Last night I was poking around my open bottles and found a single pour left in an old bottle of Oban 14. It’s been open for almost a year, and chances are it’s already well on its way to oxidizing. Not looking for an analytical experience, I splashed it into a glass and continued with my evening. My motivation was more about freeing up a space in my cabinet by polishing off an old bottle than about actually tasting the Oban. Until, that is, I took a sip.

There’s nothing particularly special about Oban. It’s a well-made, well-aged Highland malt owned by industry giant Diageo, who claim they make single malt to go into Johnnie Walker, not to sell single malts. Jerks. It’s not rare like Brora or Port Ellen, it’s not particularly old like Glenfarclas 40, it’s not revolutionary and experimental like Glenmorangie Artein, and it’s not a cult-backed geek-forward upstart like Kilchoman. It’s just Oban, and I had honestly forgotten how damn GOOD it tastes until I drained that old bottle last night. It reminded me why I like drinking whisky. It’s not to analyze the relative wood content, to detect which bourbon distiller made the juice, nor to judge whether something is $20 over- or under-priced. I like drinking whisky because of the indefinable, uncategorizable combination of smells, tastes, and feelings that it provides. I can’t say I liked this glass of Oban because it had or didn’t have honey notes, because I could or couldn’t detect heather, or because it did or didn’t finish bitter. I just liked it because my eyebrows went up when I tasted it, and my eyes rolled back when I let the finish warm my throat. I liked it because it tasted good, and reminded me of a time when every new glass was an exciting opportunity of discovery, instead of another chance to turn up my nose and dismiss something as “not quite good enough.” I think I need more reminders like that.

Next time you’re feeling jaded about all the new releases, unobtainable single-cask bottlings for $200+, black label this and devil’s cut that… get a glass of something that once opened your eyes to the joys of whisky, and let it open your eyes to the joys of old favorites instead.

Four Roses Small Batch comes from the distiller’s 75%-20% (corn-to-rye) recipe and is bottled at 45% ABV after approximately 8 years of maturation. The “small batch” refers to a limited selection of barrels that are “batched” or vatted together to achieve a specific flavor profile. This one comes in at around $30 a bottle, which makes it comparable to (and somewhat cheaper than) other “small batch” bourbon releases. Don’t confuse this with the “Limited Edition” small batch, which is far more expensive.

Nose: Spice. Lots and lots of black pepper. Black licorice. Mulling spices, but mostly black pepper.

Palate: Full-bodied and corn heavy, with lots of molasses. Suddenly it’s all sweetness and wood. Where are the spices?

Finish: Caramel Apple! Some milk chocolate. Much better finish than palate. Finally trails off with some cinnamon.

With Water: BIG Spice comes through on the nose, and the water wakes up some cayenne. Thins the body somewhat, and kills the finish. Try it once with water, but in general this bourbon doesn’t need it.

Overall: A respectable rye-recipe bourbon with some big, bold flavors. It’s not often that I’m able to identify bourbon notes other than cinnamon and spice (from the rye), corn syrup (from the corn), and charcoal (from the toasted barrels). Here I find black pepper on the nose, and delights like caramel apple and milk chocolate on the finish. The only downside is the relatively one-note palate, which is all corn syrup and barrel char. For that reason, I’d order this at a bar, but I wouldn’t make it my staple home bourbon. Still, for under $40, this stands up well to the competition.

The flagship 18-year is a marriage of 70% ex-bourbon matured malt, and 30% oloroso sherry-finished (for 3 years). It is not advertised as being non-chill-filtered, which probably means it has been filtered. Ditto for the addition of coloring.

Nose: Lemony, with light notes of green pear, lemon-lime soda, and golden raisins. Subtle… too subtle?

Palate: Banana taffy, lemon drop, and nougat. Interesting flavor profile while remaining light and airy. Some woodiness intrudes.

Finish: Oaky with some bitter char notes. Medium-long. Turns nutty, with clear walnut skins.

Overall: Very nice, but super light, and not particularly concentrated despite the 18 years of aging. It’s mildly complex, with some interesting fruit notes that I didn’t expect. While not disappointing, this isn’t going to knock anyone’s socks off, and I can see why even Glenmorangie doesn’t try to price this above $99. Perhaps Glenmo malt really serves better as a canvas for wine finishes.

