riding the single malt wave
Inside a book on the history of one of Scotland’s oldest family-owned distilleries the inscription reads, “To Evan: Calgary’s Glenfarclas Ambassador.” I smiled when my oldest son showed me the book during our Christmas holiday, thinking about the history that leads to the inscription.
When we moved to Creston in 1979,one of the drinks of choice among my co-workers and their spouses was single malt whisky. (Note: it’s whisky without the E, in the British Isles and Commonwealth countries. In the United States, it’s whiskey.) At that time there were likely only two choices on the liquor store shelf: Glenfiddich and Glenfiddich.
It’s hard to believe that it was only in the 1960s that Glenfiddich began to market single malt whisky (a loosely-defined phrase for a whisky made in a single distillery from malted barley). Until then, references to “scotch” meant whiskys blended from the products of two or more distilleries.
The aforementioned Evan was born on a Friday the 13th in 1980. Soon after I was presented with a “new father’s emergency kit”. Included were a number of small bottles with labels like “baby oil” and “gripe water”. My co-workers gleefully pointed out that the bottles’ contents had all been replaced with Glenfiddich. Emergency, indeed!
Evan, senior bartender and budding supervisor at the Calgary Petroleum Club, is a very knowledgeable wine guy. But when it comes to single malt whisky, he’s a walking encyclopedia. He is often hired to pour at whisky events, often by the local Glenfarclas importer. One of the items on my admittedly lengthy and ever-changing bucket list is to travel to Scotland with him so that we can visit some of our favourite distilleries. He wouldn’t need much persuasion.
Back to the emergence of single malt whisky. Until distillers like Glenfiddich began to promote whisky made only in their distillery, the market thought of “scotch” was Chivas Regal and the like. Distilleries were closing at a remarkable rate as small, family-owned enterprises being unable to cope with the challenges of what had become, by necessity, an international market.
Today, a handful of global corporations dominate the whisky landscape, most of which have holdings of luxury brands from around the world.
But what about the whisky itself? Water is the first key. Initially, it is added to barley to promote its germination, a process called malting. Later once the germinated grain is dried, it is mixed once again with water to create a mash, which then is then fermented, with yeast, converting sugars into alcohol. Distilation takes place, sometimes three times and result is a liquid with a 60 to 70 per cent alcohol content. The spirit is then aged in oak casks for a minimum of three years and often much longer. Typically, the casks are of American oak and have been used at least once to age bourbon.
There are many variations along the way that make one distillery’s product different from others. In drying the sprouted barley, for instance, the heat might be provided by burning peat, which imparts a smoky flavour. In the past, distilleries were built in close proximity to where necessary ingredients were grown or found. Hence the handful of whisky makers on the tiny island of Islay (eye-lah), where peat is cut from bogs and used to influence the flavour of the malt. An Islay whisky is almost certain to have a heavy dose of smoke. Aged whiskys might also be put into different casks, ones that have used for sherry, for instance, to add more flavour and complexity before bottling.
Today the international market is lapping up single malts at an unprecedented rate. Production at existing distilleries is being amped up, old and unused distilleries are being brought into production again and new ones are under construction. It’s all been a tremendous boost to the Scottish rural economy, with distillery tourism have pretty much the same appeal as wine tourism.
As the Scots say, Slainte!
January 2013 – La Dolce Vita
When we moved to Creston in 1979,one of the drinks of choice among my co-workers and their spouses was single malt whisky. (Note: it’s whisky without the E, in the British Isles and Commonwealth countries. In the United States, it’s whiskey.) At that time there were likely only two choices on the liquor store shelf: Glenfiddich and Glenfiddich.
It’s hard to believe that it was only in the 1960s that Glenfiddich began to market single malt whisky (a loosely-defined phrase for a whisky made in a single distillery from malted barley). Until then, references to “scotch” meant whiskys blended from the products of two or more distilleries.
The aforementioned Evan was born on a Friday the 13th in 1980. Soon after I was presented with a “new father’s emergency kit”. Included were a number of small bottles with labels like “baby oil” and “gripe water”. My co-workers gleefully pointed out that the bottles’ contents had all been replaced with Glenfiddich. Emergency, indeed!
