Batch 068 | 61.5% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good Stuff.
TL;DR
Really great whisky. Unjustifiable price.
Aberlour has been in the sin bin for long enough.
I’ve been hard on Aberlour, there’s no denying it; those beautiful glass ampules with such rich amber promise within have failed time and again to capture my excitable heart.
It’s been almost two years since I opened my first Aberlour, the whisky I purchased after discovering how amazing whisky is through Glengoyne, and it promptly blew my inexperienced head clean off.
Standing now, faced with the wall of glowing amber capsules lining the wall of my whisky nook, a rarified section of my own house where I’m permitted some semblance of freewill to do as I please (let’s not get excited, whatever I do is then assessed by the house committee for aesthetics and neatness), I can’t help but feel a multitude of emotions.
The first is how far I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of whisky and, after some rudimentary maths, makes my face flush bright red – I’ve spent a lot of money on liquid that has briefly passed through the conduit of my wibbling facade and out into the national network of underground plumbing.
The next emotion is reflection on how much whisky has given me from an emotional, social and creative perspective. Quickly followed by thinking of the journey I’ve taken to get here, all the whiskies I’ve tried and the people I’ve shared them with. That journey started in a big way with the Aberlour A’Bunadh.
From my current perspective a whisky that delivers ultra-raisins does nothing for me. I’ve reconciled my feelings towards my recent Glenrothes raisin fest via the medium of Alistair Walker Whisky Co, and I’ve tried enough sherried whiskies now to know that overtly raisin-like whisky isn’t what gets me going. But I also have to accept my most beloved whiskies that have made me sing from the rooftops have been either oloroso or PX casked Uisge Beatha – Ardnamurchan is at its most joyous for me when it’s sat in some sherry for a while.
I often long to go back and try Glengoyne 18 to see how it hits on my two year old whisky palate, and see if there’s anything more I can extrapolate. One of the biggest joys in whisky is the prolonged, dedicated task of weathering and developing our palates and the ability to smell and taste flavours in whisky, as well as all other things we stick into our faceholes.
I was impatient at the start, wanting to fast track my face to a place where I could uncover all these notes I kept reading about. Patience is the word, because it takes a long time before the eyebrows start elevating at the smell of something new in the glass.
An unfortunate pitfall of whisky development, if you can call it that, is the growing cynicism that rises when appraising what we’re actually getting for our money, never more so than in 2023. Whisky has gone a bit mad in the pricing department with beloved drams floating out of financial reach, with affinities souring as a result.
Glengoyne 18 is one such case – my gateway whisky of £80 in January 2021 is now commanding £115 in 2023 – 43%, chill filtered but natural colour. It’s a reconciliation that gives rise to the huffle puff, because with a developing palate and blossoming knowledge about whisky, casks, qualities and costs, looking back at these gateway whiskies and their stats suddenly stamps a big question mark upon them: What am I getting for all that money?
Inevitably I start to compare those fading milestone malts with my current mindset. Having gone through the crucible of whisky speedy boarding, I know how much I’ve paid for whiskies that have set me alight as well as how much I’ve paid for whiskies that let loose the grumpycorn. Would I pay £115 for Glengoyne 18 today knowing it was the whisky that set me on to this warpath of incredible, genuine fulfilment? Knowing that when I was last drinking Glengoyne 18 my palate was akin to a fledgling falling from the nest, hitting every branch along the way? Knowing I’d likely find loads more in Glengoyne 18 now and as a result probably enjoy it considerably more? Not a chance; I wouldn’t spend £115 on whisky that is chill filtered and delivered in elaborate packaging at a decidedly wet 43% ABV. Because for half that, I can get any number of whiskies that explode in my head and if I can get that experience for that money, it’s safe to say that my time with Glengoyne ended before it even got going.
The Aberlour A’Bunadh Batch 068 was the second whisky I bought for a not inconsequential £79. It’s funny how naivety plays so hugely in our early fumblings into whisky, especially if there’s no guiding hand or network to lean on. I was flying solo for a long time in whisky and made so many missteps and unfortunate errors, but I can’t be too sad about it because with all those experiences come hard-earned lessons, truths and knowledge that are not really achieved otherwise.
