Hop Scotch

Potent potables to warm the body

by Jeffrey Gantz

AS THE WINTER solstice nears, the days shorten, and frost sets in, one looks for potent potables to warm the body and gladden the heart. And at holiday times, one looks for something special to warm and gladden friends as well. The Scots, a lot farther north than we are, know something about keeping warm in winter -- especially with the drink that bears their name. Few potables will make you, and your guests, feel as festive as a "homemade" Scotch.

I'm not suggesting you pop down into the cellar, fire up the kiln, and get your home distillery going. This isn't Scotch you make in your own home -- it's Scotch that's been made in the old-fashioned, traditional way, in Scotland, with the same care that was accorded that bottle of Bordeaux you've been saving for a very special occasion. Single-malt Scotch, as it's called, is Scotland's answer to the supreme achievements of France and Italy. It can be as expensive as that great Bordeaux -- but also as complex and rewarding.

Most Scotch is made by blending the high-grade handmade stuff with the less-flavorful grain whisky that's made in a patent still (which can operate continuously and turn out large quantities of inexpensive whisky). The quality of the result depends on what kind of single malt is used, and how much -- if you're lucky, you come out with something like Johnnie Walker. Single-malt Scotch is produced only from malted barley, and it has to be made in a pot still, which can turn out only small quantities at a time. The process of malting, brewing, distilling, and maturing is a time-consuming one that requires skilled hands. By law, Scotch whisky must be aged in wood for at least three years. Most single malts spend at least 10 years in storage.

Which is why they're not cheap. It's true that single-malt Scotches have become trendy over the last 30 years, and that's pushed the price up a bit. But the bottom line is that handmade always costs more than assembly-line. Some single malts -- think of them as the brandies of the Scotch world -- age for 20 years or more and sell for hundreds of dollars. When you consider that the distillery has to deal with evaporation, storage costs, and loss of interest, the stupendous prices for aged malt whisky look a lot less exorbitant.

Obviously you'd want to be well versed in the "regular" single malts (of which there are more than 100) before venturing into this aged-Scotch stratosphere -- try to finagle an invite to a special Scotch tasting, where you could get an idea of what a $300 bottle tastes like before hauling out your credit card. Most "regular" single malts go for somewhere between $30 and $60. Many are available in 50-milliliter "nip" bottles (the kind you get on airplanes), so you can sample a few without depleting your holiday savings account.

One of the two requirements of the following whirlwind tour of "regular" Scottish single malts is that the selection be available in a sample size: comparing them is half the fun, and it's how you educate yourself. The other requirement I've imposed is that the Scotch be a one-of-a-kind experience. Two of the better-known single malts are Glenlivet and Glenfiddich, both from the Speyside area of the northeastern Highlands. They're classy, well-balanced Scotches, but they're made to appeal to a broad palate rather than to strike a special note. We're looking for the special note.

For anyone whose ancestors came from the Hebrides (as some of mine did) or who has spent time on the west coast of Ireland, Scotch means salt and smoke, seaweed and peat. Which means we'll be island-hopping, starting with Islay, the southernmost of the Hebrides. The peat that's used to fire the Islay kilns has a pronounced smokiness, and the water has a seaweedy tang that may remind you of iodine. Here, two of Scotland's finest distilleries lie right next to each other (and sometimes squabble over water rights). Laphroaig (10-year-old) is the Lapsang Souchong of Scotches: aggressively smoky, aggressively seaweedy, with a heaviness that's almost oily, it makes no concessions -- either you like it or you don't. Lately it's been sold in a cylindrical tin that maps out Islay and offers you a square foot of the island free -- you can even collect "rent" (a dram of Laphroaig) if you show up at the distillery. Lagavulin (16-year-old) is Laphroaig's "city" cousin, drier, cleaner, more sophisticated, sherry-
sweet without stinting on the smoke or the seaweed. Less of an immediate experience, it gives you more to think about as it goes down the throat. If I had to live with just one Scotch, this would be it.

