Will I dream to dram?

Opening our front door was like opening a blast furnace door, because despite the day being young, the sun had already been doing a heavy shift - the car guessometer reads 25ºC and it’s only 9am.

We don’t care - in fact we’re positively charged by it, because our destination today is the beach. We’re on our summer holidays and the original plan to head for St. Andrews has been usurped by our seven year old daughter’s suggestion. Every Wednesday she heads to my mum’s house after school, and sometimes they go to their allotment to water the vegetable patches and pick onions and garlic. On other days they go to the beach, and their sand of choice, it turns out, is Kingsbarns. I never knew of this beach until my wee girl piped up and said: “I want to go to Kingsbarns.” This prompted a surprised double-take and eyebrow raise from my wife. Fair enough, we say, and set the satnav to stun - the electric car is charged and we are on our way.

Kingsbarns is a name that, up until today, held fairly negative connotations owing to my previous place of employment’s managing director - the devil incarnate - who seemed to show nothing but contempt for his staff and his duties, preferring instead to drive his BMW M4 at warp speed, dine regularly at The Kitchin in Edinburgh and enjoy the social swagger of being a paid-up member of Kingsbarns Golf Club. He would often extol the benefits of post-round massages to anyone who’d listen, and get irked when someone called his carbon fibre car roof “black”. A regular wrist roll of his gold Rolex, and why it was an important tool for a man of his status, was offered, rather than asked for. I had a blood-boiling, bone-deep loathing for the man.

So the utterance from my daughter of the word “Kingsbarns” elicited a very specific reaction from me - guilty by association - and it wasn’t until we closed in on its location that I saw how beautiful a place it actually is. The road to the beach flows past the entrance to Kingsbarns Distillery and visitor centre, and as we drive past it I stab at the closed window shouting: “WHISKY”, and steal glances at the castellated tower that stands in the centre of the abbey-like structure. Mrs Crystal admonished me for shouting and we carried on, arriving at the beautiful beach and setting up camp for the day. I forgot my trunks and rued the decision; the girls headed into the North Sea and after the squeals of ice cold water shock, soon they were floating and laughing, returning long after to the small beach tent looking and feeling genuinely refreshed. I sat sweltering under the 30 degree sunshine and thought about how close whisky was to my current sweaty perch.

The following day we wondered what to do over breakfast and, looking at the weather report, saw it was going to be even hotter today. We shared a common glance between the three of us, and silently agreed that it was beach time, take two - only this time with daddy remembering his trunks. I had to nip to work for a quick meeting, which was stressful and irritated me, especially as I was in jovial holiday mode before. An hour later I returned to the house to find the girls ready to depart. All set, we headed into the cloudless blue sky morning, excited to spend another day in the sand and surf, but I was still stewing. We arrived at Kingsbarns main road, leading towards the beach, and again passed the distillery. A less emphatic “whisky” from me today.

The beach was busier because of our later arrival and we had to walk the mile down to the bay, but we quickly found a space and I lost no time getting myself into the North Sea. It was painfully cold, but before long I was floating face up, sun beating down on my once-chilled body now warming in the water, and I felt a cathartic release of stress that seemed to flow away with the tidal stream. Daughter was soon beside me barking and squealing, and we motored around the small bay, her gripping the bodyboard and me on my back as propulsion. Life was as simple as that - floating, laughing and existing. We ate double-fried chips from a staggeringly good food shack and watched the world go by, enveloped by a warm breeze and salty sea spray. On the way home I mentioned how I’d like to visit the distillery and weeks later, on my birthday, the girls presented me with one ticket to the Kingsbarns Distillery’s Dream to Dram tour.

