Glasgow Festival Weekend 2023
Do you believe in magic?
I’ve written nearly 5,000 words already on the Glasgow Whisky Festival 2023, and I’ve not even started writing the piece yet, such is the gargantuan amount of debriefing I’ve had to do to gather my thoughts. I’ve witnessed the capacity for unconnected humans to genuinely love one another. I saw some other things that have turned me inside out with seething bitterness, at the fumblings of some folk who you’d think would know better. I’ve watched with teary eyes at the celebration and rewarding of selfless dedication to the pursuit of serving this whisky community, by this whisky community. Yeah, I’ve been through it all over the course of two days.
Saturday was a triumph. The Hallions, dragging collective heels to The Counting House on St. Vincent Place, after hitting the ground running from the airport on Friday at rocket speed, embraced one more wibbling eyed whisky exciter into their musical fold to tuck into a breakfast the size of a play park roundabout, before rising from the fuming ashes, wings spread wide to catch the wobbling thermals to Hampden Park.
The early November sun cast its low lobbing light onto the waiting horde of whisky folk, buzzing softly at the prospect of a four hour super-session. Ralfy, padding his plaid way to the concrete stairs that bump up to the wide entrance plaza, looks up when someone shouts “Morning Ralfy”, and a ripple of excitement makes its way down to the front. “Just going to check they’ve brought the good stuff” he shouts. We laugh. Of course we laugh - it’s Ralfy on a good day.
Soon the gaggle are ushered into their starting lanes on those same stairs, each cell squashed between railings aligned to doors through which we’ll all rush at 12pm, poised to fling coats on hangers and vault up to the awaiting tables filled with untold fortunes. We’re surprisingly quick in getting up and into the first suite of tables, and before we know what’s happening there’s whisky in the etched stemless glass and we’re raising it aloft to shouts of “Sláinte!” Those who came prepared with Glencairn holsters pre-dangled from necks are dismayed to find these little diddy cups don’t fit. One of life’s unfortunate incongruities.
The Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman bottle split (EIS), part of the Dramface writing and back-end team are here, for the first time together in real life. For the past 6 months we’ve been waiting for this day to arrive, eagerly egging each other on as we approached the big event, ready to blast ourselves into orbit through the medium of fantastic whisky and group discovery. Now the day has arrived, we’re even more amped. On Friday, as the Englishman made his way up and I made my way down, the Hallion Irishman was already drinking his way through SMWS by midday. Now though, after a toasted loaf of bread and half a cow’s innards have made their greasy way into his belly, along with some well needed hydration and maybe a little hair of the dog, we’re firing on all cylinders.
Inchgower 12yo Paolo Cortado cask from Adelphi first. Then a Thompson Bros. Glen Garioch. Down to Dunvilles for the Irish pot still - a rather delightful 1808 at 40% has 6 eyebrows rising upwards quickly. Around to North Star for a Bunnahabhain 11yo followed by a new Ardnamurchan 6yo from their “Obscurities & Curiosities” range - fishy harbour creels ahoy! Over to Kilchoman to see if they have the dreaded 16yo latest release that has exciters reeling from the price - £200 is a huge leap from their other bottlings and understandably people want to see if it’s worth that price. I’m fairly green to the Islay outlier and find it mediocre - others don’t pull punches. Interestingly the folk manning the stand are surprised at how many people are asking if they have it - stashed under the table, it’s an ab workout in the making.
We meet the joyous Graeme from Bruichladdich at the Kilchoman stand and follow him to the Bruichladdich table where I try the Bere Barley 2014 and wish I bought that instead of the Islay Barley 2014 - astoundingly good. Next door sits Loch Lomond and meeting magic Michael Henry for the first time was a highlight. He pours me a 14yo and it’s really bloody good. Then he brings out cask samples and we’re all in wonderland - a 1yo oat grain sample - astonishing. A 2.5 year old other grain likewise. Michael chats freely and openly in his hushed reverential tones and I’m fair taken with his humble ways. I need to chat to him properly.
Across to Arran to try the new 17yo - it’s dark dark dark. It’s good - £110 good? To be discussed later. Over to Meikle Toir for a Turbo - I’m not spooling up. Where to go, what to do, so many tables and an hour has passed already! Oh goodness. Decadent Drinks next and an expensive Bowmore. You do you Angus, but I’m doing away to catch the lovely ladies from Callander Drinks Co, who suggest a wee visit to Fragrant Drops for a North British. On the way I find Seve who gives me a wee snifter of a cask he’s maturing: 2 years old, it’s probably the most astounding thing I tried on Saturday - 68% to boot - and could barely contain my excitement, which set Seve off and we buzzed together for a brief, beautiful moment.
