Grant’s Sherry Cask Edition: An affordable blended scotch

Here you go, another blended scotch at the “affordable” end of the price spectrum. This one is Grant’s Sherry Cask Edition, so it’s your standard Grant’s that has been aged for a further four months in sherry casks. Interesting. Grant’s also produce an ale cask edition in this range, which as the name suggests, has been aged for four months in casks that were used to hold ale (Innis and Gunn, apparently) for a few months previous to that. And that is apparently unique.

If you’re shopping in a standard UK supermarket, you can expect to pick up the usual Grant’s at around £12-15, while the other editions are more around £18-20. I picked up my sherry cask edition on sale at £15. No doubt you can do better, though this was the first time I’d seen it on offer. We picked up a bottle of the ale cask for my brother-in-law at roughly the same time, which I actually got to try before I opened my bottle, but a little more on that later.

All three expressions are bottled at a standard blend ABV of 40%, and are presented in identical triangular bottles with a different coloured label denoting each one. They’ve picked nice shades (red, green and blue) for these. The Sherry Cask is the green one.

Experiencing

I seem to find my initial impression of any whisky is tempered by what I’ve become familiar with of the same genre immediately prior. It is like I want to be blown away every time, and sometimes that just doesn’t happen.

So the previous blend I’d been growing friendly with was Ballantine’s Finest, and I’d been enjoying it very much. Despite having a drop of that left, I decided not to do a comparative tasting immediately so that I might meet Grant’s on its own terms.

First Taste

I opened it then, one Saturday night and what I was left with was a flat disappointment. It seemed to have no nose, and nothing of interest on the palate. I had come to expect a sweet luxuriousness from the Ballantine’s, so while it is usually unfair to expect the same qualities from a different brand… this has been (however briefly) matured in ex-sherry casks, so surely you should be able to expect a more rich sweetness than other basic blends? Perhaps not.

After about 20 minutes of tasting I did notice there developed an impression of fresh apple and a surprisingly long finish, but nothing else came to the fore and I put the Grant’s back into the cupboard that I might enjoy something else.

Second Sampling

The second appearance came the following Thursday night after Mrs Cake and I had returned from a local restaurant. I had already been drinking Peroni as well as what I’m going to call the nicest red wine I can recall sampling and, along with all that rich food I was thinking this might not be the most opportune occasion to enjoy a fine whisky. So I didn’t pull a fine whisky from the cupboard, I went for the Grant’s Sherry Cask.

Most unexpectedly, the experience was far more rounded and fulfilling than previously. Perhaps I had been too quick to judge.

Competition

It was time then, to see how it fared alongside the Ballantine’s. Result: fairly well actually. Though I hadn’t managed to enjoy it on its own as much as I had the Ballantine’s, when tasted side by side I didn’t detect that much difference. As far as the Ballantine’s was concerned, I felt that was a sad end to a bargain dram that had delivered consistently over the last few months. I’ll remember it for the good times, rather than this one let down. It was with some sadness that I put that attractive brown bottle in the recycling, but I made a solemn vow that I would pick up another some day.

Further tastings

 As time has progressed the Grant’s Sherry Cask has grown into its role of lead cheap blend. It makes a pleasant, uncomplicated drink for early evening and the over stimulated palate. In later weeks it has been joined in the cupboard by the dregs of the great supermarket blend test, so it has been interesting to see how it has fared alongside such competition, and despite very enjoyable products from Asda and Morrison’s, this Grant’s benefits from a little more depth of flavour than any of the supermarket products can offer. Is it better than McKendrick’s? As time goes on I’m becoming more certain that it is. Once again, it must be the magical effects of oxidation, as this liquid seems to grow sweeter and more interesting by the day.

There was one notable occasion where I had to pour a glass back into the bottle because I realised after tasting it that I simply didn’t want it… but that was severe hangover related, and the Grant’s reasserted its quality a few days later.

How does the Ale Cask edition measure up?

Yes, before I go, I need to address the ale cask edition that Mrs Cake and I bought for her brother. I did get to have a taste one evening over Christmas while helping put some Lego construction together and I can report being fairly impressed. It is of course difficult to compare when several thousand miles and a few weeks separate my experiences, but for the sake of offering a simple conclusion, if you were going to buy only one, I would say you might be missing out if you didn’t return and get the other one in the fullness of time.  Jim Murray places quite a few marks between the two in his 2013 Whisky Bible, but I don’t think there is such a gulf in class as he does, and I suspect I will be returning for that ale cask edition at some point – and I wouldn’t shy away from buying this one again either – at the right price.

Thanks for joining my this week. Next week I’ll be continuing on my one man mission to promote the consumption of grappa throughout the world by looking at La Castellina Squaricalupi – a bottle I picked up nearly a year ago, and finished only this week. See you then.

Whisky Stones

Do you like your whisky cold, but find the way ice melts and dilutes your drink inconvenient? No, me neither, but if you do, there is another product on the market that aims to alleviate this problem, leaving your whisky’s strength and flavours intact – whisky stones.

Do you like how I just assumed everyone feels the same way as me in that opening paragraph? Yeh, I know, some people probably do have that problem, whereas I don’t really see the need – I like whisky, and room temperature suits me just fine. In fact, significantly warmer than room temperature – say 35 degrees Celsius – was very nice when I was drinking the Glenfarclas in Ho Chi Minh City.

Nevertheless, shall we see what all the fuss is about? Will these prove to be any better than the ice balls that I featured a couple of years ago?

So, what are they? They are little soap stone cubes that you pop in your freezer for a few hours, before dropping them into a rocks glass (3 should suffice), and pouring your dram of choice over them, until they are almost covered. They are supposed to chill your drink without diluting it, and then maintain the cooler temperature for a sufficient amount of time. Then, when you are done with them you can just rinse them and put them back in the freezer – that’s one advantage over the ice balls; they had to be washed after use.

I’m boring myself talking about these already, but let’s crack on, then it’ll be one more week’s post sorted…

I decided to conduct an experiment, trying the same brand of whisky in four states; neat, on the rocks, chilled (in the fridge) and with the whisky stones. That should give us a happy buzz, but more importantly, tell us all we need to know about whisky stones and their efficacy. Come to think of it now, I could’ve done a direct comparison between the stones and the balls, but I suspect we threw the balls away some time ago.

