by tashmcgill | May 4, 2016 | Tasting Notes
When I first started drinking whisky, it was simpler. I wanted to try everything I could lay my hands on but that wasn’t a vast range. Most of it was major brands that were instantly recognisable. As with most things though, over time your understanding deepens and you start to see with better eyes. I began to see labels that were nearly written in code, with colours, maps and distillery names I’d barely heard of. I started to see Douglas Laing & Co labels and I gazed at Cadenhead’s Small Batch with glee. Then I went to a tasting with one of my favourite independent bottlers, Sir Alex Bruce from Adelphi. It was the first Charles MacLean tasting I’d ever been to and probably the experience that cemented a deep appreciation of what the independent bottlers of the world do for whisky.
There are various types of distilleries: those that distill under contract for other brands, those that only make spirit for other blends or malts under a different brand or brands, those that make spirit for their own brand or brands. And any distillery might do any combination of these things. The more progressive distilleries will be experimenting with casks, fermentation, time and finishing treatments, the tried and true still to what they know. But almost all distilleries have this in common – a dedication to the profile of the whisky they make. So there are always casks that don’t make the cut; not for the sake of quality but because for whatever reason the Angel’s Share only knows, the cask simply doesn’t fit the profile or required flavour. These barrels inevitably make their way to independent bottlers. There are also rare, old and discontinued lines that produce casks sitting around. There is bargaining and trading that has gone on since before Prohibition when it comes to where whisky casks end up. But an independent bottler comes by a cask and releases it under their label, with varying degrees of information about where, what, how, when and why the whisky came to be.
There are secret bottlings too: usually a well-named and fanciful label that might give only a single clue as to the whisky’s origin. My favourite example was a outlandish monikered bottle that was made on the Isle of Skye. Well, truth be told it had to be a Talisker because there is only one distillery on the Isle of Skye. A bold trick for young players. For the most part the independent bottlers can be relied upon to find interesting and rare expressions of whisky at each part of the spectrum and not just clever marketing. Adelphi Selection, for example, only accepts 4% of what is offered to them – their standards so high for what they put under the brand.
Working on independent bottles is a wonderful way to try an interesting range of whiskies. Remember, that the iconic names you know and love are made to flavour profiles which leaves the world wide open for these other variant, divergent and fascinating casks to shine in their own way. There is more than one independent that relies on MacLean’s master nose and there are some larger companies that maintain their own independent bottling line also – Edradour Distillery and Signatory Vintage share an owner, largely because bottling was a good way to make money and pass time while they were waiting for their distillery license to come through. So when looking – know these are just a few of the major independents in addition to those not yet mentioned – Wemyss Malts, AD Rattray, Hunter Laing, Duncan Taylor, Gordon & MacPhail. Then there are the retailers that release their own bottles – The Whisky Exchange, Master of Malt and Berry Brothers and Rudd to name a few.
Now to the independently bottled whisky in question – this is a tasty and interesting number bottled by Gordon & MacPhail Whisky – a 1993 Glendullan. You may never have heard of Glendullan, but suffice to say it’s a Speyside distillery. It’s one of the distilleries that produces all its malt for a brand called “The Singleton” and it’s primarily aimed at the US market of whisky drinkers. Glendullan releases nothing under it’s own name and they don’t even have a visitors centre. They are all but silent, owned by Diageo. I’ve tried The Singleton and it’s a very acceptable Speyside drop. This bottle however, was much more fascinating. For starters, it was aged in a refilled Sherry Hogshead. Again, sherry cask and Speyside on my radar but this went in a very different direction than last week’s GlenDronach 1972. Nicely though, it was first opening on this bottle too.
Colour: Light gold, really light in the glass for something that old.
Nose: Super light and delicate nose, pears and hints of banana.
Palate: Immediately hot in the palate before getting very sweet and malty. Almost a warm baked bread element in a very medium body drop.
Finish: The pepper and spice adds to a long drawn out finish, with the hint of creaminess at the very end you’d expect from a Sherry Hogshead.
by tashmcgill | Apr 26, 2016 | Opinion
Whisky tastings are a vital part of whisky culture, whether you are brand new to the water of life or nearly embalmed in it.
Think of it as foodies going to dinner at new restaurants: it’s the only practical way to experience a broader range than what most of us have either the cashflow to support, the cupboard space or the company to indulge us.
