Legent & Friends

Even before I removed the tamper-proof capsule guarding Legent’s cork, I knew this tasting would happen. While Jim Beam only has two bourbon recipes, they do deliver a notable diversity across all their bourbon brands. Even within their low-rye recipe family, Beam achieves enough differentiation to justify three premium brands - Knob Creek, Baker’s, and their flagship Booker’s. The grain, yeast, water, still, distillation proof, barrel characteristics, and barrel-entry proof all remain constant for Beam's bourbons; the diversity comes from subtle variances in the wood staves of the barrels, where those barrels are stored, how long those barrels are stored, and critically, how those barrels are selected and batched into their respective products.

In my previous post, I relayed some of my curiosities regarding Legent’s production - what the proportions of the three whiskies used in Legent were, which Beam bourbon recipe was used, and how old each component was. Ever curious (translation - looking for an excuse to enjoy some bourbon), I decided to see if tasting Legent alongside the Beam bourbons I had on-hand revealed any insight into these mysteries. The tasting pitted a pour of Legent against half-ounce pours of:

• Knob Creek Small Batch (Beam low-rye recipe, non-age stated, 50% ABV)
• Old Grand-Dad Bottled in Bond (Beam high-rye recipe, non-age stated, 50% ABV)
• Booker’s Batch 2018-01 (Beam low-rye recipe, 6 years, 3 months old, 63.7% ABV)
• Baker’s (Beam low-rye recipe, 7 years old, 53.5% ABV)

Right out of the gate, Old Grand-Dad was eliminated from the comparison and pushed into the least-similar spot. If one ever wonders what rye contributes to a bourbon, just enjoy a pour of Knob Creek next to a pour of Old Grand-Dad. The wood/brown-sugar of the Knob Creek is replaced with a grassy spearmint vibe. Granted, some of this difference is due to barrel selection and batching, but with more than double the rye content, Old Grand-Dad radically stands out from its Beam-brethren. When comparing Old Grand-Dad to Legent, I really struggled to find any similarity whatsoever. To my nose and tongue, these two whiskeys aren’t even in the same galaxy.

Booker's was the next to be eliminated. Coming in at 63.7% ABV, it is a proof-bomb that dwarfs not only the Legent, but all the other bourbons on the table. Adding water helps tame the alcohol sledgehammer, but intense wood, resin, and waxy characteristics remain. Of all Beam bourbons, to me, Booker’s has consistently been dominated by that wood/resin/waxy character and this really torpedos the comparison to Legent as none of those characteristics exist in Legent. There is some bourbon commonality, but it is a stretch. As such, Booker's seems more like a distant cousin, than a direct sibling.

That leaves both Knob Creek and Baker's and both share some common characteristics to Legent in regard to smell and taste. On the nose, it's Baker's that comes the closest to Legent, though I find it difficult to quantify just how close the aromas are. Knob Creek’s nose has a wonderful oak meets brown sugar quality that neither Baker's nor Legent share. There is a savory sweetness, rather than a sugary sweetness in both Legent and Baker's that unites the two whiskies.

The similarities flip when it comes to taste, this time it's Knob Creek that is closer to Legent. Baker's retains a savory/herbal sweetness whereas Knob Creek continues its brown sugar/caramel trend which parallels, but does not imitate, Legent's fruity sweetness.

So we have Legent and Baker's being similar on the nose whereas Legent and Knob Creek are similar on the tongue. Of the two, it's the Legent - Baker's smell similarity that is much closer than the Legent - Knob Creek taste similarity. Truth be told, I'm beginning to believe the wine-finished components of Legent had more of an impact on the taste than the smell. Funny, because when I was tasting Legent alone, I was convinced the wine-influence had significantly impacted the whiskey's nose.

Plotting the four contenders, from least-similar to most-similar (from a qualitative, not quantitative perspective), I have: Old Grand-Dad at the far-end of the scale, Booker's about a quarter of the way up from Old Grand-Dad, Knob Creek, and Baker's each falling about three-quarters up the scale with Baker's getting the top-spot by just a hair due to the technicality that its nose is closer to Legent's nose than Knob Creek's taste is to Legent's taste.

My Totally Subjective, Non-Scientific Plot!