So! Since you already know that I like my whisky neat and at room temperature, it seemed logical that I shouldn’t be using one of my favourite malts for this experiment. Every drop is sacred, so I would need something that I don’t mind sloshing around a bit. I give you Jack Daniel’s Old No 7. Don’t get me wrong; it’s nice enough but it was either that, the Glen Scotia 16, the Strathisla 12, the Ballantine’s (of which there wasn’t enough left, and that I was saving for a future test) or opening a new bottle. It was decided.

I put the stones in the freezer and a sample of Jack in the fridge. Tempting as it was to try four samples concurrently - it was Saturday - and while I was up for getting slightly smashed at home, I wanted to save some of my drinking capacity for later on – get some of the nice stuff out. The first test then, would be whisky stones vs the refrigerator.

Now, people don’t tend to keep their whisky in the fridge – but why not? You keep your soft drinks in the fridge, and they are cold enough. It’s probably because of the amount of time a bottle of whisky can last… and the number of bottles some whisky enthusiasts like to keep on the go - though with a little forward planning you can just put a few small samples in there.

Whatever, what happened? Well, the packaging on my whisky stones instructed me to use a rocks glass. I actually decided to use the Bruichladdich branded glass that I bought from the distillery (pictured), and haven’t used more than once. It is like a rocks glass, but has more of a tulip shape, supposedly to aid with nosing.

There are no such limitations when it comes to refrigeration. I decided to use a glencairn glass, because I could, and that way we would see how much the chilling had affected the aromas.

One of the first things I noticed was that neither sample was giving off any nose, so that is a definite mark against. The flavour is most important, but the nose is an enjoyable aspect of whisky tasting.

Next, you can’t help but notice how heavy these stones make your glass - I’m sure you would get used to it, so it isn’t important, but they are pretty heavy – and they don’t make your drink as cold as ice does. I’m thinking that, surely if you take your whisky with ice, it’s because you like it ice cold. Maybe not, I don’t know, I don’t know why you can’t just drink it at room temperature, or stick your glass in the fucking fridge for 20 minutes…

Then, the palate… there wasn’t much determinable difference in temperature between the two samples, so that confirms that you can keep your whisky in the fridge as an alternative if you so wish. Or if you currently keep your whisky in the fridge, and are looking for an alternative, you can use the stones.

In terms of tasting though, I detected Jack Daniel’s’ phantom banana notes in both samples, and while this appears less prevalent at room temperature, I did feel ultimately that the chilling masked some of JD’s subtler nuances. I would find out more specifically when I moved onto the neat and on the rocks varieties, which I decided would not have to be carried out in a head-to-head (rock non-stop) fashion.

So! Neat. Yes, that’s the JD, the way I’m coming to know it; dark, charred and woody. And no banana. I’m not really sure how I feel about the banana – I don’t like them generally, though their essence doesn’t ruin the JD. It’s more interesting that there is an essence of them in there than that they have an overt dominance of the spirit’s character.

But what about with ice? Well that’s a different prospect altogether. You can’t get away from the fact that the ice does melt. Yes it makes your whisky cold, but if you like the taste of the whisky, the elements of that flavour that you enjoy so much are diminishing by the minute. If you don’t like the taste, I don’t think you should be drinking it in the first place.

No one can make a cup of tea for you, the way you like it, but yourself. And by the same token, the right way to drink your whisky is your way. My way is neat, at room temperature so no matter what my opinion of rocks vs ice is, I am not the market this product is aimed at. Maybe you need to try them for yourself. I just think that if you do drink your whisky with ice, you do that because that’s how you like it… so why do you need another way?

As a bonus, these particular whisky stones were accompanied by a book… which is fairly interesting but can’t be treated as a whisky guide, as such. In it Jim Murray writes at good length about each of the distilleries in Scotland, Canada and the United States and it is diverting enough if you’re interested. I tend to refer to it from time to time, but it only directly refers to one expression from each distillery, so it isn’t too useful if you already have a basic knowledge and want a bit of advice. Still, if you like whisky, you probably like reading about it to some extent too.

Now, I don’t know whether my lack of enthusiasm for this subject came across (I suspect it did), but if it did, hopefully it was still worth your while reading and hopefully you’ll come back. I’ll be a bit less cynical next week, when I’ll be looking at another tequila brand – Sauza this time. Until then, enjoy your drinking – I know I will.

Actual important research, carried out scientifically - The Standard Supermarket Blended Scotch Test

Concept

Having started my whisky love affair around 10 years ago with Aldi’s 8 year old Highland Black, a blend I consider to be a ‘standard supermarket blend’ (though it probably actually isn’t, given its declared 8 years), I have, as my knowledge of whisky and taste for it develops, for some time now held a curiosity about how good standard supermarket blends actually are. I hadn’t bought one since the last time I bought the Highland Black, as you generally only have to pay a couple of pounds more to get a basic entry level brand – Cutty Sark, Ballantine’s Finest, Dewar’s, Whyte and Mackay, Bell’s, Teachers, Grant’s, Johnnie Walker Red, and The Famous Grouse are all what I would call affordable – but that curiosity kept on niggling away at me. I was going to have to do something about it, something like getting a bottle of each standard supermarket blend in all at once and holding a tasting – even if it was just with myself.

Now, I didn’t want to be stuck with 3.6-4.2 litres of crap scotch when I was done, but the supermarkets have already thought of that – you can buy most of them in 35cl bottles, so while I wouldn’t normally buy a half size bottle without good reason, I decided to make that one of the experiment’s conditions of entry. Unfortunately, that prevents Highland Black from entering, but I can always get it to play the winner later on – assuming this experiment doesn’t put me off cheap blends for good.

I was actually thinking of doing this with all the genres of spirits, but while drinking a glass of standard Sainsburys white rum one day, I realised white rum, gin and vodka were all likely to be dull – and then I would be stuck with litre upon litre of crap spirits. On top of that, budget spirits brands tend to be around only 36-37.5% alcohol and that renders them fairly uninteresting for a start, but with whisky, you can’t even call it whisky unless it reaches the standard 40%. To paraphrase Jim Murray; don’t add water to your whisky, as in most cases that will bring it to below 40% ABV… and then it ain’t whisky no mo’. Something like that.

So anyway, finally we will know which supermarket has the best standard blended scotch. I’ll be contacting the winner to congratulate them on their prestigious achievement, and I’ll let you know if they respond.

