Or is the hunt better than the catch?
“Unicorn whisky”. Most of us will immediately know what is meant by this: very hard to find, probably once or twice in a lifetime whiskies of which you have heard stories of awe and legend. Whiskies you might never dream to cross paths with and given the odd chance to be fortunate enough to be in the vicinity of one, you, a mere mortal, should fall on your knees in devout worship the second you encounter it. Whisky with such a blinding, shiny aura, it would be like being in the presence of The Creator himself. They are pretty rare and you probably know someone who knows someone who got to try one at a tasting once and as a consequence lost his ability to speak as his unworthy lips and tongue touched the divine. Ok, I’m slightly exaggerating here, but you probably get the idea.
Truth be told, I am very much on the fence when it comes to the term ‘unicorn whiskies’. Because it’s not fair to the whisky. As I just described them (granted, with a flair for the dramatic), unicorn whiskies almost synonymously get this aura of magnificence, lifting it up from a whisky to something that surely cannot be anything but divine nectar. Push the pause button a minute here, please. Just because something is rare (and therefore usually also quite expensive, given it comes from the ‘right’ distillery, at least), doesn’t necessarily mean it’s next level wonderful. In fact, labelling a whisky as a unicorn more often than not isn’t doing the whisky itself any favours, as it tends to come with a lot of hype and, in today’s market, will lead to frankly ridiculous prices. Shoes the size of small cargo boats it’ll likely never be able to fill. So while I think using a term like ‘rare’ would suffice here, I ‘ll (grudgingly) admit that the term ‘unicorn’ is well known and integrated in the community, so by lack of a better definition, let’s just roll with it.
For the month of May, I’ll be looking at a couple of unicorn whiskies, and while nosing, sipping and enjoying them (hopefully), there’s this other saying – ‘the hunt is better than the catch’ – which will likely be nagging at me in the back of my mind throughout this series. Obviously I’ll be judging the whisky for what it is, with an open mind and as unbiased as I possibly can. How? By trying each of them (semi) blind, giving notes first before looking at the label.Also I will only be digging for any further information like prices and casks and what not afterwards.
Before we get down to business, a big ‘shout out’ is due to the kind people wo provided me with the samples for this month’s reviews. Glenn Duncan, James Burgoyne and Desie Vlieland: you are wonderful!
Bruichladdich Black Art 6.1 26 yo (1990-2018) 46.9% ABV, ‘limited edition’ of 18,000 bottles, NC, UCF, app. €300 a retail
I’m kicking off this series with what might well be the readily available of the lot. Released in 2018 with an outturn of 18,000 bottles it’s the biggest batch within the ‘Black Art’ series, and let’s be honest here: 18k bottles doesn’t exactly scream ‘limited edition’ in my book, but I get why they insist on putting the words ‘limited release’ on the label. It adds to the feeling of exclusivity for one thing (softening the blow this will have on your wallet) , and of course it’s also alluding to the fact that every release in the ‘Black Art’ series is a one off, never to be repeated. The series started out as a sort of pet project from then master blender Jim McEwan, continued by his successor Adam Hannett. Given how Bruichladdich is all about transparency and providing all the information us enthusiasts tend to geek about, the Black Art series is probably the one exception to the rule Bruichladdich allow themselves, as it is the exact opposite of transparent and informative. Deliberately mysterious and vague about which casks were used, feeding the myth further by giving us a story on how only 2 or 3 people in the entire world know what goes in to these batches, using a pitch black bottle engraved even with occult symbols and descriptions in Latin to help build the enigma surrounding these bottlings: I’m just happy that at least they share some information about the age, because frankly they’re quite nearing Macallan marketing territory imo. Or, as I like to call it: Mordor.
Nose
Strong and rich but not overwhelming. Figs, raisins, plums, sultanas… the usual suspects from over 2.5 decades in (sherry) casks. A subtle citrus note, but very shy and all but buried under those strong dried red fruit notes going spicy with a hint of clove. Dark, softly bitter chocolate too, like a well-aged cognac. Wet wood as well, adding to the soft bitter sensation.
Palate
Dry arrival, rich, loads and loads of wood and deep earthy notes. Warming spices and again all those dried red fruits, only this time going into a wine note rather than spices. A gentle drop of water accentuates the deep earthy-woody notes. Despite this being rich, it has a medium body with a surprisingly light mouthfeel.
Finish
Warm, spices and drying. Not nearly as long as I’d expect from a 26 year old single malt with quite some sherry casks in the batch.
Final thoughts
I can definitely see why people go nuts over this one. It ticks all the boxes of a rich, well matured top class single malt. And yet… to me, it feels as if the wood has taken over the show, leading the way from start to finish, leaving very little else to discover. As such, to me this is a bit ‘too much’, leaving not enough nuances to really excel. Does it merit a €300- ish price tag? Of course, there’s no clear ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer here as that’s relative. Putting it into context by comparing it to some of its peers – just take one look at today’s prices for any 25 – 30 yo Islay single malt- and €300 doesn’t seem so steep (to be clear: it is), as any other Islay of a similar age (Caol Ila possibly being the one exception) will set you back a multiple of that and then some.
Comments