Hallowed be thy grain: Stauning Rye Art Series

4yo Maple syrup cask finish (2017-2021), 57.2% ABV, 259 bottles, app. €60

My second exploration into anything BUT single malt takes me to Denmark. I’ve tried a few Stauning whiskies in the past, and if memory serves me right, I believe I’ve reviewed a 2019 bottling of their ‘Bastard’ release (if interested and if you’re a brave online archaeologist, feel free to skip over to the archives section). Interestingly, many of Stauning’s whiskies have rye at their core, as it’s what local farmers there tend to grow. When I was pondering on how to build this series, it occurred to me that rye whisky is quite the exception in the Scottish whisky landscape. Apart from Arbikie in the Highlands, I can’t really think of any other distillery that specifically works with rye as a base/key ingredient. Seeing how Stauning is approximately on the same latitude as many of the new breed of Lowland distilleries in Scotland (like Kingsbarns and Daftmill, to name but two), this seems quite puzzling, as surely there is rye a plenty to be found on fields across Scotlands? Guess again! Rye is probably the least cultivated grain in the whole of Scotland, although it is very much on the rise. From merely 400 hectares in 2014 cultivation has increased at least 14 times over recent years, to 5800 hectares in 2018. For those not familiar with the metric system, that’s some 14332 acres. To put that in perspective: that’s roughly 5% of the total amount of barley grown in Scotland, which counts for some 290,000 hectares.

Barley may indeed be the dominant grain in Scotland, and it most certainly is THE grain which makes Scotch whisky what it is, but if we dig a bit deeper into Scottish history, we may end up counting our blessings. Allow me to explain. To most of us, single malt whisky is pretty much a given when we think about ‘Scotch’. But looking a bit deeper and further in the fascinating world of Scotland’s agricultural history, it seems like it might have been touch and go for barley as the grain of choice. As you probably know, distillation initially became a common and widespread practice for many farmers to generate extra income/revenue, using the surplus grains at hand. Barley, specifically bere barley, has ‘always’ been around in Scotland, but throughout the 16th and the 17th century (basically right around the time when distilling really started to take off in Scotland), it was oat that had replaced barley as the most popular, go-to grain in Scotland. Single Oat Whisky, anyone? Sidenote: I’ve tried a few oat whiskies, and I quite liked them. It has a creaminess and spiciness to it (yet it’s noticeably less ‘spiky’ than rye and packs more flavour and character than wheat) which I found very appetizing (hence why brewers use it for beer), but apparently it’s quite difficult to work with if you want to distil it.

But I digress. Rye, as a category in the 21st Scotch whisky landscape, is still pretty much ‘terra incognita’, and given the prices you’ll be paying for a bottle of the aforementioned Arbikie, I don’t see that changing any time soon. So across the North Sea it is then, to the shores of Denmark, where they do produce rye, and lots of it. Denmark is in fact the EU’s 3d largest producer, after Poland and Germany, making up for nearly 10% of all rye grown in the EU. Pretty impressive, considering it’s one the smaller countries in the EU (granted, Germany and Poland combined grow nearly 70% of all rye in the EU, so it puts things in perspective, but still).

And with that little lesson on European agriculture done and dusted, let’s try some actual whisky, shall we?

Nose

Sweet, herbal and green – quite typical for a rye. It comes across dense and sugary – might be the cask’s doing. Digging in deeper, I get sweet almonds and oranges, and a very soft sour note. More herbaceous notes the likes of parsley, and also, weirdly, cucumber. It may be a 4 yo youngster, but it appears older on the nose, as in: not overly spirit driven. A drop of water accentuated the green notes.

Palate

Sweet arrival, and it also packs a bit of a punch! Again, that combo of cherry bubblegum (something I often get in a rye) and green notes. A soft bitter-woody note as well, transcending into an almost paper-cardboard like touch. Quite a viscous mouthfeel on this one. Once the tastedbuds had adapted also more palatable neat. Still, try it with some added water and it becomes slightly fizzy and peppery with a hint of ginger.

Finish

Long, very clingy with a sweetness that evolves into an ever increasing dry wood note.

Final thoughts

I’ve had one or two Stauning’s prior to this one and felt they were a work in progress: showing promise but not quite ‘there’ yet. This one though comes across more matured, with a significant better balance. I expected (dreaded?) a ton of sweetness coming from that maple syrup cask, adding sugary sweets on top of that slightly funky and spiky rye sweetness, but if anything it rounded things of nicely rather than taking over the show, filing off any potential rough edges while allowing plenty of the rye character to come through. A welcoming and pleasant side step from malt whisky, exactly the sort of stuff you can thoroughly enjoy while resetting your palate. 83/100