Category: General Information

You’ve probably heard the phrase “Single Malt Scotch”. But what exactly is malt?

You’ve probably also heard the (incorrect) statement that all Scotch is smoky. Some is, some isn’t. But why? Where does that smoky flavor come from?

All Scotch must contain at least some malted barley. Single Malt or Blended Malt Scotch can contain no other grains, while Single Grain, Blended Grain, or simply Blended Scotch can contain other grains as well, but still must contain some malted barley.

Bourbon must contain at least 51% corn. The remainder can be any other cereal grain. Some portion of this is almost always malted barley.

The Reinheitsgebot, a law passed in Bavaria in 1516, sometimes refered to as the “German Beer Purity Law”, limited the ingredients in beer to barley, hops, and water. Yeast was not mentioned, because it hadn’t been discovered yet. The barley used in making beer is almost always malted.

Why barley? What is so special about that particular grain? Yeast can only ferment sugars, not starches. There is an enzyme in the grain that breaks these long, complex starch molecules down into simple sugars which the yeast can process.

Barley contains more of this enzyme than any other grain. While some grains struggle just to convert their own starches, barley has enough enzyme to convert it’s own starches, and those of any other grains in the “mash” (mixture of grain and water to be fermented). Adding malted barley to a mash of other grains, such as corn, can help ensure that the maximum amount of starch is converted to sugar, as well as speed the process, both of which increase the profit of the distillery.

So what is “malted” barley, and how is it different from just plain barley? “Malting” consists of wetting grain so that the seeds think it’s time to start growing. The seeds begin converting starch to sugar to feed the growing plant. If the seed begins to sprout, it will start to consume those sugars, so the grain is then dried before it can sprout, when the sugar content is at its peak.

It is during the drying that the smoky flavor is added.

Long ago, when it came time to dry the grain being malted, it was done over a fire. In Scotland, that fire was usually built from an abundant and naturally occurring fuel source, peat. Peat is created when vegetation decomposes in the presence of moisture. When burned, peat produces a large amount of pungent smoke that would penetrate and flavor the grains, resulting in that distinctive taste for which Scotch is known.

Today, with the existence of electric fans and blowers, it is possible, even easier, to dry malted grain without using a fire and imparting the flavor of smoke to the grain. Many Scotch producers opt for this method, resulting in a sweeter, more mildly flavored product. Some still swear by the traditional method, creating that legendary taste of “peated” whisky.

Indeed, smoky whisky is so popular that other whisky producers around the world have begun smoking their grains (either with peat, or over a wood fire), to produce a whisky with a smoky flavor. If smoke is your preference, don’t be afraid to branch out beyond your favorite peated Scotch and try some of these.

Not too long ago, I saw an article that claimed whiskey should not be referred to as smooth. I gave it a cursory once-over, and dismissed it. “These are the same whiskey snobs who get offended if someone asks for an ice cube”, I thought. Whiskey has become more popular, even trendy. An unfortunate downside of this is that wherever you find a trend, you find elitism.

Whenever something becomes fashionable, there will always be people who acquire some knowledge, some experience, then proclaim themselves to be experts, looking down upon anyone with less knowledge and experience than they have.

At the begining of this month, Glenmorangie released their 15 year old Cadboll Estate. In one post, someone refered to it as smooth. In another post, someone asked a friend if it was smooth. In both cases, the same person called them out, in ALL CAPS no less, for using that word. I remembered the article that I mentioned earlier, and I was intrigued.

What is it about this word that suddenly has people so triggered? Surely, I thought, we’ve all refered to a whiskey as smooth. There are certainly enough products that aren’t smooth to make it a valid comparison. I had to investigate.

The arguments against the term go like this:
⦁ It’s what college students use to describe anything that isn’t the bottom shelf garbage they’re used to drinking.
⦁ It’s too vague. There are several factors that make a whiskey (or other spirit) smooth. Learn them and use more precise language to describe what you’re drinking.
⦁ Sweetness can make something seem more smooth. A wheated Bourbon may seem smooth, while the spicy flavor of a high rye bourbon may “burn”. Taking advantage of this “sweeter is smoother” perception, some lower end products may add sweeteners to make their product more drinkable.
⦁ Something that is distilled to a higher proof may seem more smooth, since it has fewer congeners (byproducts of distillation that can add different flavors to the new make spirit), but it will have less flavor.
⦁ Conversely, something that is bottled at a lower proof will have less alcohol burn (usually described as “heat”), and will seem smoother.
⦁ Smooth does not mean good. Flavor and character are more important than something that “goes down easy”.

All of these arguments point to one thing. For those against it, using that word speaks to a lack of experience. Like the college student, maybe you’re only used to drinking low quality whiskey. Or maybe you lack the knowledge to describe what’s in your glass with more specific terms.

Indeed, I found several sources that advised against using the word in discussing whiskey. Use it, they say, and you will identify yourself as a novice. Utter that word in the wrong company, and you will be judged harshly by those in the know.

