21ST CENTURY SCOTCH

 

Five centuries of history and over a hundred years of skilful branding have given whisky a daunting gravitas; a fortress of respectability to the newcomer.  Yet many different types of people have stormed its barricades, and a quick look around the room at a whisky festival shows that the ‘Malt Fan’ is a mongrel breed.  Still mostly male and almost always older than 30.  Abroad, you notice the enduring international romantic appeal of Scotland.  Along with this sprinkling of tartan, there may be a whiff of rocker’s leather, a train-spotter’s cardigan, or the bright red braces of the financial services, speaking the common international language of Whiskyish.    How did they learn so fast? 

 

Arthur Motley argues that whisky in the 21^st Century has a treasure of taste, and he has a few fast-track tips for plundering your own booty: brand adultery, young malts, and team tasting.

 

For all the Nearly Unique Selling Points of the countless whiskies available, very few count for anything anymore, except those that relate to taste.  ‘Peatiest,’ ‘smokiest,’ ‘most sherried,’ ‘fruitiest’ and ‘lightest’ are the extremist hooks that often seem to snare new drinkers, so begin your journey by seeking these out and tasting four or five on one evening.  

 

Whisky glories in such contrasts of taste, and brand monogamy is dying a death.  For too long drinkers have declared themselves an advocate of a particular malt, boldly declaring (rather like a London gent in a Victorian advertisement) that “None can better it!” There is a temptation to play safe, to constantly relive the magic of that first kiss years ago, when the birds tweeted, the clouds parted, the angels came down from heaven and planted that first divine malty smacker on your grateful lips.  

 

With the explosion in choice of malt whiskies however, the new breed is a philandering tart of a drinker, happy to boast of their conquests in chatrooms and read about their next victim in sordid glossy magazines such as this.  It must be rare nowadays for such malthead Mitterands to restrict themselves to one partner in an evening, with mini tastings as standard, moving through distilleries, revelling in the extremes flavours from dram to dram.  You can only pity any brander preaching the sanctity of brand loyalty!  

 

Sticking to the guns of your favourite also has a major flaw, even if you can convince yourself you have tried all of the hundreds and hundreds of whiskies available.  Single malts vary in quality across time, and I do not mean centuries.  Great whiskies change all the time: Aberlour, Ardbeg, Bowmore, Benromach, Brora, Bruichladdich, Glen Garioch, Glenmorangie, Laphroaig, and Macallan to name but a few. 

 

Changes in machinery, techniques and materials at the production stage have effects which vary in impact according to who is on the soapbox.  Spirit is filled into casks which differ in oak species, age and previous occupant (principally sherry, bourbon, and whisky).  The availability and price of these casks change, as does the filling policy of the distillers, and cask type affects more than half of the final flavour of a mature malt. 

Finally, the human influence is central, as the master blender decides which casks have done a good enough job of maturation to make it into the final vatting.  Although difficult to detect, flavour drift can exist from bottling to bottling, so your standard 10-year-old from Glenmalt Distillery can change.  You may be up in the pulpit, testifying to a doctrine of drinking that is constantly being re-written and may be very different to the original you read years ago.

 

The industry itself changes its message.  Science offers new findings, necessity breeds a change of dogma, or new voices come to the honourable business of hawking booze.  One such issue is the ever changing barometer of the ‘right’ age.  In a recent clichéd spy thriller, CIA agent Redford said to his mini-me operative Pitt “only single malt…nothing less than 12 years old”.  Don’t listen to him Brad, drink as much of the young, cheap malts as possible!  Now the ‘Politically Correct’ movement would arrest me for recommending anything other than responsible, mature, and non-British drinking behaviour so please, no necking bottles of malt because the nice young man in Fine Expressions said so. 

 

The basic fact is that malt whisky is expensive, especially when compared to the rock-bottom ubiquitous denominator that is vodka.  The older whiskies are becoming increasingly expensive and some prices no longer say “drink and enjoy” but pompously declare “invest to admire”.  Do not become a packaging pervert.  It is the flesh of the malt beneath that counts, not the heavyweight glass and scroll-stuffed boxes which are the rubber, lace and boob job of the drinks world.  Your enjoyment of a 10-year-old whisky should not be ruined by the nagging thought you are drinking poor man’s malt, and the ultimate expression is necessarily the 50-year-old uber-deluxe bottle stored behind glass. 

 

The 8 to 15-year-old is in some ways a more honest and educational expression.  Whisky can be thought of as a balance between spirit and cask.  The spirit that is filled into the oak cask is clear, pungent and raw.  With time the cask adds flavour, softens its character, and increases its apparent complexity.  This is maturation.  A common comment from drinkers new to malt about a very mature whisky is that it is like an old cognac. This is logical, since cognac is matured in oak too. 

 

But while oak is an important ingredient and worth learning about, it is Scotland and its gleaming stills that have drawn you to whisky, and the longer the spirit spends in the cask the further it gets from this coppery source.  If you want to get into guessing games of provenance you stand a better chance of pinning the tail on the distillery when tasting a younger whisky.  Furthermore, if you enjoy a sense of tradition, be aware that for centuries whisky has been drunk at young or very young ages. 

 

Whatever age, cask type or region you prefer, each category has enormous variation in quality but also in flavour, and one man’s nectar is another’s nausea.  This makes the chance to try before you invest in a full bottle a boon.  Unless you are very lucky, a well-stocked bar may be some distance away, however.  This is a shame, as not only are whiskies more interesting consumed brand by brand and contrast by contrast, they are best hunted in packs.  The subjective nature of appreciating aromas and tastes naturally provokes discussion and truly amazing flavours are a little like sunsets: very enjoyable on their own but you often want someone else there to sigh along in happiness.  Furthermore if new to assessing taste there can be a tendency to distrust your own conclusions: “Am I really tasting spiced carrot cake in this?” you ask.   There is every chance you are, and it only takes a buddy to mention cinnamon, lemon and sugar to confirm your thoughts and give you confidence. 

 

It might not be a coincidence that two of the most knowledgeable and enthusiastic malt markets, Japan and Sweden, have very sociable ways of consuming whisky.  Japan’s whisky bars are legendary, with a culture of bartending that affords the prestige and salary to make it a career.  These bars contain libraries of tastes stretching back many decades for fans of whisky to conduct research.  I once attended a convention of Swedish whisky clubs in Stockholm, and there appeared to be representatives from about a hundred of these societies, which had been each gathering for years to assess Scotland and Ireland’s latest output. 

 

This Swedish approach can be transplanted to almost any country in the world, and is highly recommended.  A group tasting allows for the exploration of new brands without committing to an entire bottle, and makes a disappointing whisky less painful on the wallet and easier to enjoy as a learning experience.  Secondly, having whisky shipped by mail order becomes very efficient by the case, and postage charges are almost insignificant as internet prices are competitive.  You are also safe in the knowledge that the whisky is in optimum condition, which may not be the case in a bar, which may have opened their bottle months ago and allowed it to gradually be nuked by sun-bed style lighting.

 

Most importantly it is an incredibly cost effective way to taste a great many whiskies, covering topics with depth along the way.  You can theme an evening by distillery or region, showcase different cask types, explore peating levels, have a showdown between independent and official bottlings, Scotch versus Irish, or even have a blind mystery tasting where every group member brings their own surprise.  After a couple of years of meeting regularly like this, you will all be experts.

 

Whichever way you do it, make sure you enjoy it.  My favourite type of whisky drinkers are genuinely appreciating what is in the glass before them with the knowledge that it will not be there for much longer.  The half-full glass will soon be entirely empty, the next dram entirely different, but each sip is to be savoured and remembered.