I found Aberlour after I’d typed into Google: “What tastes like Glengoyne 18,” and was presented with a number of whiskies, all of which I subsequently went on to obtain through retail and auctions; the A’Bunadh, Glenfarclas 15 and Glendronach 15.
The Aberlour, going by the notes in my wee notebook I kept in the first year, was visceral and monumental, yet the notes section was pretty vague. The energy was there, but the experience clearly wasn’t.
“Nose: Big vinegar / sweet sauce. Dark fruits coated in cinnamon. Oak. Spice. General Spice. Tomato Sauce.
Palate: Massive sherry. Not much else. 2tsp water – nuts, treacle, black treacle, liquorice.”
I don’t know who General Spice is, but they’ve got a cheek. After I’d finished this bottle, I purchased a few Aberlour Casg Annamh bottlings – mostly Batch 5 but I did win a Batch 1 at auction, of which I’ve yet to open. In my early frame of reference, these bottles were revelations – salted caramel, sweet fudge and fruity wonderment. I recently tried the Casg Annamh Batch 5 and found it ok, but with all the knowledge now under my belt, the poor Casg Annamh didn’t impress me like it did back then. Such is life.
I tried a few Aberlour 12 year olds from the supermarket when they were on offer for £29, but I didn’t really jam with them owing to the weaker presentation and uniform nothingness. Then I tried, through my uncle’s yomp to France, a bottle of Triple Wood and what little appreciation I had left for Aberlour was lost in the gale force wind gusting from my apoplectic ear gaskets.
So how do I come to hold in my veiny hands another unopened bottle of Aberlour A’Bunadh Batch 068? It was given to me as a best man’s gift in the summer of 2021 just before we enjoyed one of the most beautiful weddings ever to have graced this earth, and has sat unopened in my overflow whisky cupboard waiting for a good moment to open it. That moment turned out to be a Saturday of little consequence, but sometimes the mood just hits and before you know it, a knife is produced and the wax-dipped tip of the A’Bunadh has been sliced expertly to reveal the wide wood stopper. I’m really keen to know how I feel about Aberlour once I’ve spent some time with this bottle using my two year old palate; I’m hoping Aberlour is redeemed from the sin bin.
Review
Aberlour A’bunadh, Batch 068, 61.5% ABV
£n/a (around £90 today and newer batches generally available)
I’ll say it again – this is the perfect whisky bottle design. Wide, sturdy, stoic, dumpy. Great hand feel. Great pouring action. Beautiful glass prism through which to view the gorgeous glow of whisky. Nice wee label. Giant stopper. Tactile wax-dipped tip. It’s all there. I wish more distilleries would do a wee dumpy bottle like this, but more often than not there’s a tendency for people to use taller glass.
This whisky is artificially coloured – what a shame given the cask provenance of this whisky. I wonder why they colour it? Does the A’Bunadh come out the vatting alarmingly light, or do Aberlour just want to have this ultra dark spirit to sell the story of how rich and inviting it will make you feel? I don’t know. I do know this is non chill-filtered, which is the more important characteristic of the two, and is presented at a massive 61.5% ABV – two of the most important check marks for me. I’ll think about the price after I’ve wrapped my lizard tongue around it all.
Nose
Coffee beans, cola cubes, caramel sauce and strawberry sauce on Mr. Whippy ice cream. Tobacco, salted caramel, petrichor – earthy. Grains in a metal tub, dusty dunnage, honeycomb-coated in dark chocolate. Strawberry laces., roasting coffee. Savoury – cornflakes. Buttery crackerbread. Beach ball. Cedar wood sauna.
Palate
Very fruity with strawberries and cream. Gingerbread drizzled with a blitzed raspberry – sugary sweet with a tart red fruity edge. Leathery. oak and cedar wood. Thick fudge sauce, candy floss, waffle cone. Damp oak – dusty warehouse. Butterscotch-soaked sticky toffee sponge.
