Thompson Bros Fettercairn 2007
2022 Release | 55.1% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good stuff.
TL;DR
A tough nut to crack, but remains a good whisky.
Distilleries to Avoid?
In all my years of writing and discussing whisky, Fettercairn has rarely featured on any menu. Why is this? Reflecting, it seems to be a combination of factors. The distillery is one many give a body-swerve or Johan Cruyff turn to. So, today, we’re dispensing with such avoidance tactics and diving headfirst into all things Fettercairn.
We’re are all aware of distilleries that prompt a bad reaction or memory. A bone-rattling shudder when faced with the latest Jura concept or something that overdoes the craft ethic, Balvenie-style. Whiskies and distilleries are personalities; you like some individually and others you wouldn’t give the time of day. It’s an understandable approach and reaction based on previous experiences. Auchentoshan, anyone?
There have been some god awful official Fettercairns over the years and I cannot pinpoint where the rot began exactly, as it’s been fairly tepid and lacklustre for some time now. Even the recent revamped range with its promiscuous looks is just reaching average in my opinion. Without a doubt this is an improvement, nevertheless slapped down by some ridiculous pricing. Those hoping for a Glenturret phoenix from the ashes revival will have to wait until the next rebrand, hopefully.
Preconceptions can limit and interrupt your whisky enjoyment. I know individuals who taste everything blind and award scores on the 100-point level. I can see the satisfaction in guessing the origins, style or strength of a mystery whisky, but is there a point where we debate, decipher and dissect a dram to an extreme degree that we forget the reason for its existence? It’s for drinking and enjoyment if you didn’t guess. Yes, even Fettercairn.
Recently, I was researching a closed distillery and opened Alfred Barnard’s epic The Whisky Distilleries of the United Kingdom, right on his Fettercairn visit. Not remembering his specific commentary on this land standing distillery, I pulled up a chair and dropped into this Tardis from the 1880s.
If you’ve read the book previously, you’ll know that Alfred tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, which is no bad thing. Distilleries and areas he thoroughly enjoyed visiting, would receive a glowing five-star TripAdvisor-type review, full of details that had little to do with the local whisky. I tend to think of these as holiday snapshots from a satisfied and merry gentry traveller. You could just toss these aside and wish for more production detail, or even photographs, which are the gaping chasm in the book. However, through my own research of Glen Mhor, I’ve come to appreciate the workers and details that are mentioned by accident or anecdotally. Such nuggets grant me more insight into the environment and those that worked at such establishments.
Commencing his Fettercairn visit, Alfred seems in good spirits following his stay at the “cosy little inn at Stonehaven Station”. Oddly enough, possibly due to my thorough ways of researching every Glen Mhor lead known to humankind, I wondered if this practitioner of a warm welcome (and I’m guessing good whisky?) was still in business? Pure speculation on my part, but with Alfred coming from a city background, he may have taken an inn to be a smaller establishment, as opposed to the epic-sized hotels south of the border?
Step forth the Station Hotel in Stonehaven, which is thankfully still in business today. Could this be our inn of cosiness? Dating from 1850, it does seem like a contender with the history of the hotel suggesting notable changes over the years, but retaining a focus on serving the best. Especially, confirmation that “a comprehensive selection of fine old wines, matured spirits and liqueurs was maintained”, prompting my speculation to transform into more concrete foundations. No offence to any patrons of Stonehaven, which remains a wonderful place all the same, how many similar establishments could this coastal town support in the 1880s?
This isn’t the start of a national campaign to flood Scotland with plaques commemorating that Alfred Barnard visited sites during the 1880s and had a jolly good time. But it gives us a sense of the journey he undertook, the physical and administrative effort needed to pull together all these details (relevant and irrelevant) for his readers and, unexpectedly, future generations.
There is a certain amount of glee evident as he recalls villagers’ “racy tales” of illicit distilling, and upon nearing Laurencekirk where Fettercairn is located, commenting that “the drive for some few miles is not very pretty.” Any suggestion of a royal connection is also seized upon by his generation.
“quite often it’s what Alfred isn’t saying that’s of importance”
It almost seems like an inconvenience, or afterthought, that his romp through this area of Scotland is punctuated by a distillery visit; commenced with the tell-tale line, “But to return to the distillery”, then, “‘the following is a brief description of the work, which covers about two acres of ground”. A very rudimentary, workmanlike, brief and by-the-numbers tour of Fettercairn is delivered. The whisky is only referred to as being Highland malt with no commentary on its virtues or individual style.
Taking all of this in, armed with a cheeky smile, quite often it’s what Alfred isn’t saying that’s of importance. I do wonder if – like so many whisky travellers today – he suffered from packing too much into his itinerary, or was suffering some ill-effects from a memorable night at a cosy little inn? His voyage may have been nearly 140 years ago, even so, it remains very similar to our own journeys across this wonderful country.
