Caol Ila 1991 25yo
Hunter Laing Old & Rare | 53.3% ABV
The pioneering work of others
I often wonder how it is that we should gauge our experiences relative to the flow of time and events.
I understand that’s an atrociously vague thing to say, being utterly apropos of almost anything yet nothing, so let’s narrow the field a bit. When we look at the state of whisky today, there’s a lot to be taken advantage of; the staggering amount of whisky for one thing, then the amount of information and number of opinions about them for another. It’s on this latter point that I’m particularly speculative. The fact I’m sitting here writing an article about whisky which will (hopefully) be enjoyed by some number of people is largely attributable to the pioneering work of those that have come before, progressing the whisky industry and particularly those that have progressed whisky writing. Although there have been many astute figures that fall into this latter group quite comfortably, there’s one that has always held my heart further aloft than the rest - Michael Jackson.
As with many others, my first introduction to Jackson’s works were not through whisky, but through his equally precious writings on beer. If you’re of the notion that beer is a fizzy bitter-sweet drink that should usually taste like Corona or thereabouts (though I doubt that to be the case in this audience) I challenge you to watch his beer hunter series and remain unaffected. It was that series, specifically his episode on Burgundies of Belgium, which finally broke the camel’s back and drew me away from academia and toward brewing, then later to distilling. If you’ll indulge me, the below excerpt from one of his articles (for Playboy magazine of all things) speaks perfectly to the beautiful way Jackson viewed beverages. Though he wrote about beer here, I’m sure we can infer an identical passion for our amber nectar;
“Beer is as if it were a temptation of Eve. Like sex, good beer is a pleasure that can be better appreciated with experience and which variety is both endless and mandatory. The pleasure lies too in gaining the experience, the encounters with the unexpected, the possibility of triumph or disaster, the pursuit of the elusive, the constant lessons, the bitter-sweet memories that linger.”
His writing and interviews on whisky were the same; he possessed a passion and commitment to the appreciation, understanding and promotion of grain beverages which has seldom been approached elsewhere. It’s fascinating to listen to others recall their encounters and relationships with the man.
Almost universally they speak to a kind of gravitational charisma and razor-edged wit. He’s often synonymous with the same virtues exemplifying the best aspects of the industry - a dogged pursuit of flavour exploration and the stories of those forging it for our enjoyment.
Martine Nouet (who is also a phenomenal writer, gastronomique and whisky lover) has long and frequently recounted her relationship with Jackson and the impact he had on her professional raison d’etre. Even Jim Murray with his, shall we say, ‘encompassing’ personality admits to Jackson’s widespread influences on the industry. Everywhere we turn in the world of whisky, it seems some veteran or another has an anecdote recalling an experience with Jackson, usually with some good tongue in cheek humour or a sage bit of observation.
Though it’s surely clear in reading this, I should properly disclaim myself as enraptured by Jackson’s work. It’s guided much of my enjoyment of food and drink, helped form opinions and shaped my stance regarding certain topics. I don’t necessarily agree with everything the man wrote, and given the chance to read some of the information available today, I suspect some of his opinions would be different to those first published decades ago. That is the sign of a true enthusiast though; to update one’s views with new information, perspectives and ideas. No, it isn’t just the positions he took on certain drinks, it was his delivery, as well as the time during which he wrote and the all pervading devotion to uncover the history, culture and wonders that these drinks bring. Before his attentions, beer and whisky had largely been forgotten as a cultured drink in the eyes of mainstream society; please allow me a digression here.
Even today there’s a snobbish thumbing of noses toward beer by some echelons of high society in favour of wine. There are typical suggestions from such people that wine is a more complex, nuanced and varied beverage. Well, I posit this is demonstrably untrue. The combinatorial nature of beer with its multitude of ingredients, production processes and cultural influences dwarfs wine by mathematics if by no other mechanism and I would argue tooth and nail for other reasons too. The sheer capacity for variety and detail of flavour is immense. Whisky enjoys many of these same virtues by property of transference. One also sets forth that the pervasion of wine in high culture is thus more an attribute of historical marketing than it is a statement of quality. Consider this point accordingly; of the historically famous wine producing countries and regions which would have benefitted from the prosperity of wine as a valuable commodity, which have had a significant impact on current Western culture? Italy (Roman empire), France (Napoleonic empire) Portugal (Portuguese empire) and Spain (Spanish empire). Hmm…
I say this not to denigrate wine, which is obviously a marvellous drink, but rather to emphasise the importance of beer and whisky. Beer helped keep entire cultures alive at various times when water sources were unsafe to drink. The very discovery of fermented grains helped us crawl out of the first cradles of civilisation during the establishment of agriculture in the east (near Mesopotamia). It helped establish a degree of emancipation for women in Britain up until the 1500s during the reformation and, later, when figures like King James and other religious sycophants accused female brewers and beer business owners of being witches (seriously). Whisky and its predecessor spirits were used as a method for stabilising farming economies across seasons and giving farmers increased revenue.
