Official Release Batch 021 | 56.1% ABV

It tastes like it looks like it should

Most of my favourite whiskies tend to wrap their sweetness in a veil of more meaty or savoury notes. And I’m a lover of the somewhat sulphurous character that comes from a Worm Tub.

So it was kind of inevitable that my natural habitat in the world of scotch was going to include Springbank. Which in turn means I’m compelled to endure the challenge of its availability and price point (which is compounded by living in the USA, where UK prices look cheap by comparison).

I’ve yet to make the pilgrimage to Campbeltown, to drink at the Washback, do the Barley-to-Bottle tour or pick up a cage bottle at the distillery shop. All of these are of course high up on my bucket list of whisky experiences to do before I die.

But in the meantime I’ve been sufficiently lucky to get my hands on enough of the stuff to get acquainted with the core range.

And the thing that always strikes me when I look longingly at other people’s pictures of their trips to Springbank (we all do it), is that many of the tasting notes that encapsulate the experience of drinking the whisky, could equally well be ascribed to the place itself. It looks like it tastes. Or it tastes the way it looks.

Admittedly, there aren’t piles of fruit cropping up in pictures of the warehouses, but all those industrial notes come through loud and clear. Springbank doesn’t have the look of those ultra-modern, slick and shiny distilleries with lots of stainless steel and bright lights and beautifully designed visitor centres.

When you see images of where and how Springbank is produced, it screams of a job being done. Of hard graft and toil; of a way of doing something that has been honed over generations – maybe even using many of the same tools and machinery. It looks old in the very best of ways and it looks like it’s evolved to meet its purpose – and not designed to impress or be photographed.

From the thickly painted walls, the cast iron and heavy wood structures to the worn handles of the shovels used to throw peat into the fires, it screams authenticity in the truest of ways. Not the manufactured “authenticity” of a marketing department.

And that’s what repeatedly strikes me about the whisky. Rightly or wrongly, it hits me as something crafted to be of itself. Not chasing a trend. Not targeting a market. Simply a spirit made to taste the way it does and produced in relatively modest volume to meet those that want it.

And in that way it captures the essence of what is so powerfully moving about great single malt scotch. It’s born of the craft and skill and wisdom of generations and it seeks to be itself and nothing more.

Springbank, to me, is among the finest examples of what that authenticity of craft can bring into being.

And through it all I find myself connecting with memories of childhood days spent in my Dad’s workshop. As a carpenter his work space smelled of cut wood, resin, wood stain and varnish. Oily rags and giant saws, lathes and hand tools by the dozen. At its best, Springbank puts me in mind of the patina of long-used tools with wooden handles that have been worn and stained by decades of use. Marked by years of sweat and oils from the skin of a craftsman – and maybe a little blood from blisters earned through hard graft. This, for me, is the glory and the evocative power of their Cask Strength 12 year old.

Review

Springbank Cask Strength 12yo, Batch 021, Bottle code: 08.10.20, 56.1% ABV
£65-70 UK, but we had to pay $360 local retail; we’ll make it last.

Nose

The sweetness on the nose is of black treacle or even molasses accompanied by wood and damp earth. It’s somehow old fashioned, malty and like a rich dark cake with raisins and cherries buried deep inside. There’s a hint of furniture polish (in a really good way). And maybe some wet hessian sacking.

Palate

There’s a huge amount of viscosity. Right off the bat it coats the mouth and lingers. There are strong notes of black treacle with a dash of creosote - and dark, dark fruits with leather warmed by the sun. Seared meat and aged walnuts. There’s oodles of the famous funk with the farmyard/dockyard mash-up we all love and there’s a gloriously chewy, meaty, grubby undercurrent from start to finish with a snarky, peppery back end to it. The malt is strong in this one. The finish is long and resides on the whole palate, fading slowly like the last light of a Summer’s day.

The Dregs

This is a particularly wonderful example of Springbank at its best. And while I know that it was great artistry and craft that created it and shepherded it to maturity in the meticulously chosen casks, to me it still feels like it was matured in series one of The Sweeney.

It’s a whisky with boatloads of character and some attitude on the side. It’s strong, confident, assertive, ballsy and opinionated. No concessions and really good in a fight.  And completely irresistible. This is a whisky that quietly tells you that it knows exactly how good it is and it doesn’t care what you think. And it’s the whisky we all want to be when we grow up.

Quality stuff.

Score: 9/10

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