I’ve said numerous times before, tasting multiple whiskeys side by side is a valuable, insightful exercise. Legent certainly stands on its own against the other Beam bourbons, but make no mistake, it is different and quite un-bourbon like for most of the experience. I can understand why those that enjoy and seek out a typical bourbon might have a ho-hum reaction towards Legent - the wine influence certainly impacts and transforms the whiskey. This detour however is precisely why I enjoy Legent - it’s a unique experience that starts out bourbon-esque but then begins to gently steer towards a non-bourbon taste and finish. This is the beauty of opinions, they are simultaneously right and wrong depending on perspective; drink what you like, avoid what you don’t, and raise a glass every now and again to whatever it is you hold dear.

Cheers!

Legent

Legent
Classification: Blended American Whiskey
Country: United States of America
Region: Kentucky (Clermont: 37.931N, -85.652W)
Mash Bill: 75% Corn, 13% Rye, 12% Malted Barley
Strength: 47.0% ABV (94.0° Proof)
Color: Natural Color
Filtration: Unknown
Maturation: Unknown age, charred American Oak, red wine and sherry barrels
Price: $34.99 (Total Wine)

tl;dr summary - an intriguing blended whiskey that offers an enjoyable twist on traditional bourbon hallmarks. Bourbon initially on both the nose and tongue with the wine influence rearing its head from the middle of the experience through the conclusion. More prickly and fiery than its proof would have you believe yet requires care when adding water as the whiskey can be easily washed away. Ultimately a fairly priced whiskey that defies the bottom-shelf stereotype of blended American whiskey; worthy of a spot on your shelf.

Generally speaking, blended whiskey, particularly American blended whiskey, has been regarded as a bottom-shelf mixer with a bargain-basement price tag. In its worst implementation, blended American whiskey is nothing more than a dumping ground of youthful bourbon cut with cheaply made and totally unaged neutral grain spirit. There are other implementations however - blended whiskeys that are comprised of well crafted and well aged components, carefully selected to compliment one another, whose goal is to produce a result that is greater than the sum of its parts.

The truth is, while I very much enjoy straight bourbon, straight bourbon has a new charred oak requirement that really is a sledgehammer of influence. As such, though there is variance in smell and taste across the spectrum of bourbon producers, that variance is much smaller than if a variety of barrels were permitted in bourbon’s production. This is where blended American whiskey comes in. Happily, a side effect of the recent boom in premium American whiskey has spurred producers to explore premium blends which in turn has begun reversing blended whiskey’s rotgut stereotype. Free to use any variation of maturation barrels available, quality American blended whiskeys significantly enhance the quantity and variety of compelling whiskey offerings produced in this country.

As stated in the earlier teaser post, Legent is a blend of three whiskeys: Jim Beam Bourbon, Jim Beam Bourbon finished in ex-sherry barrels, Jim Beam Bourbon finished in ex-red wine barrels. Disappointingly, I have more questions than answers regarding the specifics of this blend’s provenance and have yet to come across any official specifications regarding the minutiae of the blend. Are there equal parts of all three components?, Does one component occupy the majority of the blend relegating the other two to the minority? What about the individual components themselves, how old is each one? How long does the bourbon rest in the respective wine barrels? What about the bourbon itself? Jim Beam has two bourbon recipes, a high-rye (27% rye, used for their Old Grand-Dad bourbons) and a low-rye (13% rye, used for all other Beam bourbons) each made with the same yeast strain. Does Legent use the same bourbon recipe for each component or a combination of the two?

Offering my opinion and speculative guesses, I’m betting that Legent exclusively uses Beam’s low-rye recipe bourbon. As for age, I’d place the general age of each bourbon on the younger side, but not to an extreme degree, perhaps 5 to 8 years old. Further, I’d say the sherry and wine-finished components do not spend much time at all in their respective wine barrels; less than a year I’d wager, perhaps being as brief as 2-3 months. Legally Beam is allowed to artificially color this whiskey as it is a blend, but I think it safe to say Beam has done no such thing, that beautiful reddish-mahogany color is all natural baby! As for chill-filtration, Beam does chill-filter a number of their offerings yet I have no reasonable yes or no guess if Legent was chill-filtered. My personal hope is that Beam did not chill-filter this whiskey as I think the chill-filtering process would strip some of the wine-barrel nuances and lessen the overall experience.