Firstly, the best thing about any whisky tasting will always or should always be the stories. Tastings are a chance to really indulge in the history, quirks, legends and rare tales. A great host will both inform and entertain, as well as answer your questions. But there are a few kinds of tasting out there and people seem to want to know what to expect. I’ve tried to break it down to the style of tasting as well as the types of whiskies you might be trying.
Whisky Girl Fact #13: I’m most interested in helping you enjoy whisky whichever way you like, but you’ll struggle to convince me there is a better way of enjoying whisky than in the company of other whisky lovers.
There are group tastings and individual tastings but for the most part, I’ll talk about those ticketed events where you pay a set fee, for tasting a set number of whiskies. You’ll be in a group tasting and usually it’s pretty easy to either bring friends or make them at the event. I still believe firmly that a great introduction to whisky is best done at a bar one on one, so you have the chance to learn your own palate and taste, but a group tasting is a fun experience to share.
Expect 5 – 6 whiskies to be served in tasting drams. These are usually a half pour, because host responsibility matters. In fact, at some distilleries in Scotland recently, I was offered takeaway drams for tasting in plastic pottles. I have an opinion on that but it’s not for now.
You should also expect the host to guide you through the tasting process on the first dram, whether you’ve been tasting for years or it’s the first time. Whiskies will usually be tasted from the lightest and subtlest to the heaviest. Makes sense right? You don’t want to overwhelm your palate with peaty smoke and then taste a light Highland floral malt.
Expect some nibbles but nothing that will overwhelm the palate. Most common, cheese and crackers or breads. My preference when running a tasting is for a combination of dried fruit, contrasting cheeses, nuts and dried fruit – but I like to help the palate out a little.
Your average whisky tasting will cost between $50 and $85 in Auckland City. I’ve paid an overrated $US95 in Las Vegas and a distillery tour and tasting is usually in the vicinity (whether Scotland, Ireland or Kentucky) of $10-15 NZD.
What to look for: hosts and venues that make you feel comfortable. As I’ve written before, most whisky-lovers love to share their passion for the water of life with people. So look for those people. Facebook and Google will give you a good guide or find a local whisky lover to point you in the right direction.
How do you do it? The crux of it is, you pick one and go for it. Whisky lovers are a reasonably welcoming and accepting bunch. We are still basking in the relative joy of whisky being accepted as mainstream and cool again, thanks to Mad Men, Californication and Denny Crane. Pick a tasting and head along. Or take a friend and commit to learning as much as you can.
The 101 Tasting
These are great for learning the basics of how to nose a whisky (whisky-wank talk for smelling it), how to taste a variety of flavours. You’ll learn some language and the basics of how whisky is made or varies from region to region. However, pick wisely and remember that any good bar can give you the same personalised experience too. The danger of the 101 is the inevitable attendee who knows, or fancies they know just a little bit more than anyone else and feels the need to prove it to the host. In fact, this person is the antithesis of a good time at any whisky tasting but they appear like clockwork.
The Vertical Tasting
This is perhaps my favourite kind of tasting. A single distillery but a range of their expressions. I recently had a Jack Daniel’s vertical tasting that really opened my eyes to something new in the Rested Rye. Each distillery usually has a core flavour profile and unique finishes or small modifications to the recipe can provoke interesting new perspectives on that core story. Often, this is a beautiful way to get to know the work of a single master distiller. A vertical tasting might still include an independent bottling too. This is an ideal tasting if you’ve found a distillery you like, or to really learn in depth about a particular range.
The Regional Tasting
More particular to Scotch and world whiskies than the Americans, it’s not uncommon to gather a cluster of whiskies from the same region to compare and understand what nuances are happening between the distilleries as well as seeing their commonalities expressed side by side. Last week, I tasted several of the few remaining Campbeltown whiskies at the House of Whiskey monthly tasting. These tastings are interesting to pull together, to choose a range that can represent the region’s iconic profile (Islay’s is peat and phenols, Highland’s heather and honey, florals) and still tell a compelling story. Again, these are a great way to introduce yourself to a particular region and learn what you like or don’t like. In here, I bunch the Japanese or Irish tastings as they are generally not as broken down as the Scotch regions.
The Style/Cask Finish Tasting.
I’ve only ever been to one of these, but it was a mind-blowing flavour ride.
Whisky Girl Fact #12: I love sherry cask finishes. Love them beyond imagining. My favourite finish of all time.
