Little Brown Dog Single Cask 2017 | 55.7% ABV

Glasvegas!

People Make Glasgow. You see this phrase everywhere in the city, on bikes, bins, buildings, you name it.

Glasgow is atypical. Most cities have a coherent architectural style, and neighbourhoods more or less seamlessly blend into each other. Glasgow, on the other hand, is more like a teenager who’s outgrown their clothes.

It is sliced open by roadways, be it flyover or underpass, clearly marking the limits of districts. The architecture won’t really help you understand its roots; Victorian buildings and ancient churches will be juxtaposed in the middle of modern glass towers and post-war concrete. At first glance, it seems hard to comprehend.

In fact, apart from a few clever sparkles, it doesn’t look particularly beautiful. With a closer look, while it’s still no Paris or Sienna, it does help you notice more of the wee flashes of genius. And within you feel the life in its walls. There’s a beating heart below the concrete and asphalt, fed by these roadways like veins and arteries, bringing people in, taking others out. It is these people, wherever they hail from, that make it a special place.

I suppose most of you will have read Dougie’s beautiful piece about the Glasgow whisky festival already. It is, as always, brilliant. We didn’t think he’d write it after his breathless and emotionally vivid take on the 2023 events. But write it he did. He felt the need to.

This is my take, I’ll do my best to avoid saying the same things as Dougie but, I have to say, he captured the feeling of this city very well. Other writers who were present will surely write about it too. 

I was also lucky enough to stay a few more days than many others, and as such I had the time to take in some extra interesting things. I visited quite a few distilleries, drank a lot of whisky - probably more than I ought to, but we only live once - and spent an absurd amount of money. Weirdly though, I don’t really want to write about whisky right now.

Sure, without whisky I would have never spent the week that I have. I would have never met the people that I have. I probably wouldn’t even have come to visit Glasgow, honestly. When I sat on the plane as it descended upon the cotton-like cloud cover over Glasgow, amazed at its unadulterated and unforeseen beauty, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the incredible joy, serendipity and whisky-fuelled madness that would ensue in the following eight days.

A year from now though, I probably won’t remember how surprisingly Clynelish-like the Thompson brothers Dailuaine was, or how stunning the 19yo Kilkerran I had at the Good Spirits Co. was. I won’t remember the taste of that Springbank 25yo I was lucky to be offered at the Bon Accord.

Instead, here’s some of what I will remember:

I’ll remember who poured that Springbank 25yo; James, a New Englander I had only met the day before. I’ll remember his wife Gail’s first question when we met; “So, how deep are you in this whisky thing?” Pretty deep, Gail, pretty deep.

I’ll remember Pedro from Brazil, telling me about his magical stay on Islay and in Campbeltown. I’ll remember his brother Flavio confessing to me that stubborn Pedro actually ditched some clothes to fit more bottles in his suitcases. Brazilian priorities I guess.

I’ll remember seeing Andrew, hours after my plane landed, and attending his brilliantly led Kilkerran masterclass.

I’ll remember the giant Dosas at Rishi’s, the very moment I realised I had never eaten proper Indian food before.

I’ll remember wandering around the festival with Hamish, Dougie, Seve and countless other folk, and feeding off their energy and enthusiasm.

I’ll remember taking a slightly tipsy selfie with Dave Broom at the festival, and him recognising me days later at the Pot Still.

I’ll remember Gregor doing his best to instigate a hola wave in one of the buses back to Akbars for curry. And the giant Naan breads we used to line our stomachs. Dinner at 4pm never felt so good.

I’ll remember leaving the packed Bon Accord at around midnight, thinking I didn’t actually drink too much. Only for the photo catch-up on the way back to the hotel to prove me utterly wrong.

I’ll remember Stevie coming up to me and saying he liked my writing very much. Mate, when you come back to cheese land, be sure to hit me up.

I’ll remember trying Irn-Bru outside a Tesco on a Sunday morning, with the Dramface crew now dubbed “The 5 Nations” as there still isn’t an Italian in the team. [Watch this space, WMc]

Despite the mockery and outrage by Dougie, who did everything he could to tell bystanders that he didn’t know me, I stand by my opinion. It is the worst drink I’ve ever had. [Watch your mouth, WMc]

I’ll remember our Team Gutties’ poor performance on the Sunday blind tasting. I’ll remember confidently cheering at the reveal of a Circumstance whisky in the lineup, only to be incapable of correctly guessing it minutes later.

I’ll remember heading out to dinner at Peter’s on the same evening, and enjoying a calm few hours with a few other barflies, as well as the Lee family’s formidable hospitality.

I’ll remember taking an Uber back to the party, being poured magical drams by magical people, and enjoying their company while they were still in the city. I’ll remember the hugs. I’ll remember the quantity of liquid that Gregor calls a ‘small pour’.

