CASKED Whisky & Lifestyle
CASKED
CREDITS Editor: Karlina Valeiko Sub Editor: Gabrielė Gaižutytė Features Editor: Phil McDonald Production Editor: Joe Howells Design Editor: Vicky Parker Marketing: Jessica Persson Contributors: Sorcha Cameron John Mailer Laura Milligan Robbie Young
Special Thanks: Ernie Button
EDITOR’S LETTER The first taste of whisky I ever had was when I was seven. A bit extreme, I know, but bear with me. It was one Saturday in July back in the 90’s and as any family, mine was in the kitchen preparing food for a BBQ party. As my mum was cutting the vegetables to be grilled and my father skewered the meat, I downed a whole glass of Jack and ginger ale, which I assumed was apple juice. Needless to say, exactly five minutes later the booze kicked in. I went red, laughed uncontrollably and started to cry. From there on I can’t remember much but I am thankful that it happened way before the era of smartphones and Facebook and my silly face wasn’t posted all over the Internet. As weird as it might sound, whisky to me is nostalgia and memories. Every time my father flew back home from wherever he was working at the time, I got a tin of Quality Street and his bar – a new bottle of whisky. And ever since the ‘apple juice’ incident, whisky has been one of my favourite drinks. I am pretty sure that everyone has a story that starts or ends with whisky and this is what CASKED is about. The stories that make whisky what it is and the people who make them happen.
TABLE OF CONTENTS 7 13 17 20 29 35 40 46 47
Extraterrestrial The Collector Sex, Drugs and Drams Aqua Vitae Myth or Medicine? Not for the Old Fashioned Tastebud Turbulence A Shot Glass Named Fire Straight Up
EXTRATERRESTRIAL Words: Karlina Valeiko Images: Ernie Button
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ight years ago Ernie Button was loading the dishwasher when he noticed fine lacy lines filling the bottom of a dried-out whisky glass left out overnight. The Arizona-based photographer, whose images often give voice to objects that are overlooked or ignored, knew immediately there’s more to it than meets the eye. “I am a fan of observing my world and the things that are happening around me, noticing the smaller details that may be ignored or overlooked. I find it infinitely fascinating that a seemingly clear liquid can dry and leave these beautiful patterns and lines on a consistent basis.”
Thus, the on-going project of Vanishing Spirits: The Dried Remains of Single Malt Scotch was born. Since then, Ernie has shot around thirty different brands and created more than hundred images, using coloured lights, flashlights and desktop lights to layer multiple colours. “What I found through some experimentation is that these patterns and images can be created with a small amount of single malt Scotch left in a glass. It only takes one to three drops. The alcohol dries and leaves the sediment in various patterns. It’s a little like snowflakes.
A lover of observing the world and seeing the unusual in the usual, Ernie has been interested in photography since his teenage years but was pulled into the art world when his wife went to graduate school for fine art painting. It is also his wife and her family Ernie has to thank, as it was them, who introduced him to Scotch whisky and aroused his interest in it. “I tend to photograph things that I can study and reflect upon. Often my subject matter will engage both the brain and the heart, equal parts
thinking and feeling. I like to think that a fine whisky is providing me with a little something extra, an extra value for my money. “We all approach art with our own thoughts, ideas and concerns. If I can get a person to gaze at these images and enjoy the beauty of it, to get lost in the colours, pondering what they are looking at and the potential of what it could be, that would be perfect. I want to get lost in the possibility that these lines and shapes may be a new planet, new solar system, a new bit of landscape that hasn’t been discovered yet.”
THE COLLECTOR Words: Phil McDonald Images: Joe Howells
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tanding in a room no bigger than a small study is Nick Sullivan, owner of Aberdeen’s biggest and possibly smallest whisky and spirit shops. Bottles of hand chosen whisky live on the walls like books on a shelf, and Nick takes just as much pride in his stock as librarians take in their texts. Just like a library, the room is quiet with a single table placed in the middle so as not to cut off access to any part of the shop. Whisky collecting is by no means a cheap and simple business. It takes commitment and passion to be competitive, something which Nick is not lacking in. “It started off as an investment, to be honest. I was interested in the history so I started to try and find whiskies that were no longer being produced. I was never trying to make a fast buck by buying and selling quickly. I was after the history.” No bottle of whisky is brought in purely for its financial value. It is Nick’s belief that everything sitting on his shelves means something to the business, and eventually to its suitor. In an industry with a past as rich as whisky, there are those who exploit the rewards that come with selling quickly. “There are a lot of people who are in the business just to make some quick money. There are a lot of people who are not interested in whisky but just want to support their pension. You could buy a bottle for nearly two hundred pounds and you can sell it a few weeks later for nearly double the price. It does go up in value incredibly quickly.” Interest in Nick’s collection comes from all over the globe. We have to shuffle out of the path of three French buyers who are polite enough to extend their “bonjours” to both Nick and myself.
