Whiskies of Summetime

The Cabinet assembled three nights ago to tackle the admittedly broad subject of what whisky one drinks in the summer and how one drinks it. I say broad subject as there are of course no rules. Even the heavily peated and smoky Islays could come out around a lakeside campfire in July without an eyebrow being raised. However, campfire scenarios excepted, in the hot weather we are generally looking for lighter malts and younger malts - no peat, not too much oak and preferably some spice, floral, citrus or herbal notes.

The first selection was the Knappogue Castle, a triple distilled Irish whisky that has been reviewed and discussed at length in these pages before. It is a club favorite and effortlessly slides into the box defined by the theme. It is light, it has some notes of fruit (apricot?) and it has a pleasant finish.  

The Tomatin 12 year old was more problematic. While it fit the summer drinking requirements with respect to lightness and fruit and floral components, the result is unfortunately muddled and confused, especially compared to the much more harmonious flavour profile of the Knappogue. This is consistent with our previous reviews, which were not favourable. But no matter! The Tomatin was brought into the evening to be offered up as a sacrifice to one of the great false gods of whisky drinking: ice. It's a simple word association game to play with older non-whisky drinkers - say "scotch" and chances are they'll say "on the rocks"! Anyone who grew up watching television in the 60s and 70s would immediately make that connection. Moreover, what says summer like an iced drink? These are obvious arguments, but weak ones. The problem with ice in scotch is simple - it kills flavour. It's simple irrefutable gustatory physiology. Cold numbs taste buds. Tomatin without ice was a confused melange of tastes. Tomatin with ice was malt and alcohol. Everything else was stripped away. It could have been Johnnie Black or a random bourbon or a 30 year old Macallan. Who could tell? Malt and alcohol. So the astute will notice that ice is therefore a double-edged sword. Wielded on good whisky it destroys it, but wielded on bad whisky it... improves it. Sometimes it is a good thing to strip away the complex flavours. But often it is not. It is clear in retrospect that the popularity of "scotch on the rocks" was a reflection of the fairly rough and unsubtle whiskies that were popular at the time. Now that we have access to so many complex and carefully crafted whiskies the notion is largely outdated. Imagine a beautiful Cotes du Rhone red with layers of dark fruit, herbs and earthiness. Now imagine pouring it over ice. This is what you are doing. A burly Scottish malt master is weeping quietly somewhere every time you do.

For our last stop in the exploration of summer we made a cocktail. Now this is a place where ice is appropriate. The subtleties of the whisky are going to be lost to the other flavourings anyway. In this case mint and sugar. We made a mint julep. But not just any mint julep, a Bunnahabhain Darach Ur mint julep. Before we go on I want you to say Darach Ur out loud a few times. Decide whether you are a Klingon or an Orc. Darach Ur!!! Feels good doesn't it? Unfortunately it does not mean "death to the weak" or anything inspiring like that, but rather it is simply Gaelic for "new oak". Oh. This expression of Bunnahabhain was matured in fresh new American oak casks, not in the more usual used bourbon or sherry casks. This is exactly the way bourbon is made, and mint juleps are usually made with bourbon... Get it? So we had a Scottish mint julep and it was wonderful.

It was an excellent evening and Trevor improved it further by bringing tasty artisanal cheddars and by bringing a congenial guest, "Mark from Barrie". No last name was provided, so that is the way he shall be recorded in the record.

Slainte!