The Whisky Type

Category: Scotch Whisky

  • Port of Leith Distillery // Elevating Whisky in Edinburgh

    Port of Leith Distillery // Elevating Whisky in Edinburgh

    It could be said that the whisky is nothing without tradition. Legends and practices of days long past flow through the industry’s walls and stills and barrels before slipping into your glass. This is a liquid that requires time and patience, with the initiation of the spirit and the final results often spanning generations.

    At the same time, there’s something so remarkable about blazing your own path.

    Case in point: Port of Leith Distillery, the towering new single malt scotch whisky distillery planted on the outer edges of Edinburgh’s northern shores.

    Standing several stories tall, even the bare structure of Port of Leith’s distillation headquarters invite you to consider a new way to whisky. They’re not the only vertical distillery in the world, but they are the tallest. Photographs of the newly-built space’s construction phase reveal wash backs and tanks, glistening in shiny steel, suspended in the air and anchored in place meters above the ground.

    The building is now complete, enclosing those tanks inside its modern walls along with various other equipment, a shop, and a swanky top-floor bar. The look is modern and clean, all dressed in orange and black and white. Entering through the front door, you’re greeted by a brightly lit neon sign: “Thank goodness you’re here!”

    Thank goodness, indeed.

    But while the distillery is ready for guests, their whisky is not. It’ll be another 8 years before the public gets to taste the first single malt whiskies from Port of Leith.

    So what do you do in a whisky distillery that doesn’t have whisky?

    Plenty, it turns out.

    The tour at Port of Leith, a roughly 90-minute event, is not unlike most distillery tours. As you rise and fall through the distillery’s many floors, you can observe the mill and the water tanks and the stills, one wash and one spirit. You can run your hand through the crushed barley grains and see the 1970s cooler box one of the founders borrowed from his parents — it has a purpose, I promise. Your guide, named Ellie in my case, will tell you all about the history of the operation, the grit and determination that led them to their present state. You’ll taste the new make — two different varieties — and learn about the circular practices that make their distillation process sustainable.

    If you’ve ever done another distillery tour, however, you’ll quickly note several points of differentiation. First and foremost: the decision to go vertical. While Leith’s limited landscape made it necessary to build up instead of out, it’s a stark contrast to the sprawling whisky estates of Scotland’s more rural settings. But consider also the barrels soon to be employed to age the distillery’s first whisky: rather than sourcing empty casks through a cooperage, the team went straight to the source, buying still-full casks of sherry and port, wrapping their own label around the now-bottled contents.

    Whisky distillation is a science, but it’s also an art — and a game of faith. It’s hard to know now exactly what the results of the distillery’s efforts will be several years from now when the first bottles are released.

    But while most whisky weighs heavy with the solemnity of tradition, Port of Leith’s joy in the spirit is obvious. You can see it in the bright orange motifs throughout, in the cheeky “property of” notations that adorn their merchandise, and in the curiosity that drives their experimentation with different strains of yeast, something that’s almost unheard of in the current Scotch industry.

    Sitting in the distillery’s penthouse bar to wrap up my experience, the appreciation for whisky and innovation was palpable. To start, the whisky selection stretched high to the ceiling, requiring a library ladder to retrieve the uppermost bottles. In addition, the extensive spirits menu focuses on flavor impact rather than region: light and floral vs. big and bold and so on.

    For two drams, I enlisted the knowledge of my hosts, ultimately selecting an Ardnamurchan and a private bottling from a Speyside distillery. Both were delicious. As were the chips, which I very much needed after several tipples of whisky and wine.

    All in all, it’s hard not to root for Port of Leith’s success. And if you have to wait nearly a decade for whisky, you might as well do it in a 9-story building with stunning views.

    Slàinte, y’all!

    🥃 The Whisky Type is a self-funded project powered by equal parts curiosity, chaos, and whisky. If you’d like to support Carolyn’s questionable life choices and excellent content, buy her a dram! https://ko-fi.com/thewhiskytype

  • Lagavulin Offerman Edition (2022) // Nectar of the Gods

    Lagavulin Offerman Edition (2022) // Nectar of the Gods

    Prepare to experience true freedom and bliss.

    Ron Swanson; Parks & Recreation

    I’ve never been a huge television person. When I do watch a show, it’s usually no less than three years after it went off the air. This affords me the privilege of impatience, moving quickly through a series from pilot to finale. In other words, I binge old TV.

    Parks & Recreation is no exception. I remember when it came out, but I didn’t own a TV, and, until recently, I hadn’t seen a single full episode. Even so, I was not unaware of the connection between actor Nick Offerman, his character Ron Swanson, and the noted Islay distillery Lagavulin. In fact, when I visited Lagavulin last year, Nick/Ron’s name came up. It also came up during my stay at the Machrie Hotel; Offerman had been there just a few months before, with unanimously positive reports from the staff about him as a guest and a person.