The Dregs
What’s surprised me most about the A’Bunadh is how different it is to the Glenrothes PX blaster. I’d expected it to be as raisin-like, owing to the consensus that the Aberlour is the sherry bomb to end all sherry bombs. I’m clearly still very naive when it comes to sherry bombs because I assumed they’d all form some facet of the raisin, give or take. But this is a lot more bright and sweet, red fruits and spice. There’s not really any indication of raisins at all, and as such I’m really quite warming to it. Perhaps my approach to sherried whiskies will become a matter of where it falls on the raisin scale – I prefer the less shrivelled grape ones please.
So this is a non-age stated whisky – a NAS (we all love an acronym). I don’t give one stuff about the opinion that NAS whiskies are lesser whiskies. If it smells great and tastes great, that’s all I really care about. The Glen Scotia Victoriana is a NAS whisky and consistently blows all the doors off. NAS whiskies sit comfortably alongside young whisky for me – it depends on what whisky it is, but some of my most enjoyable moments in whisky have arrived at the hands of young or non-age stated whisky.
The Aberlour A’Bunadh is a £90 NAS though, and that’s important. We’re approaching Glengoyne 18yo levels of unjustifiable outlay, and at a fair lick of speed too. £90 is Ardnamurchan single cask territory – unfettered whisky delivered at hyperspeed and unmatchable transparency. £90 is likely the price for most genuinely superb whisky in 2023. My transcendent experience with the Glen Garioch AD/Venturers bottling came at the financial cost of £65. When pitched against these things, how does the Aberlour look? Well, it looks a bit stupid.
I really enjoyed it, no word of a lie. It’s a few metres more enjoyable than the Casg Annamh and 12 year old expressions, and 20,000 leagues under the sea more enjoyable than the watery smudge that was the Triple Wood. My initial smell and taste of the A’Bunadh transported me instantly back to my gateway mindset of: “I never realised whisky was like this.” All those decadent sentiments of butterscotch-soaked sponges and cola cube-laced beach balls can’t help but get Dougie’s motor purring. And what’s more, I’ve found oodles more flavour inside the A’Bunadh this time around and as a result, have connected far deeper with it.
But £90 for goodness sake. Whisky marking for me, historically, never really considered pricing as a defining factor because honestly, I was a wee bit blinkered to the realities of whisky cost in the general scope of life. I was buying from a very privileged position of being able to justify it as my hobby, my release or at worst my coping mechanism. But in 2023 with purse strings being universally tightened, I’m really starting to think about what whisky costs versus the experience it offers. The question boils down to this: Is this whisky worth the asking price?
If it was £70 like the Victoriana, I’d say it’s worth seeking out and experiencing a really fruity, decadent sherry casked whisky. It’s the character that got me into whisky in the first place; knowing the spirit of whisky could offer such powerfully delicious flavours that reach an almost dessert-like experience. Wonderful stuff. If it was priced at £80, like it was when I bought it in 2021, I could almost justify it from a position of a rare treat, or a bottle I’d buy and stretch out, having a wee dram when I fancy a more deep, richly opulent liquid yum-yum.
At £90 it’s out of reach for me, and I’d hazard most that are also looking for bang for buck whiskies in the 2023 climate of doom. This whisky doesn’t give me an unshakable desire to have more than one bottle in my stash so I never run out. This whisky doesn’t make me swoon in the knowledge it’s an untouched natural whisky – it’s been coloured and you can tell – the Irn-Bru tint is present and is made all the more visible by my illuminated super shelf. I look at the expertly posed and curated feeds on Aberlour’s socials and website and see why they’re pricing it like they are – Aberlour are a lifestyle whisky brand. They’re aimed at the lay-person like I was in 2021. I’m not that guy anymore, I don’t care about what my whisky says about me in a social setting. That’s not what I buy whisky for.
As such I’m taking a mark off for high price and unnecessary colouring, and concluding that the Aberlour A’Bunadh is a really tasty whisky with more than enough going on to satiate the demand of a dark fruit disciple and enough redeeming features to release Aberlour from the sin bin. I’ll make this bottle last though, because at £90 I won’t be replacing it.
Score: 6/10
