There’s a special kind of time they talk about at the end of the long road to Ardbeg. They call it Islay Time. The kind of present that is so closely linked to the past, everything slows down. It’s not hard to imagine the life of Celtic monks who found refuge from raiding Norsemen, or the Lords of the Isles, clan kings who ruled for nearly 300 years on the peaty earth of Islay from Loch Finlaggan. Their bloodline stretched through to the MacDougall’s, founders of Ardbeg itself. Humble monks, noble kings and those not afraid to find a way around the law – Islay’s history is Ardbeg’s history. It was in Ardbeg’s rocky cove that the early Scottish distillers smuggled their illicit aquavitae out to black-painted ships moored just off the shore, ready to sail to Scotland’s mainland and beyond, hoping to avoid the British tariffs.
There were perhaps no more hated men in all of Scotland than the excisemen who taxed and measured every drop of uigse beatha, for they often exercised the most extraordinary, brutal power over local communities. Excisemen were to be feared and being caught, avoided at all costs. But the pirates, those rugged islanders, Spainards and enterprising business people – they were to be admired. Often, their illicit trade supported the backbone of these isolated communities.
There’s tell of elaborate signal systems to warn when the excisemen were out on patrol. The ring of a church bell here, the flickering of a lantern over there. Village people roped into elaborate decoy plans and fisherman called upon to sink barrels of amber gold in the bay, only to be retrieved at a later date.
I grew up beside and dreaming of the sea and standing on the shores of Ardbeg on a still day, I wonder if I dreamed of pirates and adventure all along. I have seen the current that runs between Islay and the mainland. Swift, deep and deceptive on a dark night it could trap uncanny sailor or lure unwary captain into the storm. It is not hard to imagine the gentle lap of the bay becoming the roaring crash of tide against inky black rock. There is adventure here.
I smell salt, seaweed, earth and musk. The irrepressible spirit of Ardbeg hovering in the ocean air and breathing out of those warehouses. In one of those warehouses, the Ardbeg Dark Cove aged, cloistered in the dark. I tasted the Committee Release (bottled at 55%) while at Ardbeg and now, in the comfort of home – I’m going to share the tasting notes for the general release, the darkest Ardbeg ever, which happens this Saturday 28 May.
I invited a friend and fellow whisky lover to share their tasting notes too. Two opinions for the price of one. Riley is bar manager at my local drinking spot and we regularly converse on the latest rare bottles to make the shelves. Why share the tasting notes? I’m always interested in giving people a reason to try something new, especially something rare like this. You’ll have the chance to sample it yourself on Ardbeg Day, so why not know what to expect and see if you can find the same flavours we did, or something altogether different?
The Ardbeg Dark Cove (Ardbeg Day 2016 release). 46.5% abv. The first comment is that in this case, while the general release is only cut by less than 10%, it does make an remarkable difference to the palate and finish. I couldn’t tell you that I preferred one over the other, but it’s interesting to know that the sweetness and citrus was much more present in the Committee Release, while the general release seems to more robustly whisper “I’ve been in a PX cask”.. although that’s my opinion and unverified.
Colour Riley: Light gold, caramel. WhiskyGirl: Agree, although we could argue about the shades. For something being talked about as being the darkest ever, with a mix of sherry and bourbon casks being publicised, I’m expecting to see a deeper hue in the glass, but that is hint number one that it’s perhaps got some Pedro Ximenez casks in there.
Nose Riley: Passionfruit. Orange Blossom. Lemon Sherbet. White Smoke. Cherry wood? Molasses. Treacle. Barbecue. Bacon fat? WhiskyGirl: Sticky, sweet brown sugar caramelizing, with cooked out apples. Actually it’s a lot like a good vanilla custard. Then definitely get orange and lemon – before more savoury notes emerge. I agree with the bacon fat and woodhouse smoke. Almost manuka-like but more sweet and dark, with spice notes starting to appear.
Palate Riley: Palate reflects Nose. Grapefruit (White?). Lemon. Peat is balanced. Spice (Allspice). Baked Banana & Vanilla. Toffee Apple. WhiskyGirl: Reminds me of an orange and almond cake I make. Caramelised vanilla sugar crust with the sharpness of citrus developing. Now I taste elements of Persian orange water. Slowly more baked apple emerges with cinnamon and nutmeg. Big, tobacco leaf and old leather starts to emerge out the back where the peat overtakes any leftover smoke. Now it’s starting to feel like a true Ardbeggian expression.
Finish Riley: Long to medium. Opens. No flavours develop, but all are present. WhiskyGirl: Agree it’s a relatively long finish. Dry too, with peat and faint hints of medicinal aroma and old leather hanging around a core sweet vanilla custard.
Riley says: Surprisingly for a whisky that purports to be “The Darkest Ardbeg ever”, this little beauty is a light caramel colour with a hint of orange around the edge of the glass. The nose is bursting with exotic fruits, hints of passionfruit, orange blossom, lemon sherbet and even a suggestion of baked apple once a touch of water was added. Underneath this sits the heavier murky Ardbeggian influence of molasses, black treacle and the kind of smoke you only get during an exceptional barbecue; rich, unctuous and full of delicious fatty tones. The flavour mirrors this with bright citrus notes of grapefruit and once again lemon. The peat is in harmony with the other flavours and doesn’t overshadow them, instead adding a depth of flavour and beautiful palate-warming spice. The finish is long and amazingly expressive. As the smoke dissipates the fruit flavours swarm across the palate and you are left with a flavour that for me at least is straight back to the barbecued banana with vanilla ice cream I loved as a kid. Whilst I don’t quite understand why it’s called “Dark Cove”, it’s a delightful whisky, that I’m intrigued to see develop now it’s open, to see if (like last year’s Perpetuum) it can get even better.
What I love about the Ardbeg Day whiskies is the core expression of Ardbeg that almost always finds its way into the glass, no matter how good the story is.
So, tempted?
Ardbeg Day – Saturday 28th May Stocks of Dark Cove will sell out super fast but you can purchase yours at any of the Embassies below or join me at The Jefferson, New Zealand’s only Ardbeg Embassy bar from 6pm to try the Dark Cove and maybe ask for a cocktail or two. Auckland – House of Whiskey, 38 Courthouse Lane from 11am to 4pm, The Jefferson, 7 Fort Lane from 6pm til late Wellington – Regional Wines, Beers & Spirits, 15 Ellice Street, Mt Victoria from 11am–4pm Christchurch – Whisky Galore, 834 Colombo Street will be hosting Ardbeg Day come Night from 5:30pm- 8:30pm.
The bottle alone is something to gaze at. Be warned, it doesn’t pour that well and takes a practiced hand. You’ll get plenty of practice though, because for a young whisky it exudes character beyond its years. Not surprisingly, because this is a Talisker and I believe whisky is indelibly marked by the people who make it and the place comes into being from.
Talisker is the only distillery on the Isle of Skye; the magical large island in the Inner Northern Hebrides. The Cuillins mountain range rises in the middle of the island’s peninsulas in iconic scenery. Home to the Fairy Falls and embroiled in some of the most tempestuous parts of Scottish history, from marauding Nordic invaders to the Jacobite uprisings and end of the clans, Skye has remained both stormy and strangely peaceful. Written of in poems and songs, you’ll see eagles soar over craggy outcrops and eat delicious Atlantic salmon.
But for all that wonder, there is just one distillery on Skye – Talisker, sitting pretty beside the harbour in Carbost on the west coast of the Isle. The majority of their whisky sits at 18 – 22ppm, so moderately peated. It’s the water that feeds the distillery flows over peat beds that brings additional complexity to the malt. Perhaps a clue as to the deliciousness in this young dram?
Talisker is resilient, her 5 stills rebuilt in 1960 after a significant stillhouse fire destroyed it all. They were rebuilt in exact replica to preserve Talisker’s flavour profile. An island distillery through and through, her classic flavours are salt, smoke, sweetness of grain and malt. Talisker is considered an iconic malt regardless, but being owned by Diageo now means she also has a place in the Classic Malts lineup.
This is an independent bottling, but it manages to maintain all the classic Talisker profile while introducing something complex for a barrel so youthful. A single barrel 6 year old Talisker bottled at 46% with no chill-filtration or artificial colouring. Distilled in December 2008 on the Isle of Skye and bottled by Douglas Laing in August 2015, there are only 324 of these decanters.
Colour: Palest gold.
Nose: Salty like the sea, with hints of seaweed and barley. Lemony.
Palate: Bursting sweetness with saline, seaweed, salt and smokehouse apples that give way to barley and oats. Hints of pepper.
Finish: Grainy, with hints of pepper and heat hanging around for a medium length finish.
Some things are just science: the chemistry of one ingredient matched with another produces a pleasurable result. People are like that too. Put them together in the right way and everything turns out for the best. Some are like fine wine or whisky, to be savoured singularly and slowly. Others shine when bumping up against others in the throng of a crowd.
Which brings me to cocktails and the delightful things that happen when delicious ingredients are shaken, muddled, thrown, stirred and strained together. Scotch whisky is notoriously difficult to use in cocktails – it’s robust, complex, sweet, savoury. It needs a precise touch and the right kind of chemistry for it to really shine. However, there are a few classics that not only stand up to Scotch whisky but cry out for single malt smoke and complexity. Enter Ardbeg. These are cocktails that really do sparkle with a little classic Ardbeg/Islay malt in the mix.
Why? Well, Ardbeg Night is just a few short sleeps away and while the Dark Cove promises to be delicious on its own, sometimes it’s fun to push a great spirit and bump it up against a few others. So these are my favourite Scotch cocktails, at least one or two of which I intend to enjoy on May 28th. A number of these cocktails are traditionally made using blended whiskies, but I’m here to vouch for our smoky, rich, peaty single malts and promise you, Ardbeg won’t be wasted on any of these recipes.
THE WHISKY MAC The Whisky Mac is a lesser-loved cocktail, probably because it barely is one. Take equal parts Stone’s Green Ginger wine or a ginger liqueur of your choosing and serve over ice, with lemon zest if desired, usually in a wine glass or balloon. However, I like to get a little more aggressive and give it a little kick with an additional 15ml of my homemade lemon, ginger and cardamom syrup.all in a Boston over ice. Shake it to pieces, strain with a Hawthorne, serve in a rocks glass with a lemon peel twist and dash of Angostura bitters. This cocktail is often my first choice of drink as the nights get cooler and longer because the ginger and spice is warming. It stands up nicely to the smoky strength of Ardbeg Ten, too. It’s familiar, comforting and like a sigh of relief at the end of a hard day.
30ml Scotch whisky
30ml ginger wine
15ml lemon, ginger & cardamom syrup
dash of Angostura bitters
THE PENICILLIN
Not quite as effective against the flu as actual penicillin but another drink that is apt for those chillier autumn nights. You could be forgiven for thinking the Penicillin must be as old as it’s namesake. But you won’t find it in the pages of the Savoy (an iconic cocktail recipe book). Instead, leap a little further ahead in history to New York in 2005. Legendary Sam Ross created the Penicillin Cocktail at Milk and Honey. He took ginger, honey and lemon flavours then hits it with blended Scotch, before floating a rich, smoky Islay malt on top. The original Penicillin uses Ross’ house-made honey and ginger syrup, but you can substitute fresh grated ginger and honey instead. Ginger can lose it’s zing pretty quick in a syrup, so going with fresh and straining well might be a more reliable result. It’s also best to create a simple syrup with the honey, by mixing equal parts honey and hot water. Simple! Here’s the more detailed recipe if you want to try this at home.
60ml blended Scotch whisky
22ml fresh lemon juice
22ml honey syrup
5 slices fresh ginger
7.5ml Islay single malt Scotch
Muddle the fresh ginger in the bottom of a cocktail shaker, really smash it up. Add the blended Scotch, lemon juice, honey syrup and fill shaker with ice. Shake well until icy. Strain into an ice-filled rocks glass and pour the single malt over the back of a bar spoon so that it floats on top of the the drink.
‘What whisky cannot cure, there is no cure for.’
BLOOD AND SAND
Probably one of the greatest Scotch whisky cocktails ever created, you will find the Blood and Sand in the pages of the Savoy Cocktail Book. It was supposedly named for a 1922 silent film starring Rudolph Valentino as an ill-fated matador. The ingredients may surprise you slightly but if the Penicillin and Whisky Mac are set for autumn months, the Blood and Sand will sustain you through the dark corners of winter in a complex, rich embrace.
30ml Scotch – you can use a blend here but again, a robust single malt will stand up nicely
Pour all of ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Fill shaker with ice, and shake well for 10 seconds; strain into a chilled cocktail glass, and garnish with a cherry.
ROB ROY
A Manhattan may be one of the greatest cocktails I’ve ever met. Made with scotch whisky, the Manhattan becomes the Rob Roy. The recipe is more than a century old, and you can reassuringly order one everywhere from artisan cocktail bars with hand-carved ice to the beer and fries pub on the corner. It’s hard to mess up because it’s delightfully simple, but you mustn’t forget the bitters. Because it is so simple, it’s easy to kick this drink to the next level by upgrading some of the ingredients – use Carpano Antica Formula for example. I’ve messed with the bitters from time to time as well. And if you pick the right single malt, the Rob Roy will be accommodating enough to hold it’s own. Again, you need the complexity you might get from a big smoky, peaty rich Islay malt to balance the sweetness of the vermouth and the bitters.
60ml Scotch whisky
30ml sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters
Garnish: lemon or orange twist
Combine ingredients in a mixing glass and fill with ice. Stir well for about 20 seconds, then strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Twist a piece of lemon or orange peel over the drink and use as garnish.
MODERN No 2
Another classic from the Savoy cocktail book, the Modern No 2 pairs scotch with sloe gin, with dashes of absinthe, grenadine and bitters lending additional complexity. Given that sloe gin is back on the rise, it’s an ideal time to celebrate this complicated relationship. Plymouth Sloe Gin or The Bitter Truth Sloe Gin from Germany. Each has a natural tartness from using real sloe berries rather than artificial flavorings. They also have a bright potency of flavor, so it’s a good idea to use a scotch with a little gumption to it.
30ml Scotch whisky
60ml sloe gin
1 dash orange bitters
1 dash absinthe
1 dash pomegranate grenadine
Combine ingredients in a mixing glass and fill with ice. Stir until well chilled, about 20 to 30 seconds. Strain into chilled cocktail glass.
THE GODFATHER
This is a little extra for experts… because it’s almost not a cocktail, but surprises me with tastiness.
30ml Scotch whisky – smoky single malt, please
30ml Amaretto
This is an interesting drink, which made with a lesser Scotch would be too sweet to be palatable. Think of the Rusty Nail (Drambuie and Scotch) but with more complexity thanks to the smoke and richness of a solid single malt and the nuttiness of the amaretto. Try it just once, even if you hate yourself a little bit.
Ardbeg Day – Saturday 28th May Stocks of Dark Cove will sell out super fast but you can purchase yours at any of the Embassies below or join me at The Jefferson, New Zealand’s only Ardbeg Embassy bar from 6pm to try the Dark Cove and maybe ask for a cocktail or two. Auckland – House of Whiskey, 38 Courthouse Lane from 11am to 4pm, The Jefferson, 7 Fort Lane from 6pm til late Wellington – Regional Wines, Beers & Spirits, 15 Ellice Street, Mt Victoria from 11am–4pm Christchurch – Whisky Galore, 834 Colombo Street will be hosting Ardbeg Day come Night from 5:30pm- 8:30pm.
It begins with the shoes. The red shoes. They hardly come out of the closet these days, but when they do – her walk is lifted, the tilt of her hips just ever so much more swung from left to right. Everything else is for her or for them, but the shoes – the shoes are for you.
Layer by layer she dressed this morning, knowing whichever direction the day thrust her, she would need to be ready and prepared to stand her ground. Calendars matter, to this woman. The schedule of roles she will play that day; friend, colleague, sage and unclaimed lover. The precise number of minutes given to eyeliner, perfume and mascara are counted out in the rush towards beginning the day. Every task their due and nothing other.
Layer by layer, her costume slides on dictated by what others need to see in her, or of her. She catalogues the demands inside her head.
Be soft, be warm, be strong, be open, be commanding, be wise.
