A Rich Pour - Column No. 8

March 5, 2007

In this installment of “A Rich Pour”, Cigar Weekly’s contributing editor Doug Kuebler (Jazznut) nostalgically flips the Scotch pages back to recall notable whiskies from an era many consider the Renaissance of single malts - the 1980s.

Once Upon A Time Whiskies

From desert to oasis

In these days of sizable selection, it’s easy to forget there was an era when Scotch whisky essentially meant blended whisky, and the appearance of any single-site spirit – the ubiquitous Glenfiddich and Glenlivet aside – represented an event.

For single malt aficionados, the desperation of those desert-like decades subsided significantly during the 1980s, a veritable Golden Age in which distilleries and licensed distributors really began to tap into the burgeoning malt whisky market pioneered by independent bottlers such as William Cadenhead and Gordon & MacPhail.

Silent stills

Unfortunately, with the good news came the bad – closures. In some instances, corporate considerations led to dismantling of distilleries even while the proprietary single malt whiskies from these sites hit the retail shelves. Money, it seemed, mattered more than spirituous merit.

Admittedly, a number of malt whisky distilleries, especially second-tier sites erected during the boom years of the late 19th and early 20th Centuries primarily to provide additional fillings for the blenders, may have outlived usefulness. But for every Banff or North Port that had its innards ripped out and doors closed, a Brora or Port Ellen undeservedly suffered similar fate.

Time capsules

Today, single malt enthusiasts can partake of an incredible range of contemporary offerings. Nonetheless, many older issues emanating from the 1980s have acquired a certain status owing to their increasing rarity and unique characteristics. Let’s take a look at a few.

Macho Macallan

Layered Sherry intensity

Although The Macallan remains a benchmark for lovers of Sherry cask influenced single malt, recent times have witnessed a shift in the overall wood regime emphasis employed by the distillery. This evolution towards greater refinement is reflected not only in the introduction of the Fine Oak series, which breaks new ground by incorporating ex-Bourbon barrel matured spirit, but also in a discernibly uplifted quality now evident in the once single-vintage, practically chewable 18-Year Old aged exclusively in Sherry casks. As a result, examples of the latter distilled from the late 1960s through the 1970s are increasingly sought after for their layered, intensely focused Sherry-oak flavors and sheer verve.

New kid on the block

A pretty face

Whereas Macallan boasted a distinguished history that predated its surge onto the single malt scene, Auchroisk Distillery was a Johnny-come-lately of the 1970s. Auchroisk dared to challenge its elder with a Sherry butt finished concoction pretentiously named The Singleton. This whisky, initially vintage dated but soon thereafter modified to simpler 10-year old status, wrapped smoked fruits and suggestions of the spice cupboard in wine cask sweetness, and made quite a splash upon its appearance. Those early issues may not have represented the finest of whiskies, but they certainly put up a pretty face. Nowadays, that Jerez blanket has largely been yanked away to reveal the underlying lightness of the distillate.

Beauty in a bottle

Round and honeyed

No such quandaries regarding Glenfiddich’s stablemate, Balvenie, though – here was a case of greatness waiting to be captured in bottled form. And that is precisely what happened when William Grant & Sons decided to replace its earlier 8-Year Old version with the more venerable Founder’s Reserve. Vatted from sixty or more individual casks and packaged within a stylishly rendered, long necked vessel, the first editions of Balvenie Founder’s Reserve poured forth a round and honeyed Highland potion positively resonating with Sherry oak overtones. Stupendous! The current 10-Year Old may retain the Founder’s Reserve title and position as one of the better of its ilk, but that delicious infusion of Sherry has been toned down substantially since the introduction of the 12-Year Old Double Wood incarnation.

Unsung heroes

Class act

I’ve always pictured Linkwood and Mortlach as neglected siblings within the distillery portfolio of the giant United Distillers & Vintners / Diageo consortium. Despite periodic appearances under the Flora & Fauna and Rare Malts Selection labels (to name but two), neither one of this Highland pair has been deemed important enough to warrant inclusion in the parent company’s heavily promoted Classic Malts series. It’s a shame. Back in the days when United Distillers relegated much of the single malt side of its business to its licensed subsidiaries, John McEwan & Company marketed a 12-Year Old Linkwood, which persisted on the palate and oozed class. Similarly, George Cowie & Son offered a 12-Year Old Mortlach that tasted at once piercingly flavorful and pleasingly delicate. Both were noteworthy for possessing a perfectly pitched balance and sense of proportion, as well as for not exhibiting the vagaries of too long a time spent in oak.

Monster malts

Power and audacity

When it comes to whiskies with character, few can challenge Lagavulin. Consistently furnishing mouthfuls of simmering subterranean substance, this Islay classic can practically overwhelm the senses. The current 16-Year Old continues to be admired by many, and with good reason. But for those fortunate enough to remember the displaced standard strength 12-Year Old, a question mark will remain as to whether the vanquished or the surviving version represents the real Lagavulin. It’s a hard pick, to be sure. Yet there’s no denying the power and audacity of the 1980s edition under the White Horse Distillers banner – a monster whisky if ever there was one.

Lagavulin’s more northerly rival in the explosive flavors sweepstakes, Talisker, appears to have been intermittently whipped by the lion tamers of marketing management, too. The 10-Year Old, when on form, still manages to assault the palate with an appropriate degree of carnage. Nevertheless, that energizingly crisp spectrum of dry, charred marine notions manifested by the 8 and 12-Year Old bottlings previously marketed under the Johnnie Walker designation was something to behold.

