Arbeg

The Cabinet met last week for a delayed celebration of Robbie Burns Night, and to explore some new additions to the Ardbeg range. 

In delightful alignment with the Burns theme, the first malt to be poured was the Ardbeg 5 year old "Wee Beastie". For those of you out there who are unfamiliar, the name comes from my favourite Burns poem, To a Mouse, written in 1785 and which recounts the reflections of a farmer on accidentally overturning a mouse's nest. It begins, "Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie, O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!". Incidentally, Steinbeck's masterful, if harrowing, novel, Of Mice and Men, takes its title from this line near the end of the poem, "The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men Gang aft agley." It's a brilliant reflection of an emerging modern perspective during the Scottish Enlightenment, but it has absolutely nothing to do with whisky whatsoever, other than Ardbeg's borrowing of two words, so I do apologize for that self-indulgent digression. 

Regarding the whisky itself, it's worth noting that it has an age statement. This is increasingly rare and while The Cabinet has made its peace with its absence on many bottles, we do like to see it from time to time. It helps guide the drinker in their expectations. Younger generally portends a lighter colour and a rougher livelier flavour profile. And so it was. The Wee Beastie immediately presented strong feinty notes, as well as smoke, peat, tar, pepper, and a hint of fruity sweetness in behind all that. "Feinty" is incidentally hands down the best word in the whisky description vocabulary. It bedevils many a spellchecker and is of limited use elsewhere in life, but for that gnarly damp wool, leathery, unwashed dog taste, nothing else will do. Divine.

It is traditional for whisky writers and self-proclaimed connoisseurs to look down their elongated noses at young whiskies. At The Cabinet we have been guilty of that on occasion as well. But we're beginning to come around. The aging process can be compared to sandpapering a sculpture. At five years it is still rough and spiky all over and it's difficult to see what it's supposed to be. But it gets your attention and it's interesting and entertaining. As you continue to sand, the form becomes clear, and the surface becomes smooth. It is beautiful now. We have often said that a whisky is at it's most beautiful between the ages of 16 and 20 (I know you're thinking it, but don't say it). Then as the sanding process goes on, the sculpture becomes almost velvety smooth, but also gradually becomes less interesting, more amorphous, more blob-like.

It all depends on your mood. We were in the mood for some entertainment and excitement. And honestly, at $85 (Canadian), the Wee Beastie's a screaming deal. Highly recommended.

Next up was the An Oa, which did not have an age statement. The distiller promised toffee, anise, treacle, and banana. Of these, only the anise was evident. This was a lovely whisky as well, but it suffered following the Wee Beastie as it was smoother and less aggressive in its Ardbegness, so to speak. 

And then finally we pulled out the classic, the Ardbeg 10 year old. Unfortunately this bottle suffered from sitting three quarter empty for a few years, gradually oxidizing and dumbing itself down. Consequently a comparison would be unfair. And if you're reading this, you're probably already familiar with it and not in need of a description.

Then the members called for one more nip of the Wee Beastie before calling time. This was Wee Beastie's night.

Slainte!