UPDATE - I drafted my guesses above a little over a week ago and between then and now, I came across this article which addresses some of the items I was curious about:

Legent showcases its Bluegrass State roots from grain to barrel, using a five year old bourbon distilled by Jim Beam with its standard mashbill as the core component. Two finished whiskeys are incorporated—a sherry cask-finished bourbon with an extra two years of maturation, and a California red wine cask-finished bourbon with one extra year of maturation. The three pieces are married together in a tank for a month, and while exact proportions of the final blend aren't disclosed, the base bourbon is the largest player, followed by the wine cask and then the sherry cask.

https://www.foodandwine.com/cocktails-spirits/legent-bourbon-beam-suntory-review

I will add a cautionary asterisk to this information as it does not come directly from the producer, but all the details seem quite reasonable. My guess as to the base age of the bourbon was in the ballpark, but I whiffed on the durations of the respective wine finishings; two years in sherry and yet, I did not detect the sherry influence all that much (though it is the smallest component of the blend). Also, very interesting the biggest component of the blend is the straight bourbon.

Impressions
Thus far, I’ve had four separate pours of Legent. The notes below are a conglomeration of the notes I took during each of the four tastings. During my first pour, I kept adding water to tame the fiery alcohol and ultimately added too much water, effectively washing the whiskey away.

Nose
Classic bourbon at first - brown sugar, corn sweetness, and yes, the wine influence does emerge shortly after the initial sniff. Absent from the nose is oak and char. Despite knowing there are sherry barrels and red wine barrels involved, this does not smell like a sherry influenced whiskey to me. In fact, this smells of a port finished whiskey. Very interesting!

Adding too much water killed a lot of the bourbon and wine smell. Bummer, lesson-learned for future pours, be stingy with the water. There is an almond paste / marzipan smell after excessive water. This is surreal, it is not just a muted version of the water-free whiskey but an entirely different whiskey.

Taste
Upon arrival, just like on the nose, it’s bourbon on the tongue. The second thing I notice is a medium to medium-strong alcohol punch; a fiery, prickly alcohol at that. Far more of an alcohol punch than the nose would have you expect. Bourbon remains throughout the first half of the sip, but the wine influence emerges during the second-half and takes over from there.

The initial bourbon has a bit of waxy wood that reminds me of Booker’s. Every now and again, I get a flash of that classic peanut taste that Jim Beam bourbons are known for. It’s not consistent nor anywhere near as prevalent as found in Beam’s straight bourbons, but it is there.

When the wine influence pops up, it also raises the sweetness level of the sip. The wine-influenced portion of the sip is much sweeter than the bourbon-influenced portion of the sip. This sweetness is not that classic brown sugar sweetness of the bourbon, rather it is a red fruit/grape sweetness.

Water has opened up more of that grape and wine taste. Just like on the nose however, I get much more of a port finish than a sherry influence; this so reminds me of the finish I get from Glenmorangie’s Quinta Ruban port-finish. The water has reduced the waxy-wood notes. Still a bit more alcohol burn than I would expect, I am still a tad surprised by this.

Finish
Medium length. Cinnamon is prevalent, specifically cinnamon candy (think Atomic Fireball). A pleasant red-fruit sweetness lingers as well with everything culminating in a black tea note. The finish is slightly drying, but not to an excessive degree, think ~25% as drying as how an Earl Grey tea finishes.

Overall
Fascinating to learn that five year old Beam bourbon constitutes the largest component in this blend. In my opinion, that certainly explains the excessive alcohol punch/prickle, relative to its bottling proof, that I experienced. A splash of water went a long way to mitigate the youthful alcohol, just splash conservatively as this whiskey can wash out quickly. While Legent did not displace Maker’s 46 as my favorite finished/blended bourbon, it's easily on my 'recommend' list. Truth be told, I’ve paid much more for worse whiskeys in the past. At $34.99, I foresee Legent staying on my shelf to be a weeknight pour as well as sharing with friends during a tasting to highlight just what blending and different woods can do to a whiskey.

I have one more Legent-centric post in the works, stay tuned for Legent & Friends.

October's Whiskey

One of the whiskies that I will be spending a lot of time with in October is Legent - a new(ish) offering from distilling giant Beam Suntory. Officially declared as a joint effort between the two respective companies, Legent is comprised of three different components:

1. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon
2. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon finished in ex-sherry barrels
3. A non-age stated Kentucky Straight Bourbon finished in ex-red wine barrels (the specific variant of wine is not disclosed)

The ingredient list above makes it pretty clear that Beam's contribution to the whiskey is the Kentucky Straight Bourbon. Suntory's contribution comes in selecting the sherry and wine barrels as well as blending the three whiskies into the final product. Officially marketed as a coming-together of Jim Beam's legendary master distiller Fred Noe and Suntory's legendary chief blender Shinji Fukuyo, Legent on paper is an intriguing whiskey to me; intriguing enough to take the $34.99 plunge to see firsthand how this Kentucky-Japan mingling turns out.

