Tasmanian single Malt KD06 | 43% ABV

Score: 6/10

**Good stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*Good, but not good enough to Transport me to Tasmania*

Red Dead Redemption

In the last 12 months I have been lost within the wilderness, the highlands, the mountains, and the grottos of the worlds created by Robbie Arnott; a Tasmanian author with a strong penchant and talent for writing about the natural world.

Having had a long term gluttony for fiction, historically fantasy but presently literary fiction, being transported into an entirely novel world purely with words is something I’m familiar with.

“If he’d thought of it as having a smell at all, it had been as the broad scent of the forest: the pungency of rotting vegetation, the clearing menthol of eucalyptus, the off-sweet tang of wild blossoms, the dankness of mud, the freshness of rain, the rot of a dead wallaby, the chalky minerality of broken rock. The odours of trees belonged to their leaves and flowers; he’d assumed timber would be mute. He wondered at his wrongness, as the wood spice filled his lungs, sank into his blood. The sight and smell. He felt tricked, drunk. He hadn’t known the world could do things like this to him.” - Limberlost by Robbie Arnott.

But the connection, reverence and poetry that Robbie can convey about the land is something I hadn’t come across before. In his novel Limberlost, a fictionalised biography of his grandfather, there is a discovery of Huon pine in an old boat that he purchases. The description of this wood as I quoted above, bowled me over, the intensity, the specificity. It took me immediately to those unforgettable whiskies, the ones that linger in the gaps of your synapses, tattooed across your olfactory system.

The first whiff of Islay peat, the fruity bouquet of a well aged ex-bourbon, the rancio of a vintage ex-sherry, and the addicting stink of the Campbeltown funk. Whisky can be a distillation of nature, now before I’m accused of summoning the loaded ‘t-word’, let me explain; whisky at its purest can evoke the microcosms in nature. Whether it’s the aromas of the great outdoors or the tastes of the ecosystem, whisky offers a snapshot of our experiences in the forest, on the shores, and the bounty of our farms.

Tasmania may be somewhat recognisable to those of you reading from Scotland, its abundance of greenery and the impactful highlands, as well as valleys, harking to the glens of the whisky motherland, it’s no surprise that it’s the whisky capital of Australia. To me, a mainlander Melburnian, Tasmania feels almost like the Islay of Australia. A dislocated island with its own autonomy, a maritime climate, and a penchant for producing spirit. In terms of pure peat richness, Tasmania reigns supreme, with 5200 hectares approximately of sphagnum moss peatlands. It’s no surprise that in Robbie Arnott’s latest novel, ‘Dusk’, that the art of peat cutting is featured heavily, as well as a fictional drink referred to as ‘peat wine’.

“The peat wine was savoury, foreign, rich with the taste of smoke and salt and iron and the burn of rough booze, It’s syrupy consistency coated her tongue and throat. Her pulse slowed, her face heated, and the buzz the choir was sending through her blood grew louder” - Robbie Arnott, Dusk.

Now if this isn’t an oily, burly dram of Islay style whisky then I don’t know what is, how astounding to find that a novel I was looking forward to all year has romanticised one of my favourite obsessions. I barely needed to rationalise a whisky pairing to dive into this world of peat-wine, pumas and bounty hunters. I know most of my Dramface comrades enjoy pairing their drams with music, whether it be jazz, classic, country or rock, there is a rhythmic connection between slowly sipping a whisky and throwing down some smooth vinyl. For me however, I pair my whisky with fiction, what else but a drink with such a strong sense of place to pair with immersing yourself in a new space.

Examples include a dirty pour of Springbank with Lupin III, a Viking inspired Highland Park for Vinland Saga or a smokey peated Nevis for Cowboy Bebop (yes they are all anime, yes I am a tragic weeaboo). So what to pair with my latest adventure? Well normally I would have to make an executive decision and follow my malty muse, but I had the pleasure of meeting the author himself at the Australian book launch here in Melbourne.

