Islay Single Malt | 57.1% ABV

What’s your favourite whisky?

It’s a tough question, an almost impossible one I’d say, but it’s one I’m asked from time to time, often by non-whisky drinkers.

I live not too far from the city of Chester in the UK and every couple of months, my best friend of 30-plus years and I spend a night drinking in excess and chatting rubbish. Perhaps not the healthiest of pursuits, but a very cathartic one and great fun.

Chester is a wonderful city and as with most things easily accessible on our doorstep, we take it granted. It’s a hugely historic place which was founded by the Romans in 79 AD and still has the original walls surrounding it and the old amphitheatre. The city centre itself is full of Tudor and Jacobean style black and white buildings, some of which date back to those times.

It’s also pretty good for a night out. This night we had already warmed up with a couple of pints when we wandered into a fairly swanky-looking bar, where I could tell before we ordered that the prices would match the decor. £12 for two pints of lager. Ouch!

Sitting at the bar, my friend immediately clocked a Transformers tattoo on the forearm of the 20-something barman and struck up a conversation, with one question being to ask the bar keep his favourite Transformer. This conversation excluded me. Not in a way that I felt uncomfortable, I was happy to go with the flow, but I’m not a comic book geek like my good friend is and can just about remember the cartoons as a kid. They also discussed how the old animated series from the 1980s was better than any of the more modern iterations. There are parallels with how many people talk about whisky in that sentiment.

Sensing that I was being left out of this developing bromance, my friend brought up a subject that he knows I love and that a bartender may have some knowledge of – whisky. It wasn’t long before the question was posed to me. What is your favourite whisky?

You’d think by now I would have a ready-to-go answer to throw out, but I found myself searching my brain, which I will admit isn’t the quickest-witted, and I usually think of a better answer to most questions after the moment has passed. To pick a single whisky that’s my favourite is difficult, because I’m not sure if I have one, so now I am thinking of some good ones I can throw out there.

In retrospect I possibly could have said Glencadam, and specifically the 10 year old. I’ve reviewed a couple of Glencadam bottles on Dramface, and have already expressed how much I love that particular malt, but I am making an assumption based on the question that this person maybe doesn’t have a huge knowledge of the whisky scene and may only know of the brands held in most bars. I could be mistaken, but it was the vibe I was getting.

I decided to play it safe and say that I’m a fan of Caol Ila. I had already spotted that they had the core range 12 year old on the bar and the indies do some great versions of which I always have a few on the shelf, so I wasn’t really lying. After a little nod, the conversation quickly moved on.

I strongly suspect it was the only question which came to mind when this information about his whisky-loving customer was sprung on him, and the answer I gave didn’t matter. I think if I had started talking about independent bottlers, why no one distillery has all the best whisky, and that his question was possibly one with no actual answer, I may have lost the crowd somewhat.

After some food and a few more beers, we eventually made it to an old black and white timber framed pub called the Marlborough Arms, although due to a sign-writing error many years ago it is written as the Marlbororough Arms, and was deemed funny enough not to change it. The story goes that the sign writer who produced it in the 19th century was so spooked by the sight of the ghost of a former landlord who had slit his own throat, that he rushed to finish the sign and hadn’t noticed his mistake. Whether you believe that or not, it wasn’t the type of spirit I was interested in this particular evening.

Having been numerous times before, I knew this pub had a fairly decent selection of whiskies before we walked in. Again it was pointed out to the man working the bar that whisky was my drink, especially once I get that bloated feeling after a few pints and am in need of a short, which was the stage I had well and truly reached.

My friend, who is one of those people who could strike up a conversation with a Buddhist monk, also posed the question of what the most expensive whisky on the shelf was. It turned out to be a 1978 Glenfarclas Family Cask at over £100 a glass. Even if I was so flashy as to be tempted by that, which I was not, the low fill level wouldn’t have filled you with much confidence that based on the price, it hadn’t been sitting there for some time. I think there was a Pappy Van Winkle of some kind for almost £200 a glass also. I played it safe and well in budget with an Ardbeg 10, and an excellent whisky it is too.