I am not 100% if I will have one large post or several smaller posts containing thoughts, impressions, and opinions regarding Legent, but I do know October is the month that I will be discussing this blended American whiskey.

More to come.

A New Balvenie

Balvenie The Sweet Toast of American Oak
Classification: Single Malt Scotch Whisky
Country: Scotland
Region: Speyside (Dufftown: 57.459N, -3.128W)
Mash Bill: 100% Malted Barley
Strength: 43.0% ABV (86.0° Proof)
Color: Unknown
Filtration: Unknown
Maturation: 12 Years in ex-bourbon, 8-12 weeks in new American Oak
Price: $64.99 (Total Wine)

I've been told through the years that I tend to be overly verbose when discussing things that interest me. Keeping this in mind, I decided to lead off with a tl;dr summary for those that may not be interested in reading the entire post, so without further ado:

tl;dr summary - an enjoyable single malt with a terrific nose, pleasing taste, weak finish and mysterious production characteristics. Ultimately this malt is betrayed by its disproportionately high price. Personally, I'll pass on purchasing future bottles unless pricing comes down into the $50 - $60 range.

Overview

Balvenie’s new series of whiskies, officially called ‘The Stories Series’ has begun hitting store shelves in my neck of the woods. Comprised of three ‘stories’, each is told through a unique single malt expression (and corresponding marketing campaign) from the fabled Speyside distillery in Dufftown. The stories are, in numerical order, ‘The Sweet Toast of American Oak’ (12 years old), ‘The Week of Peat’ (14 years old), and ‘A Dark Day of Barley’ (26 years old). Today I’ll be focusing on the first story - The Sweet Toast of American Oak, but I have little doubt that story #2, The Week of Peat, which must be a re-labeling of Balvenie’s annual Peat Week release, will be getting some screen-time on this blog in the coming months. As for the third story - A Dark Day of Barley - being a 26 year old single malt, one would expect a hefty price tag and Balvenie did not disappoint with an MSRP of $799. I had the rather surreal experience of encountering a bottle of this super-pricey malt while popping into what can only be described as a ‘humble’ strip mall bottle shop, the type of place one would expect to find plenty of Fireball but not uber-premium limited releases. To the shop’s credit, they were charging MSRP with no added kickers, but alas, despite the Indiana Jones encountering the Golden Idol awe I felt holding the bottle, I could not bring myself to spend that much coin on a bottle of hooch. I bet it’s tasty stuff though…

Balvenie's stated goal and purpose of the Sweet Toast of American Oak was to produce a sweeter, fruiter Balvenie by utilizing new oak that had been deeply toasted before charring, the theory being to maximize the exposed wood sugar available to the malt during maturation. Balvenie sourced these new American White Oak barrels from the Kelvin Cooperage in Kentucky. The coopers at Kelvin first toasted each barrel over a white oak fire (not a gas-fueled burner) before charring the barrel and shipping to Balvenie. Once at Balvenie, the coopers at the distillery re-toast the barrels:

Once the barrels safely arrive on Scottish soil, the pre-toasted casks are given an extra deep toast in The Balvenie Cooperage to drive the heat further into the wood and bring out as much flavour as possible. As Head Cooper, Ian McDonald asserts: “We’re adding extra life and flavour into the wood. After it’s spent 6 weeks in transit from Kentucky to Dufftown, our signature Balvenie burn refreshes the wood, bringing out all the flavour, colour, vanilla.”

This second toasting of an already toasted and charred barrel seems curious to me, I would love to know more granular detail in regard to why this was done. My cynical side wonders if the barrels were shipped from Kentucky intact or as palletized loose staves. If shipped as loose staves rather than fully-assembled barrels, perhaps this second toasting in Scotland is to ensure barrel integrity and consistency mitigating any structural issues resulting from reassembly of the barrel in Scotland. My non-cynical side wonders if this second toasting in Scotland was done purely to improve the overall influence of the barrel on the malt; if so, I am genuinely interested in the science behind this second toasting's improvement on the barrel.