The company you keep

On the day of my tour I don't feel so good - the morning was fine but after a strange lunch my stomach is starting to knot. I didn’t let on though, and the girls dropped me off at the distillery before heading off to Elie for the afternoon. I walk solemnly into the reception area - a vast turreted space of modernised tradition; stone walls, wood cladding, flagstone floors and leather bench seats, but tastefully done. I’m greeted by a chap called Ronny who mentions I’m supposed to be on a tour with another group, but if they’re not here in six minutes then he’ll call them. After that, if they still don’t show, we’ll get started. I secretly hope it’s just us so I can bend his ear all the way around, but after a few minutes of peaceful quiet, a rasping sound of chairs being pushed back against slate floors in the nearby cafe, alert us to the incoming presence of four boldly branded, brightly shod and freshly baked golfers. A quiet couple appear out of nowhere too and Ronny calls us all to attention. The tour is about to commence and Ronny is joined by another chap, a trainee, whose name I have neglected to find out. I feel bad about this, but know that he was happy, engaged and pleasant company.

We tramp into a slim horizontal room where we stand like convicts against the wall and listen to Ronny as he introduces Kingsbarns to us - the history, how it all came about and… “Hey, man - are you going to tell us what a single malt is?” The question issues from my right hand side with an unsettling loudness, and Ronny shrinks slightly. It’s a valid question, one that I asked too not that long ago. Every one of us starts in whisky at the beginning, much like every other interest that has ever been or will be. We build from there and I’m pleased to see some folk starting this beautiful journey. But please don’t interrupt the man in charge of educating us before he’s even got a sentence out of his face - red flags are waving already. Ronny re-starts and soon we’re shown around the corner to see an illicit still reproduction, which is really cool and very small, and some interesting maps of Fife and Kinross.

We’re shown into a small cinematic nook to watch a film about Kingsbarns through the medium of Charles MacLean. One of the chaps, who has been loitering at the back that I assumed was a solo-geek like me, takes his place beside his golf pals still wearing his sunglasses, and opens the wallet case of his phone,  illuminating his bespectacled face in the cinema’s darkness. Charlie begins on screen and talks about the genesis of Kingsbarns from the first filled cask sitting, as it is right now, inside the original dovecote. It’s interesting stuff but my attention is being ripped from the screen by the sound of nails scraping down cloth - one of the golfers is giving the other a massage.

The film ends and into the next room we go, where we learn about the regions of Scottish whisky and the flavour profiles that are identifiable for lowland style whiskies - which are uniquely presented inside giant upturned tusk-like polished horns with pepper grinder tops. I can see the 2015 first ever Kingsbarns cask that Charlie was talking about and I spend a wee bit of time looking at all the museum grade presentation boards around the room, while Ronny answers some more questions from the golfers, such as “what is a Fife?”. There’s no such thing as a silly question on whisky tours.

We’re taken into the next area - a long corridor style room with seating on one side and more wall-sized presentation boards on the other; a little table sits in the middle of this long wall. Upon this sits several things - a few glass jugs containing clear liquid, a scientific measuring flask, barley in jars and two test tubes filled with what looks like sand. Ronny offers us a taste of local Kingsbarns tap water and asks us to properly smell and taste it. It’s cool, fresh but slightly chemical as expected; my tap water in Kinross tastes the same. The reason for this flavour exercise is to highlight the contrast between what we think is fresh water and the water Kingsbarns use from the hole they’ve drilled 100 metres into the earth, to extract the higher quality water from a less tainted water source. Smelling and tasting this earth water there’s a distinct lack of anything - it’s inert, and thus perfect for making whisky with, and to cool the production equipment as well.

Next we’re shown the two yeast strains Kingsbarns use - this is what’s inside the two test tubes. Inside the first is a British yeast from Anchor - “DY502” it’s called. It smells yeasty and malty, much like the yeast sachets you’d use for making bread. In the other tub is a French yeast called Fermentis by Lesaffre - weird fashion world naming convention aside, this yeast strain is called “SafSpirit M-1”. It’s far more cheesy and potent compared to the DY502, and together the two strains are combined to make up the yeast that’s thrown in the washbacks - a 50-50 split.

