Longrow Red 13yo
2020 Release Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon | 51.6% ABV
Screens, Whisky, And The Pursuit Of Happiness
Way back in 1980, when I was a teenager, I used to spend an hour of my Sunday evenings listening to a series on BBC Radio 1 called “25 Years of Rock”.
An original format in its time, it was a presenter-free mash-up of the music and news stories of note from each year from 1955 to 1979. It was a great combo of nostalgia and stuff I didn’t really know much about, from (mostly) before I was born or was too young to remember.
One such snippet of news from the late sixties (or maybe the early seventies) was a breathlessly enthusiastic piece about the wonders of computing, and how it was going to change our lives forever. It talked of the barely comprehensible notion that every home and office would have one or even more computers, and that our lives would become a paradise of paperless efficiency that would enable us to have more leisure time. More time to think. The world would be a better place, and we would all lead much more fulfilling lives.
It seemed like a pretty appealing concept at the time. And entirely plausible. Never a mention of people losing their jobs, and workloads only increasing as computers enabled us to do more, and to do it faster.
And certainly, no hint of how computers would come to proliferate, in both number and form, to subsume every aspect of our lives 24/7. Phones that were computers? That was science fiction.
Today of course, we have come to accept a reality that is so far removed from the naïve notion of increased leisure time as to be unrecognisable. It’s hard to remember what the day-to-day routines of our pre-digital lives actually looked like.
And today, it’s entirely normal for people to spend an average four hours – or more – on their phones daily. And by the way, four hours a day equals 1460 hours per year. Which if you assume we’re awake for 16 hours in 24, that amounts to 91 waking days in a year. Or about three months staring at our phones.
And that doesn’t even begin to get into time spent looking at computer screens or TVs.
These stats alone might give us some notion of just how much life has changed since digital technology became mainstream. But an increasingly small proportion of the population has any actual experience of a pre-digital life. It’s just an abstract concept.
Which, I would suggest, is a problem. Especially for the youngest generation where the dominance of the digital screen and all its wonders have contributed to a mental health crisis that’s on a scale we’ve never seen before, and that we barely understand.
Of course, many would say that our lives are better for all this digital connectivity. We’re better informed, can communicate more easily with more people, and do no end of things so much more simply and quickly.
All of which is true. But even the most cursory look at how societies are functioning right now makes it pretty clear that we aren’t happier. Quite the opposite.
Rather than screens connecting us to the world around us, they have increasingly become an intermediary that effectively distances us from many aspects of the physical world and meaningful interaction with other people.
To many people, it’s as if life events aren’t valid unless documented on social media. Rather than talking we send short texts, emojis and gifs. And we get subsumed by scrolling through endless images and videos from people (and bots) that we don’t know, about things that are entirely inconsequential and frequently completely false.
The result is that friendships have become diminished, and based on more of this screen-mediated interaction, rather than the more intimate and “real” interactions afforded by actual three-dimensional engagement by in-person encounters.
I’m not saying there aren’t real benefits to all this screen-based content and interaction. But it’s become more prevalent in our lives than is remotely good for most of us. It’s a question of balance. And quality of life.
And lest you decide that these are the ramblings of a cranky old man, I would refer you to this review from Mason Mack – Dramface’s newest and youngest contributor. You’ll see that the oldest writer and the youngest are connected by a common theme. Which I would characterise as the tension between digital screens and quality of life.
Which is where we start to get to the bit about whisky (“at last” I hear you say).
All this digitally intermediated time where we engage with the world – whether for work or play – through screens, devices and keyboards effectively isolates us from the richness of life in real time and three dimensions.
And it’s living life in the moment and taking the time to truly experience and savour it, that feeds our souls and our brains. Taking the time to engage with the people and things around us, is essential to our mental and physical well-being.
Whether it’s relishing the sunlight of a late afternoon; the smell of bacon frying on the stove; the sound of birdsong or simply the view in front of you and the chill in the air, appreciation can only occur if it’s given the time it needs. And the appreciation of life is basically the key to the quality of life – and our sense of peace within it.
After all, taking the time to savour the simple things in life is a pretty good way to reduce stress.
And one of those simple things that rewards the time, is whisky.
Taking time with a whisky is almost a prerequisite to fully enjoying it. Leaving aside the fact that the amount of alcohol involved, means that only the reckless drink it in a hurry; anyone seeking to enjoy what they are tasting needs to grant themselves the time to do so.
If you’re going to think about how a whisky tastes, how that taste evolves, what flavours it comprises and what memories and emotions it stirs, you need to slow down. Consider and contemplate. Savour.
And if you’re drinking with others, maybe you’ll want to spend some time comparing thoughts. See where you share similar sensations – and where you don’t. And how sharing the experience creates shared memories, shared experiences that bind us and bring us closer together.
But whether drinking alone or with others, appreciation of a dram requires a greater degree of focus on the experience, and a greater commitment to the moment, than we typically allow ourselves in the course of daily life. And that’s exactly why we should do it.
In these times of stress, uncertainty and angst - finding joy in small things is key to enjoying quality of life and to finding a measure of peace in the appreciation of what we have and what we experience.
