Waterford “The Cuvée”
Official Bottling | 50% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good stuff.
TL;DR
Like nothing else I’ve tried—a dramatic discussion piece
Big mouth. Jazzy Trousers. Unique Smell.
I know nothing of Irish whiskey. Nothing at all. I don’t know the players, I don’t know the state of play, and I certainly don’t know the rules. So when we decided to sail to Northern Ireland and take in the sights, both physical and liquid, I was pretty excited to see what it was all about.
Unfortunately for us, the whiskies we chose to sample along the way were nothing short of unimpressive. We had, to be fair, spent the best part of four days drinking some primo spirit we’d brought along with us from the motherland: Bruichladdich Laddie 8yo, Benromach Abbey Exclusive, Ardnamurchan Cask Strength, GlenAllachie 10yo, Glen Garioch 9yo Tawny and nine other quality whiskies. Yes, the sailboat bar was 14 bottles strong. So when we wrapped our lips around a Redbreast 12 in the Duke of York pub, it registered much like our entrance into Bangor marina: astoundingly uneventful.
To try and kickstart our Irish whiskey experience, we then tried the Red Spot 15yo (at £19 a nip) and, alongside it, a Blue Spot Cask Strength (at £14 a nip). It was the Blue Spot that was giving us a semblance of interest; still, we felt a bit fed up after three attempts. The overwhelming sentiment between us was that they felt remarkably similar. It was a lot of money for whiskey that didn’t give us what our boat bar was giving us. For transparency's sake, I should state that we were drinking these drams in a pub, in cut-glass, straight sided tumblers, and had just completed a big rehydration phase after a 30℃ walk around the city. Maybe it wasn’t the best situation, time and mindset to properly analyse Irish whiskey, but the flavour signatures were all very uniform.
Now, it would be grossly unfair to tarnish Irish whiskey on the whole with such a dismissive brush - I have tried a few of Dingle’s works as well as Redbreast cask strength and found them really enjoyable - and there’s a very distinct character to Irish whiskey that sets it apart from Scotch. This presents for me like a very sweet, toffee-apple metallic vibe, not unpleasant but bordering on overly sweet, sort of bourbon-like. I mentioned all this to Wally when I was at his pad, and his face lit up: “I know exactly what I’m going to give you to try,” he said with a smile, and out of the glowing squares lining his wall, a dark-blue bottle appeared. He didn’t say much about it, just that it’s something marmite-y and that Waterford are doing things their own way, in their own unique style.
“the purpose of coloured glass, historically, is to identify poison”
Before writing this review, and before I dug any deeper, I cracked the translucent pink glass stopper off and poured a small measure into my tulip-shaped analysing glass. Alongside it, I poured that Redbreast cask strength and, to keep things interesting, a Stagg barrel proof (63.95%) Kentucky straight bourbon. Sitting for a while and looking at each of the bottles, I was struck by how little I like the Waterford presentation. It’s a tall, vibrant violet-blue ribbed bottle, but only where there isn’t whiskey behind the glass: where there is whiskey behind the glass, it presents itself as jet black. My research into coloured glass bottle usage for The Gospel stinker revealed that the purpose of coloured glass, historically, was to identify poison so that people could avoid being killed by mistaken identity of contents. Using a bottle tint that is synonymous with stuff that kills you if ingested is a really interesting move; it’s got an air of antagonism about it and, with a bright pink stopper, artwork label and definitive article words like “The Cuvée” written on the label, this certainly not a shy presentation. Alluding to the world of wine, it also has a feeling of prestige through fancy word usage.
Anyway, it’s time to see if this stuff is poison, or at the very least able to elicit a reaction that elevates my experience with Irish whiskey from the lacklustre.
Review
Waterford The Cuvée, 50% ABV
£70 and generally available
The first nostril placed in the proximity of the glass delivers such a potent laser-beam smell of bread proving in a plastic bowl to my frontal cortex that I don’t know what to do with myself. So I put the glass back down again. This is different. There’s no overt metallic sugariness to this experience, just malty, bready, yeasty, artisanal loafs. Imagine walking into a bread shop with someone kneading the next batch before you, surrounded by freshly baked breads, scones and other doughy accoutrements. That’s this, but in liquid form. An alcohol-based amber bread sauce.
I go back and forth between the Redbreast, which seems very much like Scotch when placed in this trio, and the Stagg, which is like drinking a blitzed creme bruleé complete with burnt sugar cap. Each time the Waterford is reintroduced into the fun, the brain struggles to adjust to what’s happening, such is the contrast in nose, arrival, palate and finish. It’s fascinating, strange, obscure and confusing. This isn’t what I expected from an Irish whiskey, and it certainly isn’t boring.
Nose
Bread. Yeast. Dough proving. Earth. Some lemon oil and sugar.
Palate
Warm nights in Tenerife with aftershave and sangria. Plastic tubs. Vanilla custard and burnt sugar. Orange zest, sharps. Citrus marmalade on rye bread. Like drinking sweet bread sauce. After a while, fish markets and festering fruit in the butterfly farm.
