Glenfiddich Family Album

A rare chance now to evaluate three of Glenfiddich’s core range side by side. This was another whisky-themed Christmas present from my father-in-law, and it is comprised of three 20cl sample bottles. Not enough to get a full impression, but enough to spend a couple of pleasant evenings. We have the standard 12 year old, the 15 year old Solera Vat expression (both of which I’ve tried before), and the jewel in the standard Glenfiddich crown, the 18 year old.

I drank most of the 12 year old at various points, then saved the last bit for a suitable weekend when I could pour measures of all three together.

A few words on presentation first. The box these are presented in is very nice. It’s sturdy and precise, fitting each of the bottles side by side. The bottles themselves are smaller representations of your standard Glenfiddich bottle, adjusted for the particular vagaries of each expression. Also, they are all 40%.

The method this time went thusly; I tried the 12 first, and compared it with the 15. Then tried the 18, comparing that with the 15, before finally trying the 12 again and comparing it with the 18. Then I pretty much alternated two sips of each, making notes when I could think of anything. For context: I was watching the World Snooker Championship, having a nice time on my own.

First impressions of the 12 were that after a break of a few weeks, it was excellent – reliable, and enjoyable. On the nose I thought maybe there was a bit of cherry. I sniffed the 15 and, in contrast to the previous time I’d had a bottle, where there had been a strong impression of blood oranges, this time it was a more subtle aroma of apple juice. The 18, on the other hand, gave an impression of white wine.

On the palate, I noticed that the 15 is far more full-bodied than the 12; it is almost like a paste [not really, but that was the direct impression]. The 18 just struck me as a bit disappointing, though it did start to grow in the mouth.

Ultimately I don’t think there is enough in these bottles for me to fully appraise the product. I know that I like the 12 already; it’s a decent go-to, entry level malt and it’s good value. Similarly, I also know already that I like the 15. It offers something a bit different (though it didn’t strike me so much that way this time), and it too, is good value for those extra 3 years. What I can’t ultimately decide is what I think of the 18. It doesn’t strike me as that different from the 12, and at more than double the price, I fail to see the value or the attraction.

I returned to try the 18 alongside the 15, and again, I just couldn’t detect enough of a difference. You can’t deny that they are good and consistent quality across the range, but why you’d want to part with more than £60 for the 18 when you can get the 15 for around £30 and the 12 for less than £30, I just can’t fathom from this selection of 20cl tasters.

Spirit Log: Aberlour A'bunadh, Batch 47

“Straight from the cask”, is the enticing claim from the packaging of this highly renowned Speyside malt. That’s a bit misleading though, isn’t it? Because A’Bunadh is a no age statement expression, said (by Wikipedia) to be blended from spirit aged between 5 and 25 years. So what cask is it bottled straight from, then? Not the one it was aged in – I mean, I presume there was some kind of marrying process, otherwise they would’ve had to take a bottle round all the various casks, fill it up a little from each, then shake it up. I suspect it just means ‘no water added’ – so it’s just a fancy way of saying ‘cask strength’ that makes it sound like it is single cask. When it isn’t.

Well, let’s leave that aside. What else is there to know about this expression? It is released in batches, is non-chill filtered, aged exclusively in Spanish Oloroso sherry casks, and bottled at a varying cask strength – this one a stroke inducing 60.7%.

My procurement matrix had determined that it was time to buy a cask strength Speyside malt, and Aberlour A’bunadh’s reputation and its inclusion in 101 Whiskies to Try Before You Die gave it the edge. I paid just under £40 plus P&P from The Whisky Exchange.

It is presented in a cardboard tube, inside which you’ll find an elegant bottle that doesn’t actually look like it’s big enough to hold the full 70cl. It is topped with an oversized cork and sealed with a deep-red waxy seal. The contents gleam a beautiful deep red colour.

My previous experience of Aberlour consists only of the 10 year old, which I remember was classy and luxurious in its composition, but a little disappointing in flavour. I always felt it could [should] have been so much more.

So what about this one?

This represents my latest delving into the welcoming waters of cask strength scotch, and having read a variety of online reviews, I was intrigued to find that some people prefer to drink this one unadulterated. The idea that a spirit of more than 60% can be at its best at full strength makes the heart positively palpitate in anticipation…

So I struggled with the seal (don’t trim your finger nails before reaching for this one), popped the cork and poured a glass.