ScotchNoob™ Mark:

About The Distillery

Glenmorangie has been an innovator in the industry for years, pioneering cask expressions and experimental bottlings of their exceptional Highland whisky. Often cited as the biggest-selling whisky in Scotland, Glenmorangie is also attracting a lot of international attention, winning awards left and right. Among their cask-aged expressions are the Nectar D’Or (matured in French Sauternes casks after 10 years minimum in bourbon barrels), Quinta Ruban (matured in port barrels), Lasanta (matured in oloroso sherry casks), and more. Glenmorangie sources its oak casks in the Ozark mountains and loans them for four years to the Jack Daniels distillery before using them for Scotch. Glenmorangie’s water flows from the Tarlogie Springs in the hills above the distillery, over sandstone (yielding hard water) and picks up flavor components from the clover and heather in the hills before entering the distillery.

Aged in American white oak and bottled at a hefty 47.5% ABV (95 proof), Black Maple Hill is a vatting of vintages in a “small batch” from KBD (Kentucky Bourbon Distillers), a group owned by the storied Willet family which doesn’t (yet!) distill any of its own product, but rather sources it from (several) other distillers in Kentucky.
In a previous version of this post, I mentioned that some Black Maple Hill was distilled at Heaven Hill in Kentucky, and was corrected by an astute reader. After some more Internet research, all I can say is that the whole issue is hopelessly confused. KBD owns the barrels of the source whiskey, but nobody knows for sure where it was distilled, or whether that location changed recently and heralded a decrease in the quality of the brand. Regardless, my bottle says “Bardstown, KY”, which may (or may not) indicate anything about its provenance. It’s from a very recent batch.

Nose: Perfectly round – practically spherical. All the characters are here: piquant cinnamon, sticky toffee, pine sap and freshly-hewn oak. The bold 95 proof crawls up your nose, but it carries aroma with it. Deep under all the cooked sugar flavors (caramel, toffee, the gooey stuff in pecan pie) there is a narrow band of cherry fruit and coconut. Despite the name, I don’t get any maple syrup!

Palate: Medium bodied. Soft on the palate initially, but then it burns with the full strength of 95 proof. Distinctly sweet, with prominent cherry notes, mild spices, and a deep resounding woodiness.

Finish: Pretty long. Coconut sets in at first, evolving into vanilla bean, espresso, and sour cherry lozenge with an entire lack of bitterness! Trails off with some slight hazelnut.

With Water: Water brings out some interesting vegetal notes – green banana leaves, lime peel, raw sugar cane. However, it thins the body and disarms the potency of the alcohol, and the flavors with it. Toss a few drops in your last sip, but don’t water the whole glass.

Overall: No low points, although it verges on woody in places. Round and bold in the nose, soft and sweet on the tongue, and lingering on the finish. This stuff is hard to find, and very much delivers. To my bourbon-novice palate, it’s dang good for under $40. The brand is not as fervor-inducing as Pappy Van Winkle, but it blows some similarly-profiled bourbons like Knob Creek out of the water. I have to say, if this is inferior to the old Heaven Hill distillate, I definitely missed out!

Cheers!
-The Scotch Noob

Oddly for The Glenlivet, which staunchly uses ex-bourbon barrels for its maturation, the 18 contains sherry-matured spirit at 12-13% of its volume. Glenlivet does not add coloring agents, but does chill-filter its malts. Finally, this entry in the Glenlivet range gets a bump up in ABV to 43%. About time.

Nose: Hint of plum, but otherwise little sherry influence. Some vanilla, but not much wood. Where’s the green apple?

Palate: Nice thick body. Creamy, not oily. Golden raisins, fresh green figs, sugar cookies.

Finish: Not as smooth as I’d have thought for this age. Vanilla again, and some small amount of bitterness. Anise.

With Water: Brings out coconut on the nose, and some nice fresh banana. I actually like this banana – it smells fresh and clean. The water thins the body somewhat, and ups the acidity, but kills the palate in the process, making it watery. Skip the water.

Overall: The nice thing about the 12-year is the interesting fresh elements of green apple. The 15 also has some of that, but by the age of 18, it’s mostly gone. In its place isn’t woodiness, or sweetness, or even much complexity. I’m not sure what was happening in the barrel during those 6 extra years, but it wasn’t doing much to elevate this casual standard whisky, alas. That said, it’s hard to beat a decent, drinkable 18 year for under $80. That pricing strategy is the reason I enjoy the 12-year, so why not enjoy the 18 for the same reason? Keep in mind that the Glenfiddich 18 has more flavor and can be even cheaper (I once found it at Costco for $44 a bottle!). Shop accordingly.

