The rough with the smooth
LET'S face it, it's not every day you get to try some whisky distilled in 1920 straight from the cask. The fact that the angels haven't sipped the entire contents of the barrel is amazing enough; that the owners of the distillery did not blend it away years ago is even more remarkable.
By accident or design, Balvenie has managed to hold on to a solitary cask of jazz-age malt. Not that everyone will be able to try it - it was just an extra treat in a visit to the William Grant-owned distillery to help choose the next Balvenie vintage single barrel.
Between you and me, it's just as well the 1920 was only for academic interest because, fascinating though it was, the malt had fallen victim to the wood, so you could only just discern some attractive fruit and peat-smoke through the densely forested nose.
It tasted of a strangely pleasant mix of wood, liquorice and bitter chocolate, which was miles away from the two casks from 1967 and 1968 that were the real point of the visit.
Balvenie is a fascinating distillery and a fascinating brand. Though it shares the same site as Glenfiddich, it's a dram that's miles away from its better-known brother - honeyed, sweet, delicate but with enough weight to be able to stand up to port and sherry wood. It's one of the great Speysides.
This signature delicate sweetness showed most in the 1968, where it mixed delicately with gorse, vanilla, heather and spice; a classic Balvenie. The 1967 took a different tack, filled with rich, complex flavours: bracken, ripe fruits, coconut, chocolate and honey. Atypical perhaps, but a very classy dram. In true Loyd Grossman style we deliberated, cogitated and distilled our opinions and came up with a decision - but you'll have to wait until September to see if it's the year of peace and love or the year of revolution that got the nod. Contact William Grant (020 8332 1188) for details.
Maybe the distillery was feeling generous, but we were also allowed to taste four other vintages: a sweet, floral 1961; a more Cognac-like 1962; an earthy, tobacco smoke-accented 1963; and the current single barrel release, the crisp, honeyed 1966.
All fascinating, but what does it prove? Not a lot, other than the fact that quality has remained consistent, there's an identifiable style and that good casks weave their own personality on to a whisky. It doesn't mean that vintage equals good.
This was brought home last month in Islay's Lochside Hotel. We were drinking with an American couple. It was her birthday, so they ordered whiskies from their birth years. His Ardbeg (1967) was as woody as hell, her Laphroaig (1968) was superb.
The conclusion? First, be very careful with vintage whisky. Second, there are many unscrupulous bottlers making a hell of a lot of money from trade and public alike by fuelling the mistaken belief that vintage whisky is the pinnacle of malt. Tread carefully. n
by Dave Broom