Evan, senior bartender and budding supervisor at the Calgary Petroleum Club, is a very knowledgeable wine guy. But when it comes to single malt whisky, he’s a walking encyclopedia. He is often hired to pour at whisky events, often by the local Glenfarclas importer. One of the items on my admittedly lengthy and ever-changing bucket list is to travel to Scotland with him so that we can visit some of our favourite distilleries. He wouldn’t need much persuasion.
Back to the emergence of single malt whisky. Until distillers like Glenfiddich began to promote whisky made only in their distillery, the market thought of “scotch” was Chivas Regal and the like. Distilleries were closing at a remarkable rate as small, family-owned enterprises being unable to cope with the challenges of what had become, by necessity, an international market.
Today, a handful of global corporations dominate the whisky landscape, most of which have holdings of luxury brands from around the world.
But what about the whisky itself? Water is the first key. Initially, it is added to barley to promote its germination, a process called malting. Later once the germinated grain is dried, it is mixed once again with water to create a mash, which then is then fermented, with yeast, converting sugars into alcohol. Distilation takes place, sometimes three times and result is a liquid with a 60 to 70 per cent alcohol content. The spirit is then aged in oak casks for a minimum of three years and often much longer. Typically, the casks are of American oak and have been used at least once to age bourbon.
There are many variations along the way that make one distillery’s product different from others. In drying the sprouted barley, for instance, the heat might be provided by burning peat, which imparts a smoky flavour. In the past, distilleries were built in close proximity to where necessary ingredients were grown or found. Hence the handful of whisky makers on the tiny island of Islay (eye-lah), where peat is cut from bogs and used to influence the flavour of the malt. An Islay whisky is almost certain to have a heavy dose of smoke. Aged whiskys might also be put into different casks, ones that have used for sherry, for instance, to add more flavour and complexity before bottling.
Today the international market is lapping up single malts at an unprecedented rate. Production at existing distilleries is being amped up, old and unused distilleries are being brought into production again and new ones are under construction. It’s all been a tremendous boost to the Scottish rural economy, with distillery tourism have pretty much the same appeal as wine tourism.
As the Scots say, Slainte!
January 2013 – La Dolce Vita
The world catches on to the spirits of Okanagan
Obsession isn’t necessarily a bad thing, despite its common association with what can be a debilitating disorder. It can be an asset that leads to all kinds of unanticipated benefits.
The scene? The 2013 World Spirit Awards, held in Klagenfurt, Austria last month. Okanagan Spirits master distiller Peter von Hahn has entered 10 spirits made from BC fruit.
The result? He walks away with a double gold medal, four gold medals and five silver medals for his liqueurs, eaus de vie, fruit brandies, aquavit and absinthe. Black Currant Liqueur, the double gold winner, earns a 97.7 score, the highest in the history of the competition. It also wins the Spirit of the Year award.
Does it get any better? Yep. Von Hahn and his team also walk away with the distinction of being designated as North America’s only World Class Distillery.
Can it possibly get better than that? Yep again. Okanagan Spirits is named the Distillery of the Year.
Wow! When we visited the tasting room and distillery in Kelowna (the original is in Vernon) last year we were highly impressed with every aspect of our visit. Superb products, great service, lovely room. And we left, purchases in hand, knowing that BC has a very special treasure in Peter von Hahn, whose unstinting commitment to quality and his unwavering belief in BC fruit have put Okanagan Spirits on an upward trajectory since the first drops of alcohol emerged from those gorgeous copper stills.
"This level of recognition puts us along side a very elite group of world class distillers who are the superstars of the industry,” von Hahn said in a press release. "It was an amazing honour a few years ago, when we became Canada's only Master Class Distillery, but to surpass that this year with becoming North Americas only World Class Distillery, and being named the World Spirits Awards Distillery of the Year is simply astounding."
Okanagan spirits is a craft distillery, producing in relatively small batches, so its bottles aren’t found on every store shelf. Too bad, because each of the 25 different types of alcohol are made from 100 per cent BC fruit and grain, making the distillery a great example of how well this province does with its tiny (a couple per cent) proportion of aerable land.
When I got the news about the recent awards, I was immediately transported back to last spring, when Tabletree Black Cherry Juice was named the best pure fruit juice in the world. Clearly BC entrepreneurs have no need to take a back seat to anyone, anywhere.
