Octomore

Getting our hands on some Octomore was a bit of a fluke.

In 2001, my dad and I were on our first tour of Scotland, the focus of which was her distilleries (well, d'uh!). Our first visit to Bruichladdich on the Isle of Islay was the beginning of a perennial habit. Bruichladdich had just reopened since becoming dormant in 1994 and were offering something called Octomore Futures. This was the inception of the highly peated whisky that has since become a part of their core range. The contract was for a dozen bottles of single malt which had yet to be distilled from the most heavily peated malt in the industry at the time - 80.5 ppm of total phenols. Dad bought, and we waited.

In September of 2009 we brought back our first payload. Due to Canadian import restrictions (don't get me started!), we were only allowed to bring back 1.14 litres of alcohol per person without having to pay exorbitant duty. We convinced mom to come along with us on this particular trip, not the least of which was so we could bring back one more bottle of our long awaited uisge beatha! Until this point in time she had not wanted to be what she thought would be a "third wheel" on our trips, but this was a good excuse for her to relent and join us on our adventures.

Nice.

Sampling the long awaited tipple at Caladh Sona
 

Budgie and Duncan McGillivray in the Bruichladdich stillhouse in 2006

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barrels

In the long history of whisky making, wood has perhaps travelled the furthest along the distiller's continuum of understanding as to its importance to and influence on the final product. Born of the need simply to contain and transport the whisky maker's art, it is now exhaulted as one of the major contributors to the flavours we have come to love. So much so that distilleries like Glenmorangie actually select their own oak from trees growing in the Ozark Mountains of Missouri where it will begin its life as barrels maturing American whiskey or bourbon.

And though the distiller appreciates the barrel for the qualities of its wood, I appreciate it for the qualities of its shape and form...the smooth flowing line of the circle, the rhythm of repetition, the stories it tells by its grizzled exterior and stencilled tatoos. They're fun to photograph.

Bruichladdich barrels after the rain.

Arran barrels.

Glenora, Canada's single malt distiller on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia.

Balvenie barrel hoops.

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...and Happy Hogmanay

the rant

It really hasn't been that long since I first became interested in single malt whisky. The first trip my dad and I made to Scotland with distilleries as the main focus was in 2001. At that time many of the distilleries had no well developed facilities for public tours, but most were quite accommodating in giving us a personal glimpse which I prearranged before our journey. Most, if not all, were quite amenable to me taking photographs along any part of the process. This was heaven for me since, as I've said before, my interest in whisky is not restricted to the tasting of the end product.

Jump to the present. Most distilleries now do not allow photographs to be taken in any of the production areas. Apparently this is for health and safety reasons - a common excuse being the prevalance of explosive alcohol vapours. More likely the methane from this bull***t.

I welcome any industry comments on this. And I applaud all those distilleries which still allow whisky fans like me to have their photographic fun.

This clandestinely obtained photograph would have gotten me into trouble with the tour guide at Tomatin had I been seen.

A couple of Whisky Academy students at Bruichladdich get a lesson from Budgie...look out folks, my camera is going to blow you up! During past visits, the folks at the Laddie have given me free access to photograph in the distillery. One of the reasons I love the place.

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more heat

I got thinking more about heat after my last post and realized just how prevalent it is in the whisky making process, and that I'd overlooked some of my photographs reflecting the subject which may be of interest to you. So I guess this is part two.

A couple of the photos have an annoying lens shadow at the bottom of the image, for which I apologize. I would normally not hesitate to excise such offences to my aesthetic sensibilities, however I felt that the subject matter would have suffered somewhat if I had cropped them out. So be it...I'll just have to do the suffering with a cringe or two every time I see them.

Forsyth's, in the town of Rothes in Speyside, have been crafting the lions share of Scotch whisky distillery equipment since the end of the nineteenth century. Dad and I were lucky enough to be graciously hosted by Mr. Richard Forsyth on a very interesting tour of the factory. I suspect this is the upper section of a still in the making. After having been heated by another coppersmith with a torch, this chap is beating the red hot metal into shape. The outer shell of a condenser is lying on the floor behind him.

Bowmore is one of the few remaining distilleries to floor malt some of their own barley. While germinating, the barley produces heat which must be regulated by turning over with wide flat shovels and raking, which is being done here. This also prevents the emerging rootlets from tangling into an unmanageable clump. As you can see, this process is quite labour intensive and back breaking so it is also done by machine.