From acquiring a bottle, through its ritualistic opening, to nosing it and savouring it on the palate and through the finish, there’s a kind of meditative focus to the whole process. Once you engage with the spirit in the bottle and the sensations, memories and feelings it evokes, you are definitively “in the moment”.
You are entirely present. And intensely focused on what you’re experiencing, how it’s changing and what it makes you feel.
And – in the case of really good whisky - that’s what unlocks the sheer pleasure of a glass of whisky. Taking the time to truly taste and experience it. To surrender yourself to the unique joy of a sublimely wonderful dram. And in so doing, escape the digital tyranny and relish a moment of near perfection that is part of your life.
Now, with all that said, let’s take a look at a characterful whisky that rewards time spent in contemplation.
Review
Longrow Red 13yo, Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon, ex-bourbon and ex-sherry matured, 2020 release, 56.1% ABV
Secondary only these days; USD$175 paid
Red wine cask maturation has its fans, but it has plenty of detractors too. And it’s entirely possible there are more of the latter than the former.
No kind of cask maturation or finishing pleases everyone (not even Oloroso Sherry), but it’s possible that red wine casks divide opinion more than pretty much any other.
The comments on reviews and in social media are littered with people saying they simply don’t like the impact red wine casks have on whisky. Which is not altogether surprising.
If you’re partial to the sweeter, smoother and fruitier profiles of many whiskies, many of the notes that red wine brings to the table are unlikely to sit well with you. Red wine can be tannic and earthy. It can be dry. And while it may bring fruit, it tends to be the darker fruits. None of your peach, apple or banana notes in your average red wine.
Red wine casks can be aggressive, relative to the performance of many others like sherry, rum, or even port. And they simply don’t play well with every whisky.
For a whisky to stand a chance of getting along with either full maturation or finishing in red wine casks, it has to be pretty robust. Resilient even. Peated whiskies like Port Charlotte fare well. Deanston – as one of the waxier spirits in the pantheon of scotch – can also do well with red wine.
Obviously, the cask itself is the other variable, as is the specific red wine it’s previously held. Not all wines are equally full-bodied or equally tannic. Or equally challenging to the next occupant of the cask.
And for some, regardless of the wine, the whisky or the cask, it’s just never going to work because the flavour profiles don’t resonate. Which – of course – is fair enough. Whisky is nothing if not wholly subjective.
But for those of us that have found enough examples of whisky and red wine producing something we enjoy, there is of course the Longrow Red series of releases, which – assuming you can find one – does a pretty good job of showing what can come of introducing the right whisky to the right red wine casks.
Nose
Peppery, spicy. Smoke. Damp burning grass. Dark red fruits. Specifically, dark berries. There’s the slightest hint of chocolate, soot and sweat (which in this case isn’t a bad thing). I also get something earthy like a dry forest floor.
Given time, the pepper fades into the background and a light vanilla note emerges.
Palate
Oily and succulent. Really excellent viscosity that coats and warms the mouth. The pepper and dark fruits are carried through from the nose – ripe plums, blackberries. There’s oak, malt and damp tobacco. Slightly tannic, and there’s a nice note of sulphur. Like you’ve entered a room where a match was recently struck. And dark, slightly bitter, chocolate.
Roasted nuts, burnt ends of roast beef. Salty. The sweetness is there but it’s wrapped in a shroud of savoury, smokey, earthy notes. Dare I say funky?
And it’s easy to visualise a full-bodied, chewy, red wine.
When you finally swallow this (it’s worth having it linger on the palate), there’s a whole other flavour note that creeps in. I really like it, but I’m finding it difficult to pin it down. It’s earthy and slightly fungal. In the territory of damp hedgerow and rotting leaves. Black tea - stewed in the pot. And (slightly worryingly) a fleeting note of cod liver oil combined with beeswax – which is curiously compelling.
Time in the glass mellows it out a little and lets the peppery notes recede, making it easier to detect a creaminess that I didn’t pick up before.
The Dregs
I like this whisky. It’s a little boisterous when first opened but over time (and when you let it relax in the glass), it reveals more of itself and becomes even better.
It definitely won’t be for everyone, but if you – like me – enjoy whiskies that have character and are perhaps a little off the beaten track then you may well find this to your liking.
There’s a sweetness and fruitiness to this, but the smoke and salty earthiness that accompanies it makes it altogether more interesting – at least to my tastes.
While I think this is a good example of how red wine casks can make for really compelling whisky, it’s as much a testament to the rugged and robust nature of the peated Longrow spirit as it is to the influence of the wine.
If you’re a Longrow fan and love how the spirit plays with bourbon casks, it’s possible this will be too great a departure from what you love about the liquid. But if you’re game for finding out how this exemplary scotch performs in the less predictable territory of red wine casks, then this release is a good place to play.
I was lucky to buy this at retail a few years ago before prices went crazy. I paid around $175 for it. Looking online now, most prices in the US are between around $400-$800. Which is at the farcical end of the spectrum. Auction prices are likely to be better at this point.
If you can get one, enjoy. If not, maybe another in the Longrow Red range may tickle your fancy.
Score: 7/10
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