At any rate, the Gran Reserva is still kicking around at a price point slightly below the 15-year, and it’s still a little mellower than the 12- and 15-year. It’s a vatting of malts between the ages of 10 and 15 (probably 12-14 on average), 40% of which is matured in first-fill American oak ex-bourbon casks, and 60% in first-fill oloroso sherry butts. The vatting is married in ex-sherry for 6 months and bottled at 40% ABV (boo). To be frank, I didn’t think it stood up to either of its siblings, although I’m sure it’s lovely with a cigar. Regardless, this review is based on my tasting it in between the 12 and 15.

Nose: Lighter than the 12 year. Honey and somewhat lemony. The Dalmore orange peel is present, but comes across as thin and insubstantial. The sherry does not assert itself, instead remaining soft and subtle.

Palate: Thicker body with less orangey goodness than the usual Dalmore. There’s a taffy quality to the flavor: sweet but not nuanced. It tastes like it’s predominately bourbon-matured, with both less sherry flavor and less character in general, despite the 60% sherry maturation. Frankly, it’s not as good as the 12, and not nearly as good as the 15.

Finish: On the short side, and a bit rough? Less orange. Some citrus like sweet candied lemon.

With Water: Adds a little more lemon. Otherwise no effect that I can determine.

Overall: I hate to dismiss a supporting character in an otherwise standout cast, but if The Dalmore was going for softness and subtlety here, they went too far. I’d even be worried that it wouldn’t stand up to a robust, full-bodied cigar. If you have money to spend on a Highland malt with orange notes, buy the 15 or the 12.

ScotchNoob™ Mark:

About The Distillery

The Dalmore sits on the eastern coast of the Scottish Northern Highlands, north of Inverness, at sea level. Its waters run from Loch Morie, in the hills above the distillery. As The Dalmore’s whiskies age very well, older bottlings are prevalent on the auction scene. Several record-setting auction sales have been old bottles of The Dalmore. The distillery’s characteristic dark orange flavor is said to be present across the range. The stills at Dalmore are cooled by water jackets, a modern innovation.

Yesterday I had the chance to sample some Dalmore 12, 15, and the Gran Reserva (not to be confused with the Cigar Malt Reserve…). The 12 was big and powerfully laden with orange notes, as expected, but the 15 took me by surprise. The 15 is good. As I’d hoped, its sherry fruitiness was muted in the same way that 18+ sherried malts are – leathery and resiny with some umami notes bordering on meaty. Think old leather furniture and orange-scented upholstery cleaner. The house characteristic orange was in force, but as a contributing player and not the main event. This 15 year-old tastes to me like a much more accomplished 17- or 18 year-old sherry finish, and K&L has it right now for $56. That’s a damn good deal.

(Before you ask, I wasn’t impressed by the slightly-cheaper Gran Reserva, which was released to replace the defunct Cigar Malt (again, not to be confused with the new, more expensive, Cigar Malt Reserve. Gah!). It was somewhat dull – less orange, less sherry, less everything, and with more rough edges on the finish. Review upcoming, but definitely pay the extra $5 for the 15-year).

The Dalmore 15 year is aged for 13 years in American oak ex-bourbon casks. It is then extra-matured for a year in a combination (3-way split) of Matusalem, Apostoles and Amoroso sherry butts, and then a final year of marrying in a sherry butt. That’s actually a pretty lightweight maturation for such heavyweight flavor.

Nose: Surprisingly mature sherry – it’s resiny like a far older sherry-finished malt. Thick, dense orange syrup and essential oil. Leather. Reminds me a little of the meatiness of GlenDronach 12, and the suppleness of The Macallan 18.

Palate: Dense. Orange blossom honey with a bit more fire on the tongue than the 12 year. A bit of raw cane sugar grassiness, and a pleasant blood orange twang (tartness).

Finish: Medium long. Nice spices like coriander and white pepper. Finishes with mouth-drying orange peel oils.

With Water: Opens up some interesting meatiness on the nose, like duck in orange sauce or cooked marmalade. Otherwise, it seems to dull the palate. Only really improves the nose.

Overall: This is a very fine example of a spicy, supple sherried Highlander with the added bonus of Dalmore’s signature orange peel. Better than the 12 year in many ways, it completes the picture that the 12 only hints at. It’s also better than the Gran Reserva, which was underwhelming. Dalmore malts seem to go ‘on sale’ once a year, and drop up to 20% in price for a few weeks. At $56, this is a quality sherried Highland malt for a great price. I’d even say it’s worthwhile around $65. If you want the same flavor profile without the finesse, the Dalmore 12 is also a great deal around $35 right now.