If you like the Islay style, you might want to compare some of the other single malts: Bowmore, Bruichladdich, and Bunnahabhain are all available in 50ml bottles. (For some reason sample bottles of Laphroaig, which is readily found in the normal 750ml size, have become scarce; if you can't find it, you can get a glass in many bars.) In my experience they tend to be slightly less distinctive than Laphroaig and Lagavulin. (Caol Ila has its own sea-breeze personality but, alas, goes for $60 a bottle when you can find it, and does not turn up in 50ml bottles.) Bowmore Legend is another matter altogether: it has a peculiar flavor that sometimes reminds me of edible (but not sweet) flowers and sometimes convinces me the distillery has set out to show Laphroaig what iodine is all about. Ask for the handsome "Legend" tin, which explains how the daughter of a Pictish king fell in love with a Scottish warrior and how in the end they turned into seagulls.

Moving up the Scottish west coast, we pass through Jura (with its pleasant Isle of Jura single malt) to Mull, in whose bay, on the now-deserted isle of Ulva, my McQuarrie ancestors lived. Mull, where the 1945 romantic classic I Know Where I'm Going was shot, has one single malt, Tobermory, that's still finding its sea legs (the distillery reopened in 1990 after being shut down for a time) -- as yet, the bottle's jug shape is more distinctive than what's inside. Instead, hop across the Firth of Lorn to the mainland and try Oban (14-year-old), a Highland single malt with a hint of island smoke and peat, as suggested by the resting seagull on the label.

The rest of the Hebrides has just one single malt, but it's a corker, the stuff of legend and history. Talisker (10-year-old), from the isle of Skye, is said to have been Robert Louis Stevenson's favorite, and it's surely inspired the verse of this century's great Scottish poet, Sorley MacLean, who lives on Skye. Its effect may be measured by this reminiscence from James F. Harris and Mark H. Waymack (authors of the invaluable Single-Malt Whiskies of Scotland) about a visit to the isle of Lewis and what happened when a flask of Talisker was produced: "Peat smoke, rich malt, the salty sea, and fiery alcohol all exploded in the nose, mouth, and throat. Surprise, admiration, and wonder (the origins of philosophy, according to Plato) were all engaged. The desire to know and experience more was inevitable." According to the label, "The Golden Spirit of Skye has more than a hint of seaweed peppered with sour & sweet notes and a memorable warm peaty finish" -- and there is something peppery, even explosive, about Talisker. You have to wait for it -- it explodes in the throat rather than on the palate -- but the experience explains why pepper used to be such a costly spice.

Of course, the Hebrides aren't the only Scottish islands. The world's two most northerly Scotch distilleries can be found on the main isle of Orkney: Highland Park and Scapa. Highland Park (12-year-old) has a hint of heather to balance the hint of peat; it's a soft, mellow Scotch that you can settle down with in front of the fireplace. Scapa is saltier and less sweet -- harder to describe and yet less complex. Scapa is also harder to find and nearly twice as expensive as Highland Park, and it doesn't turn up in 50ml bottles, so if you're starting out the choice is easy.

Those given to seasickness or adamant that seaweed should stay in the ocean can take comfort in the thought that the vast majority of single malts come from the mainland. If you're a confirmed landlubber, you might want to add Cardhu (12-year-old) and Edradour (10-year-old) to your list. Edradour has almond overtones; Cardhu is spicy and comes in a unique square bottle -- even in the 50ml edition. Cardhu contributes materially to Johnnie Walker, and Talisker provides Johnnie Walker's top notes, so you might want to taste Cardhu, Talisker, and Johnnie Walker Red and Black as a group.

And, finally, a word about tasting. Uisge na beatha may be the "water of life" to the Scots (yes, the word whiskey comes from the Gaelic word for water), but you'll want some real water (spring, thank you), to clear the palate, if you're sitting down in front of a selection of Scotches. (If you want something to eat, get some water crackers or, my favorite, organic spelt bread, which sets off the Scotch.) Use clear, short glasses or brandy snifters -- no plastic cups, please. Some single-malt lovers add a drop or two of water, which they feel opens up the flavor. Scotch is a three-part experience -- the aroma, the taste, and the aftertaste -- so give each one plenty of time. And remember that you have to swallow (if you spit it out, there'll be no aftertaste), so keep your sample to four or five Scotches at the most. Don't pour out more than half a 50ml bottle -- actually, a third is plenty. Which means that even with just one bottle of each you can invite a friend or two over and compare impressions. Slàinte!