There is no such thing as bad whiskey. Some whiskeys just happen to be better than others. But a man shouldn’t fool with booze until he’s fifty; then he’s a damn fool if he doesn’t.
William Faulkner
Having come to Single Malt whisky late in life via my experience with wine, I learned a hard lesson in 2009…when the sign says ‘limited to 815 bottles,' waiting to re-order something quite delicious leads to nothing but sorrow.
I’ve acquired a taste for spirits relatively late in life, most likely delayed by slamming shots of Canadian whiskey on the sly during my late teens. Oh yes, I consumed my share of rum and coke at frigid football games, high balls, gin and tonics and what have you during my early twenties, but just a whiff of any brown spirit straight up would make me gag. Later in life, when I had acquired a love of well crafted wine, I believed that a civilized person just had to be able to appreciate Cognac and Armagnac, so I had to give brown spirits another try! Many of my trips to Europe connected through Heathrow, and I found myself buying a single malt or cognac in the duty free shop, bringing it home, opening it, taking a sip and gagging. Eventually, I had about a dozen bottles each with barely a sip missing. It just wouldn’t go down.
About five years ago, I became intrigued by two artisan spirits from the New World, Blue Agave tequila and Rhum Agricole, either because of an article I read or a documentary I saw, but I no longer remember which. I found that if I approached them like a glass of wine, focusing first on the nose, with a lot of inhaling, not only was there no gagging, but I actually really enjoyed them. At the time, I made no connection between this discovery and all the bottles sitting in my cupboard, that is, until about a year later when I gave away a bottle of single malt, Glenmorangie 18-yr old actually, that I had bought at least 15 years earlier. A few days later, I tried a small glass of Balvenie Double-Wood just as a lark, approaching it as I had Blue Agave, and with just a few sips I was hooked.
Over the next months, I came to realize that I was developing definite preferences in single malt. I really enjoyed the smoke peat and iodine of the whiskies from Islay and the Islands, and while I could appreciate the quality and flavor profiles of Speyside and Lowland whiskies, most seemed to be too sweet and have too many flavors contributed by the barrel. I was interested in exploring some of the smaller distilleries in the Highlands, but I was open to tasting just about anything.
Not content with the limited availability here in Seattle, I began to develop alternative chains of supply, enough said. The world of Single Malt reviewing and rating seems even more bizarre to me than that of wine, but my tried and true philosophy of ignoring the ‘numbers’ and just focusing on the description of the flavor profile was proving successful, most of the time. Even with the time, money and hoops involved, I would never risk buying more than one bottle of anything I hadn’t tasted. I became a regular visitor to several Whisky blogs, and that’s where I first read about the Ben Nevis distillery, late in 2008.
Named for the highest mountain in the UK it is one of the few remaining distilleries in the West Highlands, Ben Nevis is not considered a Grand Cru Class distillery, or even a Troisième Cru for that matter. Sold and shuttered several times in the 1980s it was finally acquired by The Nikka Whisky Distilling Company Ltd of Japan in 1989 and re-opened in 1990. Still in the process of replenishing its inventory, the distillery had been concentrating on a 10-yr single malt and a number of blends with an occasional special bottling of very old stock acquired in the purchase. In 2007 they had a special offering of a 14-yr single malt, what they labeled as “Double-Matured.” Distilled in September 1992, sherry cask #2623 was aged for 13 years, and then the strength reduced. The barrel was then aged for an additional year, reduced again to 46% by volume, and bottled in January of 2007. The review I read sounded very appealing, including chocolate on the nose and smoke tea on the palate, so I set my supply chain in motion.
I received bottle #707 of 815, and even after I was wowed by my first sip, the significance of those numbers didn’t register with me. And with the bottle, or what’s left of it, still packing most of its flavor over a year after I opened it, I could still kick myself over my inaction. It had lots of chocolate and orange peel on the nose and just a hint of brine, but this was a touch misleading.
At 46%, it started with an expected intensity on the palate, - which would eventually soften with a bit of air - and expanded slowly but surely into its full complexity and enjoyment. Sherry notes, orange peel, and just a whisper of candied orange peel were all balanced by a pleasant sea-saltiness that I found lip-smackingly good. Subsequent sips revealed a light smokiness on the back of the palate as well as, toasted pumpkin seeds, yes, toasted pumpkin seeds, in the long, long finish, and it was oh so good with roasted wild Sockeye salmon. Totally unlike my favorites, Laphroaig, Talisker, and Lagavulin, but some of the easiest, most enjoyable whisky I had ever tasted. Single Malt is an evening treat for me but only several times a week. I’ve developed quite a collection, so I was intentionally nursing my Ben Nevis to make it last. When I realized that 1/3 of the bottle was gone last spring, I tried to order more, but my sources had dried up, all sources had dried up for that matter, and I realized the true meaning of #707 of 815. There is no telling when Ben Nevis will do another ‘special’ release this young, or if it will be as enjoyable, but you won’t find me procrastinating again.
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