Time for me to start writing up things I tasted at Whiskeyfest.

First up, let’s talk about Ardbeg.  It’s no secret that I am very fond of Ardbeg – I have written about Ardbeg Supernova, and touted deals on Ardbeg 10.  I have even stated that Ardbeg is one of the two top contenders for ranking as my favorite distillery.

So what’s new at Ardbeg?  In the past few months, there has been a fair amount of attention given to a new release from Ardbeg called Alligator.  Why is it called Alligator?  Because when the distillery charred the casks, they let the burn continue until the inside surface of the barrel began to crack up, forming a pattern similar to alligator scales.  As an engineer, I sometimes see this on fire damaged wood joists too.  In the distillery trade, this is referred to as “alligator char.”

First thing you smell on the nose of Alligator is campfire, and it carries through the palate and finish.  It’s got all the usual Ardbeg peat, but the campfire smoke adds a whole new level of sophistication to the whiskey.  Given the economy, I was prepared to pass on acquiring bottles of this release, but having tasted it, I am reconsidering that decision, and trying to figrue out where I can lay my hands on a few bottles.  If you like Islay scotches, this one is a winner.

The past few weeks, my father has frequently invited over a member of his synagogue whose wife was unfortunately in the hospital.  To show his appreciation, last Thursday on the way home from shul/synagogue, the guest asked my father to detour past his home on the way to my parents’ home.  A few minutes later, my father and his guest walked in, with my father cradling something in the crook of his arm.  When my father opened the plastic shopping bag to hand me the cardboard tube, I had to react quickly in order to keep a neutral face and keep my eyes from bugging and my mouth from actually saying “holy crap”.  The tube contained a bottle of 1971 Glenrothes Restricted Release, bottled in 1999. 

The 1970s Glenrothes that I have come across have all been extraordinary products, and some (which I admittedly have not had the opportunity to taste) have reached prices approaching $1000.  So the 1971 vintage year was a quick heads-up that this was no ordinary gift.  The “Restricted Release” was another quick warning that this was no plain-Jane bottle.  The unusually dark and rich color of the whiskey was the 3rd warning.

Have you ever been at a meal or gathering where there is a truly exceptional and rare bottle on the table, and you realize that not only are you the only person aware of what’s on the table, but you can’t tell anyone else?  It’s happened to me more than once, and it’s a very strange feeling.  The first time was a shalom zachar about 15 years ago, where there was a bottle of the kosher run of  Chateau La Gaffeliere – at the time retailing for $100 a bottle.  Try drinking a $100 bottle of red wine out of a plastic cup – how’s that for strange.  But I digress.  Last Thursday’s was another of those times, because even though I poured my wife (yes, she drinks scotch, and yes, I have realized how lucky I am) some, nobody at the table realized just what we had out there.  Yes, this was an example of what I talked about last year in my posts on the risks of high-end gift giving.

The unusually dark and rich color I mentioned earlier clearly indicated aging in (dare I say it publicly?) sherry casks.  (For those of you who have qualms about sherry casks, the London Beis Din, a world-respected hechsher in its own right, maintains the policy that all scotch is acceptable, regardless of the previous use of the aging barrels.)  The flavor, mouthfeel and finish were all exceptional – syrupy, rich and complex.

I drank about a third of the bottle.  And after lunch, I went for a 9 mile walk.

Some years ago, I emailed some friends bemoaning the fact that Warehouse was no longer carrying Glenrothes for $39.99.  One of them responded “You’ve been getting a steal all this time and now you’re going to have to pay $55 like the rest of us.  Shut up and quit complaining.”  A few weeks ago I wrote about my opinion that Glenrothes’ pricing had gotten a bit inflated, and that I was waiting to see if the current economy brought their pricing back to more reasonable levels.  On Friday, I spotted the 1998 Glenrothes – a 12 year old release, for $55.  Finally, a Glenrothes reaching shelves for less than $70.  I decided to give it a try.

While I might wish for a price of $50 or less, I’m not going to complain about the $55 for the 1998 Glenrothes.  It’s vibrant, with hints of lemon and honey on the nose.  This, in my opinion, is a return to the Glenrothes of 5-6 years ago.  It’s 86 proof and fun to drink.

A few weeks ago I wrote about Flaming Heart, a whiskey that Compass Box re-produced for their 10th anniversary.  It’s time now to discuss another of their products – Peat Monster.  Peat Monster is a regular production item that Compass Box added to their line after they were very successful with a limited edition of similar name.  I’ve bought it a few times over the past several years, but most of  my friends don’t enjoy drinking peaty whiskey, so it’s not a steady presence in my collection. 

Peat Monster is a combination of Islay and Speyside scotches, and somehow the creative blenders at Compass Box have managed to make it work very well.  The peat of the Islay dominates all aspects of the whiskey, but the speyside smooths and mellows the peat, which I think makes this whiskey both attractive to peat lovers and a good introduction to peat for those who do not yet appreciate peat.  Perhaps that broadness of appeal is what makes this the whiskey that Compass Box claims to be their best selling whiskey.

You can find Peat Monster in a few places – I bought this latest bottle at MB Vineyards on Nostrand Avenue in Brooklyn, where I paid $53 plus tax.  Out of state sources go both higher and lower – Binny’s has it at $45, but you have shipping on that, and shipping at its most optimized  is about $4 per bottle.