Regardless, once the second toasting is complete, 12-year old Balvenie that had been aging in ex-bourbon casks is re-barreled in these new toasted-charred-toasted barrels and left to sit for eight to twelve weeks. After that, the malt is dumped, proofed down to 43% ABV and bottled. Far beyond wondering what the reasoning behind that second toasting of the barrel is, my two biggest questions regarding this malt are is it chill-filtered and is it artificially colored. There is no official word from Balvenie in regard to either of these questions and I'm left again with cynical and non-cynical thoughts. Cynically, I would not be surprised if the answer was ‘yes’ to both. Historically Balvenie has both colored and chill-filtered their non-single cask and lower-tier offerings. If that precedent remains true with this offering, I find it quite perplexing, particularly in regard to chill-filtration as doing so seems counterproductive. If one of the goals of this new malt is to extract as much wood sweetness and character as possible, then why chill-filter the malt which will in all likelihood remove some of that wood influence? Non-cynically, I can either give Balvenie the benefit of doubt or choose not to fixate on the label's ambiguous disclosures in these two areas. I'll tip my hand on where my feelings fall on these two questions in my impressions below, let’s get into the dram.

Nose
Malty sweetness, fruit sweetness, particularly peach, lots of peach for me. Minimal alcohol. Gentle oak. This is clearly a malt whisky on the nose, but there are subtle bourbon notes as well, particularly that charred/fired wood smell prevalent in so many bourbons. A funny aside, when I first removed the protective capsule covering the bottle's topper, the smell of the wood used atop the cork immediately reminded me of how my childhood Lincoln Logs used to smell. Sadly the cork's wooden topper now has no distinctive smell, so it was a one-time shot of nostalgia.

Taste
Totally different than the nose. Spicy and more oak than the nose indicates. Spice eventually fades to a mild sweetness with that peach note reappearing and concludes by fading into oak.

Finish
Short to medium-short. Oak, spice, and fruit sweetness.

Overall
Very interesting how the nose screams one impression while the taste delivers a very different impression. Lots of fruit and gentle oak on the nose, a beautiful smell wafting from the glass. Spice and oak dominate the taste up front but eventually yield to the fruit sweetness. Incredibly, there is zero wood resin / astringency in this malt. When I first heard about 12-year old Balvenie being transferred to new American oak for an additional three months, I was immediately concerned. The power of new oak cannot be understated and with great power comes great responsibility - new oak will push whiskey to either dizzying highs or terrifying lows. One of the potential lows is an overpowering wood resign, a somewhat bitter, waxy vibe that dominates the flavor. It seems to me that Balvenie’s chosen cooperage not only ensured the new barrels were seasoned properly, but toasted to just the right degree to strike a balance between char and caramelized goodness. There is near-zero alcohol prickle which again makes one think this was a well produced and well cared for whisky throughout its distillation and maturation.

On the negative side, this is not an overly nuanced or complex whisky. Enjoyable yes, but not a layered experience yielding an array of evolving flavors and aromas. The two weakest aspects of this malt for me however are the finish and the price. The finish is woefully short and leaves you wishing for more, particularly after that delightful nose. Indeed, the experience peaks at the beginning with the nosing and goes downhill from there for me: nose < taste < finish. Second, the price. I paid $64.99 for this bottle but feel it would be more realistically priced in the $50-$55 range which would also make the bottle more comparatively priced to its fellow 12-year old shelf mates. Shockingly, on a recent visit to the Total Wine where I purchased my bottle, I noticed they had raised the price of this malt to $72.99 which even further bolsters this criticism. Curiously, Balvenie's own 12 year Single Barrel First Fill expression retails for the same price yet comes bottled at a beefy 47.8% ABV and is non-chill filtered to boot (proudly proclaimed on the bottle's label)!

At the $70+ price-point there are many other compelling offerings such as Macallan's various 10-12 year variants, Glenmorangie's Nectar D'or, or Bunnahabhain's 12 year. Of course there is a Balvenie tax to account for, but even so, in this instance, the Balvenie tax is greater than the Macallan tax which is astonishing and reeks of bad value for my personal money. This brings me back to my feelings on the ambiguity of whether this malt has been artificially colored and/or chill-filtered. In my opinion, any malt commanding a $70+ price-point should be presented free of artificial color and non-chill filtered. Optionally, but ideally, a malt at this price-point should also be offered at a higher bottling strength, say 45%+ ABV, as well as contain an age statement, however I typically offer leniency over the absence of either so long as the malt in the bottle is particularly enjoyable.

If interested, Balvenie's official product page for The Sweet Toast of American Oak:
https://us.thebalvenie.com/stories/the-sweet-toast-of-american-oak

Vive la France!

