SFTC 2012 vs Signatory Unchillfiltered 2009 | Various ABV
Score: 7/10
Very Good Indeed.
TL;DR
A dark, savoury, rich sherry bomb that’s perfect for Autumnal evenings
Changes in the air
Here in the UK, as I write this, it’s officially Autumn. The leaves on the trees have already taken on a rusty-brown hue. The air is starting to feel distinctly crisp on the morning dog walk, and although I’ve so far resisted the urge to put the heating on or to light the wood-burner, I can’t say that I haven’t been tempted.
Anybody with children has probably already found themselves muttering the phrase ‘put a bloody jumper on, then,’ and if you’re into whisky, then you’ll already have had at least one promo email advertising whisky advent calendars.
It’s not just the slow shifting of the seasons that always makes this time of year synonymous with change, though. Not to me, anyway. I work in education, so to all intents and purposes, September is the beginning of a brand new year. Coming off the back of a six week holiday, it always feels like something of a shock to the system, having to suddenly get myself back into a routine. I also turned 45 last week, so this time of year marks the turning of a proverbial page in more ways than one.
This year has felt particularly significant though, because my eldest has just transitioned to secondary school. For the first time in her life, she’s been given the responsibility of catching the bus on her own, something that has also forced me and Mrs Mackay to resign ourselves to the fact that she needs a phone. Seeing her in her new, slightly-too-large school uniform every morning, leaving the house before I do, clutching her newly cut set of keys, serves as a stark reminder of how quickly time passes. We’ve had to reconcile ourselves with the fact that, in future, when we have a disagreement and she threatens to storm out of the house, she actually will, in all likelihood, storm out of the house. The outside world is no longer this mysterious place to her, and the front door is no sort of barrier.
Rewind the clock six months, and she’d have been nervous about crossing the street on her own. Now, she has a tracker app on her phone, so that I can make sure she gets to the bus stop, and then to school. On Friday, she gets pocket money, so that she can stop off on the way home at the local corner shop and load up on sweets for the weekend. It’s a small taste of independence, but it’s nevertheless one that she relishes, and which conjures in me a mixture of pride, fear, sadness, and if I’m being honest, loss.
So, change is in the air, and right now, everything feels a bit up in the air, so as to speak. It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Far from it. Because this is also the time of year when I start to fall back in love with whisky.
I say ‘fall back in love with whisky,’ but in truth, I never really fell out of love with whisky. Whisky is always there, in the background, but as I mentioned recently in my Orchard House review , it tends to take more of a backseat over the summer months.
As the nights start drawing in though, and you begin to look forward to those small, comforting routines that mark the slow transition into winter, the whisky shelf starts to beckon. Invariably, I find myself opening and buying more bottles. I also start to crave richer, more robust whiskies, as opposed to the lighter, fruitier expressions that work so well when the weather’s warm. One distillery that I don’t go near in the summer, but which I often find myself gravitating towards in the Autumn and winter seasons, is Edradour.
Situated near Pitlochry, Edradour is a highland malt. There was a time when it could claim to be Scotland’s smallest distillery – ‘Scotland’s Little Gem,’ as it proudly states on the bottles – but what with the explosion of whisky distilleries over the last decade, that’s no longer the case. Owned by Signatory, the distillery puts out a core range that consists of a 10yo, a 12yo and a 10yo heavily peated expression that goes under the moniker Ballechin, as well as a range of cask strength small batch releases. They also put out expressions under the Signatory Vintage arm of the business. Knowing which bottles to go for then, isn’t always obvious.
Although you can pick up Edradour that’s been matured in a variety of different cask types, the distillery is best known for its heavily sherried expressions. Their use of worm tubs makes for a dense, oily distillate that in my opinion is usually robust enough to stand up to intense cask influence. In fact, I think that’s probably what I like about Edradour the most. Like Mortlach, Ben Nevis and – dare I say it? – even Springbank, there’s a funky element to Edradour that makes it distinctive. It may be ‘Scotland’s little gem,’ but this is a distillery that typically makes big, robust, flavour-forward whisky.
It’s not everybody’s cup of tea, but if, like me, you’re a fan of the ‘dirty’ whiskies, then Edradour ticks a lot of the right boxes.
Review
Edradour 2009, Signatory Vintage, Un-chillfiltered Collection, 10 years old, Cask 350, Distilled 2009, bottled 2019, 46% ABV
£50 back in 2020, newer batches available
As mentioned, Edradour is owned by Signatory, so although this expression has been bottled as part of the Un-Chill Filtered Collection, it’s actually directly from the producer. Whether or not that makes it an indy or an official bottling – or a hybrid of both – I’ll leave you to decide, but it’s always struck me as odd that Signatory regularly bottles Edradour under the independent bottling arm of the business.
Not that it matters, of course. To us whisky botherers, what matters is the quality of the liquid in the bottle. Seeing as both Edradour and Signatory Vintage are putting their names to this – and that Signatory have the luxury of being able to select any casks they choose – then this should, in theory, be a good one.
Certainly, the information on the bottle is promising. Not only do we get the words ‘Natural Colour,’ stated clearly on the label, but we also get the cask no. – 350 – and the dates that it was distilled and bottled, as well as the bottle number itself. With its understated but informative packaging, then, this is a whisky that’s aimed squarely at enthusiasts.
Nose
The nose is rich and savoury, with lovage, dark chocolate, dates, prune juice and bread and butter pudding. There are also some sweeter elements at play, including candied almonds and a touch of apple cider. Spend a bit of time with it and you start to get Dr Pepper. There are some smoked meats here as well.
Water brings out an oily, workshop note. It’s definitely funky. Not the same brand of funk you get on Campbeltown whiskies, but an odd, savoury funk that’s at once engaging and distinctive.
Palate
The first thing that hits you on the palate is the sheer weight and texture. This is heavy, oleaginous liquid. It feels like chocolate milk and it coats the inside of your mouth in a way that very few other whiskies can. The mouthfeel is incredible.
That dark chocolate that I got on the palate comes through immediately. When I say dark chocolate, I’m talking seriously dark, seriously intensely flavoured chocolate. I was given a bar of 100% cacao once as a gift, and it almost reminds me of that, it’s so bitter and savoury. There’s also an earthy, soil type note, some dark espresso, some baking spices and some wood spice. As far as I know, Edradour don’t peat their malt – with the exception of their Ballechin range – but nevertheless, there’s a touch of ash.
It’s not all dark and savoury, though. There are some sweeter notes to bring a bit of balance, although they’re few and far between. That Dr Pepper note that I picked up on the nose is here as well, and it’s lovely. I also get cherry menthol sweets, a touch of cherryade, some ginger and some cinnamon.
On the whole though, it’s a fairly savoury affair. Although I have no knowledge of the cask, other than the number and the fact that it had clearly been used to mature sherry, I’d be willing to bet that it was made from European oak. The whisky has that savoury, gnarly quality that you don’t tend to get from American oak. I could be wrong of course, but that’s my theory.
The Dregs
I said this earlier, but I’ll say it again, as I think it bears repeating: this is whisky that you’ll either love or hate. Back in 2014, I managed to get my hands on a bottle of Springbank 15 – it was a lot easier to come by back then – and this Edradour reminds me a little of that.
I didn’t enjoy the Springbank and I suspect that if you’d given me this whisky back then, I wouldn’t have enjoyed this, either. The more time we spend with whisky, the more we start to seek out different styles and flavours, though. And this is definitely different. Just like a glass of treacly black stout or a wedge of thick, dense fruit cake, you have to be in the mood for whisky like this. When you are, though, it really hits the spot.
Score: 7/10
