The other week, we had the good fortune to be heading to Glasgow for a rare chance to pick the brains and be entertained by Whyte & Mackay’s Master Blender and raconteur extraordinaire, Richard Paterson.

Dubber was travelling up from Birmingham, and I came a short hop on the train to rendez-vous with him, and also my close friend, Colin Heggie, who’d kindly agreed to come and take some more professional shots than we could ever manage.

So, after a quick catch up on the train with each other about what had been going on in our lives since we last met, we found ourselves jumping into a taxi at Glasgow, and soon outside the imposing Dalmore House, home of W&M HQ.

For those of you unaware of Richard Paterson, he is one of the most respected, and hard working Master Blenders in the world. It’s apparent from meeting ‘The Nose’ (as he has become known in the whisky industry) that his concern for his work goes beyond any duty to professionalism, it is a sense of family pride – in the best possible sense of the phrase – in that, he cares deeply about whisky and the blends he’s involved in creating, and not just for his reputation’s sake, but because it is most definitely part of who he is. It’s in the blood.

We were introduced to Richard and sat down together to grab a bite to eat. I have to say, I was a wee bit nervous. I’d been extremely excited about the prospect of getting a chance to chat to someone with as much experience within whisky as Richard, as I always see opportunities such as that as a chance to hopefully learn something. Luckily, Richard is a dab hand at putting everyone at ease, so nerves were soon forgotten.

The 9th floor of Dalmore House, holds rows of display cases on the approach to Richard’s blending lab, proudly housing hundreds of important curios in the history of Whyte & Mackay. From antique measuring instruments, to medals and trophies, through to extremely rare examples of old bottlings from the company’s portfolio, it’s part archive, part sweetshop, for anyone with half an interest in the world of whisky.

Upon entering the blending lab where Richard does the majority of his work, you’re immediately aware of the sheer variety of elements he has to work with. Every surface is crammed with neatly labelled bottles and vials of spirit, from every conceivable source.

Without wanting to be cryptic, we were shown a few things that we were sworn to secrecy over. Suffice to say, there is so much history and innovation in that room, that for any whisky fan, it would leave you speechless.

I personally cannot tell you how lucky we were to experience the two hours we spent there. I know we are in a very small minority that get the chance to talk with Richard, and an ever smaller group who have had the good fortune to share a unique view behind the scenes.

As our visit drew to an end, Richard had one last surprise for us. We were each treated to a generous dram of The Dalmore Eos. Spirit that is of a minimum of 59 years old. Words fail us.

It was amazing.

Luckily, The Nose didn’t tell us what we were about to taste, otherwise there may have been some shaky hands. Beyond all the hyperbole, the debate over prices of exclusive whiskies, one thing that was abundantly clear was that this was exceptional whisky. After something like that, you probably have to reconcile yourself with the possibility that you may never taste anything as good as that again in your lifetime.

Personally, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a return visit at some point in the future.

We had a fantastic time, and would like to thank Rob Bruce and Jill Inglis for answering our persistent badgering over setting this up, Colin Heggie for his photo-wizardry, and of course, Richard himself for his time and patience.

A lot has already been written about the discovery, recovery and restoration of the cases of Mackinlay’s Rare Old Highland Malt that Ernest Shackleton took with him on an expedition to the South Pole over 100 years ago. It was buried under the ice for over a century, before being dug out and returned to its point of origin. A time capsule of whiskies gone by.

As the Mackinlay’s brand is a property of Whyte & Mackay, some of it ended up back in the hands of their master blender, Richard Paterson, who sampled it, presumably took a few notes, and then set out to recreate it as faithfully as he could.

First a few facts: It’s bottled at 47.3% – the original strength – and both the recreation and the whisky it is based on have been sampled by Dave Broom, another top whisky tasting expert, who has independently verified the likeness.

Clutch and I have each done a tasting and have ended up concluding that it’s very nice indeed. However, what we can’t tell you is how similar it is to the “real thing”. And in a way, that’s absolutely fine. Because we will never know – and it’s perhaps more interesting that way.

The work of art in the age of whisky reproduction
The whole situation got me thinking about recreations, facsimiles and copies. I sampled another recreation recently, and found myself not wanting to know what the original had been like. Had it been absolutely identical, or completely different – I would have been disappointed.

Walter Benjamin’s much quoted 1936 essay ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction‘ talks about the “aura” of an authentic work, and the difficulty faced by a replication in approaching that sense of authenticity. The technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object from the domain of tradition, the context of its production and the cultural meanings it holds.

In other words, this is not a whisky that allows us any real insight into Shackleton’s adventures or the man himself, and nor does it allow us any real access into his world. It’s a souvenir from the gift shop, if you like. There is the “real thing”, and then there is “just a copy”. And no matter how similar they are, there is a real difference between owning or drinking the copy – and owning or drinking the original, which must be (one assumes) utterly priceless.