The middle weekend of June typically means it is Le Mans weekend - a very special time where prototype and grand touring sports cars spend 24 continuous hours racing through the French countryside. As in years past, my much better half and I celebrate the weekend with a special menu and a dedicated cocktail (okay, to be honest, this how we celebrate just about every weekend, but stick with me here). This year we decided to crack the fabled French 75. While the drink is almost certainly a New York creation, it was concocted to honor something very French - the Canon de 75 modèle 1897 - widely considered the very first modern military artillery piece.

The French 75 was the artillery weapon of choice for the Allied Forces during World War One. In fact, a young Harry S. Truman commanded a dozen French 75s as he led Battery D of the U.S. Army's 35th Division's 129th Field Artillery during the Meuse-Argonne Offensive on the War's Western Front. Before this turns into a history lesson, as my sauced-up relatives would say, enough history honey, more hooch, so let's get to it.

There is some dispute over the primary spirit used in the French 75 - the majority of recipes call for gin while a few call for brandy/Cognac. Being committed to the craft, we of course had to mix up both versions. Impressions below.

Ingredients

1.50 ounces gin or brandy/Cognac

0.75 ounces simple syrup

0.50 ounces fresh lemon juice

Brut sparkling wine/Champagne (important to use Brut here to keep the sweetness in check)

1 lemon peel for twist

Process

1. Chill a Champagne flute or wine glass. 
2. Place the gin or brandy/Cognac, simple syrup, and lemon juice in a cocktail shaker with some ice.
3. Shake and strain the shaker mixture into the glass and top with sparkling wine/Champagne (I'd say you are going to pour ~2 ounces of champagne here).
4. Squeeze the lemon twist over the drink and drop in.

We opted for a VSOP Cognac as that is what we had on hand. We also opted for a Champagne because what else would you use on Le Mans weekend?! Fun fact - today, spraying Champagne is a tradition on a motorsport victor's podium where the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers are celebrated. However, it was the legendary Dan Gurney who first sprayed Champagne on the podium, celebrating the 1st place finish of he and A. J. Foyt's Ford GT40 Mark IV in the 1967 Le Mans. 

Returning to the hooch, I was once told by a wine merchant that when it comes to Champagne, forget about brands and simply buy the cheapest 'Grand Cru' Champagne you can find on the shelf. I have no idea how accurate or insightful that advice is as neither of us are Champagne enthusiasts, but to date, we have never had a disappointing example.

As for the two French 75 versions - we each slightly preferred the gin version to the Cognac version. The gin version was a bit less sweet, a bit more savory and as a result left you desiring a second one immediately after finishing. To use a breakfast metaphor, the Cognac version was like stuffed French Toast to the gin version's corned beef hash. Don't get me wrong, both versions are delicious, it just depends on what you are looking for from the cocktail - sweet or savory.

Cheers!

Transitional Patience

"Oh, Andy loved geology. I imagine it appealed to his meticulous nature. An ice age here, million years of mountain building there. Geology is the study of pressure and time. That's all it takes, really. Pressure, and time." - Ellis Boyd "Red" Redding

Pressure and time, two words that kept swirling around the ole noggin as I contemplated my most recent pours of Ardbeg's Uigeadail (pronounced oog-ah-doll). Bottled at 54.2% ABV and without chill filtration, Uigeadail took me on quite the journey of self-discovery, far more than any of the other malts adorning my shelf.

Pressure. I have long loved Ardbeg's standard offering - a stoutly peated 10-year old that commonly retails in the $50 range in my neck of the woods. Sitting alongside the 10-year old in Ardbeg's year-round lineup are a handful of non-age stated Single Malts, all of which tend to retail for 25% to 60% more than their age-stated sibling. So how does a producer justify and convince the consumer to spend more cash on a whiskey that has less label provenance? The answer is two-fold - put a quality whiskey in the bottle and then carpet bomb the whiskey world with marketing fodder. Seemingly from the start, this strategy paid off for Ardbeg as the whiskey nerds of the Internet loved Uigeadail out of the gate. Cementing its reputation, Uigeadail's marketing portfolio was handed a crown jewel when in 2009, Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible named Ardbeg Uigeadail ‘World Whisky of the Year’ praising its “utter silky brilliance” and “complexity on a level only a handful of distilleries in the world can even dream of reaching.” From that point onwards, Ardbeg had no problem selling bottles of Uigeadail.

