Kilchoman Machir Bay Cask Strength
Official bottling | 58.3% ABV
“I ain’t here to break it, just see how far it will bend”
For most of the past decade there simply was no stopping the rising tide lifting all the whisky ships.
Seemingly there wasn’t a week where there wouldn’t be another announcement about a new distillery being launched and this domino of ideas and intentions spread like wildfire across Scotland. And Ireland, England along with many places elsewhere in Europe, the US and the rest of the world.
It was, and still is, a very exciting time for whisky lovers and enthusiasts. Quite frankly, the whisky renaissance we’re witnessing today only occurs every so often – and what we’re seeing around us in Scotland and beyond is likely unprecedented and therefore very possibly a once in a lifetime situation. A situation where we’re in the privileged position to get to taste something that literally wasn’t here yesterday, giving us front row seats to watch these new distilleries rise, evolve, mature and change over the years to come.
The way things are evolving is that in the not too distant future, a significant part of all scotch whisky out there will be from distilleries founded in the 21st century. Since the turn of the millennium, more than 40 new distilleries in Scotland alone have seen the light of day, and dozens more are coming. This means about a third to a half of all Scottish distilleries in a decade from now, will be new endeavours.
So exciting times indeed, but also very much a reality check. Sustainability is at the heart of the new distilleries paving the way today – as it should be, giving well-established names and brands a much-needed wake up call in the process. But it doesn’t end there. This unprecedented boom means an awful lot of demand for skilled workers, from distillers and blenders to coopers, operators, accountants, tour guides and store keepers and other staff. That’s the good news. If you’ve read Dave Broom’s excellent book A Sense of Place (if you haven’t, I recommend it), there’s testimony to what the new wave of whisky means for remote areas like Ardnamurchan or the Hebrides. Whisky literally is the facilitator to bring back communities to what had become destitute, abandoned places. The fact whisky manages to become the beating heart and the catalyst to bring people together is simply wonderful. We, or at least I, need to remind myself more than once that ‘it’s just a drink’. Then again, in so many ways it’s so much more than that.
However, it also implies an enormous increase in demand where the supply chain and the logistics are concerned: grain, casks, warehousing space, bottling facilities, transportation - and forgive me for not being Mr Sunshine here - but this is, I fear, where we might at some point see some wheels slowly but surely coming to a grinding stop.
Whether it’ll turn out to become a case of survival of the fittest, I sincerely hope it won’t come to that, but a first sign of stagnation might already be here. In October last year, it became clear that, as of 2023, supply of peated malt from Port Ellen maltings to non-Diageo owned distilleries would become limited, with the possibility that supply to those distilleries may stop entirely in 2024. This means that the largest and only industrial scale maltings on the island will likely become at least partly out of reach for seven of the current nine Islay distilleries. Port Ellen has 30 silos with a capacity of 100 tons each, and Islay’s biggest distillery – Caol Ila- can go through some 300 tons of the stuff each week. Let that sink in for a moment.
All of Islay’s distilleries today (and Tobermory on Mull, and I’m likely overseeing a few others as well) are in no short matter relying on peated malt from Port Ellen. Even the likes of Bowmore, Laphroaig and Kilchoman who have their own malting floors will feel this, as they can produce only up to 20% – 30% of the required malt in house. What this will mean for the two or three new distilleries on Islay who are in various stages of planning and building, one can only guess. I of course don’t know what inspired Diageo’s decision here – it could be anything, really. From an actual shortage of peat /peated malt, to a cynical corporate decision towards Diageo’s competitors. Forcing upon the competition an increased overhead cost by cutting off a supply chain, compelling them to source peated malt from elsewhere and/or up their own malting capacity, makes economic sense. It’s a rather ruthless strategy, but even though many people in the industry are good natured people, across a directors’ board room, any industry is considered a dog eat dog world. It could be a combination of these, along with some other reasons. But whatever the cause: it doesn’t bode well.
As much as I hate to be captain buzzkill here (and believe me when I say I’d love to be proven wrong on this one), it might just be that the Port Ellen example might, in hindsight somewhere down the line, prove to have been the first writing on the wall of the whisky industry becoming the victim of its own success. The strain on the supply chain for essential sources, should be (and likely already is) a cause for concern for a lot of distilleries. The fact there’s no telling how and when the situation in Ukraine will evolve, surely only adds to that.
Review
Kilchoman Machir Bay Cask Strength, 2022 Release, 58.3% ABV
Around £60 and generally still available
Boy, did I digress a bit here. Maybe it’s time to focus on the actual whisky rather than acting like a doomsday prophet. Lighten up, Earie! A nice/odd little thing about this release is that it was actually meant to be released late 2021. It was bottled and pretty much ready to go, but because of whatever reason, Kilchoman decided to sit on it. Another possible example of supply chain difficulties? Whatever the reason it’s here now, with a delay of about a year. So let’s tuck in.
Nose
Right off the bat there’s notes of honey, mixed in with a floral, greenhouse note and some sweet smoke. I left it for 20 minutes and when I came back, I picked up citrus, peat, antiseptic and wet straw. The smoke is a bit subdued, not to say faint, leaving room for subtle green fruit notes such as kiwi and lime to shine through. With a few drops of water, it changes again: the citrus note becomes prominent and is joined by melon and peach, with a faint note of mint all the way in the back.
Palate
The ABV shows and the smoke is definitely there now. “Wet smoke”: does that make sense? Because that’s what I’m getting. Dried wood, again the citrus and antiseptic and, interestingly, hard cheeses and nutty notes. These umami notes are amplified after adding water, as the smoke increases, bringing along some bacon as well. Notes of white pepper and ash translate into the mouthfeel before going into an intensely peaty finish with dried smokiness – the remains of a bonfire – along with echoes of cheese / umami.
The Dregs
It is, in may ways, a very classical Islay whisky. But behind the curtain of peat and smoke, there lies quite a delicate, subtle and nuanced whisky. Initially it very much tasted like a Machir Bay on steroids, meaning the cask strength was just a bit hotter and more powerful.
Once past the shoulder though, it started changing and developing and now it’s really opened up, revealing new flavours every time I come back to it. Truth be told, that is a bit of a relief as at some point I started to become a bit concerned whether or not it was worth forking out the extra £20 compared to the regular Machir Bay. Halfway through the bottle, I dare say that it’s indeed worth it. Particularly the savoury elements bring in extra dimensions and layers, and now I’m enjoying this immensely to the point where it’s becoming increasingly difficult to reach past this little gem as I’m keen to discover what else it has to offer.
Score: 7/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. EA