Kingsbarns Balcomie & Cask Strength
Official releases | 46% & 59.9% ABV
Miserable letter prompts whisky therapy
I’m asymmetrical. Looking at me, you might not notice, but my right arm sits almost two inches lower than my left, and if you trace my shoulder profile from the left side, up over my neck and down to my right, you’d see a pronounced notch in the silhouette of my right shoulder. I was not born this way.
Mauro was a stocky Italian man who wore bright red socks and charged, without prejudice, towards anyone who happened to have a football at their feet. I called him “Mauro The Bull” in secret and, towards the end of our relationship, to his face as well. He was quite the character, we assumed, for Mauro never spoke much at all. He just ran full speed at people and considered it a nice bonus if he departed the resulting altercation with a football.
Mauro bolted towards me one night during our “friendly” 7-a-side whilst I unfortunately had my back to him. The first I knew about what was about to befall me was the sound of astroturf ripping; this was followed shortly thereafter by the sensation of performing a cartwheel in mid air unintentionally. I landed face down like a foam noodle slapping against a swimming pool, and I lay restless for a moment, wondering why I was face down, why my shoulder hurt, and what that weird smell was. Mauro apologised, in his Italian way, by standing silently, staring down at my grimacing face, now peppered with smelly little rubber pellets. He shook my sore arm a single time when I stood up. He never played with us again after that.
My best friend ferried me to the nearby hospital. After being confused as romantic partners at reception, enjoying a botched half-naked x-ray and eventually a second successful one, we learned that I’d torn my acromioclavicular joint to a type 3 degree: it was damaged enough to cause significant pain and swelling but not enough to require any surgery. Mauro The Bull had buggered my shoulder.
Recovery was challenging. Simple things like sitting down werealmost impossible; it’s easy to not realise just how many unrelated limbs come into play when you try to sit down on the toilet. After 4 months of nursing my shoulder, I was offered physio 40 miles away on weekdays that I couldn’t manage, so I instead opted to wave it about in the air for a while until it didn’t hurt as much. The echoes of the injury remain to this day: on random nights when I sleep at odd angles or when I’m at my computer desk and not conforming to ergonomic standards, my shoulder will complain, but other than that, and other than the weird notch and droopy hand, I’m pretty much back to normal.
I was back playing football again soon and getting really fit, enough that I finally felt good about myself and didn’t recoil at my visage in the mirror. Then I blew my right knee out, and that was that. Since that disastrous evening in rainy Glenrothes (not the whisky one), I’ve very slowly been getting back to some semblance of fitness. Again, the knee comes into play when doing things like stretching your arm up or even standing still. Micro movements were amplified and sent surging, cursing pain up my entire right side; however, through a dedicated programme of cycling, cycling and cycling, I managed to build back some strength in the joint. I also started walking a lot more, to work and at the weekends with the fam. As I regained mobility, the doctor initially requested an x-ray, which would rule out existing arthritis and permit a follow-up MRI to be performed. This would show any ligament damage more clearly so that surgery could be considered. Eight months passed after the MRI, waiting patiently, until a letter dropped through the Dougie Crystal Fan Mail letterbox last week.
It made for miserable reading. The X-ray and MRI did show a significant issue: my menisci, the wee shock absorbers cushioning the two bones coming together in my knees, were both ruptured. The letter went on at length to build up a bigger picture of how complicated it all was, preparing me for the big “but”.
Sure enough, in bold writing it was decreed that no surgery would be conducted for one very simple reason: I am ageing and I should embrace getting older. And if I happen to be overweight, reducing my excess bulk by 10% would ease any complaints significantly. And anyway, even if they did operate, I’d likely get early onset arthritis. So, sorry Doog, you’re just an old fat bastard. The “good news”, though, is that if I did experience swelling or a higher degree of pain in my knee, that this would likely settle after a year. Have a nice day.
I’m putting a dramatic spin on this, obviously, but the sentiment remains: at almost 40, I am a lost cause in the knee department. I’m not ashamed to admit that I felt a bit let down by this decision, while my wife was quite outraged by the mere mention of ageing (she had once been told that she was about to face “middle-age spread”, which propelled her into fitness overdrive), but it is what it is. My knee woes are nothing compared to what some others are going through, and I can still walk and cycle, so it’s not really bad news at all. Still though, old and fat. This all happened just after the glowing embers of my time at the Kingsbarns Founder’s Evening inferno started falling down from the sky, and I was keen to keep some of those embers alive. To console myself, I bought a bottle of Kingsbarns Balcomie Cask Strength, and while I was at it, placed a few low-ball bids in the fading light of the latest auction.
A few days later, I received the parcel from Kingsbarns Distillery directly; they had been offering a 10% discount, and that was enough for me, in my dejected state of mind, to bite. I also welcomed the news that I’d won both of the bids I’d placed on auction listings, securing a Kingsbarns Balcomie 46% bottling for £30, and a previously enjoyed Kingsbarns Bell Rock for £35. Not bad considering they’re £45 and £67 RRP respectively.
After dragging my scuppered limb home from work, I unravelled the robustly packaged parcel from Kingsbarns — they’d sent the 46% version. This nightmare, however, was rectified with startling efficiency, and soon after the Balcomie auction bottle arrived too, allowing me to simultaneously pop both of these Balcomie expressions.
The questions are few, but important: What does the Balcomie smell and taste like? What does the cask strength version of the Balcomie smell and taste like? And why did Kingsbarns deem it necessary, or worthwhile perhaps, to release a cask strength version of the Balcomie? I’m keen to find out.