Time. I resisted the Uigeadail pressure for a number of years. Blog after blog, YouTube review after YouTube review hailed the spirit's awesomeness, yet I remained fiscally stubborn. 'Why would I spend nearly twice as much on an unknown Ardbeg than I do my beloved 10-year Ardbeg?'. As the years rolled by, my resistance remained steadfast, but so too did the increasing marketing and peer pressure vouching for Uigeadail's worthiness. The tipping-point, where the friction of my resistance was overcome by the stress of my curiosity, was when my local ABC marked bottles of Uigeadail down from $89.99 to $71.99. Succumbing, the long-denied bottle was finally brought home and thus began the adventure.

That purchase was made way back in 2017 and from that day to this, an important life-lesson, in regard to whiskey at least, was learned: the importance of patience and keeping an open mind when sampling a new whiskey. I journal my initial impressions of every whiskey I purchase and Uigeadail's initial entry tips towards that of being underwhelmed:

Peat on the nose, but less than Ardbeg 10. It could be the sherry casks used here, but the nose has a more herbal sense to it than 10 year. Taste - the peat is definitely there, but nowhere near 10 year. Also, there is a medicinal taste and dry finish that are quite different than the 10. The 10 is more sweet and less dry on the taste/finish. It is a good malt, but thus far, I enjoy Arbeg 10 a wee bit more.

After my first two pours of Uigeadail, I was so ho-hum towards the malt that I was contemplating a list of friends to whom I could gift the gently-used bottle. Lazily, I stuffed the bottle into a dusty corner of the cabinet and forgot about it for over a year.

Rediscovering the bottle and begrudgingly pouring another dram on an idle weeknight was perplexing. My pour that night was far better, far more enjoyable than I had recalled. Subsequent pours yielded more of the same; I was enjoying this malt, quite a lot in fact. One night I sat down with two pours - Ardbeg's 10-year and Uigeadail - to taste side-by-side. Doing so helped illuminate and zero-in on the genesis of my initial disappointment with Uigeadail. As I said earlier, I had spent years exclusively enjoying Ardbeg 10-year. As a result, Ardbeg 10-year became the standard, the very definition of what Ardbeg is and produces; the 10-year tastes just as Ardbeg should taste ... or so I thought. Uigeadail is however, by design and rightfully so, a very different malt than the 10-year. This difference I surmise is what led to my quick dismissal of Uigeadail in lieu of the 10-year. Which brings me back to my whiskey life-lesson - if a newly acquired malt should ever fail to impress straight out of the gate, rather than immediately dismiss it, allow it time to impress and earn a spot in your rotation. Time, oxidation, personal mood, preconceptions, environment; many external variables impact the impression a whiskey delivers which is why it's important to spread your enjoyment of any one bottle over the course of weeks, months, and yes, even years.

So what are my current tasting notes of Uigeadail? Well that first bottle as you can see by the photo above is almost half-finished now. The Malt Nerds claim Uigeadail's quality has decreased through the years, but I can offer no insight on that as my frugal resistance kept me from buying a bottle until 2017. What I can say is in regard to newer/current bottlings - if you enjoy peated malts from Islay, there is a very good chance you will enjoy Uigeadail - the lack of a peaty sledgehammer punch to the tongue is more than compensated for with a sherry/barrel complexity not commonly found in Islay malts:

Nose
Campfire, pine needles, cedar wood. Gentle vanilla and raisiny-sugar with the addition of some water.

Taste
Immense, coating, a surprising spiciness, peppery yielding to a candy sweetness. Smoke obviously, but not as smokey as Ardbeg and/or Laphroaig's 10-year offering. I feel water improves the taste, muting the alcohol punch and bringing out more fruity sweetness and vanilla. There is also a flickering impression of espresso for me. The espresso is not constant nor lasting, but like catching the occasional lyric of a familiar song from a passing car, it's certainly recognizable for me. The tail-end of the sip leading into the finish is forcefully reminiscent of walking past a cigar bar.

Finish
Long, smokey, pine forest. A drying sensation after a few moments as well, though not severe. Some humans are endowed with 'legs for days', well this malt is endowed with a finish for days. You will go to bed and possibly wake in the morning with remnants of smoke on your palate courtesy of this malt.

General Notes / Overall
Adding water to this malt reduces the peat punch (think bog fire reduced to smoldering fire) but increases the fruitiness on the nose. This phenomenon does not carry over to the taste however, the peat level remains the same and is entirely delightful to me.

