Whisky 2004
Published: 02 Nov 04
An image makeover has catapulted whisky into the echelons of the young and cool. Dave Broom reviews its dramatic metamorphosis. Man walks into a top-end bar. Stands, scanning the shelves. There's vodka,
there's rum, there's bourbon. Picks his drink made with one of these, gets it
shaken by a person with interesting facial hair, finds a seat and relaxes with
his friends. The same scenario is repeated across the world: from Tokyo to New
York, London and Cape Town. That was five years ago. In that same scenario today
there is one addition, one other type of spirit that the bartender is steering
the baffled customer to: whisky.
Five years ago if you had asked for a whisky in that bar, chances are you would have had a choice of four, it would have been given to you in a cut-glass tumbler and you'd have found yourself sitting on your own as your fellow drinkers sipped on their Cosmos and Mojitos.
Whisky drinkers gathered in sticky-floored pubs where cigarette smoke hung like a grey curtain. They sat at round brown tables with cracked varnish and idle graffiti clutching their drink, while scanning the racing pages. Alternatively, they sipped an amber-hued malt in a state of reverence in upscale whisky bars or gentlemen's clubs while participating in learned discussions about the relative merits of lauter tuns.
In London earlier this year, a South African-born bartender takes out a glass of frozen golden liquid. The rising vapour makes it look like some weird potion from a '50s horror movie. Then he pours a thin stream of warm melted chocolate into the glass. As it hits the frozen whisky, it hardens instantly, creating an edible swizzle stick. Everyone is impressed, but no-one is that surprised. Frozen whisky - in particular frozen Johnnie Walker Gold Label - is now an accepted part of the bartenders' weaponry.
So how did we get from whisky's past to its present? To be frank, the bartenders got bored. They are always looking for something new, they are sponges for information. As they began to understand more about vodka and saw how it was simply about image and packaging, they began to look elsewhere, to spirits with a story, which they could not just talk about, but which would give an extra layer of complexity to their experiments in mixology. They sought out bourbon, then premium rum, and now Scotch.
The process was helped by the fact that the language of whisky also changed. For years, the whisky industry talked of little but its past and place of origin. While Scotland is a powerful (and still important) part of its image, this heritage marketing was the only tune distillers played. Whiskies were brands.
When I first started to write about wine my first point of contact would be with the winemaker. When I wrote about spirits I'd meet the brand manager. No longer. Now distillers and blenders are travelling the world, talking about their product, their lives and educating people. How do they do it? By talking about flavour. Blenders think in terms of flavour, as do distillers and, surprise surprise, bartenders. Looking at flavour is the easiest way to understand whisky and it is also the most honest. Funny how the biggest breakthroughs are so simple.
Now bartenders are exploring these flavours in simple cocktails that don't lose the whisky in the mix. You don't need to dress whisky up - more often than not the best way to drink it is over ice with a citrus twist.
The first firm to make this leap was Compass Box. Its founder, John Glaser, turned his back on a high-flying career with Johnnie Walker to start creating whiskies in his kitchen. His first vatted grain has been followed up with a blend, vatted malts and a whisky/orange infusion. They were given weird names: Hedonism, Asyla, Eleuthera, they came in tall, clear glass bottles and had peculiar labels. Vitally, they tasted fantastic. Flavour is, after all, the bottom line.
In London, Hedonism is the whisky that people who don't like whisky like. It has shown these consumers that they do actually like whisky.
Today's drinker will happily sip on a bold, powerfully flavoured bourbon, which means the perceived "flavour barrier" to Scotch simply does not exist. Indeed, Scotch as the most complex spirit of all, the one with the greatest range of flavours - from perfumed and delicate to monstrously peaty - has a flavour for everyone. The problem people had with Scotch wasn't its taste, but its image and the ridiculous rules which had adhered to it.
Whisky had to be drunk out of a specific type of tumbler, it had to be drunk either before or after a meal, it could not be diluted. It was a drink that had to be appreciated, not enjoyed. Whisky was serious, unapproachable. It was boring.
"Where would other categories be if they took the same approach?" asks Robbie Millar at Compass Box. "If gin marketers declared their spirit could only ever be drunk as a martini, what would happen? Gin would collapse! However, in whisky we have all these knuckleheads saying things like you can only drink cask-strength whisky neat!"
Where Compass Box led other firms have followed. Last year saw the launch of the Easy Drinking Whisky Company with its three vatted malts: Rich Spicy, Smooth Sweet and Smoky Peaty. Labelled like varietal wines, sold on flavour. Johnnie Walker had begun to train bartenders rather than just sell them product, Chivas employed an in-house bartender to work on new ways of selling the whisky, as did Famous Grouse and, perhaps most surprising of all, Glenfiddich.
All have realised that like wine, whisky is about life, it is about enjoyment. Of course, again like wine, it is a fascinating subject that can be explored forever, but that has now been balanced by the realisation that whisky makes you enjoy life. It is FUN.