Review 1/2
Kingbarns Balcomie, official bottling, 46% ABV
£45 (paid £30 + fees at auction)
Nose
Very spirity: rubbing alcohol mixed with synthetic lemon disinfectant. Mineralic. Malty — freshly baked, yeasty bread. Synthetic banana leading to more tropical fruits — mango and pineapple. Sawn oak. Pickles! Gherkins, almost.
A few days later, the toffee is out in abundance, alongside creamy red fruits, like a beautiful raspberry-jammed scone with cream on top.
Palate
Initially quite harsh — that’s the lemon disinfectant. But once settled, it’s a bit more agreeable. Very tart magenta fruits. A fiery wood appears. Definitely more on the sharp side of citrus fruit — zest and pith. Buttery toffee. A bit of time in the glass, and the tart magenta fruits round off a bit and become a lot sweeter. The fruity new-make character is still very present. Spices are here too; cinnamon and gingerbread.
A few days later? Big toffee feels. A lighter red fruitiness wrapped around a big, sugary soft-chew toffee.
Score: 5/10
Review 2/2
Kingbarns Balcomie, Cask Strength, official bottling, 59.9% ABV
£65 (paid £58.50)
Nose
Strangely subdued. It takes a good amount of time — 20 minutes — to release some nicely bright fruity smells. Minty biscuits: Viscounts including the metallic wrapper. A drop or two of water and a massive wave of beautifully sweet cedar wood arrives. Spices are released. Tropical fruits meander around the place.
Palate
Hot stuff! Very powerful. Big pencil shavings. Hairspray. Grapefruit sharp. Water opens it up to reveal big toffee, with woody, sweet, spicy, and bright red and yellow notes. Biscuits. More water, and it’s reaching the Balcomie OG’s level of sweet malty red fruits and cream.
Score: 5/10
The Dregs
It’s easy to see why they sent the wrong bottle to me; these Balcomie bottles and boxes are almost indistinguishable from each other. Other than a slightly darker magenta hue for the Cask Strength and discreet indication that it’s Cask Strength, but both bottlings are very similar in aesthetic. The same can be said of the whisky inside. The Balcomie OG is sharp and takes a lot of time to settle in the glass before it gets going, but once it does and the bottle level drops below the label, it hits a pace that is both easy to unpack and interesting to boot.
The Balcomie CS is initially hot and strangely inert in the smell department. It’s completely the opposite to what I have experienced with other higher ABV whiskies, which are immediate and visceral. After about 20 minutes, the aromas start to appear, and they’re really interesting. A fresh, minty thread is welcome; these sherry casks can have too much raisin and dark fruits, which tends to put me off, and a minty note cuts through that all cleanly. The palate is a rapid crescendo of heat, as the 59.9% ABV makes its presence known quickly. Big wood and pencil notes, alongside an aerosol puff. It remains here in this full-speed state until water arrives to bring the revs down, and here the Balcomie CS starts to hit the right gear. Bold wood aromas followed by the fruits. It’s oily and fulfilling. The palate also gets going with the woods, sweets, and brighter colours of red and yellow, like a tropical fruit bowl dusted with ginger spices and wrapped in a sweet clotted cream. A buttery biscuit thread appears at the death.
What about it, then — why are there two Balcomie varieties and what one should you go for, given the choice? Initially, I was let down by the Balcomie OG. It was wicked sharp and a bit abrasive at bottle pop. Given the time it needs, though, it does start to hit a lovely stride. The Balcomie CS is wicked hot, and a bit abrasive at bottle pop. Given the time it needs, though, it does start to hit a lovely stride…
It’s all the same stuff really, despite minor differences and a bit more wood presence in the cask strength version. I reckon the Balcomie OG has just enough flavour and interest to make it a slightly strained £45 decision. I’m certain I wouldn’t buy it again. The Balcomie CS has the added benefit of customisation: you can do what you like with that almost 60% ABV, basking in the heat or quenching down to red tropical fruits. Worth an extra £20 for the fiddles? This is the reason it’s taken me so long to finalise this review — I’m not sure how I feel about them in general. I pinched the Cask Strength £6.50 off, but even at £58.50, it’s still quite one dimensional and a bit too underwhelming to feel like it was a worthy purchase. When I’m in the midst of thinking and drinking, it does feel like a good experience. But then I’ll pour a wee bit of Ardnamurchan 09.22 alongside, and I’ll remember what utter joy that stuff is — and at the same price to boot. Turning back to the Balcomie, I can’t help but feel a bit let down.
The 2020 Distillery Reserve bottling is magnificent; there’s no getting away from it. The Bell Rock I won at auction in 2021 was bourbon-leaning and more enjoyable for me. The Dream to Dram was great when we drank it at the distillery Founder’s Evening, but neither of these Balcomie expressions seem to resonate as much with me for some reason. That doesn’t make either of them bad drams at all: they’re just not as enjoyable as other Kingsbarns bottlings I’ve tried. As you can probably tell, I’m reluctant to commit to an absolute decision, because I do think that by the time I get down to the last fifth of each bottle, I’ll be singing about at least one of them. Maybe a good compromise is to say I’ll revisit them both in 6 months and update you with more firm thoughts, but for now, there’s more Dougie-resonant stuff coming down the pipe that I want to use what’s left of my scarce brain power to ruminate upon.
One more question does remain, however: Kingsbarns released a Balcomie Cask Strength despite no clear advantage over the core range — a bit more customisation options, but that’s about it — so perhaps they gave into customer pressure. Why didn’t they release a cask strength Dream to Dram? The upcoming Doocot release (and the retirement of Dream to Dram, one assumes) might answer that. Who knows; we might find a Doocot Cask Strength coming along soon enough, and I’ll be here waiting for it.
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC
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