I wrote a great deal about Ardbeg's 10-year offering and tasting that alongside Uigeadail really is an enjoyable and enlightening experience. The 10-year's peat level is analogous to Spinal Tap's 11 - it is big, bold, and tends to dominate the experience. Uigeadail dials down the peat to 7 or 8, but it's also of a different ilk - smoldering vs the 10-year's billowing. As for sweetness, the 10-year is significantly sweeter, from start to finish, than Uigeadail. These changes in peat and sweetness between the two allows Uigeadail to explore subtleties that would not be possible in the 10-year and I imagine therein lies precisely why Uigeadail retails for $20-$35 more than the 10-year. I have a hunch that a greater variety of barrels as well as a more dutiful attention to detail in blending those barrels is required when batching Uigeadail.

Truly, if you love Islay peated malts, both the 10-year and Uigeadail deserve to be sampled, ideally side-by-side if you can swing it. For my shelf, I see keeping a bottle of each available, but the 10-year will be reached for more often than the Uigeadail; the Uigeadail's complexity deserves some intentional contemplation whereas the 10-year can be casually enjoyed which satisfies my malt requirement for most nights. If however there can only be one for your shelf, choose the 10-year for a peat sledgehammer a la a Schwarzenegger action flick or the Uigeadail for a Fred and Ginger peat soiree.

Uigeadail (left) and 10-Year (right)

Guest Post! White Walker by Johnnie Walker

https://www.johnniewalker.com/en-us/our-whisky/limited-editions/white-walker/

Contributor Michael Doheny dropped by recently with impressions of a bottle you are sure to see on your local retailer's shelves. Perhaps unsurprisingly, whisky giant Diageo decided to latch on to the fervor surrounding HBO's final season of Game of Thrones by bombarding the whiskey world with a plethora of whiskies themed after the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. The first of these offerings is a Blended Scotch Whisky from Johnnie Walker honoring the mythical and conveniently named boogeymen of the series - the White Walkers. Enjoy!

In celebration of the final season of Game of Thrones, Johnnie Walker released a new “color” in the vein of their Red, Black, Double Black, Green, Gold, and Blue varieties - “White Walker” Johnnie Walker was a “limited” release to the public, debuting in October of 2018. I had emphasized limited due to the fact there were still several on the shelves of my local ABC in April of 2019.

The true gimmick of this offering is not the flavor or blend, rather it is that the bottle utilizes thermochromic ink to give message when frozen. Since I am a fan of not only the A Song of Ice and Fire book series, but also the television program, I thought I would give this a review to coincide with the season’s third episode, long rumored to be a viewing experience of epic proportions.

I didn’t adhere to any of the rules from our blind tastings in the past. As instructed by the bottle's label, I kept the bottle in my freezer and decided on three pours: straight, half cola and half whisky, and finally two-thirds whisky and one-third cola.

There are several nods to the show on the bottle, from the blue-white ice wrap, reminiscent of the so named White Walkers, to the bottle being “Distilled, Blended, & Bottled North of the Wall”. On the back, there is a summation of HBO's interpretation of the White Walkers, and then a description of the source of the blends as well as some tasting notes.

It is 41.7% ABV

Inital Pour (straight)
Color: Straw to clear
Smell: Nothing distinct, choked by the chill.
First sip: When sampling I always dredge air through my teeth to chew the flavors a bit. There was a lingering burn, but it was snuffed out suddenly. Not sweet, spicy, or floral, just a wild burn and gone.
Finishing the pour I eventually got hits of caramel and toffee. However, there is nothing here that would make you want to drink this straight.

Second Pour (half whisky, half cola)
Color: Rich caramel
Smell: Still nothing discernible
First sip: Oh. I’m drinking diet coke with a thick malty aftertaste. There is almost no hint of the spirit left to be found. Perhaps the slight tingle on the lips, but little else.
Finishing the pour further reinforces the initial sensations of it being lost in a sea of cola.

Third pour (two-thirds whisky, one-third cola)
Color: Charred Pine
Smell: A faint vanilla, but overwhelmed by the bubbling cola.
First sip: The sip seems...thin. As there is no one flavor overriding the other. It has the memory of those wedding receptions attended in your twenties - where the drinks are being watered down, but you are just happy to have an open bar. Heat is negligible.
Finishing the sample, sometimes i got a bit more of one than the other, all-in-all your typical poorly mixed drink from the tourist trap or hotel bar.

In the end, the Wall, should stand and let these Walkers stay beyond our reach. When your most redeemable quality is the bottle, you have reached Dan Aykroyd levels of stewardship of your brand. It is as if, you know nothing Johnny Walker.