We better know beer and whisky’s value today, but in Jackson’s early career of drinks writing there must have been a seemingly insurmountable cavalcade of social dictums and preconceptions to dispel - we all owe the man greatly. He helped to level the playing field somewhat and demonstrated that beer and whisky should sit at the same table as other fine food and beverages. It’s his baton we still carry today and though it is a microscopically small fraction of such, it is a legacy I’m proud to participate in.
Review
Caol Ila 25yo, 1991, Hunter Laing Old & Rare Platinum, 53.3% ABV
£500+ mostly available on the secondary market
The table now set, you’ll better understand what I mean about pondering our experiences with whisky in an environmental context. While analysing a glass, I am frequently struck by the question: “What would Jackson think?”It’s pointless of course, since I’ll never know, and even the act of reading his tasting notes about the same distilleries has become muted by the frustratingly monodirectional passage of time - or at least our perception of it. The transient nature of whisky production means his beloved Cragganmore probably tastes unrecognisably different in today’s iterations. While there are a lucky few among us that can source and afford bottles that were available and being drunk during Jackson’s time, the liquid has arguably (by which I mean I would argue it) changed in the bottle to the extent that it probably can’t be evaluated as the same drink. It’s a strangely encouraging and warming thought though - not to know what Jackson would have said about the beverage itself, but to imagine his evaluations and follow the same path of sensory discovery. I’m not a spiritual or religious person - one might say my deference to science limits my view overmuch for such things. But in a sense, if only as a strange and perhaps pathological phenomenon of introspective psychology, you might say it is Jackson’s spirit which helps guide these experiences. This peculiar thought is the motivation for today’s review; a malt that was distilled during his heyday, and which I imagine might have garnered his appreciation were he able to drink it today. His description of Caol Ila’s profile from the malt whisky companion (first published just two years before this malt’s distillation) describes the distillery’s profile as “Oily, olive like. Junipery, fruity, estery. A wonderful aperitif.”
Shall we see if Jackson’s words ring true for this expression?
Nose
Vibrant peat for the age with some mild and complementary dirtiness; vegetal touches of pickled alliums and seaweed, bright terpenes with various pepper trees’ leaf resins, citrus zests, tiger balm and lemon oil, disinfectants and crustaceans a la halogenated phenols and just a beautifully coastal smokiness with hints of lanolin. Perhaps I am being led by suggestion, but some soft black olives too. A touch of oak (vanilla/coconut) creeps in, but the degree is well moderated.
Palate
The nose translates well but does nothing to prepare for the onslaught of fruits and florals - bursts of lychee, pineapple, passion fruit and mango, breezes carrying frangipani and lilac plus a perplexing swirl of garden herbs destined for summer Italian dishes. Estery indeed. The oak is here too in a pleasingly mild manner with splashes of vanilla cream, spiced shortbread crust and candied ginger. All the while the peat marches on, beating a steady tempo of soot, ash, oily kippers, heady petrochemicals and Laphroaig-like medicinal notes. Like a few of these other well-aged Islay malts, the citrus feels almost effervescent on the palate, a bit like brilliantly dry Riesling.
The Dregs
This is my fourth ‘91 vintage Caol Ila and there seems to be something about the period that exudes a character closer to well-aged Laphroaig than anything else, perhaps with slightly more dirtiness, though very far from any pejorative sense. A light addition of water brings out more of the fruits and florals on the nose (jumps out of the glass between about 45-50% ABV) and showcases just how different this era of Caol Ila is from the modern iterations.
Don’t get me wrong, I greatly enjoy the modern styling too, and appreciate the consistency of distillate that Diageo are able to produce. This pre-automation style though just oozes a character and gravitas that cements it as one of my favourites, and thus earns its high praise here. A beautiful dram, perfect for toasting the memory of a fine gentleman and scholar. To your memory Michael; may we be worthy of your legacy.
Score: 8/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. TK