Benriach 21yo
2017 Official Release | 46% ABV
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
A happy dram to welcome a happy drinker
The Pilgrim
The ragged, aching caricature of a human, reaching levels of exhaustion known only to those ascending Everest after the last of their oxygen, raises a sopping wet, shaky hand.
Miles of wilderness lie behind the weary traveller; hills, copses, canyons, burns and raging rivers. Feet blistered, eyes sore, skin tingling from midge bites and underwear squishy from rain, like some sort of determined homing irritant, finding its way under every layer of so-called ‘waterproof’ clothing. The downtrodden traveller slowly pushes the heavy door open.
A welcoming, and most appealingly dry, gust of air pushes through – the traveller inhales deeply, experiencing a jolt of renewed life from this warm blast. The faint hint of a sweet malt-and-honey brew arrives slowly behind the warm air; its familiar aroma like a warm, friendly hug. Our traveller is transported back to memories of their mother’s touch after a scraped knee or a fall from a bike.
The trip was worth it. The drama of the taxi taking too long to get to the airport, a check-in attendant that couldn’t find the booking, a bumpy flight, the confusing Scottish airport with the conflicting exit signs; the bus that never came, the train that never existed, the mile upon dreary mile of straggling-on whilst rain of a biblical nature invaded backpacks, phone cases and the will to live.
And it was worth the wrong turns, the wet puddles, the great expense, crappy supermarket sandwiches and the realisation that, despite what the television programs and movies show, leaving the main path is akin to a brazen request that nature swallow you up – with no phone signal.
But you’ve come this far. Finally, having spent years drinking the nectar that is infused with, and must surely invoke, all the surroundings from whence it came. At no little investment either: time taken from work, flights, buses, taxis, trains, hotels and every other expense was accounted for and now, having dreamt for years of visiting the magical, almost ethereal and spiritual birthplace of this incredible drink, you arrive. Broken, battered, sore, considerably poorer and soaking wet, you are finally here.
Once inside you take in the hallowed surroundings; you’re reassured by the signs, logos, bottle shapes and other distinct indications that here you are amongst friends – those that know the beauty and charms of this drink. It is a near religious experience, out of body, it is pleasing, sensual and a moment to cherish.
Gingerly you walk up to the smiling assistant behind the counter, only briefly tempted by the branded pens, pencils, golf balls, mugs, towels, keyrings, badges, cuff-links, fridge magnets, postcards, scarves, gloves, prophylactics and G-strings, you respond to the pleasant greeting;
“Hello and welcome to McMoney Distillery. Have you tried our whisky before?" The attendant’s smile is as warm as freshly baked bread.
You grin childishly, choosing not to pull apart your dripping coat to show an equally wet t-shirt underneath emblazoned with the distillery’s logo.
“That’s great.” The attendant says without breaking their smile once. “And you’re in luck because the next tour will begin in about ten minutes if you would like to join it?”
You nod in agreement realising that you had foolishly not even checked if the tours were at a certain time. Such serendipity – it was meant to be.
“Great.” Continued the smiling attendant. “That will be £200.”
“£200?” You yell. Suddenly a previously untapped energy source inside has been stirred. “£200 for a tour?” You shout again.
With regained composure, despite boiling like an Icelandic volcano, you make an abrupt turn and depart, retracing the wet outlines left by your boots as you came in. You realise why the door is so heavy; it makes it impossible to slam.
Reaching for your phone you discover another distillery close by.
“Benriach?” You say out loud to no-one. “Huh, £20 a tour, 75 minutes long and you get three whiskies to boot. Sounds grand.”
And with that, you’re off, with a brief stop at a bin to dispose of the t-shirt you wore all the way to Scotland. With a renewed sense of hope you wonder how much Benriach t-shirts might cost.