Competition Rules

1. It must be a standard blended scotch. Some supermarkets offer a super cheap expression – budget, no frills, value, everyday essentials (perhaps not every day… I’m not sure a supermarket would be allowed to suggest you drink scotch every day…) and the like – these are ineligible, as is any supermarket expression that is slightly above standard.
2. It must state “bottled for [insert supermarket]” on the label.
3. It must be available in a 35cl bottle (or smaller).
4. Those are all the rules.

There was going to be a rule about not having to ask for the whisky at a counter, thus weeding out mini-markets and things that can’t be considered a supermarket. In the end though, I had to drop this rule because the Cooperative is a supermarket, it does have its own brand of blended scotch, and I had to ask for it from behind the counter in the Piccadilly Gardens branch.

Collection

Yes, I am a geek, but I am not geeky enough to visit all the supermarkets in one day in order to buy their standard blend. Nor did I want to spend around £50 on cheap scotch in one day. Instead, I figured I could just collect one whenever I was passing a supermarket, or happened to be popping in…

Time to start engineering “impromptu” trips to Tesco, Morrison’s, Asda, Sainsburys, Waitrose and Marks and Spencer. Aldi don’t do a half bottle, nor do Lidl, though they would have been able to enter if they did.

Tesco (Burnage) and Morrison’s were accomplished with no difficulty, since I go in Tesco fairly frequently anyway and we were passing the Morrison’s by Sheffield’s Parkway on the way to Phil’s one weekend.

A week or two later a leisurely Saturday afternoon turned into a trip to the big Asda (Hulme), and then a need to pick up lunch one Wednesday led to a stop at Sainsburys (Birchfields Road).  It wasn’t all plain sailing though.

I knew Waitrose would be tricky, since we don’t have many of those in the north. I heard Mrs Cake was heading to Wilmslow one weekend and enlisted her to pop in, even finding the product online in order to provide her with a picture and make sure she got the right one... only for her to change her plans and therefore scupper mine. That turned out to be the last I collected, having to call into the small one on Bridge Street after a Christmas party.

The same week Mrs Cake changed her plans with regard to Waitrose, a trip to the M&S in Trafford Centre proved fruitless. They didn’t have their standard blend in a 35cl bottle, and while they did have a 20cl of the 5 year old Kenmore variety I quickly decided that would be ineligible since it was one class above standard. I actually stood there for about 5 minutes, hoping I’d spot a 35cl standard blend if I looked hard enough, but in the end I had to admit defeat and wait until I could pop into the M&S in town – even managing to resist the temptation to buy the Kenmore just for the sake of it. Rules: sometimes they are good.

I finally had to exclude M&S altogether when I did make it to the big store in town, and they didn’t have a 35cl bottle. They do have it in 70cl, and I would really like to be able to compare it to all the others, but I’m sorry M&S, rules are rules so don’t go breakin em.

Pricing

More or less across the board, the blends were priced at a tempting and affordable £6.50 to £7. Asda, Tesco and Morrison’s inhabited the lower end of the scale, while Sainsburys consider themselves that 50p classier. Waitrose’s website states that theirs is £7, but that must be online and in the big stores, since I had to pay something like £7.35 (sorry, I forget exactly how much it was).

The real surprise though, was that I had to pay a ma-hoossive £8.35 for the Cooperative’s entry. At this stage I don’t know whether this is because I bought it from a small city centre store and whether it would have been cheaper say, in West Didsbury or whether it’s just that expensive. What I do know is that I don’t want to be collecting supermarket whiskies forever, so I just bought it anyway to hurry things along a little. What started out as a long term project to be completed whenever had quickly turned into an obsession as I clamoured to complete my collection and get the tasting underway. Time would tell whether it would be worth all the effort.

In total then, I spent £42.19 on 210cl of  standard supermarket blends.

Method

McKendrick's (Asda) vs Waitrose

So how would the test be carried out? I considered pouring all six into glasses at once and then just drinking them side by side, but I actually wanted a companion for this experiment. Enter David, fellow member of the Manchester Whisky Club, who was delighted to come over one Friday night and help out.

I would ideally have liked to have two rounds, three whiskies in each round with a winner being picked from each and facing each other in the final, but it turns out I only have 5 glencairn glasses. So instead, David came up with a winner stays on system, whereby we would each start with the same two samples, decide on a winner, and then compare it with the next sample until one was left standing at the end.

Before we could start the tasting though, let us consider another important factor, presentation.

Presentation

spirit wheel

I like that they all come in bottles of an identical size and shape. It means you can arrange them like this for interesting photographs. I actually like this bottle shape anyway, since it is clearly designed to fit snuggly into your jacket pocket, like a hip flask (though it isn’t shaped to fit your hip). If you see someone buying one of these, you just assume they’re going to drink it straight away, don’t you? Perhaps that’s why M&S don’t do one – they’re too classy for that kind of thing.

It is interesting to me to see the various similarities and differences. Both Tesco and Asda have gone for a traditional and professional look. Asda have actually gone so far as to name theirs McKendricks Whisky - lah-di-dah -  rather than just something generic like Blended Scotch or Select Reserve.

Sainsburys and Morrisons on the other hand, have gone for minimal fuss with a modern, uncluttered label, one depicting a distillery in a circular box and the other a thistle. Co-op have depicted a piper and included a silver medal from the IWSC (the only entry to do so), while Waitrose haven’t even bothered to include a generic Scottish image, but there you go.

I find it interesting that Asda and Tesco have specified that their product was aged for at least 3 years in oak barrels, since that’s a minimum requirement for calling it scotch whisky. So for whatever reason, the other supermarkets have chosen to eschew that information, presumably secure in the knowledge that their customers either know that already, or aren’t likely to be swayed by any lack of age statement and maturing information. I suppose if you’re buying an own brand blend, you’re not snooty about these things – since the only other option is to leave the supermarket and go to another one… not really worth it for the sake of an age statement.

Particularly amusing was that, when I searched for Asda’s standard blend on their website, it informed me that the 35cl bottle is frequently bought with Asda brown onions. Make of that what you will.

Colour

before...