…aaaaaaand, first impressions were that it does wear its extreme strength very well. I don’t feel dizzy from the nosing and my nose hairs [sadly] remain unburnt – no need to cancel that order for tweezers after all. And on the palate, yes there is burn, but it is indeed palatable in its natural state. There is burn, but it doesn’t taste burnt.

I began to add drops of water in any case. With each drop, more emerged, the solution sweetened and brightened and, ultimately, I ended up adding quite a lot of water before it reached the critical point at which I felt any more might be detrimental – in fact it is so strong and takes so much water that you end up with a really big drink – which is even better. So I wouldn’t say I agree that it is best without. You can drink it at cask strength, but only for a couple of sips per glass before I’d say you’re wasting it.

Where does it fit in though, in the general scheme of er… whisky?

Well, once again I find myself in the position of wondering why I’m not more impressed than I am. So many good reviews, so highly rated and yet… it’s all right, but it doesn’t blow my mind. There have been moments when I have enjoyed a glass very much, but those have been rare in comparison to moments when I’ve remained unmoved. Does this mean anything? Am I just expecting too much? It is only a sensory experience after all. I have to remind myself that my opinion of the Aberlour 10 and indeed Speyside malts in general has tended to be “nonplussed”.

A quick glance at my geeky spreadsheet reveals that in the simple “Like” column for the Aberlour 10, I’ve actually written ‘no’. It was a while ago, but I suspect my thinking was that while I didn’t actively dislike it, in a scale that included only the variables “like” and “dislike”, it seemed a bit unfair to belittle the efforts of malts that had genuinely impressed me by categorising it alongside them. I see I’ve also etched “no” next to the Glenlivet 12. I’ve then dismantled the scale altogether to register the fact that I hated the Glen Moray classic. I’m nothing if not inconsistent.

Elsewhere in terms of Speyside however, the Glenfiddich 12, Glenfiddich 15 Solera Vat, Balvenie 12 Double Wood, Mortlach 15 and Strathisla 12 have all met with a general approval, yet  in spite of that, in no single case have I been remarkably impressed.

It is hard to decide at this point where the A’bunadh would sit on the overall single malt hierarchy. It does have the potential to at least place higher than all the other Speysiders, but I am going to need a little more from it before I make a decision like that.

So can you take anything away from this? Certainly if you already like Aberlour or Speyside in general – and perhaps veer more toward the sherried stylings of the Balvenie or Strathisla, you can conclude that this is an avenue to divert some future pennies down. Let’s face it, it is beautifully packaged, it’s an impressive strength, and it’s terrific value. There’s also a chance of course that the next batch might be better – though there’s nothing about this one that would suggest it is a bad or even unexceptional batch.  No, my feeling is it just ain’t quite my thing, so it’s unlikely I’ll buy myself another one, but I’d definitely consider it as a gift for someone else. And that’s ok. What’s next?

Postscript

Since writing that I have finished the bottle and would just like to add a note without impinging too much on the integrity of the prose above. I stand by everything I said up there but feel it is worth mentioning that the bottle seemed to outstay its welcome. And by that, I mean I was ready to be finished with it about four large glasses from the end, at which point I pulled it out of the cupboard more frequently and even chugged down the final glass. Oddly, I enjoyed that last glass quite a lot. I wouldn’t normally treat a glass of single malt with such abandon, but there you go.

Spirit Log: Glenfiddich 15 Solera Vat

It’s funny how these coincidences happen; you read about something perhaps, that you’ve never heard of before, and then the same subject pops up a few days later out of nowhere. Just last week I was describing the Solera aging process on a visit to a winery, and when I look today, to see what I have scheduled for this week’s post... it’s the Glenfiddich Solera Vat.On we go.

There’s a test you can use should you ever need to decide whether you really want to buy something: walk away. If you walk away and you keep thinking about it, then you really want it, so you need to go back and get it.

I applied this test recently, when I saw a couple of Glenfiddich expressions on special offer at Morrison’s when we were booze shopping for the upcoming Glastonbury Festival. Scotch certainly wasn’t what I’d gone for, but around £5 off of the 14 year old Rich Oak and the 15 year old Solera Vat was very tempting.

Not wanting to suffer an episode of whisky guilt I told myself no, but over the next couple of days I came to realise that I had more than sufficient funds remaining in my monthly booze budget – and what’s a surplus for if it doesn’t allow you to take advantage of price reductions from time to time?