John Glaser once said to me, "We're not trying to transform whisky, we're trying to evolve it." Plenty of half-baked schemes have attempted to force whisky into places where it simply didn't fit. By talking flavour, by making it accessible, by getting rid of rules, whisky is being allowed to grow and people are being allowed to grow into it. Whisky isn't trendy, it isn't hip, but it is becoming relevant and that is far more important.
Five years ago if you had asked for a whisky in that bar, chances are you would have had a choice of four, it would have been given to you in a cut-glass tumbler and you'd have found yourself sitting on your own as your fellow drinkers sipped on their Cosmos and Mojitos.
Whisky drinkers gathered in sticky-floored pubs where cigarette smoke hung like a grey curtain. They sat at round brown tables with cracked varnish and idle graffiti clutching their drink, while scanning the racing pages. Alternatively, they sipped an amber-hued malt in a state of reverence in upscale whisky bars or gentlemen's clubs while participating in learned discussions about the relative merits of lauter tuns.
In London earlier this year, a South African-born bartender takes out a glass of frozen golden liquid. The rising vapour makes it look like some weird potion from a '50s horror movie. Then he pours a thin stream of warm melted chocolate into the glass. As it hits the frozen whisky, it hardens instantly, creating an edible swizzle stick. Everyone is impressed, but no-one is that surprised. Frozen whisky - in particular frozen Johnnie Walker Gold Label - is now an accepted part of the bartenders' weaponry.
So how did we get from whisky's past to its present? To be frank, the bartenders got bored. They are always looking for something new, they are sponges for information. As they began to understand more about vodka and saw how it was simply about image and packaging, they began to look elsewhere, to spirits with a story, which they could not just talk about, but which would give an extra layer of complexity to their experiments in mixology. They sought out bourbon, then premium rum, and now Scotch.
The process was helped by the fact that the language of whisky also changed. For years, the whisky industry talked of little but its past and place of origin. While Scotland is a powerful (and still important) part of its image, this heritage marketing was the only tune distillers played. Whiskies were brands.
When I first started to write about wine my first point of contact would be with the winemaker. When I wrote about spirits I'd meet the brand manager. No longer. Now distillers and blenders are travelling the world, talking about their product, their lives and educating people. How do they do it? By talking about flavour. Blenders think in terms of flavour, as do distillers and, surprise surprise, bartenders. Looking at flavour is the easiest way to understand whisky and it is also the most honest. Funny how the biggest breakthroughs are so simple.
Now bartenders are exploring these flavours in simple cocktails that don't lose the whisky in the mix. You don't need to dress whisky up - more often than not the best way to drink it is over ice with a citrus twist.
The first firm to make this leap was Compass Box. Its founder, John Glaser, turned his back on a high-flying career with Johnnie Walker to start creating whiskies in his kitchen. His first vatted grain has been followed up with a blend, vatted malts and a whisky/orange infusion. They were given weird names: Hedonism, Asyla, Eleuthera, they came in tall, clear glass bottles and had peculiar labels. Vitally, they tasted fantastic. Flavour is, after all, the bottom line.
In London, Hedonism is the whisky that people who don't like whisky like. It has shown these consumers that they do actually like whisky.
Today's drinker will happily sip on a bold, powerfully flavoured bourbon, which means the perceived "flavour barrier" to Scotch simply does not exist. Indeed, Scotch as the most complex spirit of all, the one with the greatest range of flavours - from perfumed and delicate to monstrously peaty - has a flavour for everyone. The problem people had with Scotch wasn't its taste, but its image and the ridiculous rules which had adhered to it.
Whisky had to be drunk out of a specific type of tumbler, it had to be drunk either before or after a meal, it could not be diluted. It was a drink that had to be appreciated, not enjoyed. Whisky was serious, unapproachable. It was boring.
"Where would other categories be if they took the same approach?" asks Robbie Millar at Compass Box. "If gin marketers declared their spirit could only ever be drunk as a martini, what would happen? Gin would collapse! However, in whisky we have all these knuckleheads saying things like you can only drink cask-strength whisky neat!"
Where Compass Box led other firms have followed. Last year saw the launch of the Easy Drinking Whisky Company with its three vatted malts: Rich Spicy, Smooth Sweet and Smoky Peaty. Labelled like varietal wines, sold on flavour. Johnnie Walker had begun to train bartenders rather than just sell them product, Chivas employed an in-house bartender to work on new ways of selling the whisky, as did Famous Grouse and, perhaps most surprising of all, Glenfiddich.
All have realised that like wine, whisky is about life, it is about enjoyment. Of course, again like wine, it is a fascinating subject that can be explored forever, but that has now been balanced by the realisation that whisky makes you enjoy life. It is FUN.
John Glaser once said to me, "We're not trying to transform whisky, we're trying to evolve it." Plenty of half-baked schemes have attempted to force whisky into places where it simply didn't fit. By talking flavour, by making it accessible, by getting rid of rules, whisky is being allowed to grow and people are being allowed to grow into it. Whisky isn't trendy, it isn't hip, but it is becoming relevant and that is far more important.
