Cruising the Inner Hebrides
Published: 13 Dec 07
The Isle of Ulva sounds disturbingly anatomical.Leave out the "l" and
it becomes Uva, Latin for grape, as in Uva Mira, the Helderberg property on which
Matthew van Heerden makes some of the top Chardonnay in Stellenbosch; both literally
and figuratively. Add another "u" and permute to make uvula, that fleshy
appendage at the back of your throat. Which must be especially well-developed
in the Swartland, as it is used to make guttural sounds. Add a "v" and
get an X-rating...
The uvula, or Palatine uvula, to give it is full name, is the last part of the soft palate a single malt encounters when swallowed, as they invariably are. Even by professional tasters like Maureen Robertson, who notes, "In the Asian market, smoothness is everything." Robertson is the Nose of Diageo and as such, her uvula is the most important in the business since, as master blender for Diageo, she sets whisky styles and chooses the blends released under the Hidden Malts program.
So the six shipmates of the yacht Chantilly were fortunate indeed to have her uvula present the Ulva tasting. One of 92 yachts on this year's Classic Malts Cruise of the Inner Hebrides, the Ulva experience came at the end of a hard day's sailing in a fresh 35-knot gale from Islay to Skye by way of diverse islands with down to earth names, like the inimitable Isle of Muck and Eileach an Naoimh, last resting place of St. Columba's mom, Eithne, Princess of Leinster. A bleak piece of slate with a cross on a hill marks the grave. It leans drunkenly above the ruins of her son's abbey, destroyed by raiding Vikings in the 9th century. Sic transit gloria mundi, etc.
The other 91 yachts were on their own mission and would pop up at odd intervals during the week, scaring away the puffins at Staffa and monopolizing the showers at the Caol Ila distillery. Like the good ship Corryvreckan (literally "cauldron of the speckled seas" in Gaelic, named after a treacherous whirlpool between the islands of Scarba and Jura) full of Belorussian billionaires, and the stately Eda Frandsen, a Gaff Cutter loaded with musical Spaniards, a little quieter after skipper Jamie Robinson threw the iPod speakers overboard on the first night.
The cruise cast off to the skirl of the pipes on Sunday morning 15 July from Oban, home to a spirit wildly popular with American whisky wonks for the twin properties of being easy to spell and pronounce. Even if they do get it wrong, saying oBAN instead of O-bn. The first leg ended in a ceilidh and traditional Highland supper of champit tatties and bashed neaps at Talisker Distillery on the Isle of Skye. Which is strictly speaking no longer an island since a bridge was built linking it to the mainland back in 1995. But only a reckless soul or a pedant would think it worthwhile raising such trivial objections.
While we're on the subject, it should be pointed out that Ulva is not really an island either, as at low tide you can walk to the island of Gometra (its Gaelic name is Gu mòr traigh meaning "only at low tide").
Back on Ulva, Robertson admitted she was more Bourbon Broad than Spanish Senorita. Swirling a glass of Talisker 12-year-old finished in Sherry casks, she admitted, "I'm not really a fan of a Sherry finish - I prefer traditional Bourbon barrels that allow the taste of the distillery to come through."
Her preference for peat is clear in the latest offerings from Diageo, a company with a name that sounds like an Italian football player. Which in some sense it is, as the name comes from two Latin words "dia" meaning day and "geo" meaning the world. Hence the marketing mantra: "Products to be enjoyed everyday, everywhere."
The 600 bottles of the King George V edition of Johnnie Walker Blue Label that were snapped up on the day of their release (at R4 500 a pop) back in June have Robertson's fingerprints all over them. An ultra-smooth blend dominated by the peaty spirit from Port Ellen (a distillery now closed on that more famous island of the Inner Hebrides, Islay) it has that same smoky, high phenol profile as Robertson's favourite dram: Lagavulin 16-year-old on ice with a splash of water.
As for the rest of the line-up, a 20-year-old Glen Kinchie finished in brandy casks was curious - all chocolate, mocha and nuts. A bit like you'd expect a whisky made by David Sonnenberg to taste on the evidence of his wildly popular Diemersfontein Coffee Pinotage.
When we got to the 30-year-old Brora, I remarked on the "baby sick" nose, a whiff you get on rancid butter, Parmesan cheese and some oaky Chardonnays. "It's butyric acid", Robertson agreed, "something I don't really pick up. But Brora is famous for it." Other differences of opinion were more cultural. Like Robertson's remark about the Talisker 25-year-old "tasting of fresh air. Like when you bring in your laundry from the clothesline", which left this not-too-proudly South African blushing, as Mavis the maid does his washing.
But while sipping Scotch on Ulva may feel like a million miles away from Johannesburg, 800 million years ago the Hebrides were located just west of Bamboesbaai. For like many things in the Northern hemisphere, the Hebrides started out down South. Around 2.5 billion years ago these lumps of gneiss were thrust up in the South Atlantic and ever since have been on their own Classic Malt Cruise, with the sandstone on the Isle of Arran a tourist memento of their visit to the Sahara desert.
Powered by plate tectonics, whisky terroir is a southern hemisphere phenomenon. But let's hope no one sends us the bill for damages when they crashed into the Scottish mainland 430 million years ago.
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The uvula, or Palatine uvula, to give it is full name, is the last part of the soft palate a single malt encounters when swallowed, as they invariably are. Even by professional tasters like Maureen Robertson, who notes, "In the Asian market, smoothness is everything." Robertson is the Nose of Diageo and as such, her uvula is the most important in the business since, as master blender for Diageo, she sets whisky styles and chooses the blends released under the Hidden Malts program.