    This reputation, combined with his gruff-but-lovable demeanor on the short-lived and absolutely delightful crafting reality show Making It (which I unexpectedly watched in real time), led me to jokingly refer to Offerman as “Uncle Nick” when picked up a bottle of his most recent collaboration with Lagavulin.

    I’ve since learned that the character Ron Swanson referred to himself as “Uncle Ron” on at least one occasion in Parks & Rec (I’m currently on Season 5), so I stand by the moniker. Who wouldn’t want a woodworking, whisky-loving uncle to call on for how tos and general life advice?

    Seriously, this bus conversion project is a beast….we could use the help.

    At least we have the whisky. While the 2022 Lagavulin Offerman Edition can’t release a thousand rivets or teach us how to build custom cabinets, it does offer a nice complement to the satisfaction of a job well done. Or, at a minimum, done. Or perhaps more realistically, moving incrementally closer to done at a glacial pace.

    This “pleasing nectar” was designed to perfectly accompany a medium-rare steak—or any of the other six “delicious foods” glorified by Offerman.

    Pulsing with Lagavulin’s characteristically refined island peat and brine, the whisky was aged 11 years in reused American White and European Oak Scotch and wine casks, all freshly charred for this purpose. Hints of brown sugar and fruit, cocoa and tobacco dance on the nose and tongue before crashing into a finish of smoke and pepper at the back of the throat.

    One could argue that the glowing, lingering, spicy, and simply sensational finish are precisely the pinnacle of what human evolution was leading up to this entire time.

    Nick Offerman; Lagavulin Charred Oak Cask Offerman Edition (2022)

    Many Islay whiskies are themselves thick and chewy, reminiscent of salty, fatty bacon and other rich meats. Instead, the Offerman Edition embodies something more akin to a glaze, a complementary addition intended to elevate an otherwise carnivorous experience.

    With apologies to Uncle Nick for what is undoubtedly a character flaw, an Impossible Burger is as close as I’m going to get to a steak, and I haven’t yet had the opportunity to pair the whisky with bacon (my dietary Achilles heel) or even fish and chips. I can’t personally attest to the transcendent pairing for which it is intended.

    However, I can certainly vouch for the standalone quality of the whisky. It’s not overly complex, but smart and well-rounded. For a barbecue-inspired whisky, I found Ardbeg’s Bizarre-B-Q to be slightly more on-the-nose (and $30 cheaper). But that’s a small complaint and easily forgotten with the pour of another dram.

    In My Glass Cup

    Lagavulin 11 Year Charred Oak Cask Offerman Edition
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    11 Years Old; 46% ABV
    Scotland (Islay)

    On My Desk

    1950s/60s Antares Parva with a Swedish Keyboard

  • Craigellachie 13 // The Glow of the Still Room

    Craigellachie 13 // The Glow of the Still Room

    I killed a bottle of Craigellachie 13 tonight for Whisky Wednesdayand typed out a micro story about rolling into the eponymous Highland village on a pitch black evening last October. There’s no Speyside welcome quite like the glow of the still room lighting the way to your accommodations (in my case, the exquisite Craigellachie Lodge).

    Read on for an edited version of the story.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    It was dark when I rolled into the outskirts of Craigellachie in the Scottish Highlands. I started my morning in St. Andrews and had enjoyed a leisurely day wandering through that seaside town before starting my drive up the coast. I was required to arrive in Craigellachie before 8:00 pm—and I did, but barely.

    The bright sunlight of the day had softened into dusk not long into my drive. When it departed fully for the night, I eased my foot’s pressure on the gas pedal. I was entering the unknown in pitch black, navigating carefully through the winding Highland roads. Other cars, presumably steered by locals, occasionally appeared in my rearview window. I offered a silent apology for my slow pace and a not-so-silent prayer that their captains would pass me or at least turn away from our shared route to find another way.

    This unnerving driving experience was far from ideal, but I soon discovered that it had its charms. As I approached the end of my journey, I was startled by the warm glow of the still room at Craigellachie Distillery. In daylight, the luminous view would be hidden in plain sight. In the dark, however, golden light flowed over the rotund bellies of the copper stills and spilled into the black night, welcoming me to Speyside.

    In My Glass

    Craigellachie 13
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    13 Years Old; 46% ABV
    Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 (Speyside)

    On My Desk

    1962 Smith Corona Skyriter, Made in England

  • Aberlour A’bunadh Alba // The Original

    Aberlour A’bunadh Alba // The Original

    It’s only the second day of a shortened work week, but this Whisky Wednesday dram has been well-earned, so I picked a strong one.