The Dregs
After three or four drams, over several weeks, I’m not sure what I think about this. The spirit is unlike anything I’ve tasted in my journey, and it’s a really interesting concept. It does expand in smell and taste if left to oxygenate, but that expansion leads into fish markets and I’m not too convinced that’s a place I want to be. To drink this is to experience an event that draws you in as you walk through the door, standing agog at the lightshow and trying to work out what’s actually happening in front of you. But before long, you’re sort of done with it - the light show has gone from impressive to migraine-inducing, it’s too noisy and there’s a weird smell coming from somewhere.
That’s not to say I didn’t like this, because I did. It’s one of only a few smell and taste experiences from our pals across the North Channel I was interested to go to back to more than once. It’s wildly different to what Scotch is, and likely ever will be - a proper diversion from the norms and, for that reason, a unique experience I appreciated. By dram four, however, I was ready to leave the gig and go lie down in a dark room. Tonight, as I write this review and ponder how to convey my experience, I decide to bash “Waterford” into Google for the first time and see what this company is all about. You might think I’m telling porkies when I say I didn’t know of Waterford before now, but I’m not - the name had appeared in my peripheral vision only.
The product page for the Waterford “The Cuvée” expression has the drama knob turned to maximum, and uses a thesaurus to great effect: some pretty interesting words like “apogee” and “cerebral fusion” convey to you, the drinker, that maximum respect for the effort that has gone into this “elite whisky” (their words) should be given. There’s talk of terroirs and state-of-the-art equipment. The precisely curated paragraphs conclude with a really powerful statement about what this whiskey means to Waterford: The Cuvée is Waterford’s “LodeStar”. I had to Google lode star: it’s a guiding star (e.g. the North Star), the thing that provides the inspiration moving forward, the thing that all future things are referenced against.
A quick whip around some review sites to see what others think of this Waterford expression shows that the general sentiment is really positive. Waterford are still young, and this expression, circa 4.5 years old, is pretty much what traditional Irish whiskey used to be like, apparently. I like how individual this whiskey is and how different it is from all the other Irish whiskey I’ve tried to date. But from my smell and taste perspective, I don’t think I’d pay £70 to repeat this or any iteration of this again, and I’d be a bit grumpy if 60cl of the bottle remained. If The Cuvée is Waterford’s lode star, then I’m politely charting a different path until I inevitably lose my way and stumble upon it again. I’ve tried it, and I’m glad I have, but overtly malty, bready whiskies are not my jam, and never will be. But hats off to Waterford for forging their own path and doing things their own way.
I know what I know from what I now see before me, without prejudice. And I like that there exists in the landscape of whisk(e)y, not just Irish but in general, people who are bold and confident enough to shake things up and be a bit elitist about their stuff—”we are the best and we know it”—because along with all the swagger and flexing and words that you have to Google, Waterford’s highlighting the other folk who are doing things in a more reserved and humble way. I prefer the latter approach, and I seek different characteristics in my whiskies, but many clearly like the cut of Waterford’s jib. Horses for courses. Each to their own.
Score: 6/10 DC
Hamish’s Review
Score: 5/10
Average. In a good way.
TL;DR
If it smells like a Scotch, and tastes like a Scotch… well, in this instance, it isn’t.
Nose
Waxy and thick. Sour grapes and a touch of red wine in the background. It’s incredibly malty and there’s a strong yeasty element in there. Stone fruits introduce themselves, with some blackcurrants and blueberries. Doughy bread with warm butter. Hard toffee, crumbly oat biscuits and a hint of leather.
Palate
From the nose to the palate, there’s the yeast and dough element. Dense and thick with malted grains. Christmas spice reminds me of a mulled wine. Orange rind, cinnamon and nutmeg. The dark fruits come through on the mid-part of the palate, but to me it’s a little thin. There’s enough grip there, but it fades out quickly, with a bit of a rhubarb tingle on the back end. Lemon curd develops along with some clove and a burst of juicy peaches rounding it out.
The Dregs
I didn’t know where to start with Waterford, if I’m honest. As with all the Viking releases with Highland Park (and somewhat as bad), from one farm to another, it was hard to get excited or stay interested in a distillery that had so much hype around it since its inception. However, with the Cuvée being an amalgamation of spirits from Waterford’s Single Farm Origin series, a bit of interest sparked up again.
The reason I give this a 5 and not a 6 is the price. This tastes and smells like a good, solid Scotch whisky. But it’s produced in Ireland, and it’s priced like an Irish whiskey too which is a shame. I’ve gone on too many times before about the price of bottles in the Irish whiskey market right now. It’s ludicrous, but hey, people pay the money.
Now, if the statement: “We’ll release this at £70 and keep that price even as the whiskey matures each year” is indeed true, then I hope this whiskey will eventually become better value for money. Right now, it isn’t. My problem is what Waterford is trying to do, and how that’s pretty much lost on someone like me. Their mission of ‘terroir’ presents a need for their customers to buy more than one bottle at a time to really experience what their uniqueness strives towards. I don’t know where to start, or what to compare to. I’m not one to spend more than £100 on two bottles that aren’t really worth that sort of cash.
I hope there comes a time when the whiskey itself becomes good and the liquid can do the talking rather than the hype machine we’ve heard all about before a drop was in a barrel. What does value mean with a £70 bottle of Irish? I don’t know. With Scotch, which this has great similarities with, I can pick up more than one bottle for £70 (or one outstanding bottle I’d happily purchase). This Waterford is good whiskey, but that’s about it.
Score: 5/10 HF
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC
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