So the six shipmates of the yacht Chantilly were fortunate indeed to have her uvula present the Ulva tasting. One of 92 yachts on this year's Classic Malts Cruise of the Inner Hebrides, the Ulva experience came at the end of a hard day's sailing in a fresh 35-knot gale from Islay to Skye by way of diverse islands with down to earth names, like the inimitable Isle of Muck and Eileach an Naoimh, last resting place of St. Columba's mom, Eithne, Princess of Leinster. A bleak piece of slate with a cross on a hill marks the grave. It leans drunkenly above the ruins of her son's abbey, destroyed by raiding Vikings in the 9th century. Sic transit gloria mundi, etc.
The other 91 yachts were on their own mission and would pop up at odd intervals during the week, scaring away the puffins at Staffa and monopolizing the showers at the Caol Ila distillery. Like the good ship Corryvreckan (literally "cauldron of the speckled seas" in Gaelic, named after a treacherous whirlpool between the islands of Scarba and Jura) full of Belorussian billionaires, and the stately Eda Frandsen, a Gaff Cutter loaded with musical Spaniards, a little quieter after skipper Jamie Robinson threw the iPod speakers overboard on the first night.
The cruise cast off to the skirl of the pipes on Sunday morning 15 July from Oban, home to a spirit wildly popular with American whisky wonks for the twin properties of being easy to spell and pronounce. Even if they do get it wrong, saying oBAN instead of O-bn. The first leg ended in a ceilidh and traditional Highland supper of champit tatties and bashed neaps at Talisker Distillery on the Isle of Skye. Which is strictly speaking no longer an island since a bridge was built linking it to the mainland back in 1995. But only a reckless soul or a pedant would think it worthwhile raising such trivial objections.
While we're on the subject, it should be pointed out that Ulva is not really an island either, as at low tide you can walk to the island of Gometra (its Gaelic name is Gu mòr traigh meaning "only at low tide").
Back on Ulva, Robertson admitted she was more Bourbon Broad than Spanish Senorita. Swirling a glass of Talisker 12-year-old finished in Sherry casks, she admitted, "I'm not really a fan of a Sherry finish - I prefer traditional Bourbon barrels that allow the taste of the distillery to come through."
Her preference for peat is clear in the latest offerings from Diageo, a company with a name that sounds like an Italian football player. Which in some sense it is, as the name comes from two Latin words "dia" meaning day and "geo" meaning the world. Hence the marketing mantra: "Products to be enjoyed everyday, everywhere."
The 600 bottles of the King George V edition of Johnnie Walker Blue Label that were snapped up on the day of their release (at R4 500 a pop) back in June have Robertson's fingerprints all over them. An ultra-smooth blend dominated by the peaty spirit from Port Ellen (a distillery now closed on that more famous island of the Inner Hebrides, Islay) it has that same smoky, high phenol profile as Robertson's favourite dram: Lagavulin 16-year-old on ice with a splash of water.
As for the rest of the line-up, a 20-year-old Glen Kinchie finished in brandy casks was curious - all chocolate, mocha and nuts. A bit like you'd expect a whisky made by David Sonnenberg to taste on the evidence of his wildly popular Diemersfontein Coffee Pinotage.
When we got to the 30-year-old Brora, I remarked on the "baby sick" nose, a whiff you get on rancid butter, Parmesan cheese and some oaky Chardonnays. "It's butyric acid", Robertson agreed, "something I don't really pick up. But Brora is famous for it." Other differences of opinion were more cultural. Like Robertson's remark about the Talisker 25-year-old "tasting of fresh air. Like when you bring in your laundry from the clothesline", which left this not-too-proudly South African blushing, as Mavis the maid does his washing.
But while sipping Scotch on Ulva may feel like a million miles away from Johannesburg, 800 million years ago the Hebrides were located just west of Bamboesbaai. For like many things in the Northern hemisphere, the Hebrides started out down South. Around 2.5 billion years ago these lumps of gneiss were thrust up in the South Atlantic and ever since have been on their own Classic Malt Cruise, with the sandstone on the Isle of Arran a tourist memento of their visit to the Sahara desert.
Powered by plate tectonics, whisky terroir is a southern hemisphere phenomenon. But let's hope no one sends us the bill for damages when they crashed into the Scottish mainland 430 million years ago.
Robertson's Ulva line-up:
1. Rosebank 25-year-old, distilled 1981, 61.4% alcohol. Grassy nose, very smooth
and oily with a delicate creamy character.
2. Glenury Royal 36-year-old, distilled 1970, 58.5% alcohol. Mangoes and pawpaw
aromas, over-ripe oranges/naartjies on ultra-smooth palate.
3. Glenkinchie 20-year-old, 58.7% alcohol. Finished in a brandy cask: coffee,
chocolate and nuts with a Calvados kick.
4. Talisker 12-year-old, 45.8% alcohol. Finished in a Sherry cask: rich and
fruity with a very dry finish.
5. Port Ellen 28-year-old, 53.4% alcohol. Very fruity with characteristic peat
and smoke.
6. Lagavulin 14-year-old single cask. A barrel selection with burnt matches
and TCP on the nose and a mouth full of ash.
7. Brora 30-year-old, 55.3% alcohol. Some baby sick on the nose, creamy Callard
& Bowser toffee.
8. Lagavulin 21-year-old, 56.1% alcohol. Sherry cask finish gives some fruit
and an attractive smoked salmon nose.
9. Talisker 30-year-old, 50.3% alcohol. Fiery citrus character with some macadamia
nuts and over-ripe oranges.
10. Talisker 25-year-old, 57.7% alcohol. Simultaneously salty and fruity with
an attractive "fresh air" character.
11. Lagavulin 12-year-old, cask strength. More smoke and less TCP than normal,
a compromise for the peatphobic.
