Single Malt Scotch

Although I had enjoyed the occasional single malt scotch I had imbibed over the years, my obsession with the “water of life” was triggered by my purchase of a bottle of 12 year Caol Ila. Its deep, smoky aroma; oily mouth-coating consistency; subtle yet confident personality and long, peaceful finish intrigued me immensely. Caol Ila is a single malt scotch from the north side of the somewhat notorious island of Islay in Scotland.

Islay is known for its peaty single malts, although in my experience, the whiskys from the south side of the island are much more intense. Peat is, roughly, combustible dried compost. In Scotland, peat is usually cut from the soil and used to heat the kilns which arrest the germination of barley, creating malted barley. There is an identifiable “peat” taste in some Scotches, and although I’ve never eaten Scottish dirt (the first thing I plan to do should I ever get to Scotland is shove my nose into the ground), the first time I understood what was meant by peat taste I exclaimed, “Oh, it’s the seaweed flavor!” That’s a part of it; but essentially peat is the taste of the bog. It has sweat, grass and campfire tones. Smokiness is a characteristic of peat, but a Scotch can be peaty and not very smoky. I think the berserker enraged 10 year Talisker is a good example of this.

Scotland’s Highland is known for its heathery single malts. (The area within The Highland most known for its Scotch is called Speyside, which became a popular place to distill because its terrain made it impossible for the authorities to get to.) Heather is a native flower whose fragrance, most say, is imparted through the spring water that makes up one of the three ingredients of single malt Scotch whisky. I don’t know what Scottish spring water tastes like, but it must be sweet. One of my current favorite Scotches is 15 year Dalwhinnie, a lively, full-flavored Highlander that is very perfume-y, which the experts all call heathery. It also has sherry in its nose (along with vanilla, honey and cinnamon) and its finish (along with chocolate, nougat and visceral contemplation); although I don’t know whether this specific Scotch is aged in sherry casks (I’ve noticed that the experts’ descriptions often conveniently echo what they know of how and where it was made, which I think is cheating and refuse to do). Like wines, a huge range of familiar flavors can be tasted in Scotch. The origins of some of them can be explained while others can’t. For example, 10 year Abelour’s peat is nicely balanced by a very distinct pear flavor.

Obviously, there’s more to whisky than malted barley, spring water and yeast (unlike in America, Scots do not use sour mash as their yeast). Whisky is made from a “wash” of fermented malted barley that is distilled twice using handmade copper pots. The shape and size of the pots will influence the whisky’s characteristics. The oak barrels in which Scotch is matured for a minimum of three years, but almost always much longer, also impart a lot of the characteristic, including the color (all things are clear after being distilled) of the drink. Unlike most other whiskeys, Scotch has no rules regarding what kind of oak barrel can be used. Bourbon casks must be charred new white oak; Canadian whisky must be used bourbon barrels (gotta love that symbiosis); Irish whiskey barrels must have been previously used from any source (usually Scotch, sherry or bourbon).

The location of each barrel in the warehouse containing the aging whisky will affect the aging process. To compensate for this, the barrels are occasionally rolled around to different parts of the warehouse, and after it has matured (malted barley takes longer to mature than other grains), the barrels from the same batch are vatted (mixed) so that the final product is consistent. American bourbons, on the other hand, revere “small batch” and “single barrels,” which allow for more variance within the product line.

I’ve been enthralled lately by the effect the drinking glass has on the flavor. I splurged for a couple Glencairn whisky glasses which I adore. The nose (smell) and flavor that come out of that glass is drastically more “pure” than the same Scotch out of the other glasses (including brandy snifters, which are traditionally used) I own. Here’s how I drink scotch: first I swish it around in the glass, looking at the color and viscosity, then I give it three sniffs; the first acclimates the nose, the second has the dominant body, the third contains the fruit tones. Upon drinking a small portion, I chew it for five or six seconds, savoring its tingle and how and where it fills my palate. Finally, I pay attention to the development of the drink after it’s been swallowed.