A good friend of ours (and fellow whisky fan), the brilliant photographer Tomas Whitehouse was over in the UK from Helsinki to visit family. He stopped in for a dram or two during the Christmas period with his partner Tuuli, and we talked long into the night about all manner of things.

Along the way, we had a few real treats: a New Zealand whisky, the Thomson 17 year-old which is surprisingly light and citrus; the Jura Superstition (a default dram – especially when I’ve run out of the Prophecy); the Ardbeg Still Young committee bottling; and – since it was a special occasion – I cracked open the Lagavulin 12 year-old Special Release (cask strength, bottled in 2008) – which I certainly don’t regret.

As we sipped our whisky and listened to some good jazz, the conversation turned to tobacco. Tomas had recently started exploring the flavours of a range of pipe tobaccos and cigars with a friend of his in Finland, and began to fill me in on the knowledge he’d gleaned about different types of pipe, the ways in which to dry out the tobacco, how best to go about developing an appreciation of it, and where to get the best stuff online for a decent price.

Despite having been a non-smoker for about a decade, and desperately cautious of anything containing nicotine, the topic was fascinating to me. I think it’s fair to say that challenging the senses and exploring new tastes and aromas is one of the things that really draws me to whisky – as is the chance to sit down, relax, think, and have an interesting conversation. Pipe and cigar smoking definitely falls into that category as well.

By the end of the evening, I’d bookmarked a dozen or so websites, had a few names of things to try, and even a pipe or two in mind to acquire and get to work on.

In the cold light of day, however, my caution took over and I decided against it. I strongly suspect that having spent fifteen years as a pack-a-day smoker, I’d find it hard to make the enjoyment of a pipe an occasional indulgence, as whisky is.

Like anything, I guess, it pays to know where your personal margins of safety lie. Alcohol and tobacco are the two biggest killers in Western society, so (without wanting to sound like a public service announcement) it pays to have a healthy respect for them.

I feel a twinge of envy for Tomas, who is enjoying a whole new range of experiences and flavours that I’ve decided to deny myself – but to be entirely honest, I was also a bit worried that it might detract from my exploration of the world of whisky, which has seemingly infinite variety and surprises around every corner. I’m happy to keep my focus firmly there.

Of course – it’s always so great to have such interesting conversations over a few whiskies. That’s what it’s all about – people, stories, and sharing a glass or two of something nice. Don’t you think?

Putting the finishing touches on the year and thought I’d pause to raise a toast to everyone who helped make 2011 a good one for Clutch and I. We visited some lovely places, drank some astonishingly good whisky, met some wonderful people and had the opportunity to taste and write about some incredible drams.

Not every experience was a good one in 2011, of course. Every year has its ups and downs. Not every person we met was delightful, and not every dram was to our liking, but the positive far more than outweighed the negative and you don’t want to read about two blokes having a miserable time anyway, so we’ll gloss over that stuff.

Besides, look back over the blog and you’ll see how lucky we’ve been – and what unique experiences and opportunities that a love of whisky has brought to us over the past year.

So I just wanted to wish you – and particularly Clutch and family now tucked away in their brand new home way up in the north of Scotland – a very merry Christmas.

This is a Dalmore 1995 – it’s sweet, a little nutty with marzipan and dried fruits – with a medium to long finish of sherry trifle. The perfect Christmas dram, actually. To your health – and to a wonderful and prosperous 2012.

Sláinte.

I had the good fortune to be invited along to the opening of Dalmore’s new Visitor Centre a few weeks ago, and had been looking forward to it from the moment I’d received the invite prior to that. Although I’ve passed that way several times, I’ve never had the opportunity to call in, and it’s set in one of the most spectacular parts of Scotland.

The journey by train took me up through the Cairngorms, and as I passed Dalwhinnie, I began to hanker for a dram, but thought it best to save myself and my palate, as I knew there’d be a couple of treats in store for us Dalmore.