    Tonight I’m sipping on Aberlour A’Bunadh Alba, Batch 002. I had a bottle of Batch 001 in the early months of the pandemic, when closures and restrictions left me with little to do but expand my whisky palate, and it was the first Speyside malt that truly piqued my interest. Speyside whiskies tend toward a lighter, fruitier flavor profile with bits of spice. This whisky has fruit and spice, but light? No.

    A’Bunadh Alba is distinct from the distillery’s A’Bunadh line in that it’s aged in ex-Bourbon American Oak barrels rather than Oloroso Sherry butts.

    A’Bunadh is Scots Gaelic for “the original” and points to the distillery’s founder, James Fleming, who set the distillery near the banks of the River Spey in the late 1800s. Alba is also Gaelic, referring to the country that we know as Scotland. It’s pronounced al-a-bah (or al-a-pah) rather than al-buh, thanks to the secret Svarabhakti vowel tucked inside (see Actual Scottish Person Len Pennie for details).

    The A’Bunadh Alba sits in the bottle at nearly 60% ABV, a cask-strength whisky with a solid burn and a color like golden honey. Apple pie, cinnamon, and honey tickle the nose and carry through to the palate. A bourbon-style woodiness tinged with warm fruit lingers on the tongue to finish it out.

    This is a whisky you’ll feel as much as you taste. A few drops of water mellow out some of the harsher qualities and yet seem to heighten the whisky’s acidity at the same time.

    It’s not a whisky for the feint of heart, but perfect for the longest short week ever.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    In My Glass

    🥃
    Aberlour A’Bunadh Alba Batch 002
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    NAS; 58.7% ABV
    Scotland (Speyside)

    On My Desk

    1961 Lettera 22, Made in Glasgow

  • Bruichladdich Rocks // From the Archives

    Bruichladdich Rocks // From the Archives

    If I could teleport, I’d send myself to Islay this week for Fèis Ìle. Unfortunately, I’m bound by the laws of physics (and my bank account), which means that I’m following the festivities from afar. As a small comfort, I’ve poured a dram of an Islay distillery exclusive from the comfort of my home.

    This little bottle of Rocks from Bruichladdich is a blast from the past—literally. According to my tour guide at the distillery last fall, a wayward case was discovered in a forgotten corner of the distillery some 15+ years after bottling. The unopened remnants were placed in the gift shop for sale, where I picked up a bottle. It was the perfect “vintage” addition to my whisky collection, and what better time to crack it open than this week?

    For a whisky that’s only 46% ABV, it’s surprisingly spirit-forward. Citrus, vinegar, and vanilla crash on the palate. Despite being unpeated, an unmistakable Islay brine brings it all together. It’s no comparison to Bruichladdich’s current (and much loved) lineup, but it’s a small taste of their history and progression, a step along the way to the distillery we know today.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    In My Glass

    Bruichladdich Progressive Hebridean Distillery – Rocks
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    NAS; 46% ABV
    Scotland (Islay)

    On My Desk


    1961 Olivetti Lettera 22, Made in Scotland

  • Talisker // Star-Crossed Whiskies

    Talisker // Star-Crossed Whiskies

    As a self-described whisky enthusiast (and certified single malt expert, per the Edinburgh Whisky Academy and the Scottish Qualifications Authority), it’s hard to say this: I found a single malt Scotch whisky that I do not like.

    This is a new experience. There have always been certain bottles I prefer over others, and a few cheap blends I’d rather leave on the shelf. I don’t love most bourbons, and some American single malts are a bit too banana-y for me.

    But never once have I poured a whisk(e)y back into the bottle.

    Until I found Talisker.

    My apologies to any offended Talisker stans. By all accounts, I SHOULD love it; if nothing else, I was led to the distillery by fate or fairies while traveling through Scotland last year. Pressed for time, I decided not to stop by, but my quest for Caora Dubh Coffee dropped me on Talisker’s doorstep (or, more accurately, across the parking lot) anyway.

    Great coffee, by the way. Highly recommend. ☕️

    And the problem isn’t the smoke and the peat or the medicinal brine that attacks your palate from all angles. I like that. I named my cat after that.

    I just don’t like Talisker.

    Talisker 10 to be exact. Or Storm. Or Skye. (I will give them due props for Port Ruighe; the port cask helps).

    It wasn’t until after I returned home, armed with a bottled flight of the core range, that I discovered my dislike. They were poured with great anticipation into three separate glasses for nosing and tasting. But then I did the unthinkable, tipping the remains of each dram back into their tiny glass bottles and returning them to the whisky cabinet.

