Occasional Whisky Review
I’ve found strange things in the past, but none stranger - to my uneducated brain, at least - than the idea of Welsh single malt whisky. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a keen whisky drinker, and these days I’m even able to tell some of the subtler malts apart to boot. Which is nice.
Anyhoo, I was in Tesco picking up some wine and decided to take a look at their spirits section, since they always seem to have odd selections in amongst the usual Macallans, Lags, glenfiddichs and blanded… sorry, blended stuff. Actually some of that isn’t half bad if you’re not looking for a taste experience, but I digress.
Yes, welsh “scotch”. Wales, I have come to find out, is the historical spawner of the great american Bourbon makers, who were apparently quite keen to get out of those sainted valleys. There’s been narry a distillery there since the… well since a long time ago. Now there is. The distillery is called Penderyn, and it comes in a wee slim bottle, in a cardboard case.
The short version of this is: it’s ok. Not the best in the world, but not the worst either, and given the relative youth of the modern welsh whisky industry it’s actually surprisingly good.
And now the long version. First impressions are always important with whisky, and this one doesn’t disappoint. The colour is a wonderful, rich gold, offset by the black case that only really covers two sides, making it easy to hold this thing up to the light. That, and the location, are what originally attracted it to me. On puring you find that this whisky is fairly heavy, very viscous. The smell is interesting. At the first nose it seems to be chemical and young, but that quickly disappears. You quickly get an undertone of cherries, and an aroma of toffee - though I have to confess this last one is influenced by the box, - followed by stronger fruity or herbal sensations and an essence of vanilla and cinnamon. One odd thing: this might be prejudice speaking, but it actually smells a tiny bit mossy. The good sort of mossy that reminds you of a sun-dappled forest glade. I also get hints of wild flowers and clover. The initial actinic bang, again probably from prejudice, actually put me in mind of slate. Which is nice, if you like that sort of thing.
The taste matches the scent, as you would expect given that’s where most of our sense of taste comes from. Surprisingly smooth, pleasantly warm, with the same hints of fruit and herbs, vanilla and a tinge of that same grassy, mossy sort of sensation. Once you’ve tasted it you get a subtly spicy aroma, with traces of leather and cured oak lurking underneath. It cuts nicely to the back of the throat without burning, which can be a problem with some malts. However it doesn’t quite have the consistency across the palette, which puts me in mind of the behaviour of blends, which tend to fade away as they move back. But not quite, as it does manage to get there and it warms the throat nicely.
Overall it’s really not bad. It compares quite well to your average lowland malt and could probably rank up with some of the better malts if it took a few more years to mature. As it stands, the drink is let down just a little by that initial burst of odd scent, which can be a bit disconcerting if you’re not use to it, and that slight lack of consistency. This one may well have the potential to grow on me.