To all of this I say “so what?” Is being inexperienced really so awful? Every professional, every expert, everyone, was a newcomer at one point.

If I meet someone with more experience than me, I want to learn from them. That’s not going to happen if I try to trick them into thinking I know more than I do. I’ve proudly started more than one conversation with “I’m new to this, but I want to learn more”.

And if I meet someone with less experience, I want to teach them. I want to pass on what I’ve learned. I’m not going to look down on someone or dismiss them because they’re just starting out. I was there once, too. Welcome. Let me help you find your way. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do. Knowledge, like whiskey, is best when shared.

So go ahead and describe that brown liquid in your glass as smooth. I won’t judge you. And if anyone does, look them in the eye and say “I’d rather be a novice than a snob”.

Ask most people to describe Scotch, and one word you’re like to hear is “smoke”.  I’ve encountered several misconceptions about this.  The most common one is that all Scotch is smoky.  While this may have been true in the distant past, it certainly isn’t the case today.  Others have to do with where that flavor comes from.  Let’s start there. 

The smoky flavor in Scotch typically comes from “peated” malt.  This is malted barley that has been dried over a fire of burning peat moss, which is basically decomposed vegetation.  Perhaps I’ll talk more about malting and peating in a future post.

As you sample more and more peated Scotch, you will notice something.  Not all peat is created equal.  Certainly there is a large range in terms of the intensity of the smoke, but there is also a difference in the flavor of the smoke.

Some Islay whiskies are described as having flavors of iodine, or seaweed, or that are medicinal.  Peated Scotch from the Highlands or Speyside has a lighter, milder smoke.  This is mostly because the vegetation in the area (which decomposes to make the peat) is different.  While seaweed and other coastal plants make up most of the peat on Islay, the flora in the highlands consists largely of heather and other lighter, floral vegetation.  It’s also important to note that where the whisky comes from is not always the same as where the peat comes from.  Some Islay distilleries source their peated barley from the mainland.

If you begin to explore these differences in peat smoke in more detail, it’s worth seeking out samples from beyond the borders of Scotland.  Several craft distilleries in the U.S. have also started producing peated whiskeys, but be careful here.  Some import malted barley from Scotland, so you will not be tasting American peat. 

On a visit to Orange County Distillery in New York, I sampled their peated single malt.  They are located in the heart of the Black Dirt Region (the “black dirt” being peat), and they harvest their own peat and barley, and do the malting and peating on premise.  While the flavor is very similar to a peated highland Scotch, it is distinctly regional.

Connemara makes a peated Irish whiskey.  The peat here is also mild, like a highland.  There is some ambiguity about the source of the peat, but I find the flavor to be unique. 

But smoke flavor in whiskey does not end there.  There are whiskeys that are made with grains that have been smoked over a wood fire.  Wood smoke is a very different flavor than peat smoke, and one that more people are familiar with, as most of us have tasted food cooked over a wood fire.  I have tried several whiskeys that contain a portion of wood smoked grain, and they can be quite good.

And then there is “barrel char”.  It is a legal requirement that Bourbon be aged in a new charred oak container.  Other whiskeys may also use charred barrels, though some are simply “toasted”.  The degree of char is rated on a numeric scale, with 1 being the least charred.  A char of 4 is the highest that is commonly used, though higher levels do exist.  Whiskey aged in a #4 barrel, and sometimes even in a #3, will usually have a charred flavor.  While some might describe this as smoky, it is a distinct flavor, more similar to charcoal.

So remember, not all Scotch is smoky, and not all smoky whisky is Scotch.  There is a wide range of smoke, both in intensity, and in flavor.  If you like smoke, don’t be afraid to explore different types.  If you don’t like smoky whisky, maybe you just haven’t tried the right kind of smoke yet.  And if you don’t like smoke at all, don’t let that stop you from trying some unpeated Scotch whiskies.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing.  And feel free to comment with your own smoky experiences.

Hello, and happy New Year!  I apologize for my long absence.  I hope that this year will allow me to be more consistent in my posting.

Every January, I attend a Robbie Burns Day dinner and Scotch tasting.  If you’re not familiar with this, Robert Burns was a Scottish poet born on January 25th, 1759.  There is a tradition of celebrating his life and poetry with a dinner, usually held on that date, or a Friday or Saturday near it.  Traditional Scottish food is typically served, along with Scotch whisky. 

As luck would have it, his birthday falls on a Saturday this year.  If you’ve never attended one of these dinners, I encourage you to look for one near you.  They are a lot of fun – a chance to meet some great people, and try some good food and good whisky – even if you don’t like haggis.

In February of last year, I attended a tasting event at a local distillery comparing and contrasting various whiskey styles, including Bourbon, rye, and single malt, where we sampled 10 different expressions.  By the end of February, it occurred to me that I had tried over 30 whiskeys that I had never had before.  With that number under my belt, and the year only 1/6th over, I set a goal of tasting 100 new whiskeys by year’s end.  I was certainly on pace to do that, but could I maintain it?