Arriving at Fragrant Drops and seeing their elegant yet slightly unsettling pathological bottles, underlit and glowing with promise. I’m captured by Rachel Dixon, Ops Director and I can’t get out. I don’t want to either - she’s broadcasting strongly and I’m vibrating on her frequency. The North British 30yo is fantastic - £99 as well. A 29yo North British is produced from below, and is creamy and beautiful and I want it - the Englishman likens the two North British bottles as New York Cheesecake and Key Lime Pie respectively. Gah, grain is on my radar now too. It’s their Ardmore 14yo Dark Rum Cask that gets my motor going properly, and the EIS look at each other in unison - this is something special. We’ve all loved the Ardmore’s we’ve dipped in and out of over the years, but this feels elevated. We vow to buy a bottle or two.
As the deadline of final pours approached we flew past SMWS and tried “Gies a Wee Drap Ae Sherry, Boabie” - a festival bottling, before stopping in at Adelphi once again to pick up a Dailuaine magic dram and then back to Thompson Bros. for a swig of their Cask 35 6yo distillate, which was a perfect finisher to a session filled with quite remarkable whiskies.
What is it about a whisky festival that is so exciting? Is it the prospect of having access to 70 tables worth of whisky that you might not have tried yet? Is it the idea that there’s something inside this suite of rooms that might make you question if you’ve even tasted flavour before that point? Maybe it's knowing that you have a £10 voucher for the shop, or that you’ll get to ask the burning question you’ve always wanted to, like why is Kilchoman 16yo £200?
I think the excitement is more primal than that. I reckon we get so excited at whisky festivals because we’re there with people we love, and revel in spending time with people who have a shared passion, are able to experience what you are experiencing at the exact same time, matching energy as it increases tenfold after the first whisky hits the lips, and are discovering new things right alongside you, live, right now. It’s about the people. It’s always been about the people.
Over the course of a far too quick 4 hour session the EIS traversed the three suites, discovering things together and, when we drifted apart, homed in on each other so that we could shout into our smiling faces “have you tried this yet!?”. It was incredible seeing our faces light up in astonishment at a whisky being able to do this: to make us uniformly feel this way about smelling and tasting a liquid. We announced what we were unlocking in our core memories into the hazy air above us - new-car smell, plastic rugs, strawberry and cream Lifesavers, a coal brush, a slate tile, cheesecakes of multiple varieties and so much more, watching the penny drop in the others. Exhilarating throughout, a visceral human connection.
It’s really loud at a whisky festival because you have a thousand people all shouting at each other about how amazing whisky is. The cacophony ramps up when groups like the EIS collide with others, like the Hallions or the Callander ladies, or the superteam of Roy, Scotty and Seve, sharing in increasingly hoarse tones what’s exciting, before carrying on like revolving pinwheels about the place. It would be fascinating to see a whisky event tracked on a plan coloured by groups of folk, watching the dots moving around the space, seeing where everyone is going and what groups bash together.
To be alive is to walk through a whisky festival like this and feel the tangible release of love and admiration for whisky, friendship, human experience and passion pouring from every facet of every person you see. There was so much hugging that the unique sound of soft padded jackets being thumped became a symphony by hour 3. I tried to convey this feeling to Mrs Crystal but found it impossible without sounding like someone requiring a solid therapy session and some fresh air. A totally niche emotion, yet one experienced by thousands of people in the same waking day, often at the same exact moment.
We left Hampden Park floating on a sea of joy. We carried that feeling all the way through Akbar’s Curry House, where everyone debriefed en-masse, and onwards to the Bon Accord. Sunday saw me up and early with a walk through Kelvingrove Park to the Art Gallery & Museum for some morning contemplation. After a short nap we headed to the Aqvavitae Blind Challenge Live, where 60 whisky exciters all worked through their fuzzy morning fugs to rise triumphantly together in the spirit of the weekend, and top out at absolute magnificence in a blaze of Michael Henry (so much insight into Loch Lomond to be discussed), the sheet of closed-cell foam in the evening attire of Carl Crafts (so buoyant), Seve’s unfathomable generosity of spirit and advice and the leader of us all, Roy Duff, a humble giant walking among us who demands no adulation, worship, glorification or reward, but instead gets his fuel solely from setting people head first on an energised and fulfilling course towards experiencing the infinite world of whisky in all its technicolour glory, and watching it unfold before him.
Whisky is life.
DC
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