This is a rare sight - too bad I messed it up with a shadow (cringe #1!). The inside of Springbank's wash still with one of the few rummagers in existence. When a still was (is, in this case) directly fired with an open flame from below, as all stills used to be, there needed to be a method of preventing the contents from scorching. This was achieved by the rummager, a strip of copper chain mail which revolved inside the still in order to stir and scrape the bottom, not unlike what needs to be done when you make your porridge on the stove. This still is also heated by steam which travels through the pipes seen around the circumference.

The interior of a Glen Scotia still. The silver pots radiate heat from steam inside the pipes which can be seen just below the liquid surface. They, of course, would be covered when the still is in full tilt boogie mode (one of the lesser known whisky distilling terms!...and an obtuse shoutout to Canadian backup bands everywhere!!).

The charring of the inside surface of whisky barrels is done in a couple of ways. At the Speyside Cooperage where they refabricate zillions of barrels for the Scotch whisky industry, the barrels are stood upright with no ends above a furnace which blasts a huge flame through the barrel like a chimney. Very cool sight. This photograph, however, is from the cooperage at the Balvenie where they do all their own barrel work on site. You're looking at the end of a barrel on its side, through a window I might add, which is being spun round by the two rollers at the bottom of the image. A flame is then blasted into the open end facing away from us, which can be seen shooting out the bung hole. It, too, is a pretty cool sight to see.

This is one of my favourite barrel images, so I'm glad to be able to share it with you to end off this post. It is a triptych of Bruichladdich barrels, with one showing the result of the interior charring (or maybe it's from all of my hot air floating about!).


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food for thought

Grab a dram, I'm gonna wax poetic on ya'.
Consider this...10, 12, 15 years ago (18, 21?...lucky you) the whisky in your glass was a plant, struggling in the soil for survival, seeking out its own water of life. Barley. If lucky, it experienced the right environmental conditions to grow into a strapping young kernel. If not, then it returned to the soil to help nourish the next lucky one. But it was a living thing nonetheless.

All too often we disregard the history of the food we put into our mouths in order to nurture our bodies. If we considered where our food comes from a little more, then perhaps we'd be less inclined to mistreat the gardens of our very existence, the air, water, and soil which give us life. You'd better take a sip, I think I'm getting too melodramatic here.

Back to the barley. It never ceases to amaze me that whisky is just that, plus water and yeast, which is also a living thing. And if you want to get really metaphysical, so is water. In the end, is it any wonder that whisky gained its name from the Gaelic term uisge beatha, itself descended from the Latin meaning "water of life".

There aren't many distilleries which are able to facilitate the entire cycle of whisky making from barley to bottle. Many don't strive to, but some make it a part of their mission statement. It takes a lot of homegrown barley to satisfy an entire mashbill. Even small distilleries like Kilchoman on Islay only presently grows 30% of their own, and they don't (yet) have a bottling facility. The young Abhainn Dearg on the west coast of Lewis is giving it a go, if the Atlantic lets them. Not sure how much Islay barley Bruichladdich manages to bring in, but they may be the closest to the goal, even though they don't malt at the distillery.

So, this blog entry is in celebration of the lowly barleycorn, that often overlooked but essential first component that is the root of all whisky, from which all our drams stem, the seeds of our mal(t)content...OK, OK, here are the photographs.

The top one is harvested Bruichladdich barley. How do I know it was destined for the Laddie? I tasted a few grains left in the field which the birds hadn't gotten to and compared it to the new make I had just tasted at the distillery and...well, OK, I just read the sign on the fencepost which said so. The other image is what's left of a field of Golden Promise barley (what a great name) grown for the Macallan. No telling fencepost sign, but the folks at the distillery.

Here, Islay birds feast on what John Barleycorn didn't get.

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a couple of my faves

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. My first steps will be about two of my personal favourite single malts, Bruichladdich and Laphroaig. Both distilleries are on the Isle of Islay, part of the Inner Hebrides off the west coast of mainland Scotland. Maybe someday I'll put up a map of Scotland and all her distilleries, or find a link to a good one...remind me, would you please?

The Laddie is on the west coast of Loch Indaal, in the village of and just north of the Bruichladdich pier from which this photo is taken. Loch Indaal is a long and fairly wide body of water, open to weather coming from the southwest across the North Channel from Ireland and the Atlantic. The distillery and warehouses are situated just across the road from the loch.

Laphroaig is on the south coast of Islay, sheltered somewhat by Laphroaig bay. I say somewhat because it can still get lashed quite severely by storms blowing in from the southwest. It has warehouses directly on the shoreline.

I'll be highlighting distilleries in no particular order and will be putting up photos on an irregular basis, especially if I revisit the distillery in the future, so please don't hesitate to return.

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