In the next zone we’re shown the full distillation process on another wall-sized presentation board. Ronny takes us through the journey, from malting to bottling, explaining what each stage means and why they do it that way. The golfers are talking to each other as Ronny is presenting and you can see it’s starting to unsettle him. This is the magic bit where the processes Kingsbarns deploy differentiate them from the competition - it’s where the guide usually imparts some insider info, but not today. Three flasks stand before Ronny on a precariously shaky small table; one flask is marked “foreshots”, one is marked “new-make” and one is marked “feints/tails”. We’re handed a glass to pass around with a little pour from the first flask and warned that under no uncertain terms should we drink it. If we do then it’s akin to drinking poison, for this is the first part of the three stages of distillation where the life-reducing alcohol methanol is created. It smells sweet and a bit farmy. The second glass has the new-make spirit within and it’s potently farmyard and agricultural in smell. I really like it and I want to taste it, but I’m the first to receive the glass and I doubt it would be appreciated.

The third glass holds the tails, and smells quite sharp. Both the foreshots and the feints/tails, the contents of the first and third flask, head back into the still to be distilled once more, with the new-make heading into casks for maturation. As the golfers ask what malting means (they should’ve listened to Ronny - who covered this already), I read the wall board and see that Kingsbarns use soap to prevent the barm (the froth that accumulates from the washback’s fermentation) from rising. I want to ask Ronny if this would affect the flavour. Surely any sort of soap or detergent would impact the flavour of liquid fermenting in a steel flask? I’ll never know because once the malting process is described for the second time, we’re swiftly shown to the next area - the distillery.

It’s amazing just how small the distillery is, even compared to the smaller distilleries I’ve seen like the Ardnamurchan - it feels very compact. Inside this big metal-clad room sits four stainless steel washbacks, the steel mash tun, two tall copper stills, two shell & tube condensers and the spirit safe. I assume the low-wines tub is in here somewhere too, given we’re quite high up on a raised platform, but I don't see it. There’s a strong smell of agriculture, reminding me of that new-make spirit and I ask Ronny what is causing it and he says simply it’s the draff. I get some pictures of the copper stills which exhibit a really dense patina and a fair bit of dirtiness about them - it’s an interesting counterpoise to the cleanliness of spirit flavour - you’d expect an almost laboratory cleanliness. Having seen Springbank’s almost blackened stills, it fits visually with their “dirty” flavour profile, and to see it here seems at odds with everything. I guess it doesn't matter one jot - the alcohol is sealed inside and is decanted through pipes and valves at the base, not through the big round hatch. There’s some chatter as the golfers ask Ronny about the shower station: “Why is there a shower in here, in case any whisky gets in your eye?” It’s more to do with the caustic cleaning solutions used between different runs and maintenance, Ronny replies - I wondered this too, so I’m glad they asked.

We’re shown out of the operational zone and Ronny asks if we’re all excited to head up stairs to taste whisky. I certainly am, and move to clap my hands, but the response from the golfers is so underwhelming I catch myself. Ronny’s a good showman though, and with an unrewarded enthusiasm he vaults up the stairs to the tasting room where several tables have been arranged neatly into the different groups - one for the couple from London, one for the four golfers, and one just for little auld Doog. I’m happy to be on my own table because, warranted or not, I still have a weird feeling about sharing stuff with complete strangers. This tour has already featured quite a lot of touching of things: the upturned horns with smells inside, the yeast pots, the distillation cut samples, and I’m feeling a bit uneasy about it all. Covid looms large. I’m only 4ft away from everyone else in the tasting room, but having that separation of tables is a good thing. Soon the stoppers are removed from the five bottles standing before us.