This is weird. They are all exactly the same colour. There has to be caramel added, so presumably this represents an exact whisky colour profile that is considered to be most attractive to the consumer – though I can’t think why; I certainly don’t find it inspiring. This is whisky that is brown rather than an attractive pale gold or amber. One thing’s for sure, none of the supermarkets have decided to take a risk by being any different to any of the others. It makes you wonder whether the whisky is in fact the same. It will be a massive disappointment if that turns out to be the case.

Surprisingly, this uniformity doesn’t carry over into the glass. Yes, they are similar, but when we poured our first two samples (Asda and Waitrose), we noticed that the Waitrose was darker. Then, later we noticed that Tesco’s entry was closer to the Waitrose colour, but not as… shimmery.

Tasting

I had planned to break this next section down into categories of nose, palate and finish, but let’s be realistic; with all that booze floating about and only a very light tea consumed, we were starting to get hammered pretty quick and my notes became illegible and fragmented. I’ll just try and relate what I’ve got.

We started, as I said with Asda’s McKendrick’s and Waitrose. The nosing immediately revealed a startling difference. We liked Asda, but Waitrose gave a hit of nail varnish, caramel and molasses.

When we moved on to the tasting, we were immediately impressed with Asda. It is light and sweet, reminding me of the Ballantine’s Finest that I’d recently been enjoying. David said it had a ‘grittiness’ that he liked. I didn’t really understand and we had a brief discussion about how people seem to describe spirits they are trying for the first time as “smooth”, and how in a lot of cases I a) don’t know what they mean, and b) think they’re just making it up for something to say because smooth is considered good. David and I agreed we both like a degree of roughness to our spirits, a bit of burn.

Anyway, when it came to the Waitrose, we were both horrified. What the fuck is this? It’s minging. How dare they bottle this and pass it off as blended scotch? It reminded me very much of the Wall Street that I picked up in Vietnam. We concluded it had definitely been coloured with caramel spirit, and was devoid of any character or redeeming features. Waitrose, this is just awful.

So Asda was the clear (and unexpected) winner. We selected Tesco as the next contender, refilling our Asda glass, and swilling out the Waitrose one. I tried drinking the whole Waitrose sample, but it wasn’t nice, so I threw some of it down the sink. For the second round I poured smaller measures.

We noted that Tesco gave an impression of being artificially coloured on the nose, but it didn’t appear as shiny as Waitrose. When it came to tasting though, we concluded it was bad, though not quite as bad as the Waitrose had been.

Asda was victorious again, and would next face the Morrison’s offering. By this stage I was struggling to taste anything so we had to start sipping sparkling water in between samples to keep our tired palates awake.

Morrison’s proved to be fairly inoffensive on the nose, and on the palate a little harsh – but I liked that. It had a slightly dark flavour at the end, but while it was no match for Asda, it was actually quite pleasant.

Co-op was next up. As [easily] the most expensive of the competitors, you’d be hoping it would have a flavour profile to match. I’m going to give you direct quotes from my note book here:

“I like the Co-op, & [sic] I’m not sure if it’s Asda beating… It was agreed that Vince Vaughn is a twat… Yesh [sic] Co-Op not as good”.

Not as good, but fairly good nonetheless.

Finally then, we have Sainsburys. David proclaimed that this sample was identical to Asda, but I maintained that Asda just has a little something extra, that I’m going to call the edge. There was just a note about the Sainsburys that didn’t sit quite right. Nevertheless, a decent effort.

Before we move on to the verdict, I’d just like to share one more note from my book in direct quotation:

...more or less after.

“David is now unsure what he is drinking, while Neil is unsure of what went before.”

Yeah, we were pretty hammered and ready to start drinking the special stuff we’d been saving. David had brought an Amrut Fusion while the most special thing I had at the time was the Glen Scotia 16. It was about time we ordered some pizza also.

Verdict

When considering the verdict, you’ve got to ask yourself what was the purpose of all this anyway? Obviously I want to see which of the supermarkets has the best blended scotch, but to what purpose? I suppose I’m trying to use this as a benchmark. You see, it isn’t just blends that supermarkets produce their own versions of. There are also ultra-cheap blends, slightly more upmarket, even aged blends, single malts based on various of the distilling regions of Scotland then there are the different varieties of rum, brandy… so I’m wondering whether the quality of the standard blend might tell us something about all the other varieties of own brand alcohol. Sadly you know it won’t. I’ll ultimately have to try all the other varieties too. Since I’m destined to fail on that score, why don’t I break it down to the following questions, and see if that tells us anything:

Are these comparable in terms of quality to the cheap standard brands that they are emulating?

In some cases, yes. Asda, Morrison’s, Sainsburys and Co-op all supplied decent, even pleasant products. As I said, Asda seemed very similar to Ballantine’s, while a later tasting of Sainsburys brought to mind the standard Grant’s. They certainly aren’t to be sniffed at.

Would I buy any of these again?

I would definitely buy Asda’s again, without a doubt. The others listed as comparable above? Sure, if I only had £7, needed a bottle of scotch and only had access to one of those supermarkets. I would buy with confidence.

Is any one supermarket brand the daddy of them all?

Finally, yes. Asda confounded expectation, and is duly crowned the daddy of them all. Seriously, well done Asda and keep up the good work. All that remains is to give you the full list, in order of preference. Here you go:

1. McKendrick’s by Asda
2. Morrison’s Blended Scotch Whisky
3. Sainsburys Blended Scotch
4. Cooperative Blended Scotch
5. Tesco Special Reserve
6. Waitrose Blended Scotch

Thanks for joining me for this scientific experiment. I hope you’ve enjoyed it, found it useful, and that it has answered the question of whether supermarket blends are any good once and for all. Don’t worry, this isn’t the end by any stretch of the imagination. There are always more spirits to try, and David tells me he’d like to do the same thing with the super cheap supermarket blends, so I’ll be sure to let you know how that turns out.

See you again, then.

Postcript

While David and I agreed on the night, and while the results will stand as testament to that, in personal tastings since the Cooperative Blended Scotch has actually excelled, while Morrison’s, which placed 2^nd, has failed to impress, so I would actually like to elevate the Co-operative Blended Scotch to 2^nd, but that’s just for me. For the rest of you, take the ranking above.

Thanks, and see you next time.

Which is the best cheap blend... out of Cutty Sark and Ballantine's Finest?

