Brig O’ Perth 14yo
Bottled by The Whisky Cellar | 46.7% ABV
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
A head-turning and engaging old-school weighty blend that demands attention
‘I don’t drink blends’
If I had a penny for every occasion on which I hear those misguided and, quite frankly, saddening words, I’d likely have enough to buy myself a bottle of the whisky I will eventually describe in this article—after the following diatribe. Okay, 4,600 pennies might be a stretch, but this is long-format reading after all.
I’ll probably focus more on the word ‘saddening’ than anything else from the above paragraph. Of late, I’ve come to realise that my tastes have changed. I am born again. I have risen on the 7th day from the pine washback of whisky evangelism renewed and full of vigour. Online pilgrimages shall be a thing of the past. Alarms shall be deleted, social media unfollowed, newsletters unsubscribed. I shall no longer spend years seeking out the One True Dram(s).
The drams shall now find me.
As I’m sure you’re already aware, keeping up with whisky in modern times can be exhausting. After years of trying to keep a finger on the pulse, to the extent that toes and further appendages were required to be drafted in to help, I am instead now cherry-picking my whisky experiences, as if from the conveyor belt of a budget sushi restaurant. Many popular dishes may pass me by—unremarkable dishes that have done the rounds a few times and now look faded and a shadow of their former self. But sometimes, just sometimes, a product catches the eye that has to be snatched from the merry-go-round.
On occasion, I can end an evening feeling satisfied with my choices; other times, I’m perplexed. Sometimes, though, there are times where I can’t understand why the whole restaurant wasn’t fawning over the little dish that impressed me so. Expecting a Crystal Maze ‘Crystal Dome’ effect, with hands and money flying everywhere, a few bottles of said dish are purchased—yes, we’ve moved on from sushi now—and opened (with a spare or two tucked away). Weeks, and sometimes months, of calm pass by, and my delightful revelation is still easily relived. Surely this can’t be right? What’s going on?
Blends aren’t trendy any more. There are companies that have been keeping the lighthouse lit, steering many knowing souls safely from the rocky edges of whisky mediocrity, a light in the dark, but the fact remains that in whisky circles, Single Malt is king.
The clamour for single malt is in itself a relatively recent phenomenon. Diageo and a few others pushed the single malt agenda into the on-trade throughout the 80s and 90s and this is when they really started to gain some traction with the general populace. Still, whilst you may find a murder of whisky geeks arguing away in a dark corner about the advantages of condensers vs worm tubs, of European vs American oak, and all about colour and chill filtration, it’s really the blends that continue to steal the show. Millions upon millions of cases of blended whisky, notably those of the famous Johnnie Walker, Ballantine’s, Chivas, etc crew, far outstrip sales of single malt globally—by quite a margin.
With this in mind—apologies in advance for this sweeping statement—why is it that whisky drinkers have come to see blended whisky as a ‘product-that-shall-not-be-named’ (please don’t sue me, Ms Rowling)? At what point did we become better than the world’s best-selling aged grain spirit? In our attempts to make ourselves appear superior or in the know, in many cases, we’ve strayed further and further from the path that we aspired to walk when we first fell in love with the amber liquid. Nowadays, my criteria for whisky enjoyment are simple: does it smell nice, does it taste good, does it bring me joy? I’ve found that many blends do exactly that and always have.
In my teens, I was paid £20 per week for attending higher education in a now discontinued financial initiative. Did I spend this on textbooks, transport, or vocational training? No. As a know-it-all teenager ahead of the weekend, I spent what I could of that £20 on supermarket value-brand blended whiskies…because they were cheap and had 40% vol compared to the 37.5% rums and vodkas. Was I too good for blended whisky back then? Still to this day, I buy litre bottles of Lidl’s 3yo blended whisky because I find it to be a genuinely charming and uncomplicated drop. At sub £15, what is there to complain about? For this meagre sum, will I bemoan the chill-filtration, added colouring and high grain content?
I sometimes see blended whisky referred to as ‘the humble blend’. Ironically, I find it is usually the people saying those words who would benefit from some humility in the face of this phenomenal product, which has built and supported the whisky industry that we know and love today.
“[a] phenomenal product, which has built and supported the whisky industry that we know and love today.”
Review
Non-chill-filtered blended Scotch, bottled October 2021, 46.7% ABV.
Still available at retail at the time of writing for £46 RRP
The Whisky Cellar is an independent bottler based in Edinburgh which has quite rightly been making real inroads in the whisky sphere. Until recently, they only bottled single malts, with some notable releases, spanning a vast range of ages and cask types.
Back at the tail end of 2021, however, the Whisky Cellar released Brig O’ Perth: a blended whisky whose name was first seen a whopping 125 years ago (almost as old as our Wally) when Perth grocer, Matthew Gload & Son, blended their first batches in the basement of their shop way back in 1896.
This whisky was created by Keith Bonnington and Max MacFarlane to celebrate the aforementioned milestone anniversary. It uses a few well-loved and well-known Highland malt whiskies in the mix including Ben Nevis, with a total malt content of around 50%.
Nose
The quality of the components makes itself known early doors. Lovely rich honey, warm, worn leather, ginger and cinnamon. Over time there’s redcurrant, and a malty biscuit alongside, all with a nose-coating, savoury, peppery olive oil backdrop which just sings alongside that chunky honey note. It’s earthy without being heavy, sweet without being cloying.
Palate
A great introduction with a thick and oily texture. Initial warm spice leading into some softer, sweeter notes not dissimilar from the honey on the nose. Milk chocolate opens the gate for a return of the cinnamon, with Eton mess in all its berries and cream and meringue unhealthiness. The palate is very well structured, thick and chunky without being clumsy. The warmth develops and continues through to a long and sweet finish.
The Dregs
This spirit is just eminently chunky, engaging and ultimately fun to drink. For me, this punches well above its weight and easily beats many similar aged and priced malts that I’ve had of late. This blend has been put together using hefty and texture-driven components, and it’s been kept free of chill-filtering. This is simply a fantastic example of ‘the humble’ blend.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. LM
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