Scottish Virgin Oak | 48% ABV

Score: 6/10

**Good Stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*A simple pleasure of a dram.*

40 Year Old with Virgin Oak

A staggering span of fluted concrete arcs overhead with so much grace and striking curvature that the view beyond is temporarily lost to the wonders of modern engineering.

Sitting mere inches above water as the sun sets over the western horizon, the impact of what unfolds over the next thirty minutes lands much like sticking a fork into a power outlet would: I’m left in no doubt of the ramifications of my choices.

Turning forty for some is a marker in the sand; the fulcrum between growing up and getting old. It’s a point in life to celebrate the journey, how far we’ve come or just go hell for leather because, why not; hedonism wins the day.

For others it's a chance to fulfil those urges, to give in to the wee devils whispering in your ear to get that sports car, go on that holiday, move house or finally get around to exploring the as yet untapped joys of fly fishing.

As those of you following along with my often pedestrian pursuit of the joys in whisky enthusiasm, the Crystal massif prematurely shot our mid-life crisis shot by moving to the Isle of Skye last year, where we feel like we’re permanently on holiday, bought a sports car and took up fly fishing…not really, but Mrs and Mini took up paddle boarding, and I finally got around to exploring the world of sea kayaking, something I’ve wanted to do for a long while.

Which is where I found myself on a late Wednesday evening, with the local kayak club, as the towering sheets of rain cascaded over Bheinn na Caillich, Bheinn na Cro and Glas Bheinn Mhor, making up the most easterly peaks visible as you enter the island, leading on to the pyramidal Red Cuillins, and further west to the jagged sawblade of the Black Cullin Range.

The sun set behind the grey mirk, combining together to make the most spectacular pastel waterfall of colour I think I’ve ever seen. Rich pink salmon of the sun backlit the falling rain causing a glorious warm glow of grey and pink. A gorgeous rich slate blue leading to vivid cobalt blue, where the clouds parted. A few token expletives sound out from other kayaks. Someone shouts “Wow!” and I serve the weakest offering with “look at that!”. The pruning brain is just not capable enough to produce words adequate enough for the panoramic majesty of this mountainous sunset slideshow.

As if that wasn’t enough awe for one night, a sea eagle took flight 50 yards away and flapped its laboured wingbeat into this unfolding cinematic dreamworld, and everyone watched on in silent witness to the world reminding us that the real power rests with Mother Nature, rather than in some marble lined supermansion.

I realised in that moment, bobbing about underneath the Skye Bridge, that turning 40 isn’t that big a deal. I still have my health, dodgy knee and wonky shoulder aside, and I have everything I could ever wish for in life. I spoke about this with another kind soul approaching the big 4-0 and we both agreed that, when you get to this age, the priority seems to shift from pursuing the unreachable, lofty heights of superstardom or success, chasing status or money, and instead begins to circle around the simple question of if what we’re doing is making us happy.

With no small sense of guilt, no unnoticed mark of privilege, no little recognition of my luck in life, I can say that I am, for this split second, happy.

For so long I was hell bent on succeeding, of taking control of destiny and making sure that nothing stood in my way. But that quickly led to depleted energy and lacklustre enthusiasm. Letting some slack into the noose around these so-called dreams, new things sidled onto my priority list - peace, simplicity, kinship and place - of accepting where we are and what we’re doing.

Anyway, I turned 40 and I felt very fortunate to welcome it in with the Crystal Seniors and my girls, and also our neighbours from up the top of the hill. A Saturday of slow time. Of shooting the breeze and watching the world roll by. Mum and Dad gifted me a lovely looking bottle of GlenAllachie 8yo Scottish Virgin Oak, and as I unzipped the tin and poured some drams for the gathered, I said a quiet thank you to the world, for letting me have this time with those that I love the most.

I’d thought long and hard about what whisky I wanted to mark my 40th year with for weeks prior, and having acquired a bottle of Adelphi’s Ardnamurchan 10yo bourbon matured Whisky Fringe release, I expected it would be that. I stuck the box at the back of the whisky table and waited for Dad to arrive on the Misty Isle, before I opened it in ceremony to him having another son cresting the 40 year milestone.

Arrive they did, and with their arrival so too a story of how the GlenAllachie bottle came to be. Standing looking at the plethora of whisky lining the shelves of Malts & Spirits in Perth, the Seniors didn’t know what to pick. The proprietor Steve asked what sort of whisky their son enjoyed and Dad mentioned that I “write a bit about whisky on a blog”, and thus the pick was particularly challenging, but also that they were on their way to the Mist Isle once they’d chosen.