I have been blessed with some decent cheap blends recently – specifically White Horse and Jim McEwan’s Symphony No 1 – and this has helped create a new air of excitement around procurement of single malt’s often disparaged brother. This week then, we have a very interesting matching between two of the more renowned cheap blends, Cutty Sark and Ballantine’s Finest.

Now, in previous matchings on this blog there has often been some disparity between contestants – one might be particularly expensive, one might have a more impressive ABV, but here we have probably the most even matching yet – the same weight class, if you will.

Both are the standard expressions of brands that extend much further and higher. Cutty Sark has expressions ranging up to a 25 year old, retailing around £110 at Master of Malt while Ballantine’s range includes a 30 year old which pushes up to around the £200 mark – and that’s before you get to the special editions, one of which I’ve seen on The Whisky Exhange at nearly a grand.

In terms of recommendations I’ve had, 101 Whiskies toTry Before You Die includes both the standard expression of Cutty Sark and the 25 year old as well as the 17 year old expression of Ballantine’s.

Sticking to the standard expressions though, Jim Murray rates the Ballantine’s very highly (96) and the Cutty Sark much less so (78).

So now it’s my turn.

Marketing Bumf

Cutty Sark is predominantly blended from Speyside single malts and ‘top quality’ grain whiskies, and aged (again, predominantly) in American oak casks. Their website states that, once matured, “the malts are blended together, as are the grain whiskies” and that this is a particular feature of Cutty Sark. Frankly I don’t see what’s so special about this, it sounds like the basic definition of a cheap blend to me, but at least they do provide some information. I doubt there are any producers who blend their spirit first and then age it since blending is used to achieve a certain taste profile – you don’t know what the spirit is going to taste like after you age it before you age it, if you get what I mean. Some producers though, do age their spirit, blend it and then age it again – I think they call that ‘marrying’ and I seem to recall Dewar’s doing it with their “Double Aged” expression. Cutty Sark is merely aged and then blended, it seems.

Ballantine’s reckon that their standard blend is a ‘taste to satisfy a modern style” - whatever that means. Nevertheless, all whiskies malt and grain are aged for “many a year” (read: at least 3) in “high quality” casks.

Pricing

As I say, both are standard expressions. I paid 11 euros for the Cutty Sark and £15 for Ballantine’s. On the Whisky Exchange you’re looking at just over £18 plus P&P on both counts.

 

Aesthetics

I know, not all that important, and they won’t figure in the overall verdict, but I do like a nicely presented whisky. My favourite of these two is the Ballantine’s. It just has a vintage look about it. I like the shape, I like the slightly brittle sound the bottle makes when you tap it, I like the weight and I like the label which is printed on a nice matt finish paper – like a tasteful wedding invitation. That has to rank as one of my favourite bottles of all time.

Colour

 

Little to choose between these. You probably can’t tell from the picture because the dark nights are drawing in and this was taken under artificial light in the kitchen, but Ballantine’s is marginally darker than Cutty Sark.

Nose

I found little on the nose, merely determining that Ballantine’s was slightly more fragrant, and possibly had a note of sherry. Even the Cutty Sark website gives up little: “grassy, fresh and fragrant” it says.

Palate

Sadly the Cutty Sark doesn’t give up too much to me on the palate, though on one occasion I got a hint of apple pie on my lips.

In contrast, there’s a lot going on with Ballantine’s Finest. In the first instance it has what I could call that classic whisky flavour that brings back memories of my first tentative steps into the whole genre. It is beautifully balanced, not too bitter, not too sweet. The grain, while evident is unobtrusive and the whole solution just sits softly and luxuriantly on the tongue – I think the Ballantine’s website would describe this as being ‘rounded’.

The only time I’ve noticed any defect with the Ballantine’s is if I drink it after a single malt. The grain becomes far more evident, but I wouldn’t tend to follow a single malt with a blend anyway (though that might be a test I can carry out from time to time). I would expect many a blend to suffer under those circumstances.

Finish

Ballantine’s has a particularly good finish; long, warming and complex while Cutty Sark’s is of acceptable length but just has that tell-tale rasp of grain about it.

Value and Verdict

Well, it’s nice to analyse, sitting there watching the football with two glasses of whisky, but it’s  better to enjoy. And what I mean by that is you don’t really know which is the better whisky until you have lived with it. Which one did you enjoy most throughout the bottle’s lifespan? Which one provided the ideal accompaniment to the situation? Did one develop and deepen as familiarity grew? These are the things that really matter, and what I can tell you is that my favourite is still the Ballantine’s. I would be loath however to pay £18 plus P & P for either but at the prices I paid, both are great value.

Shall we have a look at what everyone in the world is saying about them on the internet, then? There’s certainly more to be found concerning the Ballantine’s, but is it better?

Ballantine’s:

The consensus appears to be fond admiration among customer reviews but almost snooty disapproval among bloggers, who say it’s only good for mixing. One said that it’s one of those blends that people discover early in life and then stick to, and the implication is that this is a bad thing – but if you find your favourite early in life and nothing matches up to it, that’s what you’re going to continue drinking after a while, isn’ it? Just a few nutty comments for you, then:

From Master of Malt

“I have a bottle more than 40 years old” So? Aside from the fact that whisky doesn’t age in the bottle… why haven’t you drunk it?

“It’s so sexy and fine just like man.” For some reason I read this in a foreign accent.

From For Peat’s Sake

Nose

“Grandad's garage.” Show me on the doll where granddad touched you.

Body

“eager to download flavor to your brain.” Possibly a review of the Ballantine’s Finest Digital from the future.

Overall

“in company of women its rated as an industrial strength panty-remover.” If that’s true, what  are you waiting for?... I’m just imagining a factory where panties are removed on an industrial scale…

“Something to try on the girlfriend.” Presumably he’s read the review above. Sadly no instructions are provided. For the record, Mrs Cake enjoyed the Ballantine’s, but underwear remained in place.I think wine and champagne are more suited to the unsheathing of lady parts than any particular whisky, should you want my advice.

Cutty Sark:

Appreciated for its affordability, but generally disparaged from all quarters. Even so, it doesn’t inspire the same level of creativity that the Ballantine’s does. Just a few  amusing comments so far:

From Amazon

“Best described as a mix of urine and white wine.” One of the world’s least popular cocktails.

From The Whisky Exchange

“This is truly the best whiskey I have ever tasted and not expensive too. Its light and very refreshing. I like to have CS during summer with just soda.” I don’t know why people feel they are qualified to review something they drink with soda.