What followed was an exercise in seeking out new sources for different whiskeys, beyond what you see in every bar, in every liquor store.  I found several restaurants in my area whose bars had whiskey lists ranging from above average to extraordinary.  If I was going somewhere new, I would look ahead and see if there were any promising options in the area. 

I visited local craft distilleries that made whiskey.  I began looking closely at the miniature “airline” bottles in liquor stores, in case they had something new to me, and I could check off another box while spending just a few dollars.  I went to more tasting events.

I made it a point to look for the one option on a whiskey menu that I hadn’t tried before.  It got harder and harder as the year went on.  (At this point, I must offer a word of thanks to every bartender and waiter who endured my more-specific-than-usual questions.) 

I tried some things that I wouldn’t think of as a dram to be sipped neat, but it wasn’t just to add another tally.  I had a genuine interest in being familiar with these, in case they come up as an answer to the “what do you usually drink?” question.  I was pleasantly surprised by several of them.

While I have always been more of a Scotch and Bourbon drinker, I expanded my knowledge of Irish and Canadian whiskeys.  I tried examples from countries that are less well-known for their whiskey, including France, Wales, and South Africa.

I reached my goal of 100 at the end of July with a very special sample, Pappy Van Winkle 20 Year.  I slowed down, but didn’t stop.  After a tasting event in October, I reached 130, and thought I might be able to get to 150 by the end of the year.  On New Year’s Eve, I sampled whiskey number 160, Jameson’s 12 Year Old.

It’s been quite a ride.  I met some great people.  I drank some great whiskey.  I learned a lot.  Mostly, I learned that I still have a lot to learn. 

Why am I telling you all of this?  It’s not because I expect to try over 100 new whiskeys in 2020.  I certainly plan to continue to seek out new experiences, but I also plan to go back to ordering old favorites more often.  And it’s not because I expect you to try 100 new whiskeys this year.  But I do hope that I can encourage you to try something new if you have the chance.  You just might find a new favorite.

If you’d like to hear more about my whiskey experiences, please subscribe.  Thank you for taking the time to read about my journey.

I better not finish that. It might be considered copyright infringement.

If you’ve gone beyond having one or two favorite bottles, and started building a collection, you might want to consider starting and “Infinity Bottle”.

If you’re not familiar with the idea, you will need an empty bottle to start, or better yet, a nice decanter. The idea is that every time you open a new bottle, you add a small amount, creating your own unique blend, not available anywhere else in the world.

This is not an exercise in immediate gratification. At first, you will only be adding. Once it is full, then every time you add, you will need to take a little out to make room. As you make each “withdrawal”, you get to sample it, and watch your bottle change and evolve with each new addition. It is called an “infinity” bottle because in theory, there will always be some minute influence of every sample added.

One of the great things about this exercise is that there are no rules. But there are some guidelines, and some decisions to make:

• Will you use one specific type of whisky, or mix different types? While some enjoy the complex liquor produced by blending Scotch, Bourbon, and other types, others are “purists” maintaining an infinity of only their favorite type, or a separate one for each type. Also, don’t be afraid to start an infinity for other favorite spirits. Ginfinity, anyone?
• Avoid particularly strong flavors. A little bit of a dominant flavor, such as an especially peaty Scotch, will quickly take over an entire bottle. While a lightly peated style like Bowmore is probably OK, you might want to omit the Laphroaig. Another option, if you are a big enough fan of those, is to set up a separate bottle just for them.
• How much of each sample will you add? One ounce is probably typical. If you want to get off to a faster start, 1 1/2 or 2 ounces might not be out of the question. My suggestion is to keep the amount consistent. We are not looking to become master blenders here.
• I’ve seen articles that call for adding the final ounce from each bottle. I think that’s like someone asking for your last french fry. Seriously? I’ve been eating these things for 20 minutes, and now you decide you want one? Like the last fry, or the last bite of cake, nothing is as special as that last pour from a bottle. I prefer to make my donations up front.
• Sample first. While I prefer not to contribute the final ounce to the cause, I don’t like to use the first ounce either. When I open a new bottle, I like to pour a dram and sample it. That way, if I do find one that I just don’t care for, I can omit it. It’s the second ounce that goes in.
• Last, but not least, share! Although the rule is to only draw out as much as you’re going to replenish from a new bottle, don’t be afraid to take a little extra to pour for an honored guest, especially if you’re proud of your current blend. It will be replenished soon enough, and I think a special guest deserves a special pour. Whether it’s that rare bottle you found, one with a special story behind it, or yes, your very own personal infinity that isn’t available anywhere else, nothing makes me feel more welcome than a fellow enthusiast greeting me with “you have to try this!”

Have an infinity of your own? Thinking of starting one? I’d love to hear about it. And if you would like to receive notification of future posts, please consider subscribing.