I’ll remember waking up early the next morning to visit Loch Lomond distillery, guided by Michael Henry himself, an embodiment if there ever was of a gentle giant. Michael was also at the blind tasting the day before mind you, and he stayed almost as late as I did. Yet, at 9am the following morning, he was up on the bridge, leading our group of tired but amazed whisky geeks on a four hour long tour of his distillery. He’s an absolute star. I’ll remember Andy, their in-house cooper for decades, enthusiastically showing us as much as he could in the half hour we were with him.

I’ll also remember the Uber ride we took with Shayla to go to the distillery, and our wonderful driver, who proceeded to tell stories about life in Glasgow, his holidays in Spain and the hotel receptionist uniform shortages they were suffering there, all in the thickest of Glaswegian accents. Best Uber ride of my life.

I’ll remember having dinner at the Bon Accord, with Shayla, Desie and Jimmy that night, and telling each other all things: like what kind of drams we liked, what a clubhouse is, how amateur sport works in Europe and how we ended up in this rabbit hole that is malt whisky.

I’ll remember going on a day trip to Edinburgh, quickly visiting Raasay’s HQ thanks to their shining star of a brand ambassador Adèle, grabbing haggis with her at Teuchter’s and then leaving to visit the new Port of Leith distillery at sunset; a strategically booked tour. I’ll remember the view from up there.

I’ll remember waking up the next morning to a text from Roy that just said : “Fancy another adventure?” On an adventure we went, and you shall hear about it soon.

I’ll remember going shopping at the Good Spirits Co. on Bath street, faced with shelves packed with bottles that all looked better than the next one. Making a choice was tough. Damn luggage weight limit, right?

I’ll remember Seb kindly taking me on a nothing-off-limits tour around the Glasgow Distillery just hours before I had to leave, even if he hadn’t had a proper rest for weeks.

I’ll remember Denise and Peter’s incredible generosity, offering to drive me to the airport, not before having taken me to lunch in a great café in the city’s West End.

I am massively grateful to whisky.

When I started enjoying the occasional dram, years ago, I couldn’t imagine where it would take me. The fact that, a little further down the road, it would actually, literally change my life.

As many of you know, I work in whisky. It is the reason that I do what I do. For a few years, I enjoyed it, as many of you do, by buying the occasional bottle, and trying to learn more about it via what YouTube would feed me. I discovered Daniel & Rex on the Whisky Vault, Ralfy, Aqvavitae, and many more. I then started, slowly at first, interacting with this wonderful band of scoundrels that are the Barflies.

I started religiously reading whisky reviews everyday when I arrived at work. First, Serge of course, then, well, Dramface. As I grew fonder and fonder of the drink, and as my knowledge grew, I felt an urge to do more. I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to see if, despite English as a second language, I could write about it.

Curiously, I think it was Dougie’s recollection of that 2023 Glasgow Whisky Festival which pushed me to send a message to Dramface grandmaster Wally. I had been toying with the thought for a while, but the pure FOMO instilled by Doog’s piece was the most intense I’d ever felt. No bottle of whisky ever did that to me. I felt like I had missed a life changing weekend. I felt like I would’ve fitted in nicely.

So, send a message to Wally I did. I wrote my first review, tried to get the best possible pictures of the bottle, sent it in, and waited in anticipation. I must say the feeling when it came out was pride, and to this day, I still feel the buzz when something I write is published here.

Flying to Glasgow for GWF was really an excuse to meet the team behind this project. Even though we chat quite often, WhatsApp doesn’t really cut it when it comes to really getting to know someone.

That message to Wally was like sowing a seed. And here I am now, harvesting the rewards. I feel privileged to have lived what I lived throughout during this amazing week, and met those I met. There were so many people present in Glasgow for the festival yet, all things considered, there wasn’t that much talk about whisky. Yes, it was the pretext to all the events, but it just felt like a giant group of pals getting together and simply having a good time.

So this review isn’t actually about whisky at all. And that’s just as well, because - here’s the truth - if I wanted to review a whisky right now, I couldn’t. I actually brought a little piece of Glasgow back with me, in the form of good ol’ Covid. I’m doing just fine by the way, but if you or your relatives are of a fragile constitution, please be careful.

Wally’s going to take care of this one.

Cheers to all of you whether you were there this year or not. Thanks for taking five minutes of your day to read our fairly pointless, hare-brained ideas and opinions on this poison we all cherish. I love you lads and lassies, and already I long for the day when I return to this magical place that sits at the mouth of the River Clyde.

I started writing these lines at the airport waiting for the plane to take me home, and I must say it didn’t feel like coming home usually does. Getting back to regular life has needed some adjustment. 

So, Glasgow, as per the Dramface scoring system, you are 10/10:

Indeed, there was someone cutting onions at Glasgow airport last Friday evening. 