“I've had worse. Tried it once alongside a no-age-statement Glenfidditch [sic]. Cutty won. To me this whisky kind of tastes like vegetable juice.”

So, I suppose that’ll do. Thanks for joining me. In summary, over its life the Ballantine’s Finest provided many enjoyable moments, and I’ll definitely consider repeating the purchase next time I can’t find a blend to buy. I strongly suspect I’ll be investing in the 17 year old at some point also.

It's another late post from me so once again, sorry about that. I have a quiet weekend of drinking coming up in which I might think about opening something new. The countdown starts now to opening the 32 year Bunnahabhain... er... 9 days and counting... look out for that on Twitter. Laters.

Jim Murray's Whisky Bible 2013 Review

Christmas before last, the [then] soon to be Mrs Cake bought me my first Whisky guide; 101 Whiskies to Try Before You Die, which I have referenced on this blog previously, and even dissected in great detail. You may remember (or be interested to know, if you don’t want to read any of my previous pieces) that, while I found the contents of that book fascinating, I was finding its recommendations to be disappointing. It left me wondering where to turn for advice when it came to buying a new bottle (this was long before getting involved in the local Manchester Whisky Club), so when the missus asked what I would like for Christmas last year, I said a new whisky guide. She duly obliged, and what she came up with was Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible 2013.

I’ve dipped into this many times already, and wow, he sure has a lot to say. And boy, does he like whisky. I mean, I like whisky, but leafing through these pages that contain reviews (some brief, some less so) of over 4500 whiskies, I started to think that maybe I don’t like whisky all that much after all. Why? Notwithstanding that I would be bored of anything if I’d had to try 4500 varieties of it; the first thing is Jim’s scoring system.

He scores each whisky out of 25 for nose, taste, finish and balance, and combines these scores to give a total out of 100. I’ve been wondering why he scores them out of 25, and can only conclude that this is for the express purpose of combining to make a score out of 100 and when you think about it, when you have over 4000 contenders, awarding up to 5 stars just doesn’t seem adequate. Similarly, scoring each component out of 5 to make a total score out of 20 wouldn’t do; more separation is necessary.

Where this logic falls apart though (apart from the idea that four different components should be weighted equally), is that from what I’ve read so far (that’s all the section on single malt scotch, blended scotch, Irish whisky and selected highlights of the rest), the lowest score any individual whisky achieved was in the mid 50s – and that was an anomaly, most of the others are in the 80s and 90s. The next lowest is something like 68*. 

Now, 68% isn’t going to get you an A in your GCSEs, but it will get you a good second class degree and it isn’t that bad – in fact, you’d be disappointed you hadn’t gotten a first if you’d been averaging 68. It works out to an average of 17 out of 25 for each component, and I think 17 out of 25 is pretty good. If you scored that in each round of a pub quiz (probably the only other thing I can think of that could possibly be scored out of 25), you would probably win. I don’t see then, how there can’t be a whisky that’s so bad it only scores 32. Even Aldi’s Higland Earl, about which Murray says, 'I would have scored this higher if it had been labelled grain whisky; the malt is silent' scores 77.

Murray has written an editorial at the beginning, in which he bemoans the practice of using sherry casks that have been sterilised with sulphur candles. Apparently this has been going on for 20 years, and for some reason few people in the distilling industry are aware that it is ruining whole generations of scotch. Murray is well aware of it though. He can smell and taste the sulphur, and he says that there are a number of whiskies, aged in sherry casks, that have been ruined by this practice – ruined. Yet he won’t score any of them below 50 out of 100.

I’m not saying he’s making this shit about sulphur up. I believe him (though I’m yet to experience it myself). I just think maybe his scoring should be more reflective of that. Is it a bad whisky? Yes. So shouldn’t something that is actually bad be scored say, less than 50%?

Some time ago I received a particular bottle as a present which shall remain a secret so as to protect the feelings of the generous donor. I tried my very best to like it, but seriously, it was the worst whisky I have ever tasted. It tasted metallic, and that metallic taste just dominated everything.

I was keen to see what Jim Murray thought when I received his book, so it was one of the first things I looked up. I could see there are actually a lot of bottlings by this distillery, and many score in the high 80s and into the 90s.

Pretty good, but I can see that the one I had tried scored in the middle 80s. Surely that couldn’t be right? That’s actually better than a number of (to my mind) finer whiskies that I’ve enjoyed very much – like the Glenfarclas 10.

What’s more, it’s one of the Sherry Cask editions that received the lowest overall score of 50 something. So mine was supposed to be nice. I’ve checked, and sulphur isn’t metallic, so that’s probably not what I was tasting. So what does this mean? Presumably it means this distillery’s output  isn’t to my personal taste, and perhaps I should follow my original intention to avoid purchasing any further bottlings, at least until I’ve tried one that I like.

Murray goes on to say that many people can’t taste or smell sulphur anyway… perhaps I’m one of them? Though I’m sure I’ve smelled sulphur at some point in my life previously – it stinks doesn’t it? Like rotten eggs?

I suppose I still have to find out whether I’m susceptible to having my whisky ruined by sulphur. I don’t think I’ve tried many that have been aged in sherry casks, and I haven’t been able to detect it in the few I have tried. Some distilleries don’t use casks contaminated in this way anyway, but it seems the only way of knowing which ones do is by reading Jim’s book, so while it’s tempting to avoid any sherry cask whiskies, those have been the ones I’ve been enjoying in random samplings so… I don’t know what to do. I’m certainly reluctant to spend more than £40 on a sherried scotch anyway…

So as I said, Jim seems to love his whisky far more than I do. If I go to a tasting and try 6 different whiskies, instead of coming away with an idea of what I might buy next time, I come away with a list of 6 whiskies I’m not going to spend my hard-earned on. He’s a real enthusiast, with some refreshing viewpoints, occasionally witty, and he doesn’t come across as a whisky snob. What gives me that idea? He loves blends. In fact, he claims that he judges blends by stricter standards than single malts, since he thinks that in blending you should be able to achieve so much more.

I’m not sure I’m inclined to agree, since most blends include a hefty proportion of grain whisky (50 or 60%), that from what I can tell has a harsh taste that has somewhat tended to stand out  - or at least lope about conspicuously in the background - in many of the blends I’ve tried (I haven’t tried any particularly expensive ones as yet).