Review
Benriach 21yo, 2017 Bottling, Four Cask Matured, Ex-bourbon barrels, Virgin oak, Pedro Ximenez, Red wine casks, non chill-filtered, natural colour, 46% ABV
£115 paid, mostly sold out (~£140 currently for rebranded Four Cask release)
Fans of whisky make genuine pilgrimages to their favoured distilleries. Be they from the neighbouring village or as far away as Australia, New Zealand or the Pacific Islands. For some it is a yearly convergence, for others a once in a lifetime experience. The rise of the whisky tourist has not, sadly, been missed by the opportunist accountant spying a new avenue of inflated fundraising.
Where tours were once often free, casual, informal and personal, now we see a menu of options, sometimes only open to the privileged, where the VIP access is obtained not by passion or loyalty, but an obscene amount of money.
What is often being missed is that tours should be a reward to the traveller. A thank you for the seeking out, for being a fan, a convert and really an Ambassador of what the distillery produces. Instead the typical ‘Distillery Exclusive’ bottling has become an overtly cynical, often ludicrously over-priced, cash-cow. The tour is now ‘an experience’ where you are given ‘expert guidance’ (it often isn’t) over drams you either can’t buy, can’t afford and couldn’t take home even if you could.
There will come a time, maybe sooner than the industry realises, when the uber-premiumisation of everything slows down as the uber-wealthy 1% find the next hobby-horse to ride to exhaustion. It didn’t exist twenty years ago and maybe won’t exist in another twenty. Recent figures suggest the premium sector is slowing, one might be forgiven for believing that distilleries would focus harder on the next generation of invested drinker (and its current pool of regular-income fans) rather than pretending that their ‘distillery experience’ is worthy of grossly inflated fees because their visitor centre has a chandelier, or the distillery cost a lot to rebuild.
Thankfully, this is not the norm and many distilleries have not succumbed to this gift-shop-heavy, ‘aren’t you lucky to be in our distillery’ attitude. Just like in the movie “The Field of Dreams” ‘if you build it, they will come’ is it time for punters to say ‘if we don’t go will you change’? I find no joy in writing that.
This amazing country, with its world famous distilleries should be embracing the tourist, not fleecing them. Whisky is a drink for the many, not the privileged.
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
A happy dram to welcome a happy drinker
Nose
Cooked apples – apple pie in fact even with the hints of cinnamon and sugar on the crust. Pear drops right down to the synthetic, almost chemical note that those boiled sweets have - (don’t worry this isn’t a criticism but you will need to try the sweets to get the full effect; that’s easy in the UK now as almost every single high street has a ‘Ye Olde Sweety Shoppe’ and you’ll find some of the sweets are possibly as old as those spellings). With a bit of air the bread and butter pudding notes come out – so prevalent in whiskies from this area. It is redolent of sweet dough; pastries, doughnuts, strudels – all the good stuff in life but one third of the calories. Buttery and creamy with fresh fruit.
Palate
The pear drops return with some apple crumble/pie. I am reviewing this hot off the heels of that disappointing Balvenie 21 (perhaps I should have done them side by side) and whilst it is not quite comparing apples with pears – much more like apples with another variety of apples – I cannot help but feel the body of this and the flavours to be so much bigger than the Balvenie. The palate is perhaps not as pastry-driven as the nose suggests and the fruit tails off towards the end leaving a more oak-driven aftertaste but its oiliness, or viscosity, and overall body just hits so much harder and more pleasing.
The Dregs
This is just lovely.
I’ve spent quite a bit of time at Benriach Distillery and each sip takes me back.
Sure it isn’t up there with those majestic 1976 BenRiach vintages that are some of the best whiskies ever bottled but then this was just a nudge over £100. I can happily live with that.
I’m ignoring the whole four cask thing – I couldn’t tell you that I tasted much from any of them with any real emphasis. Also that the font on the reverse label requires a Top Secret sized magnifying glass and matching eye to read. Despite that, I’m taking this and enjoying it as a very well put together expression.
Just possibly, no single element, or cask finish, was greater than the sum of the parts of this bottling. The age is on display but not over-egged and I’m confident that in a fairly serious line-up this would stand out in a way, and apologies if you are tired of the comparison, the Balvenie 21 could not.
And I’ll bet you the remainder of my bottle you’d rather have two of these for the price of that.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. FF
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