54.2% ABV, UCF, natural colour, 2021 release, app. €65-€70
A strong contender for ‘best single malt whisky’ in some online award thing or another?
I pinkie swear that it’s a -admitted- happy coincidence that I’m reviewing 2 whiskies this month that have also been nominated in this year OSWA’s. I try to plan my content at least several months in advance, which mostly comes down to deciding which topics I want to cover in my monthly series. It doesn’t necessarily mean that I know which bottles I’ll be covering 4 or 5 months from now, though. Sometimes I pick my topics based on what I have in the cabinet, but not always. In fact, quite often it’s the other way around: I choose the topics I think will be interesting well in advance, write down a longlist of possible whiskies to cover and then only later on get round to picking the whiskies that will actually feature in the series. This depends a lot on availability and available funds.
Granted, when I decided on the whiskies that would feature in this months’ reviews, I was willing to bet that at least one of either the Campbeltown Loch or the Victoriana would be nominated in this year’s OSWA’s, seeing how the blended malt took the whisky stage by storm earlier this year and how the Victoriana was also nominated last year. And while it would be the easy/obvious thing to do to also cover Compass Box’ Orchard House next week to conclude this series, I’ll very likely won’t go there. I may on occasion be a bit of an opportunist, but that doesn’t mean I have to be predictable.
Believe it or not, but Glen Scotia’s Victoriana has been around for some 7 years now. Waving goodbye to the previous core range with the famous Disco Cows which were only released 3 years before, Victoriana was launched in 2015 as part of a new core range alongside the Double Cask and the 15 year old. It’s fair to say these new core range expressions helped lay the foundation for the new course the distillery had decided upon. Because, as much as we’re singing Glen Scotia’s praise in recent times, for most of its past it did look a bit like an unwanted child, and was treated accordingly. Between its foundation in 1832 up until today it changed hands at least 7 or 8 times, getting sold and being bought back to be sold on again, getting mothballed twice along the way. And to top things of, it saw a name change (in its first 100 years of existence it was just called ‘Scotia’) and, seeing how this is Scotland, it supposedly has its own ghost (from a former owner who committed suicide after going bankrupt) wandering the premises.
However, for the past 20 odd years, ever since Loch Lomond got involved in 1999, it has, very much like its sister distillery in the Highlands, grown from being a workhorse distillery to becoming a celebrated and awarded brand. I don’t think I’m overstating things when I say that the involvement from both master blender Michael Henry and distillery manager Iain McAllister, both stepping in around 2007, alongside a change in ownership in 2014 have saved the day for both Glen Scotia and Loch Lomond, gradually altering their status from blendfillers to rising stars of the whisky world.
Distilleries mostly catering for blends may often not be the most exciting ones in terms of official releases, but upon closer look, being an almost anonymous contributor to other brands, like Glen Scotia was for most of its existence, does come with a set of perks. Perks which come in quite handy when you do decide that it’s time to step out of the shadows. If anything, it gives you a lot of flexibility. When providing a single malt whisky destined to end up in different blends, you’ll be catering to the specific needs and demands of different clients. Which in turn means you’ll also have established a good dose of knowledge, insight and experience about the effect of different fermentation and distillation times on your whisky, not to mention the impact your base ingredients can have on the final result. This applies to all the steps in the long chain from grain to glass: from yeast and barley varieties to the different peat levels. It’s little wonder then why someone like Michael Henry (who pretty much has a playground for blenders at his disposal at the versatile Loch Lomond distillery) tends to put the emphasis on what happens with the spirit before it is being put into casks. And while it’s of course near impossible to compare the 800,000 LPA capacity from Glen Scotia to the combined +12,000,000 LPA capacity of Loch Lomond, there are plenty of parallels to be drawn when discussing the philosophy, approach and ethos of both sister distilleries…
So: Glen Scotia Victoriana. The name alludes to the old school, old style profile of whiskies from the Victorian era (which pretty much means most of the 19th Century – British queens seem to have a tendency to rule for aeons). An era where whisky was known to be peaty, slightly dirty and oily: traits right up my proverbial alley, so boxes are, on, paper, being ticked as I type this. Let’s see what’s what, then…
Nose
Fruity and floral with a harbour-like oiliness to it. Notes of vanilla and vanilla oil, liquorice candy and winegums. Intertwined - and now it becomes really interesting – there’s notes of greenhouse and geraniums and wet clay, developing towards a sweet (cherry) funk, with a slight farmyard/antiseptic touch. Also, there’s something elusive, reminding me of a mixture of coffee and truffles bringing in an earthy note. A drop of water (not strictly necessary, mind you) brought out the vanilla oil and floral notes. Dare I say this is excellent?
Palate
The ABV is noticeable, but not overwhelmingly so. Viscous and slightly dirty – oily, with again that maritime note shining through in the form of beach pebbles now. Coffee and chocolate as well, and all of this is sitting on a dense, mouthcoating texture. The floral an herbaceous notes from the nose are there, but are taking a step more towards the back, adding a delicate and subtle touch behind the powerhouse. Again, the added water brought out hints of green fruit and floral notes. Yep, I’m going to say it: this is excellent!
Finish
Long, with a woody bitterness to it, dense and drying. After the water the farmyard notes linger an linger.
Final thoughts
Retailing somewhere between €60 and €70 (provided sellers aren’t trying to cash in on its reputation, obviously), this is by no means ludicrously expensive, but it isn’t exactly a budget NAS either. The thing is, there isn’t really a frame of reference to be judging this in terms of age. Which, in my book, means it’s deserving of some scrutiny to merit a price tag like that. Therefore I’m happy to report it passed this test with flying colours. The overall experience is just top notch, although, and I mean this in the best possible way: this is not a beginner’s whisky. It develops and alters its appearance as you go back and forth, playing games of seduction as it attracts and holds back, being bold and big, yet subtle, layered, complex and versatile all in one. Strong contender for the OSWA’s? Oh hell yeah! 88/100: very good indeed!
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