Jim should know better than me though, and that doesn’t bother him. He’s clearly a fan of the grain whisky too (he’s included a section for reviewing grain whiskies, and they also score well), but he’s especially a fan of the blend. Bells, Teachers, Aldi’s Highland Black, The Black Grouse… they all score really well – especially the Black Grouse, which manages a stunning 94.5. I certainly wasn’t that impressed by it, but clearly I must be an idiot. 

He reviews just about everything, and that’s part of what makes this book so accessible. If you’re something of a newcomer to whisky, and you pick up 101 Whiskies to Try Before You Die, you might find you’ve tried two or three, so you don’t have much of a reference point for the rest of the book, but you do have a lot of catching up to do. Because Jim Murray reviews everything (a further 1350 new whiskies were tried for this edition alone – did he try four a day for a year? And if so, doesn’t that cast some doubt on the reliability of the review?), there’s already a whole slew of things in there that you’re familiar with, and you can while away a good deal of your Christmas holiday downtime just flicking through it.

There is no price guide however, so you can’t really use it to plan your next purchase in advance, unless you happen to be accessing the internet at the same time. That also means that all whiskies are judged to the same standards, which is good in one way, but less so when you want to consider value because, let’s face it; it makes a difference. No, this whisky isn’t as good as that one, but this one was £13 while that one costs £100. I’m yet to determine whether any whisky can justify an astronomical price tag when I could buy one of my current favourites for £35 to £45.

You might find, like I often did, that Jim doesn’t rate your favourite whiskies as highly as you do, but you know, that’s fine. It’s actually refreshing how he’ll review something like Lidl’s own brand scotch, and score it really well. It gives you the confidence to buy that staggeringly cheap blend, and actually think that it might be ok because someone of his standing is willing to try it, review it with the same attention that he devotes to premium brands, and score it well.

But this is also the problem, though perhaps only for me. I don’t fall in love with every whisky I try. Perhaps I’m setting my standards too high, but if not disappointed, I’m often non-plussed when I try a new whisky, and all I’m doing is searching for that special and sadly rare liquor that I’m going to savour to the very last drop and perhaps even pine for when it’s gone – or want to buy again instead of trying something entirely new. That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Sometimes I feel I’m not even enjoying my glass of scotch, so I certainly wouldn’t be scoring nearly everything in excess of 80 out of 100 (that’s 4 out of 5, which if we were talking books, films or music would signify an excellent score – assuming you reserve top marks for the very select few, as I would).

Don’t think I’m having a go here, because this book is fascinating, but rather than answering all the questions, it leaves me with more.

Get this; it’s supposed to be a whisky bible, so you’d think therefore, that it will be a reference text you can rely on. But no. The impression I get from reading it is that Jim’s opinion of whisky can vary greatly over time – even on something as standard as a bottle of The Famous Grouse. He might say something like, “this has improved greatly since the last time I tried it…”

Now I know the quality of whisky can vary to some extent from one bottling to another, but you’d expect a blend to be pretty consistent. My enjoyment of a whisky can vary from one tasting to the next –from the same bottle. So Jim is clearly well able to rely on his tasting faculties, and treat his conclusions as absolute.

If I tried a glass of the Famous Grouse on one occasion and thought it average, but tried another one another time, and liked it, I’d assume it was something to do with myself or the specific circumstances. Jim just says, “this bottle is better than that one I had last time” – presumably because the method described in his tasting guide is so infallible.

When Jim says in his review of Johnnie Walker Red though, that he had one at an airport and he was overcome by peat, and that it was the earthiest he had tasted in decades… are we to assume he followed all the preliminary steps of his tasting guide, or was his impression open to the same chaos elements that are present when you don’t drink a strong coffee first, find a room with no distractions, haven't recently washed your hands, or have a glencairn glass (does he request one even in airports?) to hand?

Regardless of instances like this, how can you rely on Jim’s recommendation when you might be buying a bottle from the batch he didn’t like? How are you supposed to know?

Another problem is that sometimes it’s difficult to know whether you’ve got a particular bottle. Case in point; Bladnoch 10 yr old. He scores it brilliantly, which pleased me because I’d acquired a quarter of a bottle. On closer inspection though, he specifies that it’s a ‘Flora and Fauna’ bottling, which my bottle didn’t give any indication of being. Then I noticed that he had specified that his was bottled at 43%, while my bottle stated 46%, so clearly they weren’t the same. How different are they? Well, I don’t know, but I suppose it doesn’t matter too much because the bottle I’ve got is very classy; delicate and sweet (just how I like my women).

A look at The Whisky Exchange provided an answer – my bottle retails at around £35, while the ‘Flora and Fauna’ bottling, which is the last Diageo bottling is listed (at time of writing) at £75. It would be nice to know without having to do further research though – I’m used to books giving all the information, not just part of it. I’d also like to know, given that the Flora and Fauna bottling that Murray is reviewing gets 94 out of 100, what mine would score – but I’m not going to buy the 2014 guide to find out (I’ll just have a quick look in Waterstones…).

Examples like this are endemic throughout the book. Is this the bottle I’ve got? Is this the bottle I’m considering buying at my local whisky specialist? Is this the particular bottling I picked up at that distillery? He doesn’t provide quite enough information to be able to make you sure (see also Suntory Hakushu 12, later).

Again, I’m not denying Jim’s credentials. He certainly drops enough knowledge and has a lot to say. I don’t think you can fake that, it just means I can’t necessarily rely on the information in the book from one year to the next. What if next year, I buy a bottle of something based on Jim’s recommendation, but it turns out to be terrible, only I didn’t know because Jim’s review wasn’t current enough, or I got an older bottling, or perhaps he changed his opinion in 2014’s guide?

So as I say, extremely interesting, but perhaps a bible to be treated with the same reverence that a modern, non-church-going Christian would treat their Bible. That is, Adam and Eve? I don’t think so. Don’t be getting all Westboro Baptists’ Church about this.

Jim is drawing on 30 years of tasting experience, and he does point out that his scores are very personal, and based upon that. He obviously has a deep familiarity with many of the distilleries and brands that he is reviewing, and bases his score around what he has come to expect from any single producer – so there is ultimately little chance that you would agree with all that much.