Tasting Time

I’ve tried a few Kingsbarns whisky expressions so far on my whisky journey: a Distillery Reserve 35ml sample, which was impressive but not large enough to form any real opinion either way, and the Bell Rock bottle I won at auction, which was really tasty. We’re all given a small sample of the new-make spirit to whet our whistles and I’m taken with the flavour of it - it’s strong, obviously, but I find it to be full of interesting notes - agricultural, bright tropical fruits and banana, as well as a bit of purple fruity spice. Shouts of “OH GAWD” and other semi-profanities begin as the new-make hits the throats of our golfing pals - for people unused to higher percentage spirits, this new-make should cause a bit of a scene - it’s 63.5% ABV after all. Ronny advises them to add quite a bit of water and try again, but from their facial expressions, it looks as if the horse has already bolted from their mouth stables. The first cask matured whisky to arrive at our tables is the Dream to Dram - the entry malt for Kingsbarns whisky - and it’s creamy vanilla all the way. The next is the Balcomie, which is an oloroso matured sherry expression that has a bit more going on than the Dream to Dram - fruits and spice, a bit more grip as well as hints of darker fruits such as raisins. With that, the Kingsbarns tasting is concluded - only two expressions! I know that Kingsbarns are new and that the first cask was laid down in 2015, but that’s seven years of maturing spirits that could’ve been used in this tour to fully explore Kingsbarns whisky. Instead, the two expressions are all we have today - the other three bottles are from Wemyss Distillery Ltd, owner of Wemyss Malts and sister company to Kingsbarns.

I’m a bit sad about this, especially as the walls in our wee tasting room are lined with single cask Kingsbarns and other exciting prospects like a Founder’s Reserve, all of which could have given us a more interesting experience of the whisky produced below our current perch. Anyway, we make do with a 10 year old North British grain whisky, the Velvet Fig and the Spice King - all unique bottles from Wemyss Malts. The North British is interesting because of my recent experience with Finn Thomson, who has a 34 year old North British on offer. However, this one is a bit of a shocker - violent nail varnish notes with a kicker of PVA glue. I add a few drops of water and that tamed the more visceral edginess and I get an inkling of the popcorn, caramel style of this lauded grain whisky, but it’s still very alcoholic. One of the golfers shouts that her face is on fire, that her tongue is burning, and then dumps the rest of the small water jug into the Glencairn.

The Velvet Fig is good and has a really delicious figgy taste to it - oily and full of flavour, I get some florals and purple fruits too. The last to be served is the Spice King, not the 46% version, but the 12 year old Highland and Islay Edition, with a higher ABV of 52%. There’s a really nice balance of sweetness, spiciness and smokiness in this dram - I think it might be my favourite of the bunch, but the Balcomie still draws me back.

And so the next 30-40 minutes play out like a typical distillery tasting. We all sit quiet and reserved initially, but by dram three we are all chatting. The golfers are self-professed non-whisky drinkers on a Scottish golfing odyssey from their native California, and they fancied a little whisky education. The man wearing the sunglasses, who still hasn’t removed them, states he doesn’t drink, nor enjoy, whisky at all - his Glencairn glasses remain almost untouched. It’s sacrilege, without a doubt and I’m thinking I should be reaching over to redeploy them, but social protocol and personal space prevents me from rescuing these wasted drams. The other three participate happily and through a multitude of shouts, barks and head shakes, work their way through the tasting set. Ronny asks what they usually drink and they all drink red wine, and a question of whether red wine should be chilled or not is posed. A good 5 minutes is then spent googling ambient room temperatures of California and converting them from fahrenheit to celsius, after Ronnie states that whisky should also be enjoyed at room temperature. Ronny asks if they enjoy more potent spirits, and one responds that she enjoys tequila now and again. Only one is an avid scotch drinker. It might have been at his suggestion that they all sit here now. He declares the Velvet Fig to be quite rough, but that’s all we get from him. He looks genuinely exhausted and not at all enjoying himself, and I feel a bit sorry for him - especially if he’d looked forward to this visit.

