Glen Grant 21yo Fragrant Drops
Single Cask 2003 Bourbon Barrel | 58.2% ABV
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
Multiple streams of contrasting flavours to keep it challenging and interesting
Is Malt Whisky Too Cheap?
As you take in that title, I’ll be cowering behind the sofa.
It is not click bait, I really do think that malt whisky is too cheap in 2025. Of course, this position needs clarification and it needs context, so let me share why I write such a potentially stupid thing.
First I’ll reiterate what I’ve said before: a cheap price, despite common parlance, is not the same as ‘good value’ and it is also different from ‘fair’. ‘Cheap’ in today’s context follows the theme of being deliberately made to achieve the lowest price, however it’s arrived at.
So, spending £20 on whisky and discovering you’re unlikely to enjoy it - or even drink it - is worse than spending £200 on something you’ll savour. Reverse those examples for the same effect; there’s never a guarantee the higher priced stuff is better. Real value can be found across the spectrum.
I’ve been a slave to whisky for around twenty years and I still love it. Every event brings new experiences and every glass brings enjoyment. Well, almost. There are occasional duds and there’s nothing worse than discovering so after you’ve handed over the cash - however much that was. Hence, places like Dramface exist.
When I started buying bottles to ‘accumulate’ my price range was between £15 and £40 in a general sense, but I’d occasionally stretch that for bottles that were justified as treats or specials. It would be a few years of earnest effort before it dawned on me that natural malt whisky was far better than coloured and diluted malt. But everyone is encouraged to fathom their own route through apprenticeship. Mine started in the UK supermarkets.
There we’d find all of the ubiquitous and well-known brands: Glenmorangie, Macallan, Glengoyne, Glenfiddich, Glenlivet, Lagavulin and Laphroaig, amongst many others. As a product of aspiration or ‘brand positioning’ a few of those have departed our supermarket shelves since, but they remain, of course, ubiquitous. My favourites were Glengoyne and Lagavulin and, while I explored from those anchor points, I was tethered to their safety of familiarity for some years.
At home amongst a building selection, I’d gather friends around the table and - whether they were interested or not - I’d encourage (bully) them to partake with me. There’s nothing quite like the amplification of fun that comes from a little vicarious enjoyment. I’d pour glasses made up of five ‘steps’: a different whisky based on flavour profile or, occasionally, one from each region.
We’d start at the light and delicate, often a Lowlander, and climb to the big, smoky, peaty malts, usually an Islay of course. Then we’d head ‘back down the stairs’ once more to be thrilled by the completely different flavours uncovered by our more relaxed moods and acclimatised palates. It was great for exploration and the brands we were enjoying were recognisable and familiar.
On occasion, I’d need to answer to these pals and justify spending £40 or more on a ‘bottle of booze’, such as Lagavulin 16. Thankfully, the stability of whisky and its intrinsic enjoyment - sipped neat - made that a pretty easy argument to win when compared to the costs of simply consuming wine or beers, as was our habit until then. Since my friends could see the bottles accumulate, for flavour’s sake, they could accept this as a valid concept, even if it was a surprise to many at first.
I’d also push back a little by quizzing my guests (prey) about the cost of their hobbies: fishing, cars, sports, motorbikes… whatever they filled their spare time with - they usually had a significant cost. So, as we all became a little older and more predisposed to staying home of an evening, I gradually converted almost all of them into having a bottle or two in their own wee whisky spaces. Some even started their own apprenticeships and, to this day, we love getting together over a glass and boring our significant others to death discussing the latest and greatest discoveries. All borne from those gatherings around our dining table.
Twenty years ago, this was pretty easy to do. There were times around Father’s Day, or the run up to Christmas, where there were so many offers and discounts available that you could head out for some milk and gleefully return clutching five full bottles of malt for less than £100. And no milk.
The regular retail price of £25 or £27, say, would be knocked down to £20 or less. I remember the tall-round Aberlour 10 year old was a staple favourite and I rarely paid more than £20 for a bottle. However, most of the time, I’d be picking them up at £30 or a little more; things like Bruichladdich Classic Ten, Laphroaig Quarter Cask or Strathisla 12yo.
Of course, in time, I discovered the Good Spirits Co. in Bath Street and the quality, strength and cost of the whisky shot up. Through their regular educational tastings and a weekly meet up with my closest whisky pal, I started to build a knowledge-based confidence and was suddenly very comfortable spending as much as double on far, far better bottles. The geekiness in me solidified and I fell deeper in love with whisky and its fascinating value proposition of consumption for pure flavour’s sake.