To be fair, it doesn’t make the book any less useful or interesting, so I’m just going to have to take it for what it is, and get on with it.

Now, I still haven’t quite seen the point in adding water to whisky, as I know a lot of whisky experts tell you to do – except in the case of cask strength expressions, of course. I understand, and from experimentation with Caol Ila’s cask strengthvariety, agree that the strength of the alcohol is likely to overpower the subtle flavours and aromas in the whisky. One thing that strikes me as strange then about Jim’s book is that he asserts that he tests every whisky, as it is. He doesn’t add ice or water, and the rationale is that there can be no discrepancy between what he is tasting and what you are. That’s great until you think that he must be reviewing the cask strength whiskies under those same guidelines. So how can he provide a sound review of a cask strength whisky – some of which are more than 60% ABV, and intended for the addition of water – when most of its subtleties and nuances are being masked by strong alcohol? Well, presumably he can’t.

He could add half a measure of water to a double measure of cask strength whisky though, and specify that he did. But no. Surely, if his reviews are supposed to hold water (so to speak), he needs to try several stages of dilution and then comment on the overall quality, so that it doesn’t matter whether you add the same amount of water as he does. It’s just one of those things that you’d think a whisky aficionado would have to address – what’s the point in me reviewing this if I’m not allowing it to develop fully?

I suspect that Jim is experienced enough to be able to provide a full review of a whisky from one taste, whereas I would have to drink the whole bottle before giving a definitive (and admittedly less detailed) review.

I suppose the ultimate indicator of how good a guidebook is, is in the results of using it. Did you agree with its recommendations? I have had chance now to dip into it and use it for research when I know what kind of thing I’m looking for, and just require something to give me a definite push one way or another, and as I said, because it’s scope is so extensive, I’ve already formed opinions on some of its subjects, so let’s break this down to specifics. Here’s some comments on some of the whiskies both Jim and I have tried:

Laphroaig 10/Quarter Cask

Laphroaig 10 was one of the first whiskies I ever tried, and I immediately fell in love with it, but the Quarter Cask I actually felt was lacking in everything that made the 10 so great. Jim scores the 10 year old 90 (while noting that it is a favourite of Prince Charles), and the Quarter Cask 96.

Caol Ila 12/18

12 is one of my absolute favourites – sweet, smoky and luxurious – and as such provides a benchmark for the opinions of anyone that reviews whisky. What I’m essentially saying is if you don’t rate the Caol Ila 12, your opinion means nothing to me.  The 18 year old on the other hand was quite a disappointment, with a bitter finish that belied it’s extravagant price tag. That currently stands as the most expensive bottle I ever bought.

In Murray’s book, the 12 scores what is in my opinion, a modest 89 while the 18 scores only 80 – with the stipulation that there is too much oil. 80 seems quite fair, and consistent with Jim’s scoring system.

Black Grouse

This one doesn’t just come recommended by Jim; it’s also in the 101 Whiskies… guide. I just don’t get what all the fuss is about. Jim calls it “a real treasure” and scores it a 94. Frankly that’s shocking. If you read that, and then see you can get it for £18, you’re going to buy it, aren’t you? Sorry, but there is no way this is better than the Laphroaig  10 and the Caol Ila 12. No way – even when you take the price into account.

Talisker 10

Another that is almost universally recommended. I think it’s decent but I’m not overly enthused. Jim rates it almost as highly as the Black Grouse, with a 93. He also tastes some Cumberland sausage in there. For the record, I think it is way better than the Black Grouse, but would still score it below a 93… were I able to put numerical values on these things.

Glenmorangie Original

I was surprised to find I enjoyed this very much. Great value. Jim calls it one of the greats, and scores it a 94. I’m not sure it’s that good, but still…

Cutty Sark

I think Jim and I are actually in synch here. Distinctly average, I felt. Not bad for the price I paid, I suppose, but not worth the price you pay in the UK. Jim says it has a ‘nipping furriness’, which I’m not going to disagree with despite not having any way of truly knowing what he means, and gives it 78.

Glenfarclas 10

I enjoyed this very much, but here it scores only 80, and is described as “sweaty” with an odd finish.

Suntory Hakushu 12

I bought this based largely on Jim’s recommendation, though that recommendation was supported by a number of online sources. I did enjoy it, but didn’t quite feel it lived up to the hype. There are three Hakushu 12s listed in Jim’s book. The only way I could identify which one might be mine was by the ABV of 43%. That is actually the best of the three, scoring 95.5. It is apparently one of the most complex and clever 12 year olds in the world, though I felt it had a slight bitterness in the finish that detracted from its oily mouthfeel and sweet entry.

DYC 8

One I actually sought out, based on Jim’s recommendation. I can’t understand what he saw in it. 90 points, ‘clean and cleverly constructed’. I would score it much lower and change ‘clean and cleverly constructed’ to ‘aniseedy and weird’. I rank it as the worst blend I’ve ever owned and the second worst overall whisky.

Ardbeg 10

This is an immense malt and I can only agree with Jim’s glowing opinion of it. 97 points he gives it. I have no problem with that other than that there are only 3 more points a whisky can occupy to be better than it. So it can only possibly get 3 better than Ardbeg 10.

Ballantine’s Finest

A little research I did recently for an upcoming post featuring Balantine’s Finest found that customer reviews on whisky retail sites held it in high regard while bloggers and more formal critics… didn’t. For the record, I have been enjoying the Finest very much, and would place it at 3^rd in my all time blended scotch rankings. Jim calls it the work of a blender at the top of its game and scores it 96. I don’t think it’s quite that good – again, when compared with lower scores for Laphroaig and Caol Ila, and especially when he claims to score blends more harshly than single malts.

Conclusion

So what can you take away from this? Certainly that you can’t treat the guide as an all-knowing oracle that you could rely on to find you a delicious whisky, but you can still refer to it from time to time. It’s all about figuring out what you think for yourself anyway, isn’t it?

Jim has a lot to teach you, and will show you that you still have a lot to learn. He’s not going to reveal all the secrets of the universe but now at least now you know how big the universe is (fucking big). Go out and explore for yourself and see if you can’t discover a few things that aren’t even in the book.

*In fact, the lowest it gets is New Zealand's Kiwi Whisky which scores only 37.

That's it for this week. If you made it this far, thanks for reading. Next week, I promise, will be shorter. Till then.