Most surprising to me is that Okanagan Spirits won these accolades without even having entered some of my favourites. Last year I created the “Tabletreeni” in honour of the Tabletree award. It consisted of Pear Vodka and Sea Buckthorn Liqueur, both from OS, and the honoured Black Cherry Juice. The Pear Vodka, which I think sold out within weeks of its release, was incredibly smooth and aromatic.
For the record, the OS gold medals were for Absinthe Classic, Aquavit, and Cherry and Raspberry Liqueurs. Silver medals went to Pear Williams Yellow, Bradshaw Plum, Plum Wood Aged, Apple Wood Aged and Cherry Staccato.
Last words to von Hahn: "I had previously stated that we needed to dream big to achieve success at an awards event of this caliber, and I guess that big dream came true, placing us directly on top of the world stage of craft spirit production."
April 2013 - La Dolce Vita
The scene? The 2013 World Spirit Awards, held in Klagenfurt, Austria last month. Okanagan Spirits master distiller Peter von Hahn has entered 10 spirits made from BC fruit.
The result? He walks away with a double gold medal, four gold medals and five silver medals for his liqueurs, eaus de vie, fruit brandies, aquavit and absinthe. Black Currant Liqueur, the double gold winner, earns a 97.7 score, the highest in the history of the competition. It also wins the Spirit of the Year award.
Does it get any better? Yep. Von Hahn and his team also walk away with the distinction of being designated as North America’s only World Class Distillery.
Can it possibly get better than that? Yep again. Okanagan Spirits is named the Distillery of the Year.
Wow! When we visited the tasting room and distillery in Kelowna (the original is in Vernon) last year we were highly impressed with every aspect of our visit. Superb products, great service, lovely room. And we left, purchases in hand, knowing that BC has a very special treasure in Peter von Hahn, whose unstinting commitment to quality and his unwavering belief in BC fruit have put Okanagan Spirits on an upward trajectory since the first drops of alcohol emerged from those gorgeous copper stills.
"This level of recognition puts us along side a very elite group of world class distillers who are the superstars of the industry,” von Hahn said in a press release. "It was an amazing honour a few years ago, when we became Canada's only Master Class Distillery, but to surpass that this year with becoming North Americas only World Class Distillery, and being named the World Spirits Awards Distillery of the Year is simply astounding."
Okanagan spirits is a craft distillery, producing in relatively small batches, so its bottles aren’t found on every store shelf. Too bad, because each of the 25 different types of alcohol are made from 100 per cent BC fruit and grain, making the distillery a great example of how well this province does with its tiny (a couple per cent) proportion of aerable land.
When I got the news about the recent awards, I was immediately transported back to last spring, when Tabletree Black Cherry Juice was named the best pure fruit juice in the world. Clearly BC entrepreneurs have no need to take a back seat to anyone, anywhere.
Most surprising to me is that Okanagan Spirits won these accolades without even having entered some of my favourites. Last year I created the “Tabletreeni” in honour of the Tabletree award. It consisted of Pear Vodka and Sea Buckthorn Liqueur, both from OS, and the honoured Black Cherry Juice. The Pear Vodka, which I think sold out within weeks of its release, was incredibly smooth and aromatic.
For the record, the OS gold medals were for Absinthe Classic, Aquavit, and Cherry and Raspberry Liqueurs. Silver medals went to Pear Williams Yellow, Bradshaw Plum, Plum Wood Aged, Apple Wood Aged and Cherry Staccato.
Last words to von Hahn: "I had previously stated that we needed to dream big to achieve success at an awards event of this caliber, and I guess that big dream came true, placing us directly on top of the world stage of craft spirit production."
April 2013 - La Dolce Vita
catching the spirits of summer
On the oh-so-rare sunny and warm afternoons we have had this spring, my wife has usually suggested “a G and T on the deck” before dinner. It’s not so much an actual drink as a code phrase for “sit and enjoy the sunshine”.
The fact is, neither of us is a huge fan of “traditional” (another code word, this time for “industrial”) gin. What I usually mix is a vodka and tonic with a slice of slime (and, occasionally, a dash of lime cordial) because we don’t always have gin in the cupboard.
Isn’t it funny how we take things for granted? For all these years we’ve been buying Beefeaters, Gordon’s, Bombay and the like and they are really only drinkable with mixes. A little vermouth for a martini, perhaps, or tonic.
