Some people may think it’s a bit crazy to move 3000 miles across a large expanse of water just to learn how to make whisky. Leaving behind family and friends to go to a land where the weather on any given day can best be described as “boggy”; that’s bonkers, right? After all, there are plenty of breweries and distilleries in America. And admittedly, there’s days were I would just like to curl up to the bar at my beloved Barley’s brewpub back in Columbus with a pint and a plate of wings. But then I wouldn’t have the Whisky Society.Heriot Watt’s Malt Whisky Society sums up a great deal of what I love about living here. The fact that an institution of higher learning has a club dedicated to drinking whisky is astounding to me. Not only that, but unlike other college “clubs”, I didn’t have to ritually humiliate myself to join. And did I mention there’s whisky?
So anyway, after missing the Society’s first few tastings due to meetings, I’ve managed to attend the last three Friday sessions. This usually involves having a pint at Geordies, the campus pub (Again, a university run pub? Genius!). This has been made all the more pleasant the past few weeks since the local Stewart’s Brewery had a tap installed at the bar. Steve Stewart is a former grad of the Brewing and Distilling program, and a hell of a nice guy. I don’t think you can find his beers in the US just yet, but he’s currently expanding into new facilities, so be on the lookout for an Edinburgh Gold Lager or Hollyrood pale ale coming soon to a beer store near you.
There is only one other second year student in the program with me (a shockingly tall and lanky Dutch/Swede named Rob who sports death metal t-shirts), so it was nice to meet some other people in the program at the tastings. These include quite a few Yanks, including one from Vermont who impressively (to me, anyway) worked for four years at the Harpoon brewery and developed their rye IPA recipe. The rest of the attendees are a mixed bag of Canadians, Brits and assorted other ruffians.Each tasting usually has some type of theme, and last week’s was bourbon. I admit I’ve dearly missed my native hooch in my time away. A few of the guys took it upon themselves to dress up in Prohibition era fare. I didn’t get the memo, and left my suspenders and fedora back home anyway. The four bourbons we tried were Knob Creek 9 year old, Blanton’s, Jefferson Reserve and Pappy Van Winkle 10 year old. The Knob Creek I’ve had before; a straight forward slap you in the face whiskey with a big rye kick. Blanton’s is a bit more rounded, if less intense. Most people thought the Jefferson was just sweet with not much too it, but I liked the delicate herbal and grain notes. Then there is the Pappy.
If you ever happen to come across a Van Winkle whiskey at a bar, you owe it to yourself to buy a glass. Granted, this isn’t very likely to happen, given its scarcity and the fact that bourbon aficionados hunt the stuff like lions stalking gazelle on the Serengeti. Pappy comes from the lowest floors of the rick houses at Buffalo Trace, allowing it to mature slowly like a Scotch. It is everything good bourbon should be, with tons of toffee and a little roasty note, but without the harsh bite. It’s a bit annoying that I can find it here more easily than in the States, albeit at a huge premium. Unsurprisingly, this whiskey got a big thumbs up from everyone. Usually, Tom, the Society prez, asks trivia about each whisky at the end of the night, with the person who answers correctly winning the remains of the bottle (though it is customary to share with your neighbors). For the Pappy, however, one lucky gentleman had to sing karaoke. There was a strong urge to throw things at him, but the only objects available were glasses of whisky, and nobody wins in that scenario.Last night was a vertical tasting of an Cnoc distillery, which is Gaelic for “a hill”. A vertical tasting is simply starts with the youngest expression from a distillery and progresses through older bottlings. The first two were boubon casks; the last two sherry. As you can imagine, bourbon casks impart quite a bit of vanilla flavor, whilst sherry gives a big fruity kick and more tannin (leather, tea flavors). Sherry casks used to be shipped from Spain to Scotland, and then were used to mature whisky once they were emptied. Now that sherry is bottled in Spain, sourcing casks is becoming more difficult. As sherry casks grow more expensive, bourbon barrels are becoming the standard. Good for the folks in Kentucky, bad for lovers of sherried whiskies.
The mood for the tasting was a bit more subdued, with a few of the regulars unable to attend, though some young, fresh faced undergrads took their place (nice to get them hooked early). In terms of the booze, an Cnoc would be great as a “starter” whisky—a light melon and malt sweetness, almost delicate. If you think of Scotch as being harsh and smoky, definitely give it a try. The older sherry expressions were more complex and interesting, and much appreciated given their relative scarcity these days.
In the few months that I’ve been here, I’ve probably tried more whiskies than in all the time I’ve been drinking the stuff. In addition to being a hell of a lot of fun, it has also convinced me that there is a whisky out there for everyone. Trust me, there are as many styles of whisky as there are of wine or beer, if not more, so keep trying till you find something you like. And if you already like it, drink more (I’m looking out for my future employment here). If, however, you need someone to point you in the right direction, why not call a friendly member of the Malt Whisky Society?