“Dougie Crystal?” Steve said, and the Seniors were shooketh (as was I when they told it). Steve recalled what I’d chatted to him about, what I’d bought in his shop, what he’d read on Dramface, our last chat where I mentioned a very quick move to the Hebrides, and deduced that it was me.

He suggested to the Seniors that the GlenAllachie might be of interest because of the Scottish Oak finish, something you don’t often see in Whiskyville. Right there is a fantastic example of the power networking with retailers and whisky exciter shops can generate - they can recommend stuff that you’d never think to try yourself.

An unexpected bottle to receive for sure, and surprising too, given the last GlenAllachie I bought was their 10yo Batch Release in 2021, after the Scotch Whisky Experience in Edinburgh. I didn’t warm to it at all, and ultimately donated it to Uncle’s boat bar, where he methodically rinsed it over a few nights of sherry bomb euphoria. I felt it too sherried; too overtly raisin for my tastes at that point, and so GlenAllachie fell into the pigeon hole of avoidance.

I tried their Meikle Tòir at Glasgow Whisky Festival and thought nothing of it. Their recent rebrand registered like another streamlined colourfest. But this old-labelled little 8yo in my hand looks and feels different to all that.

It’s lighter for a start, golden and rich in presentation. I don’t tend to drink with my eyes but already the concerns of overt sherry bombiness is dissipated in favour of intrigue - what will this taste like without that overt sherry influence? What will the Scottish Oak bring to the table? Lots of questions spring to mind.

The GlenAllachie was popped when the neighbours arrived, and over the course of a fine evening we recharged our glasses a few times; the GlenAllachie served as perfect accompaniment to the chatter. After a while it was decided that the Ardnamurchan 10yo was required, and the room fell silent as a gear shifted. It was something special.

Eventually the night was called on account of the two Minis losing all semblance of reason, and everyone departed in great spirits. Sunday was welcomed with an easy start and a remarkably fresh head - hydration played its part, as does a very clever trick involving taping your mouth shut for sleeping, but that’s a story for another day…

We had a lovely lunch with the Seniors at the Stein Inn, and headed back in the rain to Chez Crystal for a dog walk, more Father-Son chatter and, after Mini Crystal was in dreamland, another pour of the GlenAllachie. In the cold light of solo appraisal, this whisky felt like a competent, easy going and sociable dram - nothing spikey, nothing untoward, nothing naff. Just solid, robust flavour that could serve as perfect partnering to a night where whisky wasn’t the focus.

*Always managing to leverage an Ardnamurchan into a review eh?*

The Ardnamurchan 10yo, poured straight afterwards, is something unique and special, and I’m not going to review it. Not because it’s rubbish or disappointing, quite the polar opposite actually. However, after Wally’s article - straight after Drummond’s, just before Nick’s and ahead of Broddy’s next week - accepting the sucker punch of people finding things boring and irritating if they’re talked about in positive light too much, I’ll just say this: given it’s Cask 10 from July 2014, when nothing was dialled in yet and the Ardnamurchan character hadn’t been properly established…it’s astonishingly good. A feast of sweet, savoury and salty magic.

If that’s 2014’s effort, I can’t wait for 2015’s 10 year old, when things were dialled in and sorted. I don’t often wish time away, but in this instance, give me a teleporter.

Anyway, a week on from the big 4-0 and without the social aspect playing a key role, how does the GlenAllachie 8yo Scottish Oak stack up, not just as a dram unto itself, but against other things that fall into the social natter whisky camp? Is it fair to stick it in that camp? Does it feel like a young whisky, or has the Billy Walker Cask Magic managed to create something that belies its single digit age statement?

Review

18 Months in Scottish Virgin Oak (Quercus Petraea), 48% ABV
£60 and still available

Maturing past a round number - 10, 20, 50 - doesn’t suddenly make things different. It’s not like your body suddenly realises it’s 40 and starts turning off the oil supply to joints, or removing memory capacity. That’s all been progressively turning off since I was 30.

Whisky all the same: maturing past the decade doesn’t suddenly turn whisky into some magic potion. It’s been progressively turning into magic potion since it was 0. But reaching 10 years in cask is a mark, a line in the sand between “young” whisky and “mature” whisky. It’s an interesting milestone, because up until whisky turns 10, it still feels inherently young. It feels like whisky in the making because of that single digit age. I mean, when was the last time we called Arran 10 or Tobermory 12 young whisky?

It’s a weird quirk, either of marketing spin or as fallible humans, that the number 10 is so significant. It’s a product of great marketing that whisky allegedly increases in quality at 10, 18, 21, 30 and 50 years.