A tasting of five sherry finished whiskies could be a regular Friday night, but this was also matched with chocolate, nuts and semi-dried fruits. We tasted rare independents. These tastings are good if you know what you like or if you are feeling brave. Not a place for starters, unless you like a place to prove your poker face. In this instance, I loved how exploratory the tasting was and the chance to try things super unusual.
The Distillery Tasting
There is nothing that compares to the thrill of opening a cask and pushing the valinch deep into the dark depths of that barrel to extract liquid gold. Or sitting with a master distiller who is introducing the new spirit or an experimental cask. Once you love whisky and it’s inside your bones, you must find a way to taste from a distillery whether in New Zealand, Scotland, Ireland, the US or Japan. There is nothing like drinking from the source.
Where to get started? Visit The Jefferson for their monthly social club tasting or the House of Whiskey for their monthly events in Auckland. In Christchurch, check out Whisky Galore’s schedule. Connect with Glengarrys Malt Club for more regular tastings too.
by tashmcgill | Apr 18, 2016 | Tasting Notes
There aren’t many whiskies that send me scurrying into research mode, but this Dailuaine did. Was is the pineapple nose that teased me with Piña Colada notes or just the sumptuous flavour profile that was so different? I’m not sure, but I can tell you this much – I went back for a second dram in the same sitting, which is nearly unheard of.
Dailuaine Distillery is in the Spey valley in, yes, Speyside. One of dozens of distilleries that have produced malts for years but that remain relatively under the radar of the average whisky drinker. I confess, I’d never heard of Dailuaine prior to tasting this morsel. But, her history is actually peppered with lots of names we do know – Aberlour, Talisker and now, principally, Diageo. Dailuaine provides some core backbone services to the whole Diageo line, including producing the bulk of it’s single malt for Johnnie Walker blends. But enough of that for now, let’s focus on Cask #10742. One of 773 bottles from a big ol’ Sherry Butt, this whisky is one of the most interesting I’ve tasted for a long, long time.
Nose: Like I said – almost like a Piña Colada. There’s sweetness of pineapple, but a smooth, well-balanced roundness that left me thinking of coconut cream and buttered rum. Then this light citrus note, almost lime-y. At this stage, it’s hard to believe I’m nosing a whisky.
Palate: Let’s get more interesting: sliding from creamy pineapple and citrus to big cherry flavours, vanilla icecream and toasty biscuits. Later, I read the formal tasting notes which suggest disgestives are the note, but coconut is still screaming at me so I’m going with Krispie biscuits. There’s an almost coffee-bean quality to the emerging finish.
Finish: The oaty, coffee bean dryness starts to emerge and now it’s tasting like a more traditional sherry finish. Fruit is back, dry and sweet and round almond and nut flavours hang around. It’s a medium dry finish that left me wanting more. So I did.
I’m almost certain I’ll be back to the Jefferson to try this again before the bottle is gone. It’s simply so unique. When you taste something like that and realise that same distillery is producing the lion’s share of it’s malt for one of the world’s biggest blends, it just makes me curious as to what the master blend has going on at Johnnie Walker.
by tashmcgill | Apr 18, 2016 | Tasting Notes
Grandfathers are influential people; they can set you on a trajectory that could make or break a life depending on how you let them. I grew up with only one living grandfather; who could be both great fun and a difficult old bastard. But through a childhood that was confusing and at times lonely; he was consistent. He loved America and I did too. We spent nights at the speedway over summer, ankle deep in pit mud and the smell of brake oil and grease. Long weekends and school holidays were spent rambling through his house and workshop and I remember 5 o’clock sherry, the awful, cheap, puckering kind. In the lounge room of his house with half-completed wallpaper and an old boxset television, he would pour a glass of sherry from the sideboard . And then he’d look sideways at me, at all of twelve years old and say, ‘Want a little?’
I would smile from ear to ear and nod furiously, a wicked treat that somehow meant approval, acceptance into this adult world I so longed to be part of. This was a step up from half a scull of Lion Red on a summer’s day. Fine cut glass, I remember, deep amber rose liquor that was both syrupy and stringent on the tongue. I gazed at it and considered the weight of the vessel in my hand, my all-too-clumsy, We would sit there, side by side, Poppa in his lazy-boy and I, in mine, smile at each other and say, ‘Cheers’. I remember flying home from Christchurch, to attend and speak on behalf of my sisters and I at his funeral. He had passed while I was away from home. I thought long and hard about what to say, which memories to include and which ones to leave out.