The end of the road

Uncompromised excellence

Distillery closures have long been a fact of life within the Scotch whisky industry. Even so, the year 1983 accounted for a veritable tsunami of shutdowns, as Benromach, Brora, Glen Mhor, Glentauchers, Glenugie, Knockdhu, Port Ellen and Tobermory all went silent. Fully half of these eight sites would be gone for good – amongst this permanently quelled quartet, the loss of Brora and Port Ellen being particularly bemoaned.

Brora had struggled for more than a decade alongside – even bequeathing its original name to – the more modern Clynelish built nextdoor. Although both sites produced excellent spirits evidencing cascading brine and smoke with a Northern Highland twist, the whisky from the older facility somehow seemed more peat laden, harmonious and less compromised.

Meanwhile, Port Ellen, which produced a spirit full of seaside substance that was a miraculous melding of delicacy and raunchiness, found itself the odd still-site out against the likes of Caol Ila and Lagavulin.

A question of identity

Soon to be cherished

I have fond memories of days past when the distillery name on a bottle really signified something. Lagavulin inevitably reeked of nose-wrinkling peat and Macallan unashamedly meant Sherry cask. This was, of course, back when one was lucky to encounter versions of any single malt Scotch whisky.

These days, I find myself increasingly conundrumized. For example, the Highland honey of Balvenie can now be had with an Islay barrel edge, delicate Glenmorangie has expanded to encompass myriad wood expressions, and even craggy Cragganmore comes more ready to please in the Portified persona of its Distillers Edition. This phenomenon is not simply a matter of mixing up the casks either, as more and more distilleries also strive to offer their wares at various degrees of maturity and strength. Little surprise that my aged taste buds are suffering a severe bout of nostalgia.

I’ll admit to liking a fair number of the newer, non-standard whiskies being offered. They are tasty, after all. But I have to wonder whether many of them truly represent the innate characteristics of their distillery locales or traditions. This begs the question, "Is a flavorful single malt that doesn’t reflect its its stylistic heritage still worth its wort?"

Assuming one is seeking an appropriate single malt for a specific time of the day, or to partner with a particular kind of food or cigar, is the current rage in the industry for wood finishing the answer? Would one not be better off searching for a whisky traditionally known for its own individualistic characteristics capable of meeting the above-mentioned requirements?

It is important to remember the marketing aspect of the wood finishing fad. This involves not only the possibility of a broadened range within the portfolio of any single – i.e. potentially increased market share, sales and profit - but also the potential cost savings from utilizing specialty casks over a shorter time frame, as well as from rejuvenating tired casks of aged whiskies or polishing away other subtle flaws that might have crept into the cask regimen of a distillery. Glenmorangie 18 Year Old was an early and perfect example of this; the initial batches amounted almost to an accident, as the distillery management sought to revive a few select older casks that tasted excellent apart from having perhaps spent a year or two too long in oak – the revival consisted of the whisky from those casks being transferred into fresh Sherry casks. Voila! Very good whisky at a very healthy price.

I’ve also observed that wood finishing often introduces what I like to term a yin-yang effect, with the influence of the wine or other type of finishing cask disparate from that of the original cask and of the spirit itself. This can provide for a fun taste experience, but there is always a question of lack of integration. Success varies significantly here, with some single malts lending themselves to the process better than others.

The benefits of extended wood ageing of whisky truly represent an oversimplification. Each cask of whisky tends to go its own way, maturing at its own rate. Furthermore, the melding of variously aged casks of a single malt can yield an excellent pour. I find myself increasingly gravitating towards the liveliness of younger whiskies these days. If the oak is of high quality, a few years of whisky in wood can often deliver a fantastic spirit.

If it appears I’m waxing sentimental for the simpler times of the 1980s, when a sense of tradition seemed – by design or by accident – of paramount importance, I wouldn’t deny it. But what does tradition really mean, anyway? Scotch producers have always been frugal sorts first and foremost. This is reflected in the more predominant use of then plentiful and inexpensive Madeira and Sherry casks during the 19th Century, and the shift to Bourbon barrels during the 20th Century when the latter became widely available at low cost. Tradition and trends are both, in fact, often driven by the bottom line.

The bottom line for me in all of this is what I like to call the integrity factor. Is the individual and recognizable identity of a particular single malt Scotch distillate compromised by ageing in unusual kinds of casks, or is it enhanced? More attention needs to be paid to whether or not a particular wood maturation protocol serves merely to introduce an altered flavor profile, or serves to actually highlight the intrinsic characteristics of the slumbering spirit. And the rush to retail multiple variations of a single malt should not be carried out at the expense of a distillery’s standard issue.

If there’s one thing for sure, it’s that many of the single malt Scotch whiskies introduced during the heydays of the 1980s weren’t afraid to show their true colours. Spoiled as I am at the moment, I still miss them. Of course, I may well be saying the same thing about much of the current batch of single malts 20 years hence. C’est la vie!

Doug Kuebler (Jazznut) is an inveterate aficionado and collector of wines and whiskies from around the world. Doug has organized wine and food seminars, and written extensively on wines and liquors. His latest book set, The Tumbler's Guide to Single Malt Scotch Whisky: Desk Reference and Field Guide, is available from Topeda Hill Publishing.