I was staying at the beautiful (and somewhat grander than I’m used to – although I’m happy to beome accustomed to this…) Novar Estate, and once I’d been shown ’round, I headed to my room to get prepared for the tour of the refurbished centre and dinner.

The centre has been very much remodelled in sympathy with the original building, whilst really emphasising the luxury elements that tend to be associated with Dalmore. The very talented and friendly husband and wife team, John and Mary-Louise, who undertook the design and refurb were there, and very graciously took the time to answer some of the questions I had regarding the ins and outs of sourcing certain materials and lighting installation. Having worked in scenic carpentry for a few years, I can be a construction/design-bore in addition to being a whisky-bore. Ever the multi-tasker…

Once the tour had concluded, we made our way back to the Alchemy Room, which is where we were joined by Richard Paterson for an extremely special tutored tasting, which included the superb Dalmore King Alexander III – one big, bold dram, which takes in the flavours of six different vessels in its journey from still to bottle. An amazing feat of blending. Beautiful stuff.

We were treated to a beautiful meal by catering from The Storehouse, and the drams kept coming – an amazing Dalmore 1978 which had been matured in Gonzales Byass Sherry casks for over 30 years. Not the sort of whisky you encounter every day. Rich and luxurious stuff. During the meal, I was sat next to Ian Mackay and got to bend his ear about his days at Invergordon, as well as his role at Dalmore. Luckily, he was another patient soul who put up with my questions without getting irked. I was just happy to have been invited to an event with such a wealth of whisky knowledge around the table. Who wouldn’t use that opportunity to ask a few questions?

If you want to be wowed by luxury, then I’d heartily recommend a visit to Dalmore – but more importantly, the people are friendly, knowledgable and passionate about whisky, and really that’s what’s at the core of this malt. Beneath the bling and theatre, this is a craft with much care invested in it. You can taste that in the results.

We’ve recently been involved in helping to write part of a new book on whisky. A bit exciting to be asked to join the company of more noted writers in the field than ourselves, and somewhat of a challenge to complete these things to deadlines and not just at our own behest (ahem…looks around guiltily).

So off the back of that request, I’ve been having a good look around a few distilleries of late. Some familiar, and others a new experience for me. The thing with distillery tours, is that once you’ve been ’round a couple and got the gist of the process, barring the few idiosyncrasies that their individual kit provides, it’s essentially the same wherever you go (others may disagree, but I’ll admit, I’m generalising here), so all that ever leaves an impression are the stories that you hear from the personalities that you meet.

If you’re very lucky, you’ll get the odd glimmer of insider knowledge – nothing that’s usually fit for printing – but usually something that gives you that little bit of insight into an industry that is at times secretive and opaque. But business is business, right? Perhaps that’s to be expected then.

Preamble over.

So, not for the first time, I arranged to meet Ronnie Routledge, now at Glenglassaugh Distillery, for a quick chat about the various drams I’d be covering for this upcoming book, and also to get a bit of background.

Glenglassaugh’s a little bit special for me, as I used to live at the cottages just across the road from it. I’d whiz past it on my bike on many a journey between Portsoy and Cullen.

Ronnie very kindly took time out of his busy day (it was slap bang in the middle of Spirit Of Speyside Festival when I met with him) and gave me a whirlwind tour of the place, and eventually we ended up on the roof. Doing a full 180 degree turn, you can take in the blue-glass sea at neighbouring Sandend, that ‘Glassaugh itself overlooks, and then the blazing gorse that surrounds the water source as you towards the direction of the Durn Hill.

It’s a very special place to me.

Before I left, Ronnie very kindly talked me through a few of the future releases that Glenglassaugh have prepared, and due to my tardiness in getting ’round to writing about this, it seems that one of them is actually upon us already.

It’s a bottling chosen by Ronnie himself, and it’s from a 35 year old vintage sherry butt, filled in 1976. Only 654 bottles and bottled at a natural strength of 49.6%. It’s out now.