Then, more recently, we have begun to discover gin made by small distilleries and the difference is akin to night and day. My favourite example is Phrog, made by Island Spirits Distillery on Hornby Island. This is a whole new world of gin, one that I wouldn’t even consider drinking in any other way than neat. It is smooth with a huge array of botanical flavours. With Phrog, my summer-afternoon-on-the-deck approach is to keep it in the freezer and sip it ice-cold. Most alcoholic beverages can’t show their flavours and aromas when they are served too cold but Phrog more than holds its own at low temperatures.
And now, apparently, there is another consideration when it comes to gin and tonics. This spring I was doing a phone interview for a story on Okaganan Spirits and I was told that the distillery now carries “real” tonic, because the usual Schweppes from the grocery store is chemically and harsh. And here I thought that was what tonic is supposed to taste like! So my next mission is to find different samples of tonic to try them for myself.
Luckily for consumers, small distilleries have been cropping up all over the place and many are producing wonderful products. We seem to have entered into a golden age for gin and vodka, which seem to have gained new momentum from the introduction of these small producers, who are much more innovative and experimental than the large ones. Many are using local herbs to add to the flavours.
A few weeks ago, we were at the home of a friend who showed me a gift she had recently received. It was, she said, the best gin she had ever tasted. The Botanist, said the label. But then my eyebrows raised when I read the print beneath. Islay dry gin. That really caught my interest because single malt whisky from Islay (pronounced eye-la), a small Scottish island, is my favourite. Gin from Islay, I wondered. I squinted to read the fine print and learned, to my great surprise, that the maker is Bruichladdich (brook-laddie), maker of some of my favourite single malts.
“For this, the Botanist, small-batch, artisanal Islay gin we use nine of the classic gin aromatics — orris root, cassia bark, coriander seed, etc. — and augment these with a heady harvest of 22 wild, native island botanicals, hand-picked by our expert foraging team from the windswept hills, peat bogs and Atlantic shores of this Hebridean island of Islay,” it says on the company’s website.” Nine classic aromatics and 22 native ones. Wow! I can’t wait to get to a liquor store that carries this one.
As a general rule, I’m not a big fan of mixed drinks, in part because one often needs to buy so many ingredients. Consider the Singapore Sling recipe in the current BC Liquor Stores Taste magazine. Gin, cherry liqueur, Cointreau, Benedictine, pineapple juice, fresh lime juice, angostura bitters — these are the recipes that result in bulging liquor cabinets and refrigerators. Personally, if I was thirsty for a Sling, I’d head for a lounge.
But I can definitely find room for a bottle of Phrog or the Botanist, and maybe some really good tonic. Then all we would need are some hot summer days.
July 2012 - La Dolce Vita
The fact is, neither of us is a huge fan of “traditional” (another code word, this time for “industrial”) gin. What I usually mix is a vodka and tonic with a slice of slime (and, occasionally, a dash of lime cordial) because we don’t always have gin in the cupboard.
Isn’t it funny how we take things for granted? For all these years we’ve been buying Beefeaters, Gordon’s, Bombay and the like and they are really only drinkable with mixes. A little vermouth for a martini, perhaps, or tonic.
Then, more recently, we have begun to discover gin made by small distilleries and the difference is akin to night and day. My favourite example is Phrog, made by Island Spirits Distillery on Hornby Island. This is a whole new world of gin, one that I wouldn’t even consider drinking in any other way than neat. It is smooth with a huge array of botanical flavours. With Phrog, my summer-afternoon-on-the-deck approach is to keep it in the freezer and sip it ice-cold. Most alcoholic beverages can’t show their flavours and aromas when they are served too cold but Phrog more than holds its own at low temperatures.
And now, apparently, there is another consideration when it comes to gin and tonics. This spring I was doing a phone interview for a story on Okaganan Spirits and I was told that the distillery now carries “real” tonic, because the usual Schweppes from the grocery store is chemically and harsh. And here I thought that was what tonic is supposed to taste like! So my next mission is to find different samples of tonic to try them for myself.
Luckily for consumers, small distilleries have been cropping up all over the place and many are producing wonderful products. We seem to have entered into a golden age for gin and vodka, which seem to have gained new momentum from the introduction of these small producers, who are much more innovative and experimental than the large ones. Many are using local herbs to add to the flavours.