There are no suits worn by these shoppers, they are quite simply a family of three investigating the local heritage. They don’t leave empty handed as salesman Andrew pulls a bottle off the highest shelf, much to the delight of his customers. “Probably around seventy percent will be tourists,” Nick says after they leave. “Because of Aberdeen’s influence in oil we get a lot of Norwegians, a lot of Americans coming in and buying bottles to take back as gifts. It’s a great thing to see that we have this influx within the city.” Staying in business doesn’t seem to be a worry for Nick. The money is there and when you know your market you can survive by any means. Coming into some capital after selling his own personal collection, there was no spending spree for Nick as the one hundred thousand pounds went straight back into whisky. “By the time I stopped buying for my own personal investment it was up to around two hundred and sixty bottles. When I opened the shop the entire collection went into it. It was sad to see it go, but I wouldn’t be working in the shop without it.” It seems that for your hobby to become your profession you don’t have to be a wonderful athlete or a talented musician. You only need to take one look around Nick Sullivan’s store to realise that selflessness and integrity combined with knowledge, passion and courage can go a lot further than you may think. “We are here to advise our collectors. We get a lot of people coming in with eighty pounds who want to buy something as an investment. I tell them to wait if there’s nothing on the shelves at the moment that I wouldn’t keep for myself. We are very honest.”
SEX, DRUGS AND DRAMS Words: Gabrielė Gaižutytė Images: Vicky Parker
The smell proves people wrong
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elebrities are the most prominent idols of the modern era. We, simple mortals, learn from their triumphs and their mistakes. Their wisdom inspires us and their folly extinguishes that influential fire. Any actors’ or musicians’ ideas, thoughts or musings become online trends within minutes - it matters so much what they have to say. Thankfully, their brainstorms are endless, so we can turn to our trusted friends at any point in our lives. From cooking dinner to marriage counseling – celebs know it all. So here are five things that the pillars of our society have taught us about whisky.
Ever wanted to silence someone so bad that you showered in alcohol? The famous American musician, Bob Dylan, got so tired of being perceived as “the hero of the society” in the late 60’s that he poured a bottle of whisky on himself and went for a stroll in a shopping center. He showed us that sometimes all you need is a good dose of sinus burning whisky to cut through the crap.
Love something till the day you die… and longer Frank Sinatra was a true whisky devotee. In fact, he loved it so much while alive that he didn’t want to be separated from it in the hereafter. The musician was buried with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a pack of Camel cigarettes, a lighter and 10 dimes. Not only he taught us about real undying love but also that not everyone’s equal when they’re dead. Some of us have booze.
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If you can’t sip it, sniff if The mire of non-stop partying has its consequences – the uncertain “I should stop drinking” changes to the ambitious “I’m not going to drink ever again.” It happens to the best of us. But that doesn’t mean we should scrap the joy of alcohol from our lives entirely. A wee whiff doesn’t hurt anybody – teaches actor Johnny Depp, who, to this day, orders his favourite single malt in a snifter just to catch a smell of peat.
Action equals opposite reaction Lady Gaga reminds us of a lesson by another superstar of a different era, only this time there’s some whisky involved. If you have a malt soirée, you’ll need to stretch that hangover out in the morning. Now, while others choose full breakfast and a Netflix binge, the queen of the monsters hits the gym. And that’s the whole beauty of physics – you can’t change the reaction, but you can deal with it any way you like.
Uncertain? Add Whisky Unlike most people, who drink for their own or others’ enjoyment, Prime Minister Winston Churchill didn’t have much choice. In the beginning of the 20th century Churchill was working as a reporter in South Africa. Rather than risking the potentially disease riddled water, he added some whiskey to cleanse it. Drop by drop, water with whisky became whisky with water. The drink likely saved Winston Churchill’s life or at least his chamber-pot’s purity many times. And moreover, it became future Prime Minister’s friend for life.
