Royal Brackla 12yo
Sherry Cask Finish Official Bottling | 46% ABV
The elixir and the pub.
As, perhaps, the oldest member of the Dramface team, I have previously poked fun at my age and likened myself to that stereotypical old man sitting on his porch grumbling about how things were better “back in the day”.
And yet, as I sit closer to age sixty than fifty, and as I observe our younger folks, I am truly worried for the generations that have grown up with cell phones and the internet. I appreciate your indulgence as I vent a little and ask some questions, before I ultimately share how the whisky in front of me helped me answer some.
What has happened to our younger generations? For large swathes, electronic appendages and screens are valued more than personal interaction.
Cue the spotlight on my son, Connell. I mentioned in my last review that I applied a bit of pressured guilt to convince him to mule some bottles from six hours away. Connell, my charismatic son, had been the embodiment of Captain James T. Kirk. He was a leader of people, folks instinctively looked up to him, they followed him, as his charisma and moxie were his guiding stars.
Throughout high school he was class president each of his four years. Magnetism and the gift of gab oozed from his pores. And it was wonderful to see.
I am not sure whether it was COVID, college, or some other factor but Connell has begun to retreat into the wallpaper. Now that he’s graduated from college and working, he stays in his room. He ‘socialises’ on and through his xBox. While here at our house, he has stayed in our guest room. He comes out to get food, and then turns and brings it back to his room. He comes out when asked to, but immediately returns to his room. Wanna go out to dinner? The answer is a sheepish, “nah”, and a request to do take-out.
What in the name of the Starship Enterprise has happened here? I needed to know.
The other day when I returned home from work, and when he’d emerged from his cave, I cornered him. I asked him to describe his routine while at his own place in the Washington DC suburbs. Without any concern or introspection, but with a smidge of annoyance, he said, “well, you know I work, right?” That was it. I let that sit there for a second, as I nodded. I then reminded him that his work was remote and, therefore, through a computer and its camera. The concern, I told him, was that he was losing out on personal interaction. He looked at me blankly.
I prodded some more. Who do you see? Where do you go? What do you do before work or after work? What about on the weekends? A shrug of the shoulders, and then he simply told me that after work he eats at home by himself. Even if he goes out to buy food from restaurants, he gets it as take out and immediately returns to his apartment and fires up his xBox.
Hearing this made me particularly sad.
Rubbing salt into the wound of concern, later that night I turned on a newsfeed that struck the same chords. PBS’ NewsHour ran a piece examining a trend from the past decade or so recounting the concerning rate of closures of English pubs. People have not been venturing out as much, and pub businesses are failing. Especially after COVID, the “trend” has become much more stark as the public now largely stays at home.
The PBS Newshour piece and my observations of my son caused me to reflect. When I was twenty years old, I made my first trip to the U.K. The year was 1988. I had worked all summer to earn enough to meet up with a buddy who hailed from the London suburbs. Many things I remember about that trip, but one thing, in particular, was the time spent in English pubs. I had never been in a true pub before, and it was patently obvious – even to a relatively immature twenty year old American – of the importance pubs had as the life blood of communities.
Whether it was ducking into a pub for lunch, or a late evening of socialising and drinking, each pub had its own energy that was viscerally felt and held your attention. Unlike bars in America where people come to drink, carry on, and leave, pubs provided a more tangible and intimate place for people to stay a good while and relate with one another. People talked. Laughed. Told bad jokes. Cried. Discussed family issues. Sat down with one another. Talked through issues. Work questions were hashed out. Introductions were made.
I was fascinated. Whether the folks were having a pint, a pot of tea, cider, or anything in between, people came to chat. They came to be together. The methodical interactions and rhythms of conversations were intoxicating.
And yet, this community asset was, to my view, largely taken for granted by the natives. When I spoke about the pubs with my English pal and her friends, they were genuinely intrigued by my fascination. They had been raised with the pubs in their communities; to them, it was part of the landscape. Their local pub might as well have been their refrigerator – functional, useful, but nothing to cherish. For me, as someone who appreciates chatting with others (yes, Ogilvie has been this way his whole life), it was remarkable. In retrospect, I can see that, by being taken for granted, such an amazing and socially vital asset is now becoming scarce.
With those reflections circling in my head, and with the thought of face-to-face banter – of speaking and listening, of relating, of resonating with people who otherwise you may not have had the opportunity to cross paths – now becoming shunned, this old man had to take matters into his own hands. It might be a drop in the bucket in light of society as a whole, but damn it, it was time to do something.
I went to my whisky cabinet and grabbed my bottle of Royal Brackla 12 – one of the muled bottles from Washington, DC. I walked out onto our screened porch and poured a few drams. My wife and I sat and toasted to each other, and then I hollered to our in-house recluse. I invited him (in all honesty, it might have been more of a directive than a request) to try a whisky he muled for us. Within two minutes, he came out. I motioned for him to sit, and he did. It took a few minutes of concerted effort, but chinks in the armor appeared. I continued to chat, ask questions, and made some pokes of fun at myself. This conversation managed to bemuse Connell, and ultimately I started to see a bit of Kirk appear once again. Wonderful.
As we continued to talk and sip our drams, a reversion to his prior social ways began. We chatted about things great and small, shared some serious thoughts, and also shared more than a few laughs. His body language relaxed, he spoke freely, and a real conversation ensued. Those drams, the chats, and the hum of conversation lasted almost two hours.
