit all the way up to 44-year olds, I’ve developed a real respect and affection for older whiskies. While I appreciate and enjoy the brash energy of young whiskies, it’s the greater complexity and stateliness of older whiskies that really has the power to mesmerize me. Time brings lots of benefits to whisky, among them more presence in the glass, and a ripe, richness that comes across as a much different characteristic when the whisky is younger.
Most excitingly, it’s always fun to dive into a really old whisky to see what it has to offer. Because Scotch whiskies past the 30-year mark can be an unpredictable mixed bag, you never really know what you’re going to get. At this point, the whisky has been in the barrel for quite a long time, and so the characteristics that it had when fresh off the still have long since been subsumed and transformed into a unique, profound relationship with the barrel that it’s been resting in for so long. The impact and role of the barrel are therefore predominant in determining the quality of the finished whisky. A bad barrel can ruin what would have been a remarkable whisky, and a great barrel can raise the same whisky to stunning heights.
Them there is the role of the bottler, who has a handful of decisions to make. Blend several old casks into a single bottling, or go single-cask? What proof? Cask-strength or diluted? If diluted, how low do you go? 46? 43? 40? Chill-filter? (shudder…) I’ve definitely tasted a number of old whiskies where you could just tell that bottled at cask-strength or as a single-cask it would have been an amazing whisky. But bottled as it was, well…something had been lost along the way.
In my experience, many of the older whiskies from Gordon & MacPhail experience a fate such as this. Their typical approach is to blend casks of older whiskies together and dilute at bottling, to either 40% or 43%. I can understand the rationale behind both decisions, but don’t empathize with it. Yes, 40% or 43% makes for a very drinkable whisky, but a rather tame one as well. And if I’m spending the money on such an older whisky, I want the choice as to how much water should be added to my whisky. I also have such a strong affinity for single-cask whiskies, that it’s simply too hard not to speculate longingly about how stellar some of the casks that went into the final blend must have been.
That being said, G&M offers a wide range of older whiskies at very reasonable prices, so it’s hard to take them to task too much. It’s more like buyer-beware: it’s important to know how they typically bottle older whiskies, so that you can have appropriate expectations. They’re all very nice whiskies, if not overly remarkable or inspiring.
This Linkwood 33-year old was one of the whiskies at we featured at the Old Whiskies tasting at Amherst Coffee this past March. It was the only one of them bottled at 40%, and it showed. Overall the whisky was quite good, but very understated.
Linkwood produces a fair amount of whisky each year, approximately 2.6 million liters. But what makes this whisky pretty darn exciting is that it was produced in 1969, 2 years before the distillery was expanded from 2 to 6 stills. So this particular whisky was distilled at a time when Linkwood was a much smaller distillery, and likely producing a slightly different spirit.
Tasting Notes
The whisky is the color of burnished gold with subtle amber tints. The nose has soft notes of red fruit reminiscent of sherry cask aging, alongside butter cookies, poached pears, candied lemon lime rind, and spun sugar. The whisky’s texture is very soft, gentle, and mouth-coating. The spectrum of favors is similar to the nose, with subtly sweet and gentle elements of pears, caramel custard, shortbread cookies, wheat and grain. The one note missing is the red fruit flavors, but these are compensated for by a buttered rum note that becomes more prominent as the whisky warms. The medium-length has flavors of genoise cake and soft, ripe fruits.
Very nice whisky. Rich and interesting, and quite drinkable. The flavors came across a bit soft, which is the impact of the 40%.
The one caveat to these notes, is that all of the flavors were very gently pronounced and subdued, not quite as profound as they sound in writing them. Nonetheless, this is a nice whisky. I remember distinctly at the tasting that the reception was very similar: this is a nice, very drinkable and enjoyable whisky, but without loads of character in the glass.
Still, pretty cool that it was distilled 41 years ago’ eh?
Related Posts: