Earlier this year, I was having lunch with Dr. Bill Lumsden, master distiller and my favourite whisky chemist. We were celebrating the release of the long-awaited Glenmorangie Bacalta, a baked madeira finished whisky and their 8th Private Edition release but I couldn’t help but think ahead to today, the annual release of one of Dr. Bill’s exquisite experiments. Bill is more than a distiller, his eye goes to selecting the oaks and woods for Ardbeg barrels, managing stocks and the creation of whiskies under his watch for the Glenmorangie Company.
With a little twinkle and ferocity, he told me about the Black Sea oaks sourced from Russia that were being used to impart a deeper, darker flavour than previously known. These oaks are typically ignored for whisky production as their wood flavours are too pronounced and strong. But paired with original Ardbeg, there’s a companionable agreement between this hefty Russian influence and the salty, fierce robustness of Ardbeg malt. Perhaps that’s why the mythic Scottish water kelpie won out for pride of place marketing instead of the dark Russian heart of this Ardbeg release. Ultimately, regardless of the Black Sea influence, the whisky is still Scotch, still Ardbeg, unarguably so.
So to the tasting of this year’s rare spirit – by now, I’m sure you’ve heard the legends. New Zealand is first in the world to open for public sale and it’s to be expected that by the end of the weekend, if not today, it will be sold out of stock for the general consumer. Thankfully, there’s an Ardbeg Embassy bar in Auckland that will have a plentiful supply.
To the tasting notes and without further ado:
Colour: The supplied tasting notes say burnished gold, with which I agree although I’d add a tinge of green-gold tarish on the edges. It may well be my imagination but it suits me!
Nose: There’s an intensity to this nose that comes leaping forth – pine trees, medicinal oils that are almost herbaceous and green, peat (of course), seaweed, dark chocolate and then as you add water to it in tasting, the nose becomes almost creamier and with a nutty tone. The tasting notes talk about toasted coconut but I was left with a blanched almond and toffee sweetness sitting against spicy black peppers.
Palate: There’s a big peppery kickoff before the complexity of this whisky kicks into gear. The Russian oak is resounding and complex. It’s in the mid-palate, not in the nose that I get big hits of coffee, dark roasted grounds, toffee and treacle and dark chocolate is present from the nose to the palate. Those medicinal oils come back towards the end – clove and star anise captured in oil with sweet woods like cherry and Maplewood on the tongue, followed by smoky-sweet hickory. It’s woody and metallic at once with a long big finish.
Finish: At first, it’s salty and briny like young olives just as the tasting notes say. But it’s in the finish that I get chargrilled thick-cut Canadian bacon, chewy toffee and residual spice.
Summary: The previous two Ardbeg Day release have been enjoyable but not magical for me. Maybe it’s the Kelpie talking but the magic is quite intense with this release. It has some of the characteristics of Ardbog and Alligator, where the earth elements of wood and fire were so intense. I’m looking forward to seeing how this evolves over an evening. So far, this is my favourite Russian collusion of the year.
Ardbeg Day 2017 is taking place at the four New Zealand Ardbeg Embassies in Auckland, Wellington and Christchurch.
House of Whiskey, 38 Courthouse Lane, Auckland Central – 11am-5pm
Whisky Galore, 834 Colombo Street, Christchurch Central – 9:30am-5pm
The Jefferson, 7 Fort Lane, Auckland – 7:30pm-10pm
About Ardbeg Ardbeg prides itself on being The Ultimate Islay Malt Whisky. Established in 1815, Ardbeg is revered by connoisseurs around the world as the peatiest, smokiest and most complex of all the Islay malts. Despite its smokiness, Ardbeg is renowned for its delicious sweetness, a phenomenon that has affectionately become known as ‘the peaty paradox’. During the 1980s and 1990s, Ardbeg suffered from an uncertain future and it was not until the brand was purchased by The Glenmorangie Company in 1997 that the Distillery was saved from extinction. Since then, the Distillery has risen like a phoenix and today Ardbeg is well established as a niche, cult malt, with a passionate following.
About the Glenmorangie Company The Company is one of the most renowned and innovative distillers and marketers of Scotch whisky brands worldwide and is part of Moët Hennessy, the wine and spirits division of Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton. Headquartered in Edinburgh, Scotland, the Company produces Glenmorangie Single Highland Malt whisky and Ardbeg Single Islay Malt.
I’ve had a few of the Old Particular independent bottlings from Douglas Laing & Co. Their single cask bottlings are sourced from some of my favourite distilleries – Aberlour, Auchentoshan, Ben Nevis, Bowmore and Speyburn just to name a few. They are a third generation, family owned whisky business specialising in small batch, single cask craft whiskies and you will rarely go wrong with one of their choices.
This Douglas Laing Old Particular bottling is a 20 year old Aberlour, aged in a hogshead cask. This whisky is full of fruit – stonefruit and spice on the nose, then caramelised banana, vanilla, brown sugar on the palate. The finish was long and sweet, like poached pears in syrup. It was a remarkable drink that cheered my mood well last night. Suggest you give it a whirl … Whisky as dessert.
The days are getting colder and in my neighbourhood, the smell of burning wood and charcoal is hanging in the night air by 6pm each night. That smell reminds me of the burning peat I smelled in the same dark air hanging over Islay. I imagine the dark cove in Ardbeg Bay. It’s not hard to picture the black outline of a pirate ship hidden in the black ink of the Sound.
When Ardbeg Night passed this year on the 28th of May, it started as each of the last five Ardbeg Days has – whisky fans lined up for the bottles to go on sale and to taste the latest release. But as night fell, the smoke and mist rose up in a late autumn haze and we ducked under the cover of our own darkened den, a safe haven underground called the Jefferson.
The Dark Cove sat side by side in a vertical tasting of Ardbeg Ten, Uigeadail and Corrywreckan. Disclaimer – my favourite of all the Ardbeg releases is the Uigeadail. As soon as I lift the lid of the tasting glass, I can smell the distinctive nose and my mouth waters at the blush pink of salmon blinis lining the tasting table. It’s going to be a delicious night and I’m ready to indulge my memories of Islay already.
Scotch salmon, lemon and salt was one of my favourite meals at the Port Charlotte Hotel in Islay. I’m swept up in nostalgia and excited to talk whisky with other food writers and lovers in this special tasting.
The beauty of this vertical tasting is to explore the Ardbeg Day whisky as part of the Ardbeg story.. as told by many previous releases. Jonny leads us to begin with the Ardbeg Ten. The classic profile is straightforward but big, because it’s all on counterpoint to the traditional Ardbeg smoke.
Ardbeg Ten
Nose: Faint vanilla in the air and a ring of citrus that surrounds a firepit of peaty embers and sea salt spray.
Palate: It delivers exactly what’s promised on the nose. Vanilla becomes sweet, citrus becomes distinct as lemon and lime with a smoky, salt brine.
Finish: The sugars develop to leave a lingering sea salt caramel and smoke haze. It’s long.
This Ardbeg is well-balanced and sets the scene for the journey that each consequent Ardbeg will take us on. So to Uigeadail we go. This is bottled at 54.2%, an extraordinarily precise figure that the distillery manager assured me is the perfect cut to enjoy the raisin-rich tones added to the spirit from time in ex-Sherry casks. Once again, those sherry notes capture me.
Uigeadail is named for the Loch from which Ardbeg draws its rich, peaty water. It means ‘dark and mysterious place’ and the water that runs from the loch is tinged dark from the peat it runs through. This whisky has intrigued and wooed me from first tasting, a multi-layered and complex whisky that comes from
Ardbeg Uigeadail
Nose: Ground coffee beans, dark sugars, oats and cereal with classic peat profile.
Palate: Dark, sweet fruits hit first. Cereal and oats on the nose become a mouthful of malt, with the sweetness of honey around the edges. Quickly the smoke and peat emerges, leaving the crack of peated barley on the tongue.
Finish: Long as Ardbeg tends to be: the sweet dark sugars emerge again into dark caramel and malt. The Ardbeg smoke rounds with touches of espresso coffee.
Now we move on to the Corrywreckan, named for the monstrous whirlpool that sits off the north west coast of Islay. Various warnings exist for seamen daring enough to approach, but the best visage is offered from the air. The currents of the sound meet in an extraordinary surge. Such it is with this malt, the peppery, smoky air of Islay churning in the glass. Of the extreme whiskies, this is an extreme example. Every flavour is blown to an extreme, no surprise given that it’s bottled at an astounding 57.1%.
Ardbeg Corrywreckan
Nose: Dettol and plastic, roasted fats and salt, butter on potatoes and light, herbal notes like a pine tree blowing in the breeze.
Palate: This malt buzzes on the palate with fresh tangy fruit, pepper, spice and then a smooth creamy nature that belies the alcohol percentage. I get a orange note at the backend that feels juicy and sweet, while maintaining the tartness of the fresh peel, bitterness entering at the end.
Finish: By the end the story is all medicinal, salt, cream and fresh fruit. It’s long but not as long in my opinion as the Uigeadail, but it’s also not as mysterious. Everything about Corrywreckan leaps out and smacks you in the face. The peaty element will fly past you, but chili, asphalt, bbq smoked meat and salt will linger long.
You can read the Dark Cove tasting notes here. There’s obviously some sherry cask (PX, for my money) in the Dark Cove. It’s perhaps my most favourite of the Ardbeg Day releases since Ardbog, which was peaty, earthy and bold.
Where to next? Personally, I’d love to see the Ardbeg team take the citrus notes to another level or explore that edge of salt and medicinals that make the malt so distinctive. I want to see what happens with a chocolate and coffee emphasis balanced in sherry casks or dare I say, a wine finished Ardbeg whisky that I am certain is sitting in a warehouse on the coast of Islay. Ardbeg gave us space whisky. Keep giving us the future Bill.
About a month ago, I tried my first Ballechin. It’s a peated whisky release from Edradour. This weekend, I tried my second. I jumped to the 6th release of the Ballechin, bourbon-cask finished. It’s a NAS (non-age statement) whisky, peated to a minimum of 50ppm and aged solely in first-fill bourbon casks, which means the influence of bourbon will be at an all time high. It’s a remarkable thing, when you consider how sought after rare and rare-ish whiskies can be, to find a bottle of only 6000 that were released in 2011.
Then again, half the pleasure is in seeking the treasure.
It’s not that this whisky is the best whisky ever made. That’s subjective anyway. Nor the most exclusive, hard to find or sought after. But in nosing the glass and enjoying the spirit, we are participating in the golden age of whisky experimentation and re-definition.
I for one, am not bothered by the NAS nay-sayers. There has always been a place for blended malt, that’s what the foundation of the whisky industry is built on. So why extend that blending skill and wizardry to other, unique expressions? Within that, there is plenty of room for whisky that can be defined by something other than its age.
To the same degree, a whisky that is defined by its age faces a different set of challenges – consistency, supply and demand on the global scale.
It would be foolish to say with one hand that NAS whisky is a marketing ploy, when those same tactics are equally applied to conveying the quality of time and what it can do to spirit. I recently tried something very old that was extraordinarily characteristic of the people and place in which it is made and I came up short. I found that age alone was not the expression of that whisky profile that made my palate sing, but it still told a story nonetheless. I learned something I didn’t know before, taken by surprise and that is a delightful feeling.
I think we ought to embrace the experimentation that leads whisky makers into bold new territories and not succumb to petty arguments about best, proper, true, right ways of doing things. Traditional is a constantly evolving story, after all.
It’s why I still explore and try new spirits – whisky, bourbon, rye, gin, tequila, rum and even vodka from time to time. The exploration keeps me humble and in constant posture to keep going further.
So then I went further with Ballechin and I was wonderfully surprised. Things have been pretty dark and peaty around here for a while (something to do with Ardbeg Day) so it was refreshing to the palate to take that peat in a brand new direction.
Colour: Pale yellow. Showing off some Highland colour.
Nose: Say hello to lemons, soft marshmellow and vanilla with a hint of sweet smoke and oats. Essentially, almost like deconstructed layers of lemon meringue pie. That combination is tinged slightly green and herbacious, before melting into a buttery, creamy embrace.
Palate: She starts out delicate and then gets bigger as both the spice and smoke develop into quite a compelling sweet caramel earthiness. Spice starts to emerge as distinct pepper and cinnamon. It feels complex because the lemon now becomes like a rich lemon curd sitting on top of that peat.
Finish: There’s a balance in this finish that I’d not had in the previous Ballechin. It’s smoky, deep, with tobacco leaves coming through but it’s effortlessly well supported by the citrus and spice notes. From nose to finish, there is a seamlessness to this whisky that is perhaps different from Islay malts, where the peat is so distinctive and often the only lingering central note.
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.
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.
About Ardbeg
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.