There is no authentic original
But if you go beyond Benjamin, you meet Jean Baudrillard, who talks about the ‘simulacrum‘ – an object that is a copy for which there exists no original. And that’s really what this whisky is – since there is for us no reference. No comparison to be made. This is the whisky itself; we know it’s “just a copy” – but equally, we know that it is its own marker of authenticity.

Because if we go into a gift shop and buy a poster of the Mona Lisa, having just seen the original hanging in the gallery – we know the extent to which our purchase is a copy. How it differs as well as how it is similar. But that’s not our experience here.

And no matter how trustworthy and reliable our authenticators and “forgers” might be (and they are the finest the whisky profession has to offer), it almost doesn’t matter what the “real” Shackleton whisky is like – because for us, it is just an idea. And we buy and taste this Mackinlay’s Rare Old Highland Malt simulacrum in the knowledge that what we have bought is access to an idea – a social object around which we can tell stories of adventures, and the miraculous discovery of a museum piece that we can never directly experience.

And while we tell these stories, we can share this whisky as if it connects us with the legend of Shackleton and his epic quest for knowledge, adventure and, ultimately, lasting significance. Whether it is an exact match – or even a close approximation of the whisky he brought with him is less than irrelevant. It is unknowable.

But what can be known is the quality and the experience of this simulacrum. The copy. What I actually have come to think of as the “real” Mackinlay. And the good news is that it is excellent.

The taste of reconstruction
Nose: Lemon grass, pencil shavings, cinnamon sticks, ground pepper, touch of thin woodsmoke
Palate: Fresh lime soda, acid drops, sherbert, paprika with a touch of poached pear, plums and nectarine
Finish: Medium. A little parma violet, some of the pepper and a little residual warmth of the fruit.

Water softens it considerably, but doesn’t take anything away from it – simply gives it more body and emphasises the sweetness while mellowing out the pepper.

A superb and surprising whisky from the Whyte & Mackay stable. Well worth experiencing. But you are not only buying a whisky of quality and pedigree, you’re also buying a story to share and, if not an actual heritage artefact, then at least a piece of history.

And just as Shackleton’s failure to reach the Pole on this expedition does not detract from his place in the imagination as a central figure in the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration, our inability to sample the whisky he brought with him does not diminish our connection with that story, and the symbolic (and thoroughly rewarding) experience of a dram created in his honour.

Recreating old whisky must be a tricky business. I can taste and smell things in a dram that seem to me to be the flavours and aromas it contains (or suggests). But to work the other way and engineer a whisky to capture subtle notes and undercurrents once contained by a whisky gone by takes a rare skill and depth of understanding.

Glenmorangie Finealta is a recreation of a recipe from 1903, which is matured in a specific ratio between American white oak casks and Spanish Oloroso casks. There’s also a spot of peat to this – unusual for a Glenmorangie these days, but a hundred plus years ago, they dried their barley in a peat fired kiln, so it would have been standard at the time.

Having not tasted the original myself – being only forty-something years of age, rather than a hundred and forty something – I can’t speak to the exactness with which the whisky has been recreated. But I can tell you what I think of it.

First, the nose is quite citrus. Lime and oranges and a sugary note reminiscent of lemon drops, with a touch of dried fruit and a slight note of thin woodsmoke – like burning kindling. The sweetness comes through on the palate – still citrus, but more marmalade than fresh fruit. A little water takes the sharpness away – and too much quickly deadens it – but it’s still overwhelmingly marmalade with ginger and a little allspice.

The finish is an unusual one. Instantly baking soda and sugar – sweet, but unbalanced, like a misread fudge recipe. Not altogether unpleasant, but certainly surprising after the delicate start. An overall chalky floral ending, as if you’d inhaled your grandmother’s face powder – evocative of times gone by, certainly.

This may or may not be indistinguishable from the whisky served at the American Bar of the Savoy in 1903, but the attractive art nouveau inspired bottle, the stories that will accompany it, and the unusual nature of the dram (both in terms of its peaty air and its antique elegance) will pique the curiosity of many whisky enthusiasts.

If you’re interested, you’ll pick up a bottle for around the £60 mark. 46% abv.

The view from here

So, if you’ve been wondering why the silence from this end of the whisky tasting operation, it’s because I’ve been busy renovating, selling and moving house. Something which automatically calls for a dram.

The family and I have relocated to Fife. Rural enough without being remote, and fine for transport in any direction and by any mode, be it winged or wheeled.

And most importantly, closer to the whisky.