You see, I’ve been buying scotch in a very deliberate way recently; rotating the various regions and types of expression to vary the kinds of things I’m sampling. It has meant that I’ve gone from not knowing what to buy next, to knowing what I’m going to buy sometimes two months in advance. While that gives my exploration a purpose, it has also meant that I’ve been cheated of some of the unexpurgated joy of just stumbling across something and making a surprise purchase.

So there I was at work one day thinking, I wonder if there’s a decent sized Morrisons around here?

There isn’t.

A few minutes later I thought, I wonder if those same whiskies are on offer anywhere else…?

Bringabottle.co.uk told me that they were – at the Asda in Hulme that is a mere 10-15 minute walk away, so off I went and in the end, chose the 15 year old over the 14 year old.

It’s a sad 40% ABV, but it is interesting in that it has been partially aged in the Spanish solera style, which is what they use in brandy (and indeed sherry) production. The Glenfiddich method would seem to differ somewhat though, in that the spirit is first aged in sherry, bourbon and new oak casks before being married in a large pine tun that is always kept half full. So if you’re new to this whole concept, the aged spirit is blended in a big pine tun. Some of the contents of the tun is bottled (leaving at least half) and the tun is then refilled. This process is ongoing so in theory, some of the whisky in the tun dates back to when the process began… though presumably they will never be able to label it at more than 15 years since you can only count the years it spends in a cask. It may continue to age in the pine tun to some degree, and that might have an effect but in scotch production you can’t increase the age statement since it always has to reflect the age of the youngest spirit in the mix.

Now, this is quite an interesting method, but one thing that piqued my interest is that one of the intended effects is to foster consistency in the spirit. That doesn’t entirely make sense to me since, rather than blending from a number of casks to achieve a certain taste profile, this method means slapping a whole bunch of stuff into one vat where spirit of different vintages will marry  - but surely the flavour you achieve in your bottled product will develop over time…

Well, to be fair, how much do I know about the results of the solera process? I haven’t been drinking products made in that way for decades, so I can’t tell… maybe it does result in consistency. Whatever, we’ll come to see what it tastes like and try to draw some conclusions later.

It is presented in a fancy red leather-like case that features a press-stud clasp. When you lift the bottle in or out of the case, the light creates an interesting effect that I tried to film for you, but failed. You’ll just have to try it for yourself. In the bottle it looks a lovely deep red colour. I’ve heard talk of caramel colouring, but who knows?

I didn’t wait too long before opening this one – a matter of only two weeks. I’d been having a shit day at work, and just thought it would be nice to try it while we started the second series of Boss. I like Boss; most of the time you don’t really know what’s happening, but then something really intriguing happens. It doesn’t seem like anyone else in the world has actually watched it, but I assure you, if you haven’t, you’re missing out – especially if you like House of Cards. Boss is better – less silly.

Anyway, I’d been doing a bit of research online – all the various blogs have regurgitated the same shit about the aging process – and I decided I wouldn’t let this one sit in the glass for 15 minutes before tasting it as one of the blogs suggested it would have opened up enough already. I kind of like the waiting, but it does mean you have to plan somewhat – or just sit there. In fact, when I did wait on one occasion, then had a second glass for which I didn’t wait, the first glass appeared to be better.

The immediate reaction on the palate was something I wasn’t expecting; a massive hit of oranges – like when you have an orange that seems a little dried out, but you bite into a segment and the juice runs out onto your tongue. Huge impression of orange. It did fade as I got used to it, but I hadn’t tasted a whisky quite like this before, and it wasn’t a taste I could quite get on board with. It is quite light bodied, but it does sit pleasingly on the tongue and, as I say, once the orangey hit has subsided it is pleasant.

This orangey hit seemed to fade over successive tastings and I started to wonder whether this was due to my decision to finish this bottle ahead of all others in readiness for opening something new. With no other whisky to compare it to there were times it seemed ordinary and uninsteresting though, remarkably one night when I followed up a glass of the Carlos I brandy with it (also aged in the Solera style), it performed well once more.

I think if there’s anything to learn from this, it is that it is beneficial to have numerous whiskies and spirits on the go at once and delve liberally into them, rather than focusing on one over another. That way individual nuances and characteristics come to the fore, and the experience can be prevented from becoming ordinary. That’s my take on it, anyway.

All in all, this has been quite a unique whisky experience that’s well worth a try, and at £30 or thereabouts for 15 years, it’s decent value.