I’m rooting for Glenglassaugh, and I’ll admit I’m biased, but luckily they’re making great whisky, and the stock they inherited is pretty special too. I’m looking forward to getting my hands on more of it in the coming years.

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.

Earlier this week, we made a special, one of a kind blended malt whisky while we were at the Glengoyne distillery. We tasted it and we’re very happy with it, and it’s utterly unique.

And this is it right here: the only bottle of Dubber and Clutch Premium Blend whisky in the world. We’d like to send it to you.

All you have to do is tweet a link to this page, and you’re in the draw. We’ve made it exceptionally easy for you to do so as well.

Over on the left of this page (scroll up a bit – you’ll see it), there’s a button that says ‘Tweet’. It’s blue. Found it? Click that, send out the message, and you’re done.

Feel free to click that Like button while you’re up there as well – but that’s not one of the conditions of entry. We’ll draw the winner at random this time next week.

Best of luck!

We spent the afternoon at Glengoyne distillery yesterday, which enjoys a reputation as the world’s most beautiful distillery. It really is a lovely place to visit and walk around. As you can see from the photo, it’s at the bottom of a hill – actually an extinct volcano – and at the foot of the burn (a Scottish word for a stream) from where they source their water. It also gave the distillery its original name – Burnfoot.

Glengoyne pride themselves on their entirely smokeless whisky flavours. The malt they use in their distilling process is air-dried, rather than dried over a peat smoke fire. The resulting whisky is smooth, sweet and light.

It’s the silent season, so everything is shut down for maintenance, repairs and a jolly good clean.

It’s quite amazing to walk around and see the inside and workings of the machinery that makes the whisky – to actually look inside a still, rather than just admire it from the outside.

The shop has been refurbished and they have a ‘fill-your-own-bottle’ of single cask, unique to visitors of the distillery.

We tried a few drams – the 10 year-old, the Isle of Skye 12, the Glengoyne 17, and two single casks, one of which was an exceptional port-finished whisky.

We had a look around the warehouse as well as the distillery – perhaps most interesting because of the charcoal on the floor, which is there to retain moisture so that there’s less evaporation from the barrels.

But the highlight of the tour was the master blending session.

We were taken into the tasting room, and given samples of a range of different whiskies to nose from all of the whisky-producing regions of Scotland. We were talked through the process of making a premium blend whisky, consisting of primarily grain whiskies, but flavoured with a range of different malts.

Clutch and I made competing whiskies using different proportions and measures of the different malts, adding the Lowland malts to bring up some of the citrus notes, Highland to add a touch of dried fruit, Speyside for the sweetness and sherry, Island for pepper and honey and Islay to add a smoky, peaty air to the proceedings – and of course the Glengoyne itself for apples, vanilla and toffee.

Not that it was a competition or anything, but I totally won. Mine earned the right to be known as the Dubber and Clutch Premium Blend, and we think it’s really very good. We filled a 100ml sample bottle and then shared the remainder.

And this coming weekend, we’ll give you the chance to WIN that very bottle – the only bottle in the world of Dubber and Clutch Premium Blend.

Stay tuned here, and follow @twhisky on Twitter for details of how to win that unique whisky, made by the very hands that typed this blog post that you’re reading right now.

I’m in California this week, working with a music website called Bandcamp. I thought the least I could do was bring a bottle of whisky, so I snuck a bottle of the Jura Prophecy into my suitcase. Of course, my hosts had done their homework, and there was a bottle of Lagavulin 16 waiting for me on my arrival.

The team are having something of a retreat. They often work from home and only communicate with each other online most of the time, so periodically, they rent a big house in Inverness (coincidentally), just out of San Francisco – and stay for a week working together, and just generally hanging out. It’s a privilege to be included – and a whisky tasting seemed appropriate.

We added a Bowmore 15 and a local single malt called St George (made in Alameda, California) to the selection, and we sat around the table on our first night in the house tasting, discussing and comparing whisky.