ScotchNoob™ Mark:

About The Distillery

The Dalmore sits on the eastern coast of the Scottish Northern Highlands, north of Inverness, at sea level. Its waters run from Loch Morie, in the hills above the distillery. As The Dalmore’s whiskies age very well, older bottlings are prevalent on the auction scene. Several record-setting auction sales have been old bottles of The Dalmore. The distillery’s characteristic dark orange flavor is said to be present across the range. The stills at Dalmore are cooled by water jackets, a modern innovation.

You can relax, whisky lovers, because the wine people have it WAY worse. Not only do open bottles of wine deteriorate faster than potato salad at a summer barbeque, wine collectors also have to fret and worry and wring their hands over the sealed ones, because wine continues to age in the bottle. That means every bottle of wine has an implied “drink by” date. For some of the better (read: expensive) reds, this date can be well over a hundred years. For your average $15-$30 bottle, though, you’re probably looking at between three and ten years of life, depending on the varietal/blend. After this date (which is always a matter of guesswork or research) the wine starts to go downhill, losing its character and ‘punch’ – eventually becoming either vinegar (if bacteria-laden air has leaked into a deteriorated cork) or the liquid equivalent of those twenty-something year-old spice containers in your folks’ kitchen cabinets.

Whisky doesn’t do this. A properly sealed and stored bottle of whisky (even $15 swill) will taste the same in two-hundred years as it does today. Don’t believe me? Check this out. Whisky’s high alcohol content serves to preserve it indefinitely, and freezes all of its esters, congeners and volatile alcohols in suspended animation. While the whisky itself might last forever, the whisky market’s fickle nature and cyclical waning and waxing mean that its value won’t necessarily continue to increase. You can certainly put away whisky now for drinking at an undefined future time, but don’t expect your collection to put your grandchildren through college. True whisky collecting requires a lot of research and a good sense of what modern releases will be rare and sought-after in the future. Just like collecting coins, stamps, and signed celebrity chef cookbooks – in fifty years there will be some valuable collections, and a lot of worthless ones.

How to Store Sealed Bottles

A sealed bottle of whisky has two enemies: light and temperature. Light and wide temperature fluctuations both serve to catalyze chemical reactions in volatile compounds and will eventually degrade those tasty esters and congeners in your whisky. An improperly-stored bottle of whisky will still be 40% ABV (or whatever it started at) after a decade or two, but it will taste like you spent $15 on it. Store your Stitzel-Weller bourbon, 2008 Buffalo Trace Antique Collection, and Glenfiddich Snow Phoenix away from light (especially direct sunlight) and somewhere the temperature doesn’t fluctuate (the South Pole works!). A basement, wine cellar, or root cellar is best for this, but any box, cabinet, or closet inside your air-conditioned home will be fine. I’d avoid the attic unless it’s insulated or finished. Non-air-conditioned storage units are also prone to large fluctuations in temperature – I’d avoid those too.

Unlike wine, whisky won’t be affected by constant freezing temperatures, vibrations, or the occasional round of show-and-tell for your jealous friends.

How to Store Opened Bottles

An opened bottle of whisky (stored away from light) with more than two-thirds of its contents remaining can be expected to remain unchanged for about one year. After that, oxygen begins to work its destructive magic and effectively rusts your whisky. Okay, it’s not rust, but it’s the same basic principal: oxygen readily binds with lots of chemical compounds – a process called oxidation – turning them into other compounds. Add oxygen to copper and you get copper oxide, that green crusty stuff on old pennies. Add oxygen to iron, and you get iron oxide (rust), which is red-brown and crumbly. Add oxygen to whisky and you get whisky oxide… just kidding. You get lots of compounds that don’t taste like they used to. The more contact the air has with the whisky, the more oxidation occurs. This means the more air (or headspace) in your bottle, the more oxidation happens. Luckily, the process is slow, so an inch of headspace will not be detectable by your taste buds for a year or so. If 75% of the bottle is air, though, you’ll probably notice a degradation in quality after as little as a month. To see (taste?) this in action for yourself, leave a half glass of whisky out overnight and try it in the morning. Yuck.