Thinking of what else we celebrate at those ages, and a tin-foil hat is produced from thin air - whisky can be great at every year, including the pre-whisky years of 2+. As is the fact that double digits doesn’t automatically mean good whisky; some 18yo whisky is garbage. It’s not the first time and it’ll not be the last time that I mention my disregard for age in whisky; I don’t give a stuff what age something is, so long as the flavour is engaging and the price is reasonable.

Nose

Butterscotch, sweet treats - caramel, shortbread, toffee pops, pecan pie, sawn cedar, fresh linen, blueberry juice, orange-red, petrichor, peppery greens, orange spritz. Werther’s Originals. Milky bar.

Palate

Big sweetie. Vanilla custard, peppery caramel, bit of salt, bit of spice, but lashings of runny toffee. Nice souring edge, red berries maybe, but not overtly sour. Milky bar here too. Toasted sugar top. Woods are here - mostly sawn cedar, that sweet woody scent you get walking past pine, too. Foresty. The box says heather honey, I say yes.

The Dregs

This is an 8yo whisky, and it doesn’t taste like an 8yo whisky. It tastes like deliciously simple whisky. It’s soft in delivery yet robust in flavour. There’s no saccharine edge, no masking to be found from harsh cask blootering. There’s lovely flavours abound - all the rich toffee and vanilla caramel you can shake a stick at. All the golden weave of silk whatsits that you could want for. Pure, unadulterated sweet fun. But is that enough to keep me coming back?

You bet my ageing arse it is - I’ve been struggling to reach past this dram since last week, simply because I know it’s a great whisky to accompany me as I sit and ruminate on the state of play. It’s trouble free whisky. I’m reminded once more, as if I need any more reminding, that whisky doesn’t always have to be a challenge. It doesn’t have to be knocking socks off at every sip. It can be just a beautiful partner in thought crime. Something to serenade me as the eyes wobble and the ears ring. I’ve rinsed it. As can be seen with the bottle level barely a week on from unzipping it.

Knowing Mum and Dad picked this for me, and that it was a gift to mark their son’s 40th year upon this scorched earth, means it’s far more meaningful to me than someone fancying it of a Tuesday. But that doesn’t give it any help when thinking of a mark. I also have to be incredibly rude and find out the price of their gift, because I need to also consider the cost of this easy rider. It looks like the majority of places are circling the £60.

So a solid, unshakable, deliciously engaging, easy picking, naturally presented, Scottish influenced, non-sherried, silky bamstick of a dram that whacks it out the park every time I fancy a whisky to just be. To exist without sticking its licked fingers in my ear or pull nose hairs. For £60 it’s a good £10 more than other whiskies that offer the same experience.

It’s bringing to mind the Craigellachie 13yo, bought from Malts & Spirits in Perth for £49. It’s bringing to mind sessionable drams like Bruichladdich’s Classic Laddie (£50), Glen Garioch 12yo (£50) or even something like the F&F Dailuaine (£60). Yet for some reason this GlenAllachie feels like it’s a combination of all those drams together in one superdram. It’s 48%, so I wonder if that extra nudge has the richness that feels lacking in others, or has less nefarious edges - spice, tickle, souring, sticking, needling, prickling, prockling or whatever it is that stops other drams from being unavoidable.

The Scottish Virgin Oak prominence on the packaging is interesting, because it’s not full-maturation in Scottish Oak, but rather 18 months of secondary maturation. It’s written on the GlenAllachie website that the wood used for these Sessile casks (Quercus Petraea) is difficult to work with but offers unique flavours for whisky - white chocolate, orange zest and caramel. I can definitely find that, but then again my experience with GlenAllachie is limited to that 10yo sherry bomber.

This is my first taste of non-sherry GlenAllachie, and so on that point alone my ability to see what the Scottish Oak brings to the table is zilch. Maybe the American Oak brought those notes, and the Scottish Oak just smoothed it all out - I don’t know. But I do know that whatever the journey, the whisky has been left in a delicious state.

For that reason, the grab-a-bility of this, as well as the 48%, NCF, natural colour, Scottish oak fiddling and the connection to the Crystal Seniors at my fulcrum life moment, I think this is a deserved 6/10 - good stuff. Had it been £45-50 it would be a great bang for buck dram, but that extra lofty Billy Walker heights make this a bit spenny for what it is. But that said, my interest in GlenAllachie has resumed. I’d love to know if there are any other non-sherried GA bottlings that might be of interest to me, so drop a message below and let me know!

Score: 6/10

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

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