Column: A wee dram of the good life

By Thomas Winterhoff

First published on March 9, 2007
Copyright © Thomas Winterhoff

Throwing back a few shots of whisky at 10 o’clock in the morning will usually put you on the fast track to an irreversible “career adjustment.” When I did exactly that this past Monday, however, I got to call it research.

Man, I love this job.

Scotland has a colourful history and vibrant culture that has given the world many great artists and adventurers (Robert Burns, Sir William Wallace and Billy Connelly spring to mind), but the country is probably best known as the birthplace of three things: golf, haggis and Scotch whisky.

Mark Twain once said that golf is nothing more than “a good walk spoiled” by chasing after a little white ball. The less said about haggis the better, but a good whisky is something else altogether.

Just ask Ian Millar, the chief brand ambassador for the Glenfiddich family of single-malt whiskies. He was in town this week on a publicity tour to spread the word about the growing popularity of single-malt whisky throughout the civilized world. (No word on how it’s doing in Ottawa so far.)

Millar has spent over 30 years in the whisky business in his native Scotland, with some of the biggest names in the industry. He now travels the globe as a renowned whisky “nosing expert” — a role roughly equivalent to a sommelier for fine wines. When I stepped into the oak-panelled library of the Empress Hotel, he walked across the plush carpet to greet me with a firm handshake and a broad smile. Wearing a kilt and a pair of sturdy leather brogues, he was the very picture of a man who thoroughly enjoys his work.

After exchanging a few pleasantries in his rolling Scottish burr, he asked if I would be interested in sampling a rare, 34-year-old single-malt whisky. The hand lettering on the label indicated that the 1973 Highland Single Malt was one of just 324 bottles drawn from Cask No. 9875 — back when Richard Nixon was still figuring out whom to include on his White House Christmas card list.

To fully appreciate the subtle but important differences between a 12-year-old, 15-year-old and 34-year-old whisky, he suggested that it might be prudent to try all three vintages. I hesitated for about 0.37 seconds, but agreed to taste a wee dram or two in the interests of investigative journalism.

In between deliberating Scotland’s chances in the FIFA U-20 World Cup soccer tournament this summer, Millar filled me in on the pedigree of the gold-coloured liquor that he started pouring into a daunting row of glittering glasses lined up on the table. The first written mention of whisky in Scotland dates back to 1496, so the Scots have had over 400 years to perfect the art and science of creating an alcoholic beverage made from malted barley, water, yeast and a little bit of magic.

Glenfiddich, owned by William Grant and Sons, is an independent distiller that’s been operated by five generations of the same family since 1886. In an age when another major producer of Scotch whisky is owned by a French conglomerate, Millar said the traditions carried on by the Grant family are reflected in every bottle they produce. It’s the kind of company, he added, where 80-year-old chairman Charles Grant and the resident coppersmith are good friends and get together regularly to talk passionately about their work at the local pub.

“Happy people make good whisky and good whisky makes people happy,” said Millar.

It sounds like a line he’s used on more than one PR tour, but a few sips into the 15-year-old whisky, I’m inclined to agree.

The production of whisky is strictly controlled by the Scotch Whisky Association, right down to regulations that govern the type of oak barrels used for aging. The maturation process not only adds a unique flavour and colour to the whisky, but also extracts unwelcome “volatiles” such as sulphur. The whisky gets “smoother” with each passing year, reaching its peak between 12 and 40 years.

Blended Scotches are the most popular whiskies worldwide, but the market share for single-malt whisky has increased to eight per cent over the past decade. Over 130 different malt whiskies of various vintages are now available around the globe. Once limited to wealthy connoisseurs, single-malt whiskies have hit the mainstream.

However, an aging process that lasts decades reduces the amount of finished product in the cask and therefore increases its price. The 34-year-old whisky Millar handed to me next sells for a cool $900 per bottle — if you can find one. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to distinguish all of the flavour characteristics of different whiskies at such a refined level, but there was certainly nothing wrong with that one. It was like drinking gold velvet.

I sat back in my chair in the luxurious confines of the Empress Hotel. Warmed by the last drops of a whisky I’ll never be able to afford if I remain in journalism, I casually suggested to Millar that we should consider switching careers whenever he grows tired of flying around the world and being forced to drink high-end whisky to eke out a living.

He remained silent for a moment, but then leaned forward and replied in a tone that had suddenly become very serious.

“You can have my job,” he said with a grin, “but you’re going to have to kill me first.”