AQUA VITAE
Words & Images: John Mailer
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eith, the starting point of the Malt Whisky Trail, has two railway stations. The biggest one, a couple of rusting sheds and crumbling platforms at the town’s northern fringe, exists for no reason except to remind passing Aberdonians and Invernessians that life in the country ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. The other, smaller station is infinitely more charming and worthwhile, as long as you can find it.
“We’ve just had our Grand Easter Opening,” says Margaret McPherson, the station-mistress. Usually she issues tickets before inviting visitors back to the warming room for tea, served in mugs that smell of sausage rolls. “From now until September we run three times a day on Saturdays and Sundays. We started this off as a bit of fun originally, but it’s taken off since then.” ‘We’, in this case, is the Keith & Dufftown Railway Association. They are a group of close friends who, in 1992, bought the section of track between the two towns and turned it into the Whisky Line - a profitable tourist attraction that turns a pretty penny even at this relatively quiet time of the year. At five to twelve the Spirit of Speyside clatters into the station. The narrow platform is crammed with relieved parents with small children, who are bribed into silence with toy trains from the museum shop next to the ticket office. The incomers from Dufftown are farewelled and shooed away while the next load are welcomed aboard and cleared off the platform. Disaster strikes as the train pulls away from the station. The engine erupts with a long cough and a black cloud of noxious smoke. Roz Rhodes, the conductress and co-driver, bustles out onto the platform and harangues the engineers: “Needs a bit of TLC. Give it a good kick.” The advice works a treat. A few moments later the train jolts away from the platform and starts off towards Dufftown. “She’s an auld wreck!” Roz announces to everyone onboard. The woman wrenches the carriage door open and grumbles: “Aye, I ken fine how she feels.” Spirit of Speyside. It’s an appropriate name for an old relic, running along a resurrected track through
an area haunted by Scotland’s past. Much of what made Speyside possible has either disappeared or been abandoned. Up until 1992 this included the railway that used to keep the distilleries up and running. “They closed the track down in the mideighties,” Roz explains. Coming up to her sixtieth birthday, Roz, a feisty and slightly intimidating lady with a smoker’s squawk, is anything but an “auld wreck”. She bustles up and down the carriages and finds time to chat to all the passengers between her duties as guard and co-driver. “We were a group of aficionados and we bought the track back in the mid-nineties. It was a bit of fun really, but it’s now making enough money that we’re thinking about extending the track into the main line. God knows we’d run the railway better than British Rail does.” She glances out the window. Mossy woodland and sleepy burns give way to rolling hills as the train climbs further into whisky country and closes in on Dufftown. Two more monuments to history - a pair of huge silos, now scheduled for demolition, tower over the tracks on the outskirts of the Spirit’s destination. “That was another thing these trains used to do,” Roz intones. “They used to transport the barley grain between local stations and deliver whisky all over Scotland. If you look carefully at all the distilleries in the area, only one of them came along before 1872. That’s when the railways arrived here.” Dufftown lies just west of a strange natural border, where the green fields and gorse bushes of Aberdeenshire lead into the brown hills and purple heather of the Moray Highlands. Arriving here triggers the curious sensation of having been sucked into a time warp. Everything seeming older and quainter in a town where most of the buildings date back a hundred and fifty years and where nearly three fifths of the population are retired, bent-backed, wear bonnet caps and drive Morris Minors.