Jeans and a casual shirt, because nobody wants to appear unapproachable. Business shirt and pencil skirt, or hip grazing, cleavage revealing black dresses with variations of red, navy and lace for days when she walks with people as powerful as she. Black when she needs to hide and red when she is feeling most alive.
Jackets and scarves chosen by necessity. She dresses first with perfume; in a sanctuary of scent she feels herself and then clothes rush on at the beginning of the day. Layer after layer dictated in the morning rush by how she will undress at the end of day. Not what you need to see but what she wants to show you.
After dark, things slow down.
Last on in the morning, at night first her jewels come off – pendants unwound from ivory neck while her fingers follow the slight curve where the artery rests. Hair pulled back exposing neck, an invitation offered gently in the night, only ever in the night. Cool night air whispers ‘welcome home’. Rings of heavy gold slide from fingers except the one band that never leaves her hand. That band that carries precious stories in its rubies. And now you know that ring is a symbol, you will want to ask.
Then those shoes, her arches sighing in relief but they give her calves a certain elevation and as her hips find their gravity again, she feels warm. The shoes were for you, but maybe also for her. There is no part of her body that does not come to life as she unclothes it.
The rest comes off even slower, the layers for them – demanding crowd. Off comes cotton, denim, polyester and ponte. Cuffs, collars and shirts unbuttoned one by one. Skirt unzipped and allowed to drop, kicked by painted dark red toe up into the grasp of hand and cast aside to laundry pile or hung up.
In this, she is most graceful and more so than in other parts of day. Dressed, she is more clumsy than most. More likely to stumble than to dance, but as layers slide off the dancer re-emerges. Back arched and ribs held high as joints flex and bend to undo all that is held together during the day. The collarbone emerges and the shape of her hits the light, curve and strength and softness. There are symbols and stories painted on her body in scars and ink; some of them you know but others you have not listened to yet.
Then silk, satin and lace. A dozen shades. Under the plainest of wardrobes, she is always silk, satin and lace. Stockings unclipped and eased down past bended knee; balanced in warm lamplight. Garter undone but she is not yet undone, there is still more to see, even more to know below bustier and corset and teddy barely containing soft breast. Still she is not undressed.
Here she is, left perfumed in the sweet musk and salt of the day, still layers of vanilla, sandalwood and orchid. High notes of orange, jasmine and patchouli. And this is her, both earthy and sweet. Vanilla, bergamot, florals and earthiness the essence of whisky, which is the other name by which you know her.
Still, layered in perfume she is not yet naked before you. She undresses but she does not leave herself unclothed.
It is beyond silk and lace, beyond what the skin wears and beyond costume of the day. Even removing silk and lace, undoing self entirely to the response of air against skin; all sharp pucker and caress. In undressing there are all elements of ache and relief, until she meets you, skin to skin and eye to eye. A dozen stolen, fleeting touches and then the eyes meet.
There is the wall you could not see til now, where every brick is a shout that said ‘Too much’, ‘too loud’, ‘too smart’, ‘too physical’, ‘too sensual’, ‘too strong’, ‘too intense’, ‘too present’ and the wall is hidden there, beneath blue eyes seeking out yours. Just one word is all she needs to hear – Leap!
Now, eyes upon eyes – back in a room full of strangers but where a glance and a look was true. There in a moment, her eyes slide from blue-gray flecked maybe to truest blue; she undressed for you.
A woman undresses from her eyes; as the shadow lifts and grey-blue hue turns to summer light – she is naked for you now. She leaps over the wall of misread doubt from voices past, while still clothed and disrobes for you.
It might happen in a room full of strangers; deep in the night while she pushes all noise and interruption to the side. Perhaps it happens while you’re not watching but she is thinking and assessing to one side. It is most likely to happen while you also, are watching her – the slow, steady and soon-to-be reliable slide of public to private sight. But whether she is still clothed in silk and lace, or wearing denim or corporate suiting for the day – she undresses from her eyes.
There is one story that is not told upon her skin, or in the ache of body that is expressed between the light and dark of night. She tells you only one story in the light of eyes unveiling into sacred, private sight. There is only one story that remains under cautious and wary eyes. The story of the Phoenix and the girl who rises.