I have hope.
Review
Royal Brackla 12yo, Sherry Cask Finish, Official bottling, non-chillfiltered, natural colour, 46% ABV
US$71 (£56) paid. Around £60 RRP and widely available.
Not that Royal Brackla is the one and only elixir, but it happened to be the bottle I grabbed from my cabinet, and I am glad to review it here. It is often said that whisky brings people together, and I certainly employed it with my son to tease out that James T. Kirk that still resides within him. My heart breaks for those pub owners across the pond, and I hope that we Dramfacers can be the start of a countermeasure to this epidemic of self-isolation and anti-social thoughts and behaviours.
For now, let’s look at this bottle of Royal Brackla, and see if it should be in your whisky stash.
This is one of five bottles that I managed to convince Connell to mule from Washington, DC. I had heard good things about the now not-so-new rebranded Royal Brackla, and I am glad to have a bottle.
Nose
A lovely nose. The oloroso sherry finish is prominent. Date pinwheel cookies. Raisins. A latte note is here, along with stewed plums. Blackberry jam and slight waft of baking spices.
Palate
Robust sherry with its sweet fruits along with a slightly tart/tannic note. It is a very nice complimentary pairing. Figs. A toffee note and plums. Sweet but not anywhere near it being cloying. The finish comes with a slight build of spice. Luscious. Not overly deep, but flavorful. The finish is not long, but this dram makes me want to take another sip.
With water, the “robust” has morphed into “softened”. The baking spices are more prominent, but the sherry finish influence is still unmistakable. The fruitiness remains lovely, but the water has added a surprisingly rounding element. A bit of apple butter. Redcurrant preserve on sourdough toast. Not often do I like 46% ABV whiskies with water added, but this is quite nice.
The Dregs
Again, I am not suggesting that Royal Brackla 12 is the cure for all social ills nor will it be the antidote for the plague of the closing of British pubs. But, as my experience with Connell shows – and we all know, anyway – whisky brings people together.
This Royal Brackla is a very nice whisky to have in the cabinet. If you have any affinity for sherried whiskies, this should be on your list. This was close to a 7/10 for me – especially after playing with some water with the dram – but I am confident that this bottle is a very solid 6/10. It isn’t the bottle that will make you lose track of time, but it is quite nice and carries a bouquet of lovely flavour.
This is my first Royal Brackla expression, and at the beginning of my whisky journey I seem to recall the label of the bottle that I tried being quite different. In fact, Brackla has undergone a slew of changes over the past four decades. It had been in the Diageo (United Distillers) stable prior to 1998 when the distillery was one of a number sold to Bacardi. After the sale, Bacardi used Royal Brackla to create malt whiskies for blending purposes. This changed in 2014 when Dewar’s announced a new single malt core range would be created under the Royal Brackla name. Evidently, the new core range – even only after a little over four years – needed revamping, once again. WIth that, in 2019, plans were made for a new Royal Brackla lineup with a 12 year, 18 year, and 21 year old core range. The prior range – chill filtered and at 40% ABV – would be replaced. The new single malt range would be bottled at 46% ABV, and with a natural presentation of no artificial colouring and no chill filtration. This new range was officially released in 2020.
This rebranding done by Royal Brackla is, in my humble opinion, is all for the better. And, kudos to them for having the initiative to revamp their entire line within a few years of having previously done so. The all-natural presentation is most appreciated.
In reading about the distillery, I am told the underlying spirit characteristics of Royal Brackla are derived from long fermentation times and wide spirit cuts. As the Malt Whisky Yearbook states: “with a mash tun producing clear wort, long fermentations, long foreshots, a slow distillation and lots of reflux from the stills – the house style of Brackla is elegant and fruity.”
Perhaps a bit of suggestion, but I do get that elegant and fruity underlying characteristic, although the oloroso finish does put a somewhat snug blanket over it. All that said, this is a solid bottle and one that I am glad to have had Connell, mule to me. I am glad to recommend this bottle.
So, Ogilvie, what about that intro – Connell, his generation, and pubs?
My children are all no longer minors. My youngest is about to turn twenty years old. I worry about all of them – I always will, as all parents worry about their kids – and I particularly worry about them forgetting to appreciate others; forgetting the value of stepping over their thresholds and into the world to interact with others. I will continue to push Connell to continue his role as Captain Kirk, and I will promote social interaction and stepping out into the world with my other kids, as well.
Admittedly, I thought long and hard about relaying this in a Dramface article, but I feel particularly impassioned to spread the word to make sure we look after ourselves, our families, and our communities by interacting with others face-to-face. Technology is wonderful, but it is easily misused and easily taken with short-sightedness as a panacea that only serves to further isolate and divide us.
Whenever this review is published, I ask each of you – if at all possible – to go out to your local pub (or, if outside of the UK, to whatever facsimile of a pub might be near) and talk to friends, the barkeep, anyone. Connections are all around waiting to be found and made. Every marathon starts with a single step. Let’s all take that step to make this world a little better, starting at the community level.
I will certainly do my part when this review is published by heading out to a local gathering spot to raise a glass to all of you wonderful Dramfacers who have also taken the step to remind yourselves and those around you, of the power of relating to your fellow man or woman. And if you happen to stumble upon some Royal Brackla 12, all the better.
To all: cheers!
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. OS