It’s a lovely place to retire to,” says Ernie Mackintosh, himself a happily and recently retired recruit for the town’s Whisky Museum. “Everyone knows everyone, all the shops and cafes are locally or family-owned and nearly all the people that come here’ll put money into the place. It keeps things like the Heritage Railway going. Aye, the whisky does a lot for Dufftown.” The brown oil of Moray does more than a lot for this place. It dominates the high street and local economy. The Whisky Museum, Whisky Shop and a Taste of Speyside lie literally across the square from each other, in ridiculous competition for the town’s pensions and tourists, and that’s not mentioning the distilleries. In a county where every village has its own glass-andsteel monstrosity of chimneys and warehouses, Dufftown has six of them. They hum and puff away on the outskirts, like the worsted mills of an old northern city. “Got more money than we do brains,” Ernie grins. “The younger people do, anyway. My grandson’s working at the Cooperage at Craigellachie and he’s on £1,000 a week, aye,” he nods. “A week. The cooperage is where they make the casks and barrels for the distilleries and the demand for it lately is just huge. Anyway, he’s racing around in his souped-up Audi and he’ll wrap himself around a tree one of these days. That’s nothing unusual if you work in whisky.” This bizarre microclimate of Dallas meets Take the High Road affects Dufftown in other ways. “The money gets put back into the local community, you know. Look down the high street, and the only really big brands you see are the Cooperative and Costcutters. Otherwise, all of the shops are locally or family-owned. They’d all have been wiped out without the money flowing in from the distilleries and the tourists as well.” * Vlad Bebchuk is not a tourist himself, kicking about Dufftown for quite different reasons to
Ernie or Roz. It’s his second attempt at making his way in the world, after losing his place at university when exam results did not go his way. The young Russian grins nervously: “I can’t tell my parents that just yet. My girlfriend lives in Aberlour and said I could hide here for a while.” He’s found himself a weekend gig as a tour guide at Glenfiddich distillery, showing people around the Mash House and Dramming Centre and sometimes training new guide recruits, while working on weekdays as a cleaner at the Craigellachie Hotel. “The distilleries want you to speak French, German, maybe Spanish but that’s unusual. My Polish and German was actually the reason I got the job at Glenfiddich. “It’s affecting the hotels around here as well. The little B&B hotels are being massacred just now. If you go to the town and see the only boarded-up buildings there, all of them will be these B&Bs. English people run most of them. They come up here, they think it’s a dream, and then they find out that actually they are stuck in a house all day cleaning up after people who, you know... we don’t give a shit about them and they don’t give a shit about us, pretty much.” It’s a peculiar but accurate observation. Another surprising thing about Dufftown is the shortage of hotels and accommodation. It’s a search that leads the average traveller into interesting places: “Och, I’m sorry pal, we’ve nae rooms, try Tannochbrae.” “Sorry mate, the Japanese have taken all the rooms. Davaar might have one spare.” “Aye, we’ve a single, up the stairs and on your left.” This one, the Commercial Hotel in Dufftown, turns out to be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The place is seemingly designed to kill the people who are staying there, with its steep stairs, its lockless doors and malfunctioning electricity system.
Vlad, having gotten to know the area well, says: “You get all the tourists in this area, probably two thirds of them have come here for whisky. They come to the distillery, they see the way it’s made, they taste it, you can do a lot there. That’s up in Dufftown though. You go further down the valley, it’s more about fish.” He shakes his head. “That’s going wrong too, particularly at the moment.” *
factory. “It’s usually good fishing country,” says the 48-year-old Londoner, killing time between a funeral in Elgin and a conference in Edinburgh. “From the Seventies to just recently they were worried they’d over-fished the fucking thing and driven the salmon to extinction. Now they’re coming back in force again, and the estates that actually grant you the permits are charging the Earth so we can fish the place dry like we did last time. Some people are just born braindead.”
At this time of year, Scots often wake up to headlines that scream: ‘BBQ Summer! Heatwave to End All Heatwaves’.
Conversation shifts to Speyside itself as he turns onto Aberlour’s high street. The smell of the fish and chips takeaway mingles pleasantly with the chatter of people sitting outside the pubs and ice cream shops.
But that’s before drawing the curtains to find the country washed out by winter’s revenge, a last blast of wind and rain to stop us getting too cocky about the good times ahead. This week the weather pulls the opposite trick. The sun gleams in the blue heavens and the temperature creeps dangerously close to twenty degrees.
“The golden rule of capitalism, where I come from, is that if you make something that people want to buy, then of course you make a lot of money. Speyside makes shortbread, whisky, and makes people want to come up to Scotland for their holidays.” He belches loudly and confesses: “I think those are all shit ideas myself but then, what would I know?”
None of this is good news for Derek Probert. “The fuckers haven’t given me a nibble in two days,” he fumes. The fuckers are brown salmon, the Spey River’s most prized ready-made commodity.
The word ‘spirit’ has been used in several different contexts during this visit. Whether it’s the distilled spirit that is at the heart of what makes this part of the world what it is or The Spirit of Speyside that is the lifeblood in the heart of these towns. Most of all, there is a certain proud spirit that is found from start to finish that shines through in all of those that associate themselves with Speyside’s famous single malts. The Spirit of Speyside travels gently through the countryside with continuous vigour and passion, in more ways than one.