‘I am the Phoenix, bold and wise. I am the Phoenix flying high and true and firm, but I will acquiesce for you. I will let you touch and hold my burning wing, hold my sharpened voice and sing, I will burn and rise again for you.. and let you see me, see me shining through. I am the Phoenix, I will rise again and rise and rise and rise again.’
And there she is, exposed at last – she is a creature of the myth. She undresses and you find her in between the grey and blue, the Phoenix, who rises and looks for you.
There is a long road on the southern tip of the Isle of Islay, that edges along the coast from the Port Ellen maltings. With sweet, smoky malt and the salty sea air in your lungs, you’ll take that long road to the legendary ladies of Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg. Follow that road past all three and you’ll arrive at the Kildalton Cross, the oldest known relic of its kind in this part of the world – and part of the reason these ladies of Islay are sometimes known as the Kildalton distilleries.
In a single day on Islay, while the sun was shining and the air was mostly still, I drove the long road. I drove the long straight stretch that reminds of Waipu, Northland through the peat beds of Lagavulin where my sister owns a 6-inch brick of land. I stopped at Laphroaig, I stopped at Lagavulin and I finally arrived at Ardbeg. They sit mere miles from one another, that pass by in a glimpse of green, gray rock, wide skies and sharp corners.
Ardbeg, like so many distilleries, survives through tenacity and partly, luck. Reading the tides, as it were. There was a once a thriving community that lived within walking distance of the distillery but those people, the infrastructure and the school are long since gone. Like so many, to survive has meant sale after sale of the distillery and her stock and near constant reinvention and exploration. The Ardbeg we know today is quite different in approach to the Ardbeg that once dominated production on the island, before the turn of the 20th century. She has lived through two closures until she finally re-opened in 1997, under the ownership of Glenmorangie (part of Moët Hennessey). Upon starting production again, they began to release some of the old stock and invest in new production. This would eventually shape the way Ardbeg was re-introduced to the world as being back ‘for good’.
I say ‘for good’ because part of Ardbeg’s fate now rests in the hands of the Ardbeg Committee, a worldwide fan club of sorts that was started in the year 2000. This coincided with the release of what has become the core expression of the Ardbeg line, the Ardbeg Ten. This malt is sweet and smoky and big, as all the Kindalton ladies can be. That committee receives unique and exclusive bottlings, on which the committee’s feedback influences the release to broader public consumption. I’m a member, along with many other New Zealanders but it’s something special to actually make it to the grounds of any distillery that you know and love.
When you arrive at Ardbeg, the light bounces off the tall copper-painted, still-shaped monument in the forecourt. The bright white Ardbeg ‘A’ logo glows white from the asphalt surface the tiles are embedded in. *The large forecourt is a relatively new development, in time for the bi-centenial Ardbeg celebrations last year. 200 years of a robust and wild spirit was celebrated on Ardbeg Day 2015 with the release of Perpetuum.
The annual Ardbeg Day celebration started in 2012 with the release of ‘Galileo’ at the end of Feis Ile, the Islay Festival of Music and Malt. They need the space on that forecourt because the population of the island swells by thousands for the week-long festival. Galileo was the celebration of Ardbeg’s space experiment, to see how spirit might age different in a no-gravity environment. Since then Ardbog, Auriverdes and Perpetuum have all celebrated different aspects of Ardbeg’s future, flavour and past. Ardbeg Day 2016 is just around the corner on the 28th of May. Mark it in your calendars now.
But this is more than just marketing, I promise. Sure – a limited edition that is guaranteed to sell out within 48 hours around the world (less than 2 hours in Auckland, 2015) is a great way to create buzz. It must be said though, that this unique way of engaging with lovers of Ardbeg is worth pursuing and protecting. After re-opening in 1997, Ardbeg won Distillery of the Year three times in a row. Each of the Ardbeg Day whiskies has made it’s way to my collection and for good measure, I buy a bottle to drink and a bottle to keep. And the road to Ardbeg is worth the drive, to savour the nature of survival.