I’m keeping my mouth firmly shut - I don’t want to be one of those guys in a whisky tasting that tries to command the room, wanting everyone to know that he’s clearly a WHISKY EXPERT; I’m stumbling through whisky with wide eyes and a persistently surprised expression, and nothing more. I listen and I interact when asked, but otherwise I’m a silent passenger. I would rather just quietly work my way through each of the whiskies we’ve been offered and see what I make of them. Remembering it all is the primary goal for me. The new-make spirit is still proving to be really enjoyable even at the still potent 63.5% mark. The London couple are more interactive and are genuinely interested in Kingsbarns, which is great because Ronny starts to bat things back and forth - what do they like (Lagavulin), and what do they think of the drams here today? Balcomie is the favourite, much like the rest of us.

Out of seemingly nowhere the sunglasses man stands up, thanks the room for their attendance, and leaves. This prompts the other golfers to follow suit, making Ronny reluctantly thank everyone for coming. The London couple, like me, are not ready yet but with a shop downstairs to be staffed, and work to be done, we have to accept our fate and get ready to go. As everyone makes their way out the door I seize the opportunity to ask Ronny a few questions about Kingsbarns, and where they’re heading. Something in his reaction confirms that he’s clocked I’m big into whisky, and he closes the door and sits down again, smiling.

We might or might not see an age statement coming out soon. Kingsbarns are now seven years of age and, owing to the market and what’s happening with the new brands, the single digit age statement isn’t carrying so much stigma any more. Plus, with the quality of product leaving the Kingsbarns cask stash, stored off-site because of space restrictions, there’s no reason not to get age-stated products out on the market. It makes sense and I tell him about my experience with Bell Rock and how Kingsbarns feel very much like other “new” distilleries, but their lowland style bringing something I’m not getting from other lowland newstarts such as Glasgow, Clydeside and Lindores - all similar positions to Kingsbarns and offering quality whisky to boot, but Kingsbarns feels (and tastes) more mature. Ronny says the most interesting malts he’s tried recently are things like Glen Moray - whiskies that look like Tesco specials, but are bringing the goods in smell and taste. He then asks if I’d like to try something special. I try not to let my voice break when I reply.

Downstairs the golfers are gone but the London couple are still here and we get chatting about Kingsbarns whisky and the tour. They ask if I’m in the industry - I wonder if smelling and tasting whisky patiently is a giveaway - and I say not really, but I do write about whisky quite a lot. Suddenly we’re chatting at speed: What do I like? What’s good? Where is the best distillery tour? What am I drinking right now? All questions I’m struggling to answer because I’m really not an expert or consider my opinion worthy of anyone’s time, but I do manage to convince them to try some Ardnamurchan given he likes Lagavulin and they both enjoyed Kingsbarns. I know, Ardnamurchan fanboy alert, but it is what it is. Ronny appears and hands me a mini Glencairn with something in it. It’s fruity, floral and has an interesting herbal quality. I think somewhere around Speyside - it has a sherried base note that brings to mind Aberlour or even Craigellachie. Tasty either way, Ronny reveals it to be a 25 year old Glenrothes - a Wemyss Malts single cask called Clove Studded Oranges. 

I keep chatting, with Ronny involved now too and I’m on the Dramface offensive - they all write down the website address and I point them towards some interesting things I’ve tried recently - the Finn Thomson Blair Athol especially. The London chap mentioned he likes that distillery. I hear a small voice shout “DADDY” and I whirl around to see my little redhead careering towards me, with my bigger redhead chasing behind. They’ve been sitting around the corner in the cafe waiting for me to appear, and it’s toilet stop time. The micro-adjustment of Mrs Crystal’s eyebrows are a signal for me to wind this up, but as the London couple bid adieu, Ronny asks if I’d like to try something really nice, and I can’t refuse. As he’s pouring I get chatting to some of the other staff about the season they’ve had, with the Golf Open next door and the influx of tourism, finally, after a few rough years. They’ve had a belter of a year and it’s lovely to hear how busy they’ve been and the support shown for Kingsbarns whisky.