In no particular order:

Roddy makes Glasgow. Andrew makes Glasgow. Roy makes Glasgow. Melanie makes Glasgow. Rob makes Glasgow, as well as the other Rob. Gordon makes Glasgow. Ryan makes Glasgow. Seve makes Glasgow. Gregor makes Glasgow. Scotty makes Glasgow. Adèle makes Glasgow. Shayla makes Glasgow. Carlos makes Glasgow. Francis makes Glasgow. Michael makes Glasgow. Jim makes Glasgow. Desie makes Glasgow. Julie makes Glasgow. Peter and Denise make Glasgow. Amy makes Glasgow. Frank makes Glasgow. David makes Glasgow. Alberto makes Glasgow. Kevin makes Glasgow. James and Gail make Glasgow. Dave makes Glasgow. Olga makes Glasgow. Stefan makes Glasgow. Carl makes Glasgow. DJ makes Glasgow. Craig makes Glasgow, and so does the other Craig. Tom makes Glasgow. Ian makes Glasgow. Peter makes Glasgow. Graeme makes Glasgow. Andy makes Glasgow. Ty makes Glasgow. Seb makes Glasgow, (quite literally might I add). Both Justin and Justin make Glasgow. Jen and Rachel make Glasgow. Graham makes Glasgow. Tobias makes Glasgow. Alistair makes Glasgow. Leejay makes Glasgow. Stevie makes Glasgow. Arne makes Glasgow. Rolfy makes Glasgow. The staff at the Bon and the Pot Still and The Piper make Glasgow…

..and yes - I’ve forgotten you - but you make Glasgow too!

10/10 AF

Wally’s Review

Glasgow 7yo, Little Brown Dog, Oloroso Single Cask, 2017 - 2024, 55.7% ABV
~£50-ish. You read that right. Single Cask, Oloroso: £50

Follow that Macaulay…

Glad to take up the bottle review here and glad to read how much fun oor man fae Paris had in the ‘toon.

Sad to hear that one of his ‘souvenirs’ is poor health. Get well soon Monsieur Fife!

One of the coolest things propelling the Glasgow Distillery rep further by the month is their openness. It’s encouraging to see how utterly connected they’re becoming. They sense the empowerment that comes from being part of something bigger than a single distillery or brand portfolio, and they’re into it.

There’s an honesty and a humility to their vibe. The very essence of Glasgow itself, you might suggest.

This means that, as well as visible faces and personalities to connect with, you’ll see their product being bottled and sold by independent bottlers. They just get it.

Likewise, the bottler involved here is brimming with humility, honesty and personality. Little Brown Dog may be based in the North East, but they cite Glasgow as their home and they’ve pulled off an earnest celebration of the distillery and homage to the town with this release.

There’s no bottle count on the label here, but since this one has been taken care of by LBD, that “Single Cask” statement can be trusted. It’s from a single oloroso cask, we think a Hoggie, and that means full-maturation. Anything that has been re-racked, married, re-casked or otherwise footered, fettered or finished, is not a single cask.

This is.

We also need to take a moment to applaud the price point, which I hope to labour, and the striking homage to Glasgow’s Barrowlands Ballroom, not only through the striking label branding, but this above-and-beyond accompanying video. With well-kent faces of Glasgow’s whisky scene and beyond featuring throughout, it’s a cracking and uniquely creative accompaniment full of that personality.

Git it watched.

We’re not sorry your Dramface Monday is fuller than usual with Glasgow-themed whisky daftness.

In fact, we hope this theme carries on throughout your week ahead, wherever you are; ‘cause this is the fun we should all be having at whisky’s side.

Now let’s get this wee bottle open.

Nose

Cola cubes and tonic wine. Dark chocolates, maybe salted, nutmeg, cloves and chilli flakes. Saddle leather (or that underground carriage exhibit at the Transport Museum), malt vinegar and booze-soaked toffees and raisins, woodshop, mint and menthol.

Palate

Autumn.

Menthol, cherries, and chocolate, chillies, cinnamon sticks and Calpol. Sweet-but-drying sherry tones; overripe grapes. Tizer. Drying.

Loud, young, vibrant and very alive.

The Dregs

This is the sherried malt you’d pour for your granny.

Not as a soothing post-dinner digestif, no. This is what you pour her right before she drags you for a hurl ‘roon the dance floor. It is full on.

However, the trick to better behaviour here lies in a wee splash of room-temperature water, it settles it quickly down to good humour. Thereafter, you can waltz with the cherry confectionary and sweet wood spices as they take the spotlight ahead of the spicy and medicinal metal collective of the neat pour.

It would be pretty easy for me to draw heaps of metaphors about how this wee bottle is a lot like Glasgow, but I’ll leave you to make those connections yourself, especially if you’ve joined us here for any of the festival weekends.

I think it’s enough to point out that it’s alive, honest and not taking itself too seriously. It knows its place, and that’s a brilliantly priced £50 place. It welcomes everyone to share in the fun and, even if it’s a little rough here and there, it can leave no one with valid complaint. It is what you make of it.

All are welcome. And you will pour another. 2025?

Score: 7/10 WMc

Images courtesy of Ainsley, Wally & Little Brown Dog

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. AF

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