Islay off the beaten track part 2: the one you might ignore otherwise.

Johnnie Walker 12 year old Black Label Islay Origins (42% ABV, coloured like there's no tomorrow and chill filtered)

After last week’s fairly obscure Bunnahabhain 8 year old, I’m exploring some more Islay whiskies that might not get a lot of attention otherwise. So coming from obscure and very under the radar, I’m turning the tide on this week’s review, by going for a full-fledged overexposed one, in terms of recognisable brands, anyway. Indeed: it’s a Johnnie Walker!

Ah, Johnnie Walker: flagship of Diageo’s whisky fleet and therefore representative of pretty much everything we, anoraks and enthusiasts, dislike about the whisky industry. Whatever’s in Diageo’s portfolio and has core range releases is, in our opinion, too low on ABV, almost always chill filtered and someone down at Diageo’s crayon headquarters seems to really like dark brown, given the colour of much of their whiskies. Add to that that no one knows how to milk the whisky cow like Diageo, especially when it comes to releases that do respond to what we want to see. Either you can splash the cash for their annual special releases who seem to become some 10-20% more expensive every year, or settle for the less expensive yet-not-exactly-cheap-either Flora and Fauna releases, who are all given the same, cynical treatment: low ABV (never quite understood the whole 43% ABV thing, seems pretty much like the industry saying we ought to be glad it’s not 40% ABV), chill filtered and coming with a fake than? Oh, and why is it that their distillery editions are easily and across the board € 15 – € 25 more expensive than the regular core range expressions? After all, it’s basically their standard release that got finished in a different casktype.

And yet. Chances of anyone falling down the rabbit hole who didn’t at an early stage of their journey crossed paths with the entry level expressions from be it Johnnie Walker, Black & White, J&B or Bell’s, are pretty slim. And love it or hate it, Johnnie Walker in particular is one of few brands that have thrived and grown – with ups and downs, obviouysly – for over 200 years now, to become the most recognisable whisky brand on this planet. You don’t just build that kind of provenance, pedigree and heritage unless you’re doing one or two things right. So while we like to bitch and moan about Diageo and what it stands for – often with good reason, there is some credit to be given where it’s due as well, I reckon.

Despite all of us having valid reasons to trashtalk the likes of Johhnie Walker, you got to give them credit for being absolute kings of consistency. Sure, the Red Label is not exactly something to get excited about, and their Blue Label is probably the most fabricated and constructed whisky I’ve ever tasted, but then there’s the 15 yo Green Label, which seems to get praise and recognition for being an affordable, age stated, well balanced (albeit a bit pedestrian) whisky. Truth be told, I’m not a huge fan of the Green Label, but I’ll let you in on a little secret here: I quite like the regular Black Label. It’s not as if it’s a regular in my cabinet, but seeing the thing for what it is, I feel it’s a solid, decent and well balanced, easy sipping entry level blend. There, I said it.

So when I saw this Islay Origin on the shelves in a store near me, fairly well priced at that and as a blended malt rather than a blend, I figured it might well be worth a punt. Worst case scenario it ‘ll buy me some credit for taking one for the team, right?! Originally this was released a few years ago as a 1l bottle for the Global Retail Market as part of the ‘origin series’ alongside a Highland blended malt and a Speyside blended malt, but now it has been set loose on the world as a ‘limited release’, whatever that means. So what I want to find out, is how it sits in the fairly wide range of entry level Islay expressions? How does it hold up compared to the likes of Caol Ila 12, Ardbeg 10 and Laphroaig 10? And at around €35, does it qualify as bang for buck?

On the nose it’s nothing bold, yet nothing shy either. Sweet peat, with a fruity touch followed by salt and iodine. Dried fruits like raisins, plums and sultanas and something I ‘d describe as soaked or marinated nuts going into a fermented grape note (not quite wine notes, but going there). Over time, the peat becomes less outspoken, making way for those maritime and sweet notes. Quite decent, this!

On the palate there is this hit of ashy peat, and then pretty much nothing else?! That can’t be right, so let’s try again. Ok, it takes some time, but there is – fortunately- more to this. While not being bold or outspoken the ashy peat puts the veil over this a bit, concealing what’s underneath. Indeed, there’s dark fruit, coffee and treacle. You can’t help but wonder what this might have been if they didn’t chill filter this and drowned it in E 150 A. And drown this they did, I believe, up to the point where even the folk at Whyte & Mackay would say ‘hey hey, now, easy does it’.

The finish is medium long, dry, peaty with a grainy/cereal note.

This has Lagavulin and Caol Ila at the core, obviously, but while I don’t think there is a lot of Ardbeg or Bruichladdich going into this, of all Islay malts, it reminds me most of a soft version of Laphroaig 10. Less smoky and more ashy, but it has that same maritime and iodine touch to it. The nose is easily the best part of the whole experience as the palate just falls short of truly delivering in my opinion. And while I’m not sure what I expected from this, I’m still a bit on the fence to be honest. It’s a 12 year old whisky made from multiple distilleries from Islay. It could have been, maybe even should have been, a bit punchier, more complex and engaging, but on the other hand it’s a big step up in terms of peat and smoke compared to the standard Black Label. So all things considered, this is decent, not great, and makes for a good introduction to what Islay has to offer. Sitting in the €35-€40 range, it’s similarly priced to Laphroaig 10 as well, and maybe that was the whole point of this bottle to begin with. So, cynical bastards after all? Still: 81/100