Shackleton blended malt

Shackleton is back on offer in Co-op, and it’s still one of the finest whiskies you can imagine getting for £19.50.

Some years ago I went to the Whisky Stramash at the Surgeon’s Hall, and this new-at-the-time release was, for me, one of the standout drams of the entire event. A good whisky should tell a story, and this has one of the better ones.

In 1907, Ernest Shackleton (not yet Sir) and the crew of the British Antarctic Expedition buried a cache of supplies under the ice at the shore party’s overwinter hut. Shackleton himself is a fascinating character. Born in the wrong century, he should have been a buccaneer, swashing buckles and shivering timbers across the Spanish Main or some other such thing. Growing up in late-Victorian suburban London, he had to make do with the next best thing, which was becoming one of the greatest explorers of his age.

A group of explorers from Shackleton's ''Nimrod'' expedition, 1907-09, in the Antarctic hut at Cape Royds
The Nimrod Expedition inside the hut at Cape Royds. Note the advert for ladies’ corsets on the back wall. Gotta keep the troops’ spirits up.

(Between epic expeditions he contented himself with a series of hare-brained moneymaking schemes of varying degrees of failure. At one point he ran a tobacconist’s shop around the corner from my old hotel.)

By 1907, the only bit of the planet that the British Empire hadn’t already stuck a flag in was the Antarctic, so that was the place to go. The climate there was significantly less hospitable than it would have been were Shackleton born early enough for privateering across the Caribbean, but he was a man who worked with what he had. And what he had included three cases of Mackinlay’s Rare Old Highland Malt Whisky.

A century later, these three crates of whisky were rediscovered frozen in the ice. So after extensive negotiations they were carefully dug out of the ice, defrosted, and flown back to civilization in what I understand to be contravention of several international treaties1It’s basically illegal to take anything out of Antarctica. Special arrangements were made, which I understand involved getting the whisky personally flown out on the distillery manager’s private jet.. Painstakingly recreated from samples of the original spirit, modern Shackleton’s whisky was released to some fanfare in 2011.

This is what I discovered at the Whisky Stramash. The specific single malt was no longer available2The Glen Mhor distillery was closed in 1983 and demolished 1986., so the modern version was a blended malt that carefully recreated the original flavour profile. Limited edition, sold inna wooden crate stamped BRITISH ANTARCTIC EXPEDITION and packed with straw as the original ones would have been. It cost me £100 and at the time was the single most expensive bottle of whisky I’d ever owned. So naturally I was too afraid to open it, and a few years later it got lost during a house move.

Don’t be like me, kids. Whisky is for drinking.

The fact that it’s now available most of the time for twenty-five quid in Asda ought to make me angry. It doesn’t, because it’s a bloody beautiful dram and I’m genuinely glad that it’s getting wider dissemination of the kind that it definitely deserves.

Journal of the Institute of Brewing, vol 117, issue 2, Jan 2011
Journal of the Institute of Brewing, vol 117, issue 2, Jan 2011

I recently discovered the original academic paper from when they scientifically analyzed the samples as part of the recreation process. It talks a lot about congeners and esters and phenols, concepts that I don’t understand nearly as much as I’d like. It all sounds fascinating but I was never good at chemistry at school.3When I’m making cocktails, I take care to describe what I’m doing as “applied chemistry”. What I found particularly interesting was that, after all this time, using things like gas chromatography and mass spectroscopy, they’ve been able to determine things as specific as the type of peat that was used (Orcadian, from the Isle of Eday) and the barrels used for maturation (first-fill American oak sherry casks, for more than five years). The things you can do these days. They’ve then been able to correlate their analyses with the historical records and work out, hypothetically, which of these Edwardian booze advertisements were telling porkies.

The results presented here significantly change our perception of the quality and character of Scotch malt whisky produced over 100 years ago. Malt whisky from this period was generally regarded as robust, peaty and too ‘heavy’ in style for ordinary consumption. Our analysis however describes a surprisingly light, complex whisky, with a lower phenolic content than expected.

Sensory and Chemical Analysis of ‘Shackleton’s’ Mackinlay Scotch Whisky4Pryde, J., Conner, J., Jack, F., Lancaster, M., Meek, L., Owen, C., Paterson, R., Steele, G., Strang, F. and Woods, J. (2011), Sensory and Chemical Analysis of ‘Shackleton’s’ Mackinlay Scotch Whisky. Journal of the Institute of Brewing, 117: 156-165. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2050-0416.2011.tb00455.x

The general takeaway from the article, and from most reviews I’ve read, is that historical whisky was traditionally very heavy and peaty, whereas this Mackinlay brand is comparatively light and fresh, much more like a modern whisky. I’ve not been able to find any records describing how much personal interest Shackleton took in the specific type of booze he took along with him onna journey to the very ends of the Earth. But I like to think that, in this as in so many other things, he was a trailblazer.

Recently I’ve discovered that Shackleton whisky tastes, if anything, slightly better out of a hipflask. I can only speculate that this is exactly the kind of criterion valued by an Edwardian gentleman officer-adventurer. And I can confirm that it’s just the thing you want when you’re immersed in bloody freezing water.

pajh up to his knees in the Firth of Forth, making the best of it

I love living here, but sometimes going paddling at the beach is a chore.