A good rule of thumb in whisky circles is to invite some friends over to enjoy a bottle when it hits the one-third mark. You’ll get a lot more enjoyment out of that third of a bottle by sharing it now than you will by miser-ing it away until it turns flat and tasteless. An alternative, if you must be miserly, is to funnel that remaining whisky into smaller glass bottles with good seals (I like the 2- or 4-oz brown glass bottles here, with the POLYSEAL caps). This method isn’t foolproof, as some oxidation will have already begun, but you can definitely extend the whisky’s life this way. Another method is to use an inert gas to provide a layer of protection between your remaining whisky and the oxygen in its headspace. I like this product [Sponsored Link]: Oenophilia Private Preserve Wine Preserver. Just remember that you lose this protection every time you open the bottle. I save the air spray for open bottles that I know are going to remain untouched for awhile.

Even if you’re plowing through your open bottles in a few weeks, this knowledge does have practical application. If you see a bottle of something rare and special at the bar – sitting on the highest shelf and covered in dust – make sure to ask how long it’s been open and check out how low the level is. If the bottle’s been there for years with most of it gone, I guarantee you it won’t taste nearly as special as it’s supposed to.

Hazelburn, like the rest of Springbank’s lineup, is not chill-filtered and has no added coloring. Note that Springbank’s higher prices are largely due to its craft nature – on-site malting is not cost efficient – and also to its cult following among aficionados.

Nose: White peach and vanilla. Very mild and soft, elements of sugar cookie and white raspberry, and a ghost of spearmint. Elegant and floral, but not very complex.

Palate: Mildly creamy body, with some high acidic notes of green fruits and dry white wine. Progresses into white chocolate and macadamia nuts.

Finish: A hint of Springbank style, with a nutty oiliness that only emerges on the finish. Hazelnut skins, vanilla bean, and rice pudding. On the tail end, a little bitterness.

With Water: A spare few drops of water bring out a little green apple skin in the nose, but also up the octane of the alcohol vapors. Water adds a suggestion of … peat?! to the palate, although it fades quickly. I would leave out the water.

Overall: Very light and unassuming. A bit like Auchentoshan, but with nuttier flavors like hazelnut and white chocolate. Worth the price of a full bottle? Only if you’re crazy for the lighter style of triple-distilled whisky.

ScotchNoob™ Mark:

About The Distillery

Springbank is a composite of rarities. It is one of the very few distilleries that performs the entire distillation process from malting on-site (its own floor maltings) to bottling in its private bottling plant. In fact, it is the only fully self-sufficient distillery in Scotland. Located in Campbeltown on the lyrical Mull of Kintyre, it is also one of the few surviving distilleries (of three, with Glen Scotia and Glengyle) from a once-great region of Scotch distillation. In 1887 there were 21 distilleries in Campbeltown, and it was sometimes called “The Whisky City.” Hard times and a self-perpetrated degradation in quality (and thence, reputation) during the American period of Prohibition scoured the region, putting most distillers out of business.

Springbank claims that hand-turned floor maltings (as opposed to pneumatic or machine-aerated commercial maltings), while labor-intensive, yield a malt that is better because it germinates more slowly. The distillery uses traditional worm tubs, a cast-iron mash tun, and employs mechanical ‘rummagers’ (to prevent a buildup of burnt deposits) in the copper stills, which are heated with a combination of steam and direct oil fire. Springbank uses three stills to create a 2.8-time (not triple) distillation. Now hold on, because this math is tricky: The first “wash” distillation produces so-called “low wines”, which are around 20% alcohol. A second distillation produces an intermediate distillate, which is in the neighborhood of 35% alcohol. A third still is charged with a solution of 80% of this double-distillate and 20% of the “low wines,” and a third distillation is performed. Thus, in the final spirit, around 80% of the volume has been triple-distilled, while around 20% of the volume has been double-distilled. Hence, 2.8x distillation. Phew! For a fantastic and in-depth guided tour of Springbank distillery, be sure to check out Ralfy’s visit (scroll down).

Springbank also makes Longrow (a peated malt) and (new in 2006) Hazelburn (unpeated, truly triple-distilled). These, along with the distillery’s flagship Springbank bottlings, are all non-chill-filtered, have no caramel coloring, and are reduced to bottling strength on-site with the same water used to produce the whisky. The water, like all Campbeltown whiskies, comes from the Crosshill Loch in the hills above the town, and is supplemented by a private well from a borehole drilled deep into the rock beneath the town. Note that the Springbank “CV” bottling, which is at a similar price-point, is purportedly a vatting of 6, 8, and 12 year-old malts (unverified), from different barrel finishes.