Like many of you, I graduated onto teenage age statements from official distillery releases and indies. I’d explore cask strength bottlings and I found particular fascination in single casks. Still, I would rarely pay over £60-70. Running at roughly double the price of my ‘starter’ whiskies from my local Tesco, that seemed appropriate.
Roll forward to today’s proposition. Allowing for inflation, my ‘treat’ bottle in 2005 - Glengoyne’s 21 year old at £55 - should cost around £95 today, all other things being equal. But, alas no. It’s more than double, at £230.
Weirdly, by the same rules, Glengoyne 10 year old should cost £48.50 today, according to that same inflation calculator. Yet, it costs £39.99, running at around half the rate of inflation from my 2005 price of £28. This is odd.
Of course, both of these can be purchased cheaper than their RRP quoted here, but for comparison’s sake I’ve used Glengoyne’s official site. Whatever challenges and developments are cited to justify or explain these price increases over the years; how can it be that the entry level stuff is holding its price so well yet the higher aged product has gone stratospheric?
This isn’t exclusive to Glengoyne, it’s everywhere. It would seem the lower prices are demanded to shift volume. If we assume that rises in duty, staffing, raw materials and energy hit everything equally (arguably the older whisky was made cheaper - but let’s not digress) it’s difficult to see where sense can be made of this increasing gap.
I’ll be the first to admit that whisky - especially the older and more venerable stuff - was undersold, but today I think we can all agree that it’s being oversold. But the focus of today is on the other end, because I think we can genuinely start to call it ‘cheap’. I think that, due to the downward pressure to keep these entry-level bottles as low cost as possible, we see a few compromises manifesting.
Firstly, we witnessed the rise of the non-age statement, and while we may be comfortable with that today, back when they first started to proliferate and replace their 10 and 12 year age-stated staples, they were absolutely a means to cutting cost by using younger spirit. Yes, stocks were under pressure, but no one was bringing out these younger, replacement whiskies at lower prices - everything stayed at the same ‘entry-level’ price. And there can be no doubt, we became aware of a drop in quality.
Furthermore, malt whisky producers are competing with vodka and grain-laden blended whisky, so in order to make it as competitive as possible the quality inevitably continues to drop. Malt is not the same drink as whisky - or other grain-based spirits - and it doesn’t like to play the same game.
Where the releases of the past would have been built based on the best balance of quality, flavour and price, I would argue that today the necessity to reach the lowest price conquers all. After all, I can still - twenty-five years later - head into Tesco and buy bottles of malt whisky for £25 and less.
Who in their right mind is sacrificing the best casks or slightly older ‘enhancement’ stock when the margins are so razor thin - and while it’s become so potentially lucrative to hold them back to be released later at older age statements?
So, in order to maintain this extremely low ‘entry-malt’ price point demanded by multiples, global travel retail and large volume sellers, the margins must be clawed back through the higher end stuff. Whisky is still a very high-quality and tightly controlled product, but there can be no doubt that this increasing chasm between entry-level malts and their once ubiquitous and affordable age stated and older age-statements is affecting quality dynamics and the overall value proposition.
At the risk of sickening you, I’ll share some read-it-and-weep images here, courtesy of Graham Fraser, taken from a year 2000 Oddbins Malt Whisky Calendar, which features prices for entry level whiskies alongside more mature core range stuff as well as some eye-watering, really special bottles that are unicorns today.
By all means marvel at the craziness of these prices but before you get caught up on that 1978 official Ardbeg for £36, please try to maintain focus on the far narrower price gaps to see where everything has swung too far today.
The best example here may be that Auchentoshan. On a recent trip to my local supermarket I could buy their entry level NAS American Oak for £24 (I didn’t, of course) and in this calendar from 25 years ago their entry level 10 year old was £21.99. This is absurd.
So, in these times of whisky-market doldrums, where does this leave us? Well, as whisky botherers over the pandemic years, with our over-accumulation, we may be happy to pump the brakes on purchasing for a few years, but the scene needs new blood. We need to grow the potential whisky market - it has to become attractive again, but we face challenges therein.
While bottles of better quality profoundly demonstrate the appeal of the flavour and depth of scotch malt whisky, they are largely unaffordable. They are therefore unable to attract those vitally curious new drinkers who would likely not be confident in spending these high asking prices ahead of confidence and knowledge, even if they possessed the means.
While at the other end I believe, with even firmer conviction, that the cheapening of the entry level side of the offering simply does not present the quality or the definition of flavour to trigger that curiosity in the first place; they are largely forgettable.
