Edradour Caledonia 12yo
Dougie Maclean’s Caledonia Selection | 46% ABV
How Hard Would It Be?
Let’s not dance around it. It’s single malt. It’s variables on top of variables.
Its (variable) ingredients are put through a volatile set of processes that – despite modern methodology giving us a more dialled-in end result in the new-make – always has the ability to produce different outcomes. It can always push the envelope, stretch the tolerances; other factors notwithstanding, such as temperature, barley varietal or yeast type.
Then there’s the human element which, despite many distilleries being automated to touch-screen efficiency, for many more it remains part of the process – at least to some degree. Be it hand-rousing of the mash at Glenturret (now sadly lost) maybe some twisting and turning of valves at Ardnamurchan or literally at almost every step at Springbank, there are still ways for our human inconsistency to blend a little serendipity into the mix. All of this before the whisky even touches the extremely variable oak vessel that will mature it into whisky.
Enter the blender.
Prior to bottling, they are tasked with the challenge of gathering the available mature casks and marrying them (blending/mixing what-have-you) to try to do what malt whisky seems determined to rail against – make a consistent product. One that can be branded and sold with the reassurance that each new bottle will be as good as the last and, more challengingly, taste the same too.
Look at your collection of bottles. Unless they specifically say “single cask” on the label they are ‘blended’. Even if they do carry that single cask statement, they may have been blended prior to their final cask – an important story for another day. So, blending, marrying, vatting. That’s how these inconsistencies are managed.
Yet, as malt fans we know there are some producers that are bad at this. Or, more accurately, they simply care less. As we travel further down whisky’s Curiosity Street we discover this is something to celebrate, even if sometimes we happen upon a release that’s considered not as good as the last. Despite Dramface still being shiny and new, we’ve already touched upon this variation a few times with the Clynelish 14yo, the Springbank 15yo and Springbank 10yo, as well as the different batches from Ardnamurchan. It’s a thing, and we need to understand it. Why? Well, because it’s interesting and it will directly affect not only our enjoyment, but how we interpret reviews and opinions.
So, in malt whisky at least, consistency is a fickle bedfellow. Let’s consider a few distilleries which seem to embrace it; Springbank (and Glengyle), Glenfarclas, Glenturret (new releases), Ardnamurchan and certainly the glass in front of us today – arguably a king of inconsistency, or - more kindly - a king of batch variation; Perthshire’s Edradour.
Let me be clear. In this word-salad of over-the-shoulder observations, I am saying this is a good thing. It may mean that some purchases are a gamble for you, especially if they’re your first, but you’ll probably come to love the comparison. “Last year’s was better” or “Oh! It’s a cracker this year”. But they’ll all be enjoyable. At least these days.
There once was a time this was not the case with Edradour. One bottle would knock you out with a choir of angels, while the next would have you thinking they’d had a little too much of their ‘share’ to bother singing that day. Thus, Edradour could be a difficult distillery to recommend. Thankfully, the days of allovertheplace are mostly behind them. Things seem to be running much more reliably recently and you might even imagine that the fanboy and fangirl ducks in the distillery burn are arranged in a tight little row (do ducks swim in burns?). And yet…
This is whisky. Specifically, whisky made in a fairly traditional manner with open mash tuns, wooden washbacks and worm tub condensers. Also, the cask variety at Edradour must be dizzying as it’s owned by the independent bottler Signatory Vintage. And so, the whisky, believe me, remains beautifully inconsistent. Just inconsistent to a higher standard. Interestingly, the bottle we have in front of us today has me at once perplexed and grateful. It’s probably one of their most readily available and higher volume sellers but this tastes a lot different from the last one I had – which looked exactly the same.
Wait. Is it too early to make my point? Quick word count… No - I’ve hit the minimum, let’s wind this up.
My point is that this is a renaissance distillery and it has been for a few years now, climbing in reputation for those after a different take on things. It took a wee while to get there, but when people call this the Springbank of the Southern Highlands it’s a big compliment, and I can see why they would. There’s a depth and a heft to Edradour, bizarrely it even exists in their lightest – the 10 year old at 40% ABV. There’s a lovely density of flavour, even if many of the releases tend to be cask stories with only end credits dedicated to the spirit. You know what you’re buying.