“It’s this sun,” he explains, wading out of the knee-deep water and onto the grassy bank. “The fish know that the birds can see them in clear daylight conditions, so they swim upstream.” He gathers up the last of his fly bait and grumps, “Once everything gets back to normal again, the fish’ll reappear.” He trudges back along the east bank towards the town centre, past the Walker’s shortbread
The connection is special and wholesome, but perhaps it’s time for new ideas to surface. This famous district will continue to prosper, but progression looks to be the next real challenge.
MYTH OR MEDICINE? Words & Images: Robbie Young
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or a certain generation the Hot Toddy has a mythic reputation as a miracle cure for almost any ailment. It has survived through the generations, passed down from drunken dad to slurring son as a sure fire way to rid yourself of the blues. Take a glass, add a dash or two of whisky, a squeeze of lemon, a splash of honey, maybe even a sprinkling of ginger or cinnamon, top it off with hot water, and there you have it – feeling better already. Granddads swear by it, but is there any real medical proof to suggest that the fabled drink can actually help to rid you of that annoying cough? Or is it just another excuse for the old man to take his medicine? Julie Woods, a medicinal herbalist who runs her own clinic in Dorset and is a member of The National Institute of Medical Herbalists, says there may be more to the Toddy than you’d think. Julie has dedicated her life to finding natural remedies to health concerns and says that to find out how effective the drink is we have to look at its individual ingredients.
We’ll start with the two universal ingredients: whisky and water. Sometimes it seems that a GP’s skills begin and end with one frustrating cliché: ‘Drink plenty of water and get lots of rest.’ But this isn’t just the doc’s way of making his life a little easier. Water really is the best thing to fight off infections. It hydrates the body, meaning our immune systems have the energy they need to battle viruses and bacteria. Things aren’t so clean cut when it comes to whisky however and there aren’t many doctors who would prescribe a dram to fight off a chill. Seemingly, the one saving grace for alcohol would be its brilliant ability to numb the senses. As anyone who’s taken a tumble after a hard night on the sauce knows, alcohol is a great painkiller. Julie says: “Whisky is the main ingredient, but it’s the only one I can’t find anything to suggest it would help. I suppose its main effect would be as an anaesthetic, that’s what we want when we have the flu after all.”
It’s excellent for dulling any aches or pains and helps to relieve feelings of grogginess – at least in the first instance anyway. Once the initial effect wear off that cold’s going to come back with a vengeance.
production, it’s a safe bet that cinnamon and ginger weren’t in the original recipe for a Hot Toddy, but they do appear in a great deal of the modern variations, so it would be silly to discount them.
If you’ve got the cold and don’t like honey and lemon, you’re in for a rough ride. A quick glance at any chemist shelf shows that this is the go-to combination for cold and flu remedies.
Like honey and lemon, these too are extremely effective at fighting infections as both have great antiseptic abilities. Ginger also acts as an anti-inflammatory, which helps to ease that bunged up feeling.
Honey and lemon are one of those rare match-ups that just work - like bacon and eggs, or Lennon and McCartney - one without the other just isn’t the same.
“These spices are both great antibacterials. They also make you sweat more, which sounds a bit gross, but is really useful for getting rid of a cold,” Julie says.
Julie says: “Where to start? Lemons and honey both have masses of evidence to show that they have nutritional properties perfect for fighting chills and colds, especially anti-bacterial.
It seems that grampa may really have been on to something when he raved about his special medicine after all even if it is just as Julie thinks “to make sure the men folk took their medicine”.
“Lemons are also a great source of vitamin C and have anti-inflammatory properties as well, which helps with congestion.”
Okay, so you might feel even better if you cut out the whisky and have a nice glass of spicy honey and lemon water, skipping out that pesky hangover.
Since Scotland isn’t exactly famed for its spice
But where’s the fun in that?