Upon meeting him I immediately launched into discussion of the inclusion of ‘peat-wine’ and its connection with whisky, Robbie suggested I pour myself a Lark. For the unfamiliar, Lark is essentially the flagship distillery of Tasmania, ground zero of the resurrected Australian whisky industry and the blueprint for the modern Tasmanian whisky style.

Sadly, as I raided the linen cupboards and wardrobes which house my collection, there was not a feather of a Lark to be sighted. Now the last time I tried to bring you Tasmania on Dramface was the Overeem PX back in early 2023, which was thoroughly unpalatable and should never have been bottled the way it was. It completely shook me from Australian, heck, even New World whisky for years.

But have I really lost my teeth for being a whisky omnivore? Is it remotely fair to eradicate an entire category of something you love so much just for one bad experience? As I head back to a fictionalised Tasmania, perhaps there’s no better chance than now to see if there is redemption. I dug deeper into the whisky vault and found one of the few remaining Tasmanian whisky bottles, coincidentally with a closer connection to Lark than most others in the region.

Some images from my solo trip to Tasmania in 2019:

Review

Killara Port Cask, KD06 Single Cask, Tasmanian Single Malt, 500ml, 43% ABV
AUS$250

Killara is owned and led by Kristy Lark-Booth, a second generation distillery and daughter of Bill Lark, the godfather of Tasmanian Single Malt. A boutique micro-distillery producing mainly single cask whisky bottles. This is a common style in Tasmania that greatly differs from the huge multi-style megalith productions in Scotland or even other New World whisky regions.

Notes from Killara Website:
“As a nod to Kristy’s parents Bill & Lyn Lark who started the whisky industry in Australia back in 1992, Killara was named after the street where that first modern distillery was registered.”

Our untraditional 600 litre copper pot still, with the condenser being at the top rather than at the side, was specially designed and manufactured in Hobart thanks to Aircon Industries. Much like the one that stood outside my bedroom as I grew up, and eventually prompted me to join the family business all those years ago. This produces our signature smooth and distinct spirit that we can’t wait to share with you all.

Nose

Starting off at a Hobart farmer’s market with fresh cherry jam and dark brown sugar. Spices and florals follow with cinnamon powder and rose water, or perhaps dried rose petals. Time in the glass opens up some fresh medicinal notes, though not the Laphroaig kind, this is more based in cough syrup or the scent of opening a packet of strawberry menthol lozenges. The herbals continue with freshly mown grass as well as a hint of eucalypt, though I’m not sure how much of that is an Australian whisky placebo effect… A casual nose at the end and there’s the sense of it being an over-soaked Black Forest gateau drowned in maraschino cherries.

Palate

A sweet arrival with packet cherry jelly leading to warm raspberry pie garnished with chunky sugar rocks and mint leaves. There is a spiciness with hot mulled wine and toasty rosemary. Red currants and Jammie Dodgers are abundant, further sweetness with carnival candy and a flat can of Dr Pepper. Harkening back to the Black Forest again, there’s dark chocolate shavings and a melting cherry ripe on a hot summer’s day. The lasting note is like the cylindrical coagulated tinned cranberry sauce that’s whipped out at Christmas to lash on a tragically dry turkey breast.

The Dregs

Was I taken to Tasmania? Or the puma-hunted, peat-laden fictional Wild West Tasmania in Dusk? Not exactly.

This was very much like the kind of Tasmanian whiskies I remember during that scattergun phase of my whisky journey, the syrupy cask-driven profile with youthful spice and herbals. But the notes don’t exactly take me to the natural world of Tasmania, bar that sense of eucalypt. I know there are more Peated, Islay-styled whiskies produced here now that could capture that sense a little more, even those made with the use of Tasmanian peat. An exciting prospect, and although the scars from the last one I reviewed have started to fade, the problem of price still features heavily for me.

In times of cost of living challenges it's seeming impossible to justify over $250 AUD for a 500ml bottle at 43%. I know patient readers, you’re likely sick of me droning on about price but it’s an important reminder of value, especially as a bad experience can completely decimate a category of whisky for years.

Will I be lining my shelves with new homemade whisky bottles? Not really, but I’m curious again to sip on the drams made closer to home.

Score: 6/10

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

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