We started with the St George, which this website describes as a ‘very girly’ whisky, moved on to the noticeably smokier Jura Prophecy, followed it up with the raisiny, rich Bowmore 15 and finished on the Lagavulin.

Of course, it was a bit of a late one and tasting whisky quickly just became drinking whisky. They all had work in the morning – including presentations and tech talks, and at 9am the next day, this was the opening slide.

The Lagavulin was the hands-down favourite, and over the course of the week, we’ve had to open the back-up bottle of that one. I think Diageo might start to notice a spike in local sales after this week.

But while we’ve mostly been hanging out together in the house, I have also managed to get out and about and explore a bit of the local neighbourhood.

I went to a saloon (the Old Western, no less) and I was pleasantly surprised to find Laphroaig on hand, though when I noticed the photographs above the bar of the visit paid to that fine establishment by Charles and Camilla, the pieces fell into place. Laphroaig is Charles’s favourite tipple.

But I’ve tried Laphroaig before, and wanted something a bit more appropriate to the context, so I selected a straight rye whisky called Old Overholt. Surprisingly sweet and smooth.

It’s been a great few days, and sharing the new tastes and understandings about whisky has definitely contributed to the experience of the event. I’ve managed to convert a few new whisky fans along the way, and made a few new friends in the process.

Every now and then, somebody emails us, offering to send us whisky to review on this blog. Which is lovely, of course, and much appreciated. But every now and then something reminds us to make clear that writing reviews of whisky for promotional purposes is not actually what we do.

Yesterday, we received a kind offer of a delivery of some samples, to which we responded immediately and positively. We like whisky, after all. The PR person who sent us the email then responded with their expectations of a review, a request for links to a couple of different pages on their client’s website, and a 7-day turnaround time for the review, after which they would follow up with further enquiries.

Two links and tweet? That’ll be four drams please
And so we declined with thanks. Chances are, had they sent the whisky, we would have reviewed it promptly, with links and in an interesting and hopefully entertaining manner. But it brought into sharp focus for us what this blog is and isn’t. We don’t write for whisky – we write about whisky.

Not only did setting up the expectations (I won’t use the word ‘demands’) in exchange for a small sample bottle or two clearly flag up the fact that we were essentially being paid for a review in this blog. It also reminded us that while we love whisky, this blog isn’t a marketing platform and nor is it analogous to a whisky magazine with a clear commercial imperative.

Send in the amateurs
We write about whisky mostly because we are interested in it. This is what we like to do. We’re interested in the stories, the ideas, the culture, the people, the places… as well as both the art and the science of whisky. We don’t give scores out of ten and nor do we only write about whisky that we have been given for free.

Not only that – but nor do we only write positive things (not least about ourselves). Some whisky is, let’s face it, horrible. And sometimes we do dumb stuff that makes us look foolish – which is always great web content.

In other words, this is an outlet for our passion. We are both storytellers and we believe that whisky provides both the occasion for storytelling, and more than enough in the way of topics. We love to get involved in whisky-related projects – especially when we can shoehorn music into it as well. And of course, along the way, we have had (we like to think) positive promotional benefits, and when there’s an interesting story, we do have a lot to say. We know that thousands of people read this blog (no, really) and follow us on Twitter. We like to think that’s because what we write is interesting.

But there are other blogs that are set up as promotional channels for whisky brands. Blogs that have thought about their ‘marketing funnel’ (we had to look it up when we first heard the term, and it still makes us laugh). Blogs that are clearly online versions of whisky magazines, that rely on regular supply of press releases, samples and advertising copy for their ongoing sustainability.

Why you should (perhaps) send us whisky
We blog when we feel there’s something to blog about. When we go whisky places, meet whisky people, have something surprising to say about whisky, have thought about whisky things in a different way, or when we get together to do something whisky-related.

Being sent whisky is wonderful, of course, but we were pleased to have the opportunity to decline as well, as it reminded us what this blog is, and isn’t. We hope you find it interesting – but we’re here to share our enthusiasms – not just to sell you stuff.

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.