NOT FOR THE OLD FASHIONED Words: Laura Milligan Images: Joe Howells
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ne arm slouched across the back of the wooden booth and with a cup of coffee in the other, Aly Mathers relaxes in the corner booth. The owner of CASC - Aberdeen’s very own whisky, cigar and ale bar - sits back with his legs crossed, in a pair of faded black jeans and plaid shirt, as comfortable as if he were at home. “I had my first dram when I was fourteen and just thought it was amazing. Ever since then, I’ve drank whisky. I always felt like an idiot when I’d be sitting with a single malt and my friends would be drinking Jack and coke, but it’s what I liked. “I moved to Edinburgh as a student and got a part time job in The Scotch Whisky Experience. That’s when I really caught the whisky bug, and it’s where I became a Whisky Ambassador. It’s essentially just a piece of paper that proves I’m trained in sales and expertise of Scotch whisky. Sounds far more impressive when I don’t explain what it is, doesn’t it?” Aly begins to tap a rhythm out on the wooden table top with his fingers, as if he’s playing a small drum kit only he can see. Passionate about whisky, he has worked at many prestigious events. “I got a pretty cushty job one year in the World Whisky Awards. I was taken on for the weekend as a guy pouring the drams. The judges were the best ten master whisky blenders in the world. You had Charles MacLean, Richard Paterson, you had the guys from Yamazaki, the guys from Jameson, celebrities in the whisky world. “There were over four hundred whiskies being judged that weekend, and I was the one pouring them. They were the best four hundred whiskies in the world, and I got to sniff and taste all of them. But I had to spit them out as well, of course, because after four hundred drams you’d be ruined. “As payment for the weekend I got to choose ten bottles to take home, so I just took the ten most expensive bottles, as you would,
although they weren’t the best drams. I had one of the Dalmore Constellation Collection, that’s fifteen grand a bottle. I’d pull it out at a party and just throw it around like ‘that’s fifteen grand a bottle, I didn’t pay for it’, you know. But it’s all long gone, it all only lasted a few months. Everyone said I should have put it up for auction, but the bottle was already open.” With whisky becoming more and more popular among younger whisky drinkers, it’s easy to spot those who actually enjoy it, compared to those who have clearly just been dragged along by their friends. “People enjoy the more social side of whisky. You don’t just drink whisky if you’ve never really tried it before. It’s more of a ‘Holy shit, try this’ kind of thing, when you’re sitting with a group of people that don’t really drink the stuff. “Hipsters stand out like a sore thumb. They make it so obvious that they are drinking whisky as opposed to just chilling with it. But at the end of the day, if they actually enjoy it, then why not?” As more and more 20-year-olds try out whisky drinking, the demand for more unusual and unexpected drinks continues to grow. “I know that flavoured whisky is a thing now and younger people kind of throw it back like tequila, but it’s not something we would serve. It’s more like a liqueur that mixologists would lap up for cocktails, but things like strawberry whisky just sounds hideous. It seems like a bit of a gateway whisky. “We had a whisky in recently that smelled exactly like an old leather settee, without a doubt. I mean, most whiskies have a kind of leathery undertone, but this one smelled just like an old library. It was weird.” Aly leaves a reassuring feeling that the future of whisky is not just outlandish cocktails and flavoured indulgence. If the traditional distilleries persist, the purists will too.
Darach specialises in crafting individual items from vintage oak whisky barrels. We maintain the character of the original barrel stave, which guarantees that every Darach piece is unique. Our barrels are sourced locally from distilleries near our home in the Scottish Highlands.
TASTEBUD TURBULENCE Words: Gabrielė Gaižutytė Images: Vicky Parker
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TOM AND JERRY Containing eggs, syrup and milk, it’s basically cake in a mug. But don’t be baffled by the youthful name, it’s a pudding for a person of a mature age. Exceptionally suitable for birthdays, anniversaries and wedding celebrations.
PICKLEBACK The western version of vodka chased by pickles, Pickleback is great way of making shots of whisky fun. The cocktail is especially popular with New York hipsters, only proving once more that they are willing to try all the things normal people wouldn’t dare.
WHISKY A LOLO LoLo is a very fruity spin-off from one of Jim Morrison’s favourite bourbon cocktails. It’s light, especially girly and colourful, making it perfect for enjoying in pitchers, glasses or in your mouth, however avoid having it down the front of your shirt.
SMOKE SIGNALS Melting ice on burning wood – Smoke Signals sounds more like a witch’s concoction than a cocktail. Replace pecans, lemon juice and whisky with powdered bicorn horn and a handful of shredded Boomslang skin and you have yourself a potion even Severus Snape would find passable.