In the interim, it appears that Dubber has taken delivery of several samples of the new Dalmore releases – but whilst for the most part, he did the gracious thing and saved me the trouble of tasting them, he managed to send me one to evaluate.

On the rocks

The Dalmore Castle Leod is the second bottling to draw attention to Dalmore’s close historic ties with Clan Mackenzie (see tasting notes for that here… ). The Castle itself has been home to Clan Mackenzie since 1606, and The Mackenzie bottling helped in part to support The Mackenzie Clan Gathering last year.

It’s great that whisky companies appear to be waking up to the fact that their products are synonymously intertwined with culture, and are choosing to associate themselves with important issues and causes. Whilst the more cynical of you may dismiss this as mere marketing, I for one, am happy to see the profile of these causes benefitting from the extra exposure. If you can enjoy a dram whilst helping maintain important cultural iconography, then why not?

As for the dram itself, here’s what I made of it:

Nose: heavy wine notes, pot ale syrup/treacle, chocolate orange, custard creams, dried fruit

Palate: Astringent, big, robust, wine notes, lots of sawn wood, cocoa powder, blackcurrants, copper (?!?)

Finish: More red wine in the finish initially, giving way to chocolate again, back to wine and dried fruit, perhaps tropical fruit, mango, pineapple and the like, quite lengthy

All in all, an unusual whisky, but certainly offering something of the luxurious, as befitting it’s namesake. It would be a great end to a celebratory evening.

You can book a tour of the castle itself if you become one of the Dalmore Custodians. Next time I’m up that direction I intend to check it out.

Photo by Junnn

It’s worth noting that the collection has been created by Richard ‘The Nose’ Paterson, who is Whyte & Mackay’s talented (and world-renowned) master blender – and according to the blurb here, each expression is different and reflects the character of Scotland’s four greatest salmon rivers.

I have to be honest here: I don’t taste the character of the Spey river in this particular dram, and I didn’t taste any other river characters in the other drams – but this is a metaphorical reflection rather than a literal one, which I suppose is a good thing. I suspect I wouldn’t enjoy a whisky that literally reflected the character of a salmon river, no matter how pristine and well-preserved, quite as much as I enjoy these Dalmore drams.

All that said – on with the Spey. And as much as it’s a fine whisky, this is further up the floral end of the spectrum than you might ordinarily associate with a Speyside whisky – and that’s because it’s not a Speyside. Being a Dalmore means that it’s a Highlands whisky, regardless of how much of the spirit of the Spey the expression metaphorically reflects.

There’s a light note of jasmine on the nose, and not much of anything else. Perhaps a little lavender. The palate is fairly unchallenging – sweet and subtle with hints of macadamia and marzipan – and while the finish isn’t abrupt, it is rather light with just a touch of pepper and bergamot.

Rather disappointingly, since this is the Rivers Collection I’m finishing on, this is for me the least of them. Still, if you wanted to make a contribution to the upkeep of the Spey river – or indeed all of the rivers – or if you wanted to collect the set, this would certainly be one to get. But for my money, if you’re choosing just one of the four – go for the Dee dram, which was the second one I tasted.

I still have a sample of Dalmore to try that came in the same box, but it’s not one of the Rivers Collection. This is the one I’ve been saving for best: the Dalmore Castle Leod… and I’ll be tasting that one in a couple of days time. Look forward to that one.

Photo by christianvassdal

Known as perhaps the best and most prolific of the salmon-fishing rivers, the Tweed River is both celebrated and supported by the release of the third of this series of Dalmore rivers collection bottlings: the Tweed Dram.

A lighter and more delicate scotch than the previous two (Tay and Dee), this has a more honeycomb and marzipan nose to it, with a touch of pear. The palate is marmalade and allspice with barley sugars. Honey on the medium-length finish with a slight nut and caramel tone to the aftertaste.

If you’re looking for a slightly sweeter and mellower dram, this would be a very good choice, and you can feel good about the £4 or so that goes toward the preservation of Britain’s best salmon waterway.

Photo by aldenchadwick

The second in the series of the four Dalmore Rivers whiskies is the Dee Dram. Quite a different character to the Tay I tasted yesterday. It’s more bitter – not in an unpleasant way, but in the way that dark chocolate, espresso beans and walnuts are more bitter than cake.

In fact, those are, for me, the predominant characters of this whisky, which actually makes it more to my taste. There’s still something of the citrus in here – orange peel, perhaps – as well as some slight aniseed or liquorice tones, and this comes through quite strongly on the nose. There’s a distinct cocoa flavour on the palate, a touch of hazelnut, and again a longish finish.

It’s a 12 year old scotch, 50% aged in sherry casks and 50% in bourbon casks, and is a limited edition bottling to raise money for the preservation of the Dee River. Around 10% of the retail price for the whisky goes to the Dee River Trust to support their work and enable conservation and sustainability efforts for this important part of Scotland’s natural heritage.