Sherry with Poppa at 5 o’clock has always been mine til now, mine alone. But I sat with The GlenDronach in double sherry-casked glory and it came flooding back to me. That woody, dry, rich, fruit and nut undertone that I love so much in every sherry-cask I try. I remembered where I first tasted it, the unmistakeable imprint of sherry and oak on spirit.
The GlenDronach Distillery is one of the oldest in Scotland, established in 1826. Since then, it’s changed hands more than a few times – and some of those hands have been quite notable, ye olde Walter Scott and then Charles Grant (Jr.) of Glenfiddich among them. It’s even been mothballed in recent history but now rests safely in the hands of BenRiach, one of an increasingly smaller number of independently owned distillery companies, after passing through nearly everyone else. I like old things and old things with history are even better. GlenDronach was one of the last to continue using coal fires for heating, they run their own malting floor and the buildings are heritage-listed. Respect for tradition with a few to the future, because everything GlenDronach do is sherry cask aged.
So let’s talk tasting, shall we? The cask strength is everything we love – aged in a combination of sherry casks (Oloroso and Pedro Ximénez), non-chill filtered and released in batches. The Oloroso should produce dry, nutty and almost creamy notes around it’s core fruit characters, while the PX is going to bring sticky sweetness to the party. This is Batch 4, bottled at 54.7% abv. It looks like dark gleaming amber, or molten Kauri gum in the bottle.
Nose: Hello cinnamon, stewed apples, booze-soaked raisins. Ginger spices start to pop and zing around more typical sweet berry fruit, cherries and nuts. The nose is so big you could almost drown in it, or imagine yourself waking up to fresh baked cinnamon fruit toast.
Palate: Biscuity and sweet, with cinnamon and fruit in the middle. Slowly the spices start to come back to play – ginger and pepper get bigger and bigger, which is nice after the big sweet hit. It’s chewable, this whisky and the oak qualities present themselves almost tannic like. I added water to about 47% and felt pretty happy about that. Too much more and the whisky would have felt out of balance, the sweetness of the fruit to overpowering for the spice. This is where the interplay of Oloroso and PX is so lovely – the dryness of those Oloroso spices but the warm, round mouthfeel coming from the nuttiness of it.
Finish: It leads you perfectly into a finish that is soft and fruity, the lingering PX dessert wine quality without being too cloying. The ginger stays with you til the very end, with a hint of coffee bean character. I can imagine finishing a piece of gingerbread and a cup of coffee with the paper.
by tashmcgill | Apr 16, 2016 | Bars, Opinion
Let’s begin with something simple: I am not a reviewer. I am a storyteller. Sometimes in the process of telling you a story, I can tell you how something is and what I liked or didn’t like about it. But one meal of 1200 covers a restaurant might do in a week, is an inaccurate measure. I want to tell you stories of my experience and be a trusted voice in that regard, the same way you might trust me to introduce you to a whisky, cocktail or even a place to drink.
I take my friends to places I like to drink and hang out. And sometimes they say to me, ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be here or trying this if I wasn’t here with you.’ Well, that’s enough to make me blush and enough to make any bartender cringe – because that’s their job. And they don’t need me stealing the most enjoyable part of it.
And while I like introducing people to whisky, cocktails, great food and delicious wine, not everyone can have a personal Whisky Girl introduction or expansion of their palate, unless I kick off the Tuesday Night Whisky Club again (now there is an idea!). Nor can most bars afford to keep me on hand to entertain the clientele.
But there’s nothing stopping you satisfying your curiosity or pushing yourself to learn something new all on your own or even if you’re with friends – you just need to choose a great place and guide to get you started. So that’s the story I’m going to tell you today.
I am no stranger to the American airport bar; those miserable but hypnotic places where you drink nothing but Johnnie Walker beside road warriors and tech start-up guys. It’s perfectly natural to sit and order a drink at the bar; playing back those lines we know so well. Where you going? How many flights til home? Did you close the deal? Small talk about sports, the weather and politics, if you dare. Mostly, I travel alone and so a brief exchange of words is welcome. But these are not places you learn about new spirits, cocktails or wine.