Incidentally, if you are ever in the city of Chester and on the hunt for a whisky, The Old Harkers Arms is the place to go, especially if you have time to burn near the train station. It’s a bit away from the main city centre hustle and bustle, so we didn’t venture there this night.

Review

Port Askaig 100 Proof, 57.1% ABV
£55, £48 paid & widely available

As I claimed Caol Ila to be my favourite whisky on this particular evening, it would make sense to review one that I have on my shelf. I mentioned earlier that I always have a few bottles of Caol Ila on the shelf, and it works well in pretty much any cask type. Some are better than others, but I can’t remember ever having a bad one.

All we know for certain from the label is that this is a non-age statement Islay single malt presented at 100º proof, or 57.1% abv as we know it today. It is non-chill filtered and natural colour, and although it isn’t stated, it’s a fairly open secret that it is, more than likely, Caol Ila.

Add to that the fact Port Askaig is only several hundred metres from Caol Ila as the crow flies, and you have a pretty compelling picture. Even when you don’t have an idea where a secret Islay malt is from, it is often a fair guess that it will be from the distillery, which has been supplying the independent bottlers much more than any other. Although there are exceptions.

There are rumours that this is changing and Diageo are starting to supply less and less. Whisky is booming and Caol Ila is a big name, so you can understand them wanting to keep it for themselves, although I can’t say I am happy about it as someone who enjoys what the indies give us much more than their big corporate overlords do. Having said that, the 12 year old is a solid enough drop, but I haven’t bought a bottle for a number of years, which tells you all you need to know.

In the U.S. you’ll see this on the shelf as Port Askaig 110 Proof, which due to the differences in our proof calculations is 55% abv. Finally, we get a whisky this side of the pond at a higher strength than our American friends do.

As this is a whisky that has been through many batches, it is worth noting that the bottle code for the one I am reviewing is L200189254. It’s slightly rubbed and hard to read on the brown bottle, but I think that’s right.

Nose

Maple smoked bacon immediately, it’s really meaty. There’s also warm pebble beaches, brine, coal tar, and a light touch of rubber, along with campfire smoke, first aid kits, murray mints and vanilla.

Palate

Very ashen. The grey-white spent remnants from a bonfire have been scooped up and emptied into your mouth, but in a good way. I know that doesn’t sound good, but it’s powerful ashen smoke that I am really digging. There’s a nice icing sugar sweetness which compliments it, followed by charred savoury meats, liquorice, zesty lemon and peppery spice. It’s rather herbal and mineralic too; that pebble beach vibe again. It lingers like a lingery thing in the finish, more ashes, soot, liquorice and salt, balanced by a lovely creaminess of vanilla that develops amongst the smoke.

The Dregs

My first experience of this whisky was from a sample I purchased whilst buying another bottle, but such was the impression it made that I decided to buy a bottle. Often once I try a sample, even if I enjoyed it, I decided that it was enough to satisfy my curiosity and move on, but not in this case.

I paid less than £50 for my bottle, and it still seems to be available for less than £50 with a few retailers here in the UK, but you are more likely to see it around the £55 mark. At either price it is an excellent prospect for anybody looking for a big whack of peat with some quality to it. It drinks really well at full strength, but a drop of water doesn’t harm it either. It is a very light-coloured whisky, which suggests it must be all ex-bourbon casks and fairly inactive ones at that, but in this instance that is no bad thing, because the spirit is excellent.

I sincerely hope we continue to see this on our shelves at reasonable prices, without having to put up with Diageo’s 43%, chill-filtered presentation of Caol Ila. This is around the same price as the 12 year old, and is a much better example of what the distillery can produce.

Oh, and I believe the answer to the favourite Transformer question was Soundwave, for any fans reading.

Score: 7/10

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