The crisp white wall of the distillery buildings and the signature name etched along the foreshore stands firm and concrete. I wandered down to the foreshore and skipped stones into the sea, smelt the freshness of the ocean and thought to myself, some things find a way to survive so long as they are loved. I walked through the distillery and enjoyed the Old Kiln Cafe. I enjoyed the Committee Release variation of Dark Cove*, bottled at cask strength. I wandered through the warehouses and breathed the old stone, new spirit aroma of Ardbeg itself, the land, sea and air of the place.
For all the energy and enthusiasm of a young distillery reborn (she’s only been open again for just under 20 years, with her ‘Young’ series from the early 1998 distillings still stacked in warehouses for periodic release), there is an ancient spirit on the long road. You’ll meet it at Ardbeg and then you’ll meet it again at the Kildaton Cross.
They reckon the Irish monks arrived and starting making whisky on Islay sometime in the late 14th century, on the run from Nordic invaders. This cross is older than that, carved from stone. The Parish in which the Cross is found dates from around 1580, but the gravestones found within the parish grounds are older than that too. The Cross takes similar form to those found in Iona and so it’s assumed it was carved sometime in the mid-8th century. It was when repairing the Kildalton Cross years ago, they discovered the bodies of a man and woman, below. The man died from terrible trauma. So old, so mysterious, so unknown. What was the story of these people that lived and died on this rugged earth?
There is a sense of mystery about this place and this corner of the island in particular. It can’t help but spill over into the myths and legends of whisky-runners, illicit stills and hiding from the excisemen that litter the history of Islay, and in particular, Ardbeg malt. Caves, pirates, smugglers and risky tales abound. This year’s Ardbeg Day release has been named Dark Cove and embraces some of this darker, mysterious history. But those tasting notes and secrets will be released shortly.
*Dark Cove will be released on 28th May, when Ardbeg Day becomes Ardbeg Night. Subscribe for updates on where you can taste and experience the #ArdbegNight festivities. This year, New Zealand welcomes it’s first Ardbeg Embassy bar, The Jefferson to join the three off-premise locations: Whisky Galore, Regional Wines and Spirits and Sam Snead’s House of Whiskey. The Ardbeg Embassies in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch will all host events during the day and night.
Tash McGill is a broadcaster, writer and strategist who works with people and organisations to solve problems and create transformation. She believes people are the most important thing and that stories are powerful ways of changing the world. You can find out more at tashmcgill.com or by visiting her LinkedIn profile.
I grew up beside and dreaming of the sea and standing on the shores of Ardbeg on a still day, I wonder if I dreamed of pirates and adventure all along. I have seen the current that runs between Islay and the mainland. Swift, deep and deceptive on a dark night it could trap uncanny sailor or lure unwary captain into the storm. It is not hard to imagine the gentle lap of the bay becoming the roaring crash of tide against inky black rock. There is adventure here.
The Ardbeg Dark Cove (Ardbeg Day 2016 release). 46.5% abv.
r is resilient, her 5 stills rebuilt in 1960 after a significant stillhouse fire destroyed it all. They were rebuilt in exact replica to preserve Talisker’s flavour profile. An island distillery through and through, her classic flavours are salt, smoke, sweetness of grain and malt. Talisker is considered an iconic malt regardless, but being owned by Diageo now means she also has a place in the Classic Malts lineup.
THE PENICILLIN
BLOOD AND SAND
ROB ROY
THE GODFATHER
There is a long road on the southern tip of the Isle of Islay, that edges along the coast from the Port Ellen maltings. With sweet, smoky malt and the salty sea air in your lungs, you’ll take that long road to the legendary ladies of Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg. Follow that road past all three and you’ll arrive at the Kildalton Cross, the oldest known relic of its kind in this part of the world – and part of the reason these ladies of Islay are sometimes known as the Kildalton distilleries.
They reckon the Irish monks arrived and starting making whisky on Islay sometime in the late 14th century, on the run from Nordic invaders. This cross is older than that, carved from stone. The Parish in which the Cross is found dates from around 1580, but the gravestones found within the parish grounds are older than that too. The Cross takes similar form to those found in Iona and so it’s assumed it was carved sometime in the mid-8th century. It was when repairing the Kildalton Cross years ago, they discovered the bodies of a man and woman, below. The man died from terrible trauma. So old, so mysterious, so unknown. What was the story of these people that lived and died on this rugged earth?