But a return to the whisky and this particular Fettercairn formed part of my transAtlantic sessions with regular collaborator Rose. These sessions are a fun way to spend an evening or afternoon depending on where you are located. For the record, I’m in Scotland and Rose is in California, but despite the eight-hour time difference, such activities are highly recommended. In essence, we both track down the same bottle and begin a new journey by breaking the seal. Always fun as you just don’t know which direction things will go in and we don’t always agree. What amazes are the outcomes, such as the tasting notes that spark discussions on old (mostly, previously lost) memories and different cultures. The aftermath is more than just a drinking experience, rather a collection of fantastic tasting notes and the satisfaction of completing a voyage.
What’s always struck me is that while we’ve both come from different continents and have very different backgrounds, our notes share similarities if taken through different examples. Being able to express yourself is always welcome, feeling comfortable and at ease, rather than having tasting notes dictated by a brand ambassador or a surrounding group… and not to dwell too much on the actual notes as there’s no right or wrong. If conversations veer into flashbacks or tales of fun, then that’s just the power of whisky to free us from the mundane outside and bring forth previously forgotten memories.
Review
Thompson Bros 2007 Fettercairn 14yo 55.1%ABV
£65 retail
We were both fortunate to pick up this Fettercairn which promptly sold out – not a phrase I’d often use with this distillery – underlining just how popular these bottlings can be. An edition of 508 bottles retailed for £65. Distilled in 2007, the 2nd refill American oak barrels were bottled at 14 years of age and 55.1%.
First up, Rose, and then my own tasting notes.
Nose
Starting off with coconut macaroons, lemon shortbread or lemon meringue pie. A used black tea bag, even the papery bit. Demerara sugar, candied ginger are bold here. Aged dresser drawers that have an aura of their past owner, and sweet mint chewing gum. Then standing under a pepperberry tree, dried and crushed peppercorns under my feet, I like it here. Moving on there’s powdered sugar icing, canned peaches with their tinny metallic essence. Dusty somehow, sun-dried paper. Browned butter and olive oil in a hot pan, also some coarse roasted almond butter. Saltine crackers, or something with a dry, salty edge. An old fashioned cocktail, French toast with a bourbon whipped cream. Oh, and yeasty!
Water brings forward floral notes of jasmine and gardenias. Sliced white bread with honey butter, and a lemon and mint jam. Still that zingy, salty thing. Thai Basil, some dried red chili flakes, detectably musty or cheesy at the end, I think its dry-aged manchego.
Palate
browned edges of pastry dough, more of that faintly scented wood of a dresser drawer. Baking spices and burnt sage brush with defined pink eraser momentarily. Hints that are reminiscent of a rye whiskey. The abv gives you a sense of being higher with this somewhat closed palate. A particular resinous or sappy note with a pungency to it. Quite drying while the liquid is still present, but a creamy after-feel on the palate that I find pleasing. That raw, sticky dough and yeasty element still resonates.
With water, I detect plain popped corn, more rye and dominant spices carry through, soggy decaying newsprint. Toasted poppy seed bagel with a thin smear of butter, next that burst of flavor as your teeth sink into a poppy seed, and some sautéed serrano chilies. Water noticeably expels that velvety mouthfeel.
Now, for my own:
Nose
Tunnock’s Teacakes, shortbread and olive oil residue in a pan. White toast, vanilla, pine sap, old varnish. Satin and some rust. Hay, lemon curd and jasmine. Used black tea leaves, a new chopping board and that dried moss you used to stick on the scenery around train tracks – that’s an old memory. Also, in time, raspberry ripple ice cream bringing some creaminess and fruit sharpness to cut through the above. Water does shift the agenda providing gold leaf, wood sap, cardboard, basil and faded orange.
Palate
sawdust, cold stone and oily, tea-like. Faded peppermint, light honey and sappy. There’s barley, yeast and a soggy newspaper, banana chews. Water again has its benefits; icing sugar, daisies, dark spices come through beyond the wood. There are those old sugar cubes I associate with old motorway service stations, Scotland’s gorse that seemingly grows everywhere, a fresh ginger loaf and struck flint.
The Dregs
This Fettercairn is a tough nut to crack. Rose and I enjoyed the nose with the palate requiring a concerted effort to appreciate fully. It just felt hard and obstinate; unforgiving at times. Perhaps this is why Alfred didn’t go into much detail? Those charms are well hidden and not openly accessible; ‘not very pretty’ to quote the man himself. This isn’t an immediate whisky by any means and a few repeat visits were deemed necessary.
Whether that’s what you’re looking for in a whisky only you’ll know. At times, in the right setting, such drams do have their place in my view. It’s all about mindset and getting set to tackle and appreciate something that requires more focus. This Fettercairn might not score highly, it remains a good whisky (we both agreed on the score) and is something we’ll return to again and again.
Oh, and the unicorn label is really cool.
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DM
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