A SHOT GLASS NAMED FIRE Words: Sorcha Cameron Images: Ainars Briedis
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ireball drinkers take selfies. Fireball drinkers chug straight from the bottle. Fireball drinkers pass out at house parties. Fireball drinkers are really not whisky drinkers at all.
necessarily drinking it for the taste or for the experience, they’re drinking it to get drunk.” Fireball and other flavoured whiskies have arrived in the US hand-in-hand with the ever-expanding image-driven world of social media. The drinks’ admirers have spent their teenage years in an incessant campaign for validation in the form of ‘likes’, ‘retweets’ and ‘shares’. Fireball is probably the first ever drink to have such a large presence online. Its devotees post their syrupy-drowned escapades all over Instagram using hashtags such as #fireballfriday and #thirstyforfireball. A never ending stream of pouts, peace signs and whisky bottles. Winston Churchill must be turning in his grave.
Except they are. Fireball is the ringleader of the flavoured whisky infatuation, which is hitting universities across America. The sickly sweet tasting liquid, which to untrained taste buds may very well be mistaken for cough syrup, comes in a variety of different flavours such as cinnamon, honey and berry. American distillers are seemingly less fazed by tradition than their counterparts in Scotland. They have been quick to jump on the “flavoured whisky” bandwagon, introducing drinks such as Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey and Red Stag Black Cherry.
Frankly, Fireball is probably about as much a whisky as a Starbucks strawberry and cream Frappuccino is a freshly ground coffee. But that doesn’t stop consumers from thinking that they’ve become whisky connoisseurs just after a few glasses of flavoured whisky.
All this might sound somewhat unpleasant if you’re the kind of person who seeks comfort and warmth from the bottom of the single-malt scotch but it may help explain the young hedonists who are the target of the latest liquor trend. Jeffrey Cain is a manager at Clancy’s Tavern and Whiskey House in Knoxville, Tennessee and is a chartered member of Marble City Whiskey Society.
“Fireball and apple juice tastes exactly like Christmas,” explains Vilma Gonzales, a student at the University of Tennessee (UT).” “I wasn’t a huge whisky drinker before it was introduced to me but I drink it all the time now. It’s really, really huge here at UT. It would be hard to find a house party where someone isn’t carrying a bottle of Fireball. All my friends and I drink it when there’s some sort of celebration and we also usually have shots before we head out for the night.
“At one time, the average whisky imbiber was a highly depressed, lower class middle aged male who took the drinking experience very seriously. The attitude towards whisky has been shifting slowly for ten years but rapidly increased about three years ago. Nowadays, I’m seeing more and more female drinkers, more college-aged experimenters and people from all manners of wealth.”
“I think what attracts people most to the flavoured whiskies is that they are smooth, sweet and easy to drink. Fireball is also cinnamon flavoured which is a really popular flavour for young Americans just now.”
The fact is, in the age of the infantilization of the American palette, the creators of new flavoured whisky drinks weren’t ever aiming them towards whisky traditionalists. Their sugary tastes are actually much more comparable to mixed vodka drinks - most young people’s ‘go-to’ on a night out.
Scotch lovers, I apologise. This debauchery has probably made you feel like the whisky apocalypse is nigh. But never fear. Like most trends, flavoured whisky is presumably going to come and go. That distinct cinnamon flavour will retire to the spirit graveyard and no longer be any threat to the so beloved whisky industry.
“Whisky shots are a lot more popular. Ten years ago whisky in a shot glass would’ve been unheard of but now we sell many, many shots. I’ve found that these college kids aren’t
Until then, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
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STRAIGHT UP
Words: Gabrielė Gaižutytė Images: Jessica Persson
The bartenders. The hands that pour your whisky and the faces you forget the second you’ve turned away from the bar. They’ve got something to say.
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“For the younger audience whisky is daunting, expensive, burning and too strong.� - Milo Smith
“Whisky drinkers love trying different whiskies, but not the cheaper ones.� - Danny Galloway
“David Beckham’s whisky is the most tasteless and terrible whisky I’ve ever had, and I’ve tried non-alcoholic whisky.” - Ricky Chan
“It’s not the old men’s drink anymore.” - Pete Robertson
“They don’t care how it tastes as long as it’s expensive.” - Andy Stewart
CASKED May 2015
Extraterrestrial The Collector Sex, Drugs and Drams Aqua Vitae Myth or Medicine? Not for the Old Fashioned Tastebud Turbulence A Shot Glass Named Fire Straight Up