on malting

While savouring a dram of Redbreast Irish pot still whiskey, I finish reading Iain Banks's "Transitions". It gets me thinking about transitions - change, the movement between states. So of course that leads to thinking about malted barley (malting as one of many transitions involved in making whisky, and the fact that most Irish whiskey is made with unmalted barley...just nod and pretend you follow me). Who first figured that barley should go through the extra time, effort, and energy to germinate the grain before using it to distill our favourite tipple? It's a process that is systemically more costly than just using barley reaped and dried straight off the field. Maybe it was one of those serendipitous mistakes - barley stashed under a leaky roof, discovered too late but too valuable to discard...I'm just musing here, I'm sure somewhere out there is an historical explanation.

The first two are a couple photos of barley quietly germinating on the malting floor at Laphroaig. It's time, labour, and space intensive to malt this way - that's why few distilleries do it for themselves any more. I'm thinking the process was only undertaken after the establishment of distilleries as legal entities able to occupy a relatively large footprint, the first arguably founded sometime during the last quarter of the 18th century. Prior to the luxury of a malting floor, I suggest that most Scotch whisky must have been made with unmalted barley.

I also suggest you pick up one of Iain Banks's works, with or without the M. His "Raw Spirit" got me reading him, and though it is not quite representative of his more widely distributed subject matter the book is a tasty dram, a roadtrip through the landscape of Scotch whisky.

a grain wheelbarrow at Laphroaig used to spread the steeped barley by hand across the malting floor

you've seen a similar image here before - raking the growing barley at Bowmore so it doesn't mat together into a tangled mess

a motorized barley rake at Laphroaig - undoubtedly a lot easier on the maltman's back!

           after two days on the malting floor            after three days on the malting floor

the malting floor at Springbank, Campbeltown

the malting floor at Kilchoman, Islay

the malting floor at the Balvenie, Speyside

Slàinte

the heat is on

One of the fundamental skills in whisky making is understanding heat, how to apply it and how to move it around. Indeed I suspect one of the biggest costs involved in producing whisky lies in the creation of process heat, so its efficient manipulation is crucial to our getting an affordable dram.

Quite a lot of distillery tour guides will tell you of the happy cows which are fed the draff or spent grains left over from the mashing process. Glenfarclas also incorporates their pot ale or spent wash into the draff for livestock feed, a byproduct which has traditionally been disposed of by most (I'm guessing) distilleries. Bruichladdich is looking into the creation of methane from their pot ale, using it to help power the distillery. I'd like to think that waste heat recapture is high on the list of research into the further improvement of distilling efficiency. We humans are a wasteful lot, and must get to a point where the byproducts of human activity cease to be considered waste but moreso as raw material for some other industrial process or human endeavour. Every natural process is part of a closed cycle, and human industry should be no different...Am I grandstanding again?

The main use of heat in a distillery is, of course, to separate the alcohol from the rest of the liquid within the stills by evaporation. And in order for us to be able to drink it, it must be condensed into a liquid again. This is the job of the aptly named condensers, those big copper columns which are often seen standing beside and connected to the stills. In some distilleries they are situated outside, for lack of space or to keep them cooler (another guess there). The vapour coming off the still is sent through the condenser where it circulates around a series of smaller tubes running the length within it. These tubes hold cold water which takes the heat from the vapour allowing it to condense back into a liquid. This is one of the processes which we are unable to see happen during that tour of our favourite distillery.

However there is another, older technique for condensing the vapour coming off the stills and that is the use of wormtubs. The function is the same but the technology is a little less sophisticated (arguably?). The vapour passes through a tube which "worms" its way in a circular path down through a large "tub" of cold water, usually outside.

At the top are Kilchoman and Bunnahabhain. The third photo shows the wormtubs of Abhainn Dearg, which are inside and sit above the two stills. The last photo shows the outside tubs of Cragganmore. I bet these would make dandy hottubs during a chilly winter. Dram in hand, soaking in the soothing warmth while snowflakes gently caress your face...mmmmmmm.

Slàinte

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.

Slàinte