Unless you don’t. And, finally, here lies my point.
Springbank, Glenfarclas, Kilkerran, Edradour, et al – what would be so difficult about doing exactly what you’re doing? Don’t change a thing! Except… add a teeny, tiny little mention of the batch or year, anywhere you like? Make it readable. I’m out with my glass polishing cloth and my phone torch to read the bottle code here. I feel like I need Ralfy’s ‘Steampunker’ magnifier. (It’s L20/789 3/12/2020). Surely celebrating the batch, a la Ardnamurchan or Glenturret, is a good idea? It would certainly make reviews and recommendations easier. Single malt is inherently fickle, we understand, but I think everyone would get onboard with labels actually celebrating it. I think we’d love it. And, Edradour, your invested ‘ducks’ might find a calm pond for synchronicity instead of battling a chattering burn.
Review
Edradour Caledonia, 12yo, 46% ABV
£60 or thereabouts, generally available
Anyway, let’s just enjoy that it’s here and capable of producing barnstormers for us. Is this one? Let’s see. It’s their Caledonia Selection (after the Dougie Maclean song - which exists especially to draw tears from maudlin expat Scots the world over). It’s 12 years old and bottled at 46% ABV, all natural and labelled as such. It’s as dark as builder's tea. It’s pricey, it is, but get a good one and you’ll wish you’d bought extra.
Nose
All cask at first. Treacle, wood spice and cold coffee. Confectionary hits before fruit; candied ginger and Fisherman’s Friend lozenges. Sweet cherries too, some rum and raisin ice cream. The fruit is prunes in boozy juice. Some menthol too, taking us back to more medicinal throat sweets. Oodles of dark fudge.
Palate
The confectionery is almost gone. We’re in a workshop with oil-soaked leather chamois and metals. There’s a dry ginger ale-like warmth, followed by Lotus Biscoff biscuits. The palate thins a little and brings cherry cola, mocha, tart raspberries and a flash of something green, like nettles. It fades to leave a tale of bitter, stewed tea and black olive brine, before drying to allspice.
The Dregs
This may sound odd, but the finish on this one leaves the roof of your palate curiously hollow, it’s all about the mid-palate and the gums. I’m on my second (small) pour to get my head around it and it is an engaging thing, just not nearly as full, heady and rounded as the previous bottle (which would be a point higher from memory - at least). This is drier and more bitter, but still alive with interest. The Edradour fans are there for a reason, it won’t disappoint them, but it could catch an early bird off guard. Be careful who you recommend it to, and be on hand to explain it if you do.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. WMc
Hamish’s Notes
I came across this expression from Edradour as I wanted to taste more whiskies that have worm tubs in their distillation process. The colour of this dram lured me, and I managed to pick it up for a bargain £40.
Nose
Right away you’re greeted with a load of dense fruit and spice. It’s thick and punchy! A huge sherry influence here. Those fruit notes develop into peaches and plums. A pile of raisins and dates in the mix too. Toffee and fudge for days. I’m picking up a hint of wood and vanilla cream – almost like a custard cream biscuit. Strawberry jam and a mixture of toffee apples. Delicious.
Palate
It’s thick. It’s syrupy. Slightly bitter and tannic. Tons of spice: think of cinnamon, nutmeg and maybe a touch of ginger. The sherry flavours announce themselves over time. Raisins, dates and dark fruits are all in abundance. Nice long finish on this dram. The wood and spice linger for a lengthy time. A second sip brings burnt caramel and melted butter. Bitterness turns almost into cranberries. A touch dirty, that’s the worm tub element I’m seeking and thoroughly enjoying!
The Dregs
I added a touch of water to this dram and it seemed to mellow out some of the spice, turning it more silky smooth. Butterscotch and pecans develop more with that added dash of water, but I’d be careful in adding too much here. Overall this is a delicious and chewy whisky. It packs so much flavour, so much that one or two drams would be enough. A great dessert whisky. It’s nicely complex and delivers on value. I’d happily pay the retail for this bottle and restock when this inevitably gets polished off. A touch on the dirty side palate wise, which is right up my street. Not as dirty as say a Mortlach, but a welcoming surprise as it opens up.
Hamish’s Score: 7/10