Changing tastes, changing malts

Just as a good whisky matures over the years so do our taste buds. My first experiences of single malts were at the age of 18, and thinking back to the types that I enjoyed then they were vastly different to those that I now favour. Back then I appreciated smoothness; the soft, sometimes almost honeyed flavours of the Speyside malts, Glenfiddich, Glenmorangie, and with Glenlivet the undoubted king. In many ways this reflected my tastes in food, which were only just branching out from a fairly bland British culinary upbringing. Just as I appreciated a good steak over a modest stew, I could recognise the quality of rich smooth malts over the rougher blends.

However there were changes afoot. Edinburgh was beginning to see Chinese and Indian restaurants appear on the scene and as these brought a whole new range of exotic and multi-layered flavours to a young generation eager to embrace them, so my tastes in whisky began to be more adventurous. Dufftown was tried as I stuck with the Speysides initially, Inchgower wasn’t to my taste, The Macallan rejected, until Cardhu became a favourite for a while. Then the real change came with the present of a 105 proof bottle of Glenfarclas. The extra strength brought a richer range of more dramatic tastes and taught me that smoothness wasn’t enough - complexity was far more important.

But I was still on the mainland - possibly because I’d been exposed to an elderly, dense, treacly Laphroaig at far too early an age - when the next breakthrough came with my first visit to the magical islands of Orkney. You should always sample the local drink wherever you go, because it will always have an affinity with the place it belongs to. That is worth experiencing for itself, but on rare occasions you’ll find one that also travels well and brings that sense of place with it. Highland Park, particularly in its higher strength version, was a revelation, and it remains a favourite to this day. I have found that, more than any other malt, it is on nearly every connoisseur’s list and usually at number 2. For years I nursed a bottle of over-proof Highland Park that I’d brought back from that trip. At around the same time I was introduced to what would quickly become my abiding favourite on another island, Skye this time, the exquisite Talisker. Every sip speaks of the sea and the west coast in that tangy seaweed influenced taste; smooth yet with an edge and a kick and a blossoming miasma of flavours. Glorious.

For many years those two were sufficient, until a visit to the Malt Whisky Society in Leith for a wonderful talk and tasting by Jim McEwan of the reopened Bruichladdich distillery opened my tastes to the treasures of that most distillery packed of islands, Islay. Jim had brought with him many treats that night, including two superb examples of his own products, but one malt stood out for me, Caol Ila. (pron. kuleela) Pale and slightly green it looks nothing like the generally darker products from the rest of the island, but the flavours, oh the flavours; even in the regular strength, but all the more in the over-proof version. Smoky, tangy, sometimes sweet, sometimes peaty, and a touch of water releases yet more delights. Another west coast marvel to be savoured slowly and reverently. About as different from those Speysides as it’s possible to get.

Being a youthful smoothie is fun but there’s a lot to be said for complex maturity!