Footnotes

  • 1
    It’s basically illegal to take anything out of Antarctica. Special arrangements were made, which I understand involved getting the whisky personally flown out on the distillery manager’s private jet.
  • 2
    The Glen Mhor distillery was closed in 1983 and demolished 1986.
  • 3
    When I’m making cocktails, I take care to describe what I’m doing as “applied chemistry”.
  • 4
    Pryde, J., Conner, J., Jack, F., Lancaster, M., Meek, L., Owen, C., Paterson, R., Steele, G., Strang, F. and Woods, J. (2011), Sensory and Chemical Analysis of ‘Shackleton’s’ Mackinlay Scotch Whisky. Journal of the Institute of Brewing, 117: 156-165. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2050-0416.2011.tb00455.x

Dramming home for Christmas

Glendronach and Smokehead Rebel rum cask on my kitchen table, ready for drinking.
Tonight’s entertainment is brought to you by these drams and the fact that it’s time to get all the bloody Xmas cards written.

Having (finally!) sorted out that irritating problem with the website layout (as mentioned inna previous blogpost), I thought that I’d get things kicked off properly with a twofer. ‘Tis the season and all that, winter is closing in and the days are getting shorter, so I was in the mood for something really meaty. By a stroke of luck I had occasion to drop into the excellent Loch Fyne Whiskies on Cockburn Street, and they had this on special offer.

Glendronach Original 12yo

Dense and rich, clearly with a lot of sherry influence going on. The label talks about PX and Oloroso casks, and it’s pretty obvious from the first sniff. It smells like Christmas—which suggests that I was right when I picked this one out. Lots of dried fruit and a prominent acetone note, giving that really strong pear drops vibe. Behind that there’s a big hit of Xmas-themed spices: cinnamon and allspice and everything nice.

I’d had a pretty stressful day and I was very, very much in the mood for a drink when I got home. This whisky was exactly the sort of thing that I needed. I could happily sit here with my nose in the glass for a good long time while my natural bonhomie returns. (Yes, I do have a natural bonhomie. It’s just that very few of you ever get to see it, which, frankly, is on you.)

Adding a drop of water softens the spiciness and brings out a very sweet note—but it’s the kind of confectioner’s sugar note that I’d expect in grain whisky. Because of the acetone vibe from before I can’t help but think of licking the dust off the outside of a pear drop. No, wait, it’s travel sweets. Remember those? They came inna little round tin and you could get them at motorway service stations. When I was young I always preferred the dust in the bottom of the tin.

Despite that additional lightness there’s still a lot of complexity in this dram, deep rich raisiny notes from the sherry, and some hints of oaky vanilla. It improves on pouring a second glass.

I’m feeling a lot better now.

Smokehead “Rebel” rum cask finish

I got this bottle from work. My boss has this notion that I’m a fan of the smoke bombs, which isn’t remotely true, but I think he gets it from the fact that I’m always asking for something peatier to go on the range that we have there. I’m not asking that because I want to drink it. I’m asking on behalf of the guests. This seems to have given me a reputation as a smoke fiend, which isn’t my usual style at all, but I do appreciate a smoky one on occasion.

Let’s assume that this is one of those occasions. Smokehead is, typically, a beautiful proper single malt that comes from an undisclosed Islay distillery. (Last time I checked, the scuttlebutt suggested that it was Ardbeg, 10yo vatted with a little bit of 12). They make great whiskies but, for whatever reason, they won’t tell you where it comes from. I can only presume that this is something to do with the marketing department.

In any case, what they do at Smokehead is heavily peated face-melters that can carry a “single malt” label and still be generic enough to go well with a mixer. And this expression is one where they seem to have lost their way a bit. If anything, it’s too good.

A rum finish would normally give a strong brown sugar note on the nose, but this one tempers it with a fruitiness that I’d normally expect from a very inland kind of Highland malt—that kind of rum-and-raisin ice cream kind of thing that Balvenie used to do so well. My first impression was of chocolate, lots and lots of chocolate. There’s a lot of smoke obviously, but it’s not overpowering and it just serves to highlight a bunch of other flavours that are going on in there. Drunk neat there’s an odd kind of thin, sharp line to the smokiness, but once you add water all the sweetness comes out and the astringency fades into the background.

Smokehead Rebel and a glass of Smoke-an'-Coke. I do this for you.
I hope you folks are appreciating this.

On the bottle, there’s a line on the tasting notes about “bursting with fiery peat smoke, burnt marshmallows and softened with caramelised fruit”. When I first tasted this I wasn’t getting any of those things, but this evening, sitting and spending a bit of time with this one, I’m definitely getting some marshmallow once the water’s opened it up. In my opinion a good smoky whisky should make you think of campfires, and this one goes beyond that and tastes like s’mores.

It’s almost too good to drink with a mixer. But I’m writing this review and this is a Smokehead so it’s only right that I go all the way and test this properly for you. So, against my better judgement perhaps, I went and got some coca-cola.

It works as a drink with Coke—and that’s really all I’ve got to say. It’s nice. A line of the smokiness comes through. It plays nicely with the cola flavours. But it’s better drunk on its own. This is one that has enough going on by itself not to need a mixer. And that’s something that I would rarely say about a generic Islay whisky, so I suppose that from me it comes as high praise.

Now I’m off to try it again neat, just to see what else is in there.