The last time I purchased an Old Pulteney 12 year old it was soapy and virtually undrinkable. That’s not snobbery or being spoiled by superior liquid, it’s an objective drop off a cliff in quality; a forced symptom of making something as cheaply as possible; to a price point.
So, I put it to you: in 2025 prices remain stubbornly high for the tasty and interesting things that were once affordable. Yet I think the real problem lies in the fact that prices at the other end are just too cheap.
Review
Glen Grant 21yo, Fragrant Drops, 2003, bottled 2024, bourbon barrel, 58.2% ABV
£110 paid
Fortunately, there is a silver lining; a middle ground. In the cynically-induced chasm created by the legacy producers, there exists today newer producers - largely independent - who do not cheapen and do not gouge. I think one of my favourite things about Dramface is how much fun we have uncovering them and shouting about them loudly.
Just like the old days of vicarious sharing around my dining table, these pages allow me and the rest of the team here to celebrate the best discoveries we uncover. Today’s wee bottle is a perfect example of that. It really is a bright, shining light of optimism on our whisky horizon.
And things are softening. Things are coming back to us.
Let’s consider once more my Glengoyne 21yo. Based on its 2005 price, it should cost around £95 at the moment, but perhaps this is unrealistic. Other factors have thrown prices higher, including energy and taxes. While we once more concede that things were undersold back then, let’s also make mention of the fact no 21 year old single malt is available for that price today. Still, we’ll give it a go.
Recently, at the resplendent celebration of humanity that is Fife’s Whisky Festival, I picked this bottle up for £110, directly from the Fragrant Drops table. It fits our remit - but honestly only because it’s 21 years old. We should be clear that Glengoyne (while it doesn’t explicitly offer us the cask make up) is a sherry-leaning expression, but remind you that it’s also diluted to 43%. This is a single cask from a bourbon barrel at natural cask strength of 58.2%. It would be hard to place their flavour profiles further apart, but the specs are somewhat comparable while we only focus on value.
Anyone reading this thinking that you have little interest in Glen Grant, I’d urge you to seek it out from the indies. It often has bucket loads of character that can never be conveyed in their 40% ABV, watery and ultra-stripped, diluted official bottles of vapid vanilla.
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
Multiple streams of contrasting flavours to keep it challenging and interesting
Nose
At first a little sharp and acidic: sweet vinegar and Pinot Grigio vibes. It settles to offer up warm malt and light honey, with lots of patisserie floating around; custard tarts, cinnamon swirls and white chocolate, all laced with tart fruit - like gooseberries. A spritz of wood polish and fragrant lilies. Not quite as refined as the specs suggest.
Palate
A sweet arrival is quickly overtaken by a bitter, drying and acidic development. Fruit polos give way to a green and tannic oakiness, but it isn’t off putting, it’s very curious. With water the fruit is a little more accessible, but it’s all green; kiwi and gooseberries once more, and blueberries. Blueberries aren’t blue. They're green in flavour. To me.
There’s also a floral and herbal side to things along with a slight acidity that brings a green olive lick to things. The finish is short, but it’s exactly the kind of whisky that makes you immediately stick your face back in the glass.
It really does do wonders with a little splash of water to fracture things and exaggerate that lovely acidic and floral nose. It also seems to highlight an olive oiliness too.
The Dregs
This is clearly one of those whiskies that rewards time and patience and playing with water. If you’re on the sofa with it, use a plastic water bottle and just drop in a half-capful to offer up an hour’s worth of nosing distraction. It’s one of those whiskies that cannot be described as vanilla. It switches around between dry and sweet and has clear and definable streams of flavour delivery that are wonderfully distracting with each sip.
£110 for a whisky isn’t easy, but if you’re the type to enjoy an evening pour there’s weeks upon weeks of enjoyment here. All the while we can marvel that it was laid down back in the simpler days of 2003.
It’s a humble barrel, but it’s left its mark in ways that will vary depending on your mood, like these things often do. Maybe it’ll have you contemplating cheap versus value. Would you rather have three or four bottles of an entry level Glen Grant, or a single bottle of something earnestly different and interesting such as this? It’s an easy decision for me, but we’re all different.
Make no mistake though, entry level whiskies and their prices are designed for consumption over contemplation. Being single malt scotch there is, admittedly, a minimum quality floor, but life’s not about boring whisky. It is certainly too short for cheap whisky.
Add your own thoughts in the comments; I’ll suit up.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. WMc
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