    It was a low moment, an act akin to whisky heresy.

    For months the bottles have waited, daring me to give them another try. Today is Whisky Wednesday, so why not?

    And…nope. 😂

    To me, they’re confused instead of complex, bold and messy. The 10 is okay until the finish, which comes back around with an overly peppery, salty punch. The Storm is like butter gone bad, creamy then angry. The Skye? Meh.

    What does this mean? Nothing. Not every whisky is for every body! If you love it, drink it!

    In My Glass(es)

    Talisker 10, Skye, and Storm
    Single Malt Scotch Whiskies
    10 Years Old/NAS; 45.8% ABV
    Scotland (Highlands & Islands)

    On My Desk

    1961 Olivetti Lettera 22
    Scotland (Glasgow)

  • Cardhu 16 Special Release 2022 // Raise the Red Flag

    Cardhu 16 Special Release 2022 // Raise the Red Flag

    Happy Whisky Wednesday!

    In honor of International Womens Day, I finally popped the cork on my bottle of Cardhu 16 Special Release 2022, which I picked up during a visit to the distillery in October.

    Women have always had a place in distilling, but whisky has a reputation as a boys’ club nonetheless. I should know—I’ve surprised a bartender or two in my time with an order of Scotch whisky, neat.

    Cardhu proudly stands out as a symbol of both powerful women and really good whisky. According to legend (and the lovely book Women of Moray), it was founded as an illicit still in the early 1800s by a man, John Cummings, with the help of his wife Helen. After John’s death, Helen took charge, and the management of the now-legal distillery eventually passed to her daughter-in-law, Elizabeth.

    It was these women who led Cardhu Distillery (then Cardow Farm) into such prominence that it caught the attention of Mr. John Walker, a name that every whisky enthusiast knows well. Walker used Cardhu’s spirits in his eponymous blends and even purchased the distillery in the late 1800s. It remains in the Johnnie Walker family (now under Diego) today, one of the brand’s “four corners.”

    The thick stone walls built by Elizabeth still stand proud on a hill in Speyside. The distillery’s logo—a woman raising a crimson flag—pays homage to Helen, who cleverly used a red flag to alert nearby distillers of the presence of excise men, come to collect.

    And the whisky continues to flow.

    In my glass today is a dram of Cardhu 16, a 2022 limited edition finished in pot still rum casks and bottled at cask strength.

    For a whisky distilled and aged in the Scottish Highlands, it’s surprisingly fruity and tropical. Sweet and tart, notes of banana, grapefruit, pineapple, and even something like lime burst onto the front of the palate, fading toward the back. Some sips taste sugary, almost manufactured, like a handful of Runts Candies all crunched together. But overall it’s a sweet, bright, and unexpected dram—perfect for a warm summer’s day (soon!) and/or dreams of escape.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    In My Glass

    Cardhu 16 Special Release 2022
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    16 Years Old; 58% ABV
    Scotland (Speyside)

    On My Desk

    Remington Noiseless Model Seven
    Manual Typewriter
    c. 1946

  • Glenmorangie Tale of the Forest // O Thou My Muse

    Glenmorangie Tale of the Forest // O Thou My Muse

    “O thou, my muse! guid auld Scotch drink!”

    While many writers throughout history are known for their love of whisky, the prolific Scottish poet Robert Burns might just top the list. As evidence to his devotion, consider the verses of “Scotch Drink,” a lively ode to his preferred tipple, penned in 1785.

    Burns didn’t live to see his 40th birthday, but he made the most of his limited years, fathering at least 12 children and producing hundreds of songs and poems. His outsized legacy endures in an estimated 900 living descendants; an expansive portfolio of 500+ written works; and a colorful reputation involving an abundance of both whisky and women; all of which are honored (along with the man himself) each year on his birthday, the 25th of January.

    Traditional Burns Night fare includes a hearty supper of haggis, neeps, and tatties, but we’re skipping straight to dessert with a wee dram of whisky — Glenmorangie’s poetic single malt Tale of the Forest in particular. Developed by innovative master distiller Dr. Bill Lumsden, the whisky draws on a bygone practice of burning natural botanicals like moss, heather, and pine needles to dry the malted barley. #plantlife, meet whisky.

    The result is an earthy, gently smoky whisky with notes of citrus and pine and an unexpected pepperiness. It’s full, complex, and layered, a poem of many verses and a felicitous toast to Scotland’s forests and its National Bard too.

    Sláinte, y’all!

    In My Glass

    Glenmorangie Tale of the Forest
    Single Malt Scotch Whisky
    No Age Statement; 46% ABV
    Scotland (Highlands)

    On My Desk

    1961 Olivetti Lettera 22, Made in Scotland