Ronny hands me another glass and it’s strangely familiar. It’s meaty, has big bold fruity flavours and a tail end of tempered, warming spice. Again I think Speyside and Ronnie points to the glowing wall of whisky behind us and at a nicely designed bottle with a black label marked “Supper Club”, featuring a gold foiled “25”. This is Mortlach, 25 years of age and cask strength - it’s delicious, and I think about my altercation with the core range 16, wondering how much Mortlach I’d have at home if it smelled and tasted like this. But time is unfortunately up - my girls have headed to the car and I’m starting to feel a bit rough again. Whatever is working its way around inside me is starting to protest. I thank Ronnie and the team and wish them well for the Christmas season. Ronny says he’ll check out Dramface, and I walk back to the carpark passing the London couple having a few drinks in the setting sun. We wave at each other and they wish me a nice remaining weekend.

Downsides to Links Golf

Being so close to a famous golf course means that Kingsbarns Distillery will probably see a lot of golfing parties swinging by for a whisky tour, if only to cap their day off with alcohol. It’s a beautiful place - a landscape that many dream of seeing out their lounge windows, and the placement of the distillery, so close to the North Sea, up on the hill overlooking the bay, is a fabulous location. The distillery is modern, slick and geared suitably for tourism - impressive presentations and interactive displays, it’s been really well thought out and executed. I really liked getting to try the different waters, smelling the yeasts and smelling the three cuts of spirit from the distillation process. The mechanics of the distillery were ok, but there was something missing by having it all in the same room. The natural maze of a distillery, darting from one room to the next each with its own purpose and ambience, is all part of the mystique of a distillery. Here it’s all just thrumming along in the one big space, and once you’ve cast your eye around a few times, that’s pretty much all there is to see. It is, as a result, quite a short visit to this, the heart of Kingsbarns Distillery.

I was surprised to see the use of both English and French yeast, given the desperation for declaring local provenance of ingredients these days, but Kingsbarns have chosen those yeast strains because it works for them. They’ve bored a hole 100 metres into the earth to extract that particular water because it works for them. Their new-make spirit is available to purchase, presented at the same 63.5% as I tried at the distillery, because it works for them. Ronny made sure the tour participants understood the importance for whisky to be presented without chill filtration, and without caramel colouring because it works for everyone. I really enjoyed my tour - I thought it was packed full of interesting little tidbits that showed us the Kingsbarns way, and despite the sunglasses man lurking about the place, and the lack of etiquette shown for Ronny during his tutelage, the tour was a really transparent, interesting experience. 

I’m a bit irked that some people pay quite a high entry price for the two hour, in-depth Dream to Dram tour, and then show a visible lack of interest in what Ronny was saying. Or even showing a lack of respect for others on the tour alongside them, some who might have been genuinely excited to see this place, maybe even visiting a distillery for the first time. I didn’t mind their attitudes and decorum, but others might have. I know the London couple were a bit irked by it, because they told me so. But most of all I’m really bummed that we didn’t taste five Kingsbarns whiskies, rather than just the two core range bottlings. I’d have loved to see what else they had going on. But the three non-Kingsbarns malts were interesting nonetheless - Wemyss Malts are intrinsically linked with this place, as is Darnley’s Gin, and it makes absolute sense to introduce would-be whisky drinkers to these more accessible drams during their tour. We’re geeks - these sort of tours are not designed for us really, even if they state a more in-depth experience.

That I was offered a couple of delicious whiskies to taste afterwards was a real privilege and I loved the extended whisky experience that Ronny offered to me so graciously. I want to thank him again for showing us all around the place with such professionalism, even in the face of an unfortunate tourism pitfall of indifferent participation, and I look forward to seeing more of what Kingsbarns Distillery has to offer us enthusiasts - visit Kingsbarns if you get the chance!

DC