I was invited to a bar-mitzvah this past Saturday/Shabbos morning.  At the kiddush after davening, I had a very pleasant surprise – there was a brand-new, sealed bottle of Glenrothes 1984.  Okay, brand-new is a mis-statement.  Glenrothes 1984 sold out of stores over 3 years ago.  But it WAS sealed, and that counts for a lot, since the 1984 distillation was one of my favorite editions of Glenrothes.

Glenrothes is one of the trickiest single malts to know and like.  Most of their production goes into low-grade blends like Cutty Sark.  And while selling large proportions of production for use in blends is not uncommmon for distilleries, Glenrothes does not follow the typical single malt pattern.  Unlike other single malts, which will market a range of set ages and may go decades without altering their products, the only consistent Glenrothes is their Select Reserve, and that’s only been on the market for 3-4 years.  So when Glenrothes burst onto the NYC single malt scene, it was with the 1989 distillation.  Once the 89 sold out, there was a brief period of time when there was no Glenrothes available, and then the 1992 came out.  Then that sold out, until the next release.  Each release is different, and of a different age as well.  The 1972 was 32 years old, the 1984 was 20 years old.  The 1984 is no longer available from retailers, but there are a few places where one can find the 1972.  The current full-production vintage editions on the market are the 1975, 1985, and 1994.

Part of the reason why the 84 was one of my favorite vintages is that it’s one of the last vintages that carried what I felt to be a reasonable price point.  I can’t tell you if the 84 came out before or after the Select Reserve, but I can tell you a few things:  first, the Select Reserve was created in order to maintain a continuous market presence, bridging the gap between releases; second, that the Select Reserve carries a price tag of about $45 (but can be often found on sale for as little as $35); third, that I’ve never felt the Select Reserve was worth the money and was even an embarassment to Glenrothes; fourth, the general market apparently disagrees with me on the Select Reserve and its value; and fifth, that once Select Reserve was established in the market, Glenrothes raised the relative price point of their vintage releases.

So where does that leave us?  Obviously, it left me delighted to find a 1984 Glenrothes at the kiddush the other morning.  It also means that I haven’t bought any Glenrothes in several years – a situation I’m not entirely happy with, but am willing to tolerate because of my demand for close proportionality between price and quality.  Considering the apparent popularity of the Select Reserve, I would suggest that you try it once.  If you like it, fine.  If you don’t like the Select Reserve, watch for the opportunity to try a vintage (or the new Alba Reserve, which doesn’t excite me terribly either) and then decide whether you want to buy some.  For myself, I’m waiting to see if the current economic conditions bring Glenrothes prices back to what I consider more reasonable levels; until then, I’ll guard my small stash of ’84s and ’72s carefully.

In my regular professional work, I sometimes do favors for clients that go above and beyond the regular definition of the scope of my services.  When I provide extraordinary services, I often get gifts of appreciation.  Since it’s very hard to tell clients what fountain pen to buy me, the gifts are typically special bottles of wine or whiskey.  A month or so ago, a client gave me a bottle of Ballantine’s 30 year old blended scotch whiskey.  According to the rules governing scotch whiskey, that means that the YOUNGEST scotch in the bottle spent 30 full calendar years in the barrel.

Over the years, my wife developed the mistaken impression that I don’t like blended scotch.  I’ve got nothing against blended scotches – some of them are excellent products.  However, since blended scotches were the mainstay of American (scotch) whiskey consumption for most of the 20th century, many of the quality blended scotches developed something of an attitude.  And while attitude can be a fine thing, attitude when it comes to pricing a product puts me off, and so I don’t buy much blended scotch.

All that being said, let’s discuss Ballantine’s 30.  My first taste of this was a bit of a let down – it was so smooth as to be almost bland.  I think that was palate fatigue.  With all the things I taste, I sometimes get too focused on looking for something new and powerful.  Subsequent tastings of Ballantine’s 30 have expanded my appreciation of this whiskey – it’s subtle, mellow, and smooth.  In other words, a very good whiskey for reflective appreciation of a special event.  As with any whiskey at this age range, it carries a substantial price premium.

On Friday, a neighbor called me and asked me to recommend a bottle of scotch for a get-together in his home.  Of course, I asked him what his price range and what he had in mind.  My first suggestion was the Balvenie 14 Carribean Cask, which I’ve already written about, but when they reported that they did not have it, an impulse made me suggest that he inquire about Auchentoshan Triple (or Three) Wood.  Fortunately, they had it, and at a fair price.

Auchentoshan is one of a very small number of lowland malts.  Very small – at last count, there were only 3 active and available lowland distilleries.  Lowland malts typically have a very light flavor profile, but I’ve noticed that multiple maturations (aging in more than one type of barrel) can do wonderful things for lowland malts.  The Glenkinchie Distiller’s Edition is another example of an excellent double matured lowland malt.  Auchentoshan Triple Wood is aged in three different types of barrels, and in my opinion, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  For those of you who might want to ask, I refuse to discuss what sorts of barrels are used to age Three Wood because I firmly subscribe to the policy of the London Beis Din, which is that all scotch is acceptable.  Suffice it to say that there is a richness to the aroma and taste that matches the darkness of the final spirit.  Auchentoshan Triple Wood is an under-appreciated great.  My neighbor paid $55, and I think that’s a fair price.  He bought it at Kings Highway Liquors (between East 16th and East 17th), but I know that Schnapps on Avenue M also has it, as does Warehouse, Binny’s, and Hi-Time Wines.

For the record, Friday night my neighbor had a bottle of Three Wood and a bottle of Balvenie 14 on the table.  At the end of the evening, about 2/3 of the Balvenie was finished.  The Three Wood was gone.