A few weeks ago, we were at the home of a friend who showed me a gift she had recently received. It was, she said, the best gin she had ever tasted. The Botanist, said the label. But then my eyebrows raised when I read the print beneath. Islay dry gin. That really caught my interest because single malt whisky from Islay (pronounced eye-la), a small Scottish island, is my favourite. Gin from Islay, I wondered. I squinted to read the fine print and learned, to my great surprise, that the maker is Bruichladdich (brook-laddie), maker of some of my favourite single malts.
“For this, the Botanist, small-batch, artisanal Islay gin we use nine of the classic gin aromatics — orris root, cassia bark, coriander seed, etc. — and augment these with a heady harvest of 22 wild, native island botanicals, hand-picked by our expert foraging team from the windswept hills, peat bogs and Atlantic shores of this Hebridean island of Islay,” it says on the company’s website.” Nine classic aromatics and 22 native ones. Wow! I can’t wait to get to a liquor store that carries this one.
As a general rule, I’m not a big fan of mixed drinks, in part because one often needs to buy so many ingredients. Consider the Singapore Sling recipe in the current BC Liquor Stores Taste magazine. Gin, cherry liqueur, Cointreau, Benedictine, pineapple juice, fresh lime juice, angostura bitters — these are the recipes that result in bulging liquor cabinets and refrigerators. Personally, if I was thirsty for a Sling, I’d head for a lounge.
But I can definitely find room for a bottle of Phrog or the Botanist, and maybe some really good tonic. Then all we would need are some hot summer days.
July 2012 - La Dolce Vita
getting a taste of society...the SMWS, that is
On Christmas Eve, my son Evan and I had other things on our mind while others were battling the crowds to buy last minute gifts. Our destination was Calgary’s Kensington Wine Market and the goal, strangely enough, was not wine (though I actually did purchase a bottle of French Malbec for our evening dinner) but whisky.
Whisky offerings from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society (SMWS), that is. This fall, Evan and I became members of the society (the membership is in his name — I just get to shop with him and his membership card) that buys casks of single malt whisky from Scottish distillers, finishes it by aging the liquid in its own way, then bottles and sells the final product to members around the world.
Scotch whisky is an endlessly fascinating subject and to understand it one must become something of a sleuth. A glance at a liquor store shelf that carries a good selection reveals that scotch whisky is quite different from other liquors. While many of the bottles bear the names of the distillery, others are sold by companies that purchase casks, then add their own special touches to make it unique before putting it out on the market under their own label. Often those special touches include a final aging in oak barrels that have been used for other purposes.
Scotch whisky is typically aged in used bourbon barrels, but more and more makers are turning to sherry and wine casks. Glenmorangie makes one of my favourite whiskies, Nectar d’Or, which spends years in Sauterne casks before being bottled. The result is oh-so-smooth and just slightly sweet, characteristics imparted by the French dessert wine.
Our mission at the Kensington Wine Market (which the amazing Andrew Ferguson has made into one of the country’s premier scotch whisky sellers) was to choose a bottle from the selection of whiskies produced by the SWMS. Ferguson worked for years to bring the SMWS to Canada and his store is the only one in Canada that carries its products. We peered into the glass case (only SMWS members can buy the bottles) and told Ferguson which ones interested me (smoky and peaty is generally my preference). He disappeared and came back with a couple of samples.
The SMWS doesn’t put the name of the distiller on its bottles, so each label has a prominent code number that identifies the single cask that it came from. My choice was 28.23, which turns out to have been made by Tullabardine in the Perthshire Highlands, north of Edinburgh and Glasgow. The number 28 means the whisky is from Tullabardine and the number 23 indicates it comes from the 23rd SMWS bottling of a Tullabardine product. The bottle’s label is highlighted with the title “Attention-grabbing spicy wood” and the description of the contents says, “The nose has hay, sawdust, floral notes, pepper and nuts (macadamia, almond, hazelnuts); water brings toffee and scented wood. The palate delivers toffee, raisings, chocolate-coated Brazils, treacle and loads of spicy wood—chewing on sticks, licking a cask (without the splinters!).”