And it’s a very nice whisky.

Photo by Jackal1

It’s not often you get charity whisky. And you wouldn’t necessarily associate your favourite dram with an ecological cause. But Dalmore have launched a series of whiskies specifically to raise money to protect Scotland’s rivers.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this – the Dalmore Dee Dram was launched last year and sold out in nine weeks, raising £35,000 to enhance this iconic fishing spot. Yes, it’s about tourism, but it’s also about sustainability and conservation.

There are four river projects in this new set: Dee, Tay, Tweed and Spey (from which we get the term ‘Speyside’, with which you’ll be familiar as a whisky region). They’re hoping to raise around £400,000 a year through the sale of these whiskies to help protect salmon, otters, rare birds and other plants and animals. But what do they taste like (the whiskies that is, not the rivers – or the otters)?

I thought I’d try one a night over the next few evenings… starting with the Tay.

Dalmore Tay Dram
The Dalmore Tay Dram is 40% abv, and retails for around the £40 mark – 10% of which goes directly to the Tay Foundation to enable them to continue their work to protect and enhance the river Tay. It’s a limited bottling consisting of whisky finished in bourbon and Oloroso sherry casks. And it’s very nice indeed.

Nose: dark caramel, citrus.
Palate: ginger beer, fruit cake, a touch of pear and creme brulée.
Finish: long, warming, hints of fudge and honey.

This is what you might think of as a conversational whisky. An after-dinner dram for sharing with friends over stories – perhaps of the one that got away.

Seasons greetings, whisky enthusiasts and people who have stumbled across our blog by mistake while looking for something else entirely.

We decided to squeeze in one more tasting before Christmas, partly because we’re not going to be in the same place at the same time for a few weeks, but mostly because we’d come into possession of some Fettercairns that promised very fine and seasonal things.

We started with the limited release Fettercairn Fior. Not much information on this – it was a bit of a mystery, and the box is filled with the kind of fanciful rhetoric you might expect from a bottle of whisky which takes as its emblem the unicorn – but it looks dark, rich and lovely. And indeed, it pours like a syrup. Off to a good start.

Nose: treacle, smoke, zest, vanilla
Palate: all spice, pepper, peat, molasses, menthol
Finish: medium, thick & intense

Really surprisingly great.

We also had a range of other treats to sample from the Fettercairn range, and they varied in vintage from 24 years old, 30, to 40 years old.

Normally the chance to try a 40 year-old whisky is a rare treat, but it was in such good company, its specialness diminished somewhat. Remember, while older usually means ‘more expensive’, it does not always mean ‘better’ when it comes to whisky.

24 year-old
Nose: Lots of cereal, malt, grapes, golden delicious apples
Palate: touch of salt, peach, vanilla, oak, cream
Finish: Thick, peaks, then gently fades

30 year-old
Nose: slight toffee, almonds, pears
Palate: Cinnamon, cocoa, stewed fruit, very slight creamy note, sherbet,
Finish: Very nice – crisp, but too short.

40 year-old
Nose: Marzipan, fresh pastry, pineapple, mint, old books
Palate: oranges, cream, cereal, more citrus, sherbet
Finish: Medium and precise.

If we were celebrating, and had a bit of spare cash (£140 give or take), the 24 year old would be a definite top choice. Most impressive and satisfying of the lot, by a good stretch. By contrast, the 40 retails for upwards of £700 a bottle which would place it squarely in the “collectors only” camp.

But for the price of a standard single malt (around £35), the Fior is very highly recommended. Superb value, extremely good drinking and an exceptional Christmas dram. You should definitely treat yourself to a bottle.

Have a great, safe and cheery Christmas!

We got together for a bit of a pre-Christmas tasting. We started proceedings with a miniature bottle of 1975 Knockando (bottled in 1989 – so that makes it a 14 year old). The cork had all but disintegrated, and the level had dropped significantly, so we suspect that some of the alcohol had evaporated from it, leaving it less than its advertised 41% abv – but we thought we’d give it a try anyway.

Nose: light, menthol, lemon, fig, pencil shaving
Palate: slight, takes a long time to come through – sherbert, creamy, smooth, very little depth
Finish: tanin, vanilla, smoke

As it was, you could drink that, quite happily, with a meal – but not quite the special treat we were hoping for. We followed up with an AnCnoc 16:

Nose: Great. Banana. Floral.
Palate: Woody, mulch – leaves, apples, melons
Finish: Short, but peppery.

Much better. Definitely worth a try. But now we’re really looking forward to this Fettercairn tasting we’re going to try and squeeze in before Santa comes…