Do you ever have those moments where you look up one day and realise what is completely normal for you, isn’t considered so by everybody else? Why wouldn’t I stop at the local after a long day of work and share some stories and laughs? Just because I’m a girl? And why wouldn’t my engagement and conversation with the bartenders be just as worthwhile and enjoyable as meeting friends? Maybe I watched a little too much Cheers growing up, but I suspect the truth is more about the kind of people I like to be around.
I have a few succinct and crucial values; kindness, strength, integrity, generosity, hospitality. And if people were word-nerds like I am, I would only have to say ‘hospitality, strength, integrity’ – because kindness and generosity are building blocks of hospitality’s definition. Geekery aside, hospitality is defined as ‘the kind and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.’
I believe hospitality is to welcome guests, friends and strangers into your spaces in such a way as they feel it is their space too.
So heading to places of hospitality alone whether to have a drink or to explore something new; feels normal and safe to me because these are my values. Hospitality is what I understand. I am hospo; despite having not been behind the bar or in the kitchen for more than 15 years, give or take. How do I know this? Because these are my people. Hospo are people who understand a plate or drink alone does not hospitality make and they are the original user experience professionals. The service, conversation and chat, atmosphere, speed and the warmth of a place must all enhance and highlight everything else to ensure the experience of the person in their space is exceptional. From owners and kitchenhands to celebrity chefs; they get it.
The strangest conundrum is that so many people might feel intimidated or out of their depth entering into spaces that have you so supremely at the centre. Here’s a little secret: most bartenders (and any hospo people) that love what they do, love sharing it with you.
So whether you want to explore some whisky, cocktails or meet some new wines from people who know what they are talking about and have something to teach you – or you just need a drink at the end of a long day – here are some tips for how to whisky and visit bars whether you’re alone or with friends.
*This theory also works just fine for eating alone, but that’s another story.
Visit Tuesday to Thursday. Friday and Saturday nights, bars fill up with people are there to scull, not to savour. Bartenders have a different job to do when the bar is full. It’s still service but it’s a different kind of service. But Monday to Thursday, it’s a pleasure for great bar staff to have customers to spend time with. Sunday and Monday are regular hospo nights off. So while a great place will always have great staff, play the odds and be in the bar when the best people are in the bar.
Choose a place that has what you want. Most great bars will tell you what they are – especially if they are a wine, cocktail or premium spirits bar. Facebook is your friend. If a place doesn’t tell you their specialty, it’s not the place to go. When you visit The Jefferson, for example – it’s very clearly a whisky bar. Nice wine selection, great cocktails including the classics and some good beer – but they’re about whisky.
The more questions you ask and the more you don’t know; the better. The less assumptions you have about what you will and won’t like, the broader and more interesting your experience is likely to be. Don’t be afraid to ask about anything you see or what to know – it’s easier for everyone to start the conversation that way. The less you know (or try to pretend to know), the more you’ll learn and no-one needs you to impress them with your whisky knowledge. Bars and restaurants are places that we want to stand out, but not at the cost of fitting in. Learning is fun, just like they told you in school.
Use your words and language, don’t worry about getting it right. Don’t worry about whether you’ve got the vernacular down. And if you can’t smell the iodine or the cut grass, or know the difference between a Whisky Sour or a Manhattan, just smile and file what you’ve learned in the database for next time. There’s nothing more satisfying than introducing someone to something new and having them appreciate it.
What to expect?
So you walk into the J and find a seat (I like the second or third seat from the left at the bar, just to the right of the beer taps). Someone is going to say hi, closely followed by a variation of the phrase ‘what would you like’. You’ll say something close to the following:
- Actually, I’d like a whisky (or whatever you’re interested in) but I don’t know much about it
- I’ve tried ‘insert name here’ before but I’d like to try something else
At this point, I’ll give you a caution – try not to say ‘what do you recommend?’ unless you’ve known the bartender so long, they have a clear idea of your tastes. That’s usually an investment of hours, months, years and several thousand dollars. Help them out by at least defining a category of drink.
Then the conversation will begin. All you have to do is answer questions, in your own words and being as honest as possible about what you know and don’t know, like and don’t like. What flavours you like, what you’ve tried before, what you’re interested to explore. There is a whisky for everyone and you have to think about you and bartender as a team, figuring out the puzzle and exploring together. The team want to ask you questions and help you find something. And if you don’t like what they pull off the shelf the first, they won’t be offended because they’ll keep trying til they get it right. Because; hospo.