My bottle of 28.23 is one of 607 produced, and one of only a dozen that made their way to Canada — about 150 were shipped to the US. (“You just got the last bottle,” Ferguson said.) It was aged for 21 years in a sherry “butt”, an oak cask of a particular size and it has 57.5 per cent alcohol. Most scotch whiskies have a high alcohol content and are diluted with water to bring the alcohol level down to the more common 40 per cent.
With our membership in SMWS, we received four small bottles of different whiskies, and we are saving those for a toast or two when Evan’s younger brother Ryan moves back to Calgary next month. Membership has other privileges, too, including the right to visit, with guests, tasting rooms in places like Edinburgh, London and Paris. Sadly, while we will be visiting London and Paris in the spring, the membership card, as I mentioned, is in Evan’s name.
I will settle for the chance to make purchases in his company, and to toast Ryan’s move to Calgary with tastes from our membership pack. We will raise our glasses, saying, “Slainte (pronounced slahncha). May ye ne'er want a frien', or a dram to gi'e him!”
January 2012 – La Dolce Vita
Whisky offerings from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society (SMWS), that is. This fall, Evan and I became members of the society (the membership is in his name — I just get to shop with him and his membership card) that buys casks of single malt whisky from Scottish distillers, finishes it by aging the liquid in its own way, then bottles and sells the final product to members around the world.
Scotch whisky is an endlessly fascinating subject and to understand it one must become something of a sleuth. A glance at a liquor store shelf that carries a good selection reveals that scotch whisky is quite different from other liquors. While many of the bottles bear the names of the distillery, others are sold by companies that purchase casks, then add their own special touches to make it unique before putting it out on the market under their own label. Often those special touches include a final aging in oak barrels that have been used for other purposes.
Scotch whisky is typically aged in used bourbon barrels, but more and more makers are turning to sherry and wine casks. Glenmorangie makes one of my favourite whiskies, Nectar d’Or, which spends years in Sauterne casks before being bottled. The result is oh-so-smooth and just slightly sweet, characteristics imparted by the French dessert wine.
Our mission at the Kensington Wine Market (which the amazing Andrew Ferguson has made into one of the country’s premier scotch whisky sellers) was to choose a bottle from the selection of whiskies produced by the SWMS. Ferguson worked for years to bring the SMWS to Canada and his store is the only one in Canada that carries its products. We peered into the glass case (only SMWS members can buy the bottles) and told Ferguson which ones interested me (smoky and peaty is generally my preference). He disappeared and came back with a couple of samples.
The SMWS doesn’t put the name of the distiller on its bottles, so each label has a prominent code number that identifies the single cask that it came from. My choice was 28.23, which turns out to have been made by Tullabardine in the Perthshire Highlands, north of Edinburgh and Glasgow. The number 28 means the whisky is from Tullabardine and the number 23 indicates it comes from the 23rd SMWS bottling of a Tullabardine product. The bottle’s label is highlighted with the title “Attention-grabbing spicy wood” and the description of the contents says, “The nose has hay, sawdust, floral notes, pepper and nuts (macadamia, almond, hazelnuts); water brings toffee and scented wood. The palate delivers toffee, raisings, chocolate-coated Brazils, treacle and loads of spicy wood—chewing on sticks, licking a cask (without the splinters!).”
My bottle of 28.23 is one of 607 produced, and one of only a dozen that made their way to Canada — about 150 were shipped to the US. (“You just got the last bottle,” Ferguson said.) It was aged for 21 years in a sherry “butt”, an oak cask of a particular size and it has 57.5 per cent alcohol. Most scotch whiskies have a high alcohol content and are diluted with water to bring the alcohol level down to the more common 40 per cent.
With our membership in SMWS, we received four small bottles of different whiskies, and we are saving those for a toast or two when Evan’s younger brother Ryan moves back to Calgary next month. Membership has other privileges, too, including the right to visit, with guests, tasting rooms in places like Edinburgh, London and Paris. Sadly, while we will be visiting London and Paris in the spring, the membership card, as I mentioned, is in Evan’s name.
I will settle for the chance to make purchases in his company, and to toast Ryan’s move to Calgary with tastes from our membership pack. We will raise our glasses, saying, “Slainte (pronounced slahncha). May ye ne'er want a frien', or a dram to gi'e him!”
January 2012 – La Dolce Vita
