It’s true—the Edinburgh Castle is pretty impressive. Seeming to spring directly from volcanic Castle Rock, its construction has been ongoing for some 1,000 years, starting way back in the 11th century. All those towers and gates and batteries just soaring over the skyline of Scotland’s moody, beautiful capital.
But it wasn’t my destination, as I ascended the last steps of the Royal Mile. Instead, just short that ancient and impressive pile of stone, I made a left, opting for a world of rich, lovely liquid rather than a trip back in time.
The Scotch Whisky Experience is perhaps the ultimate destination for anyone who loves the good stuff—or just wants to learn more about it. Open since 1988 and founded as a collective effort from 19 individual Scotch companies (representing 90 percent of the industry), this fun place is part museum and part interactive exhibition. The goal was to introduce and educate their mostly international visitors on the nuances and importance of Scotland’s favorite libation.
And whisky—or, in certain parts of the world, including the United States, “whiskey”—is a fairly fascinating thing. The name itself is an anglicization of the Gaelic word uisce, which means “water.” (Voda is its Slavic equivalent, where we get the modern vodka.) The art and science of distillation may date all the way back to the Babylonians, but didn’t reach Ireland and Scotland until many centuries later. By the 15th century, monks and physicians here were making “aqua vitae” (“the water of life”) for purely medicinal purposes.
That soon changed. By the 16th century, whisky was being consumed for pleasure—King James IV of Scotland, for one, was a fan. Distillation moved out of monasteries and into private homes and farms. In 1608, Old Bushmills, near Ireland’s wild and wonderful northern coast, received the first royal license, making it the oldest licensed whiskey distillery in the world.
Traveling around the world, I’ve encountered many different versions. Like wine, whisky very much reflects the place where it was raised—its terroir is a very important thing. The natural ingredients—usually some combination (or a single grain) of wheat, barley, corn, rye. The water. The type of still.
And, perhaps most important, the aging process, from the type of barrel and ambient temperatures to the location of the cellar. Many distilleries encourage hands-on experiences, handling and even tasting the grains, walking among the stills, sometimes sampling the whisky right from the cask to experience it at different stages of its evolution. Distillers are almost invariably interesting people, mad scientists at heart, and always give a great tour.
In addition to small boutique labels, I have sampled big brands—in the rolling hills of southern Tennessee, I’ve sipped Jack Daniel’s, and in central Dublin, Jameson. Kavalan in Taiwan, Suntory in Tokyo. Each country has its own standards for what can be called whisky, as well as limitations on particular designations. For example, in many countries, bourbon must only and always refer to a whiskey made in the United States. (It must also derive from a mixture that’s 51 percent corn, aged in charred oak barrels, plus a few other technical specifications.)
I learned that the same is true in Scotland. “To be called Scotch whisky, it must be aged for at least three years and one day,” said Keo, my guide at the Scotch Whisky Experience. On our first stop, an interpreter walked through the whole process, from malting and mashing to fermentation and distillation, and finally, aging. Next, a film on a big wraparound screen illustrated the five whisky regions in Scotland—Highland, Lowland, Speyside, Campbeltown, and tiny Islay. An accompanying scratch-and-sniff card animated the scents of each one.
Next, the tasting, sitting around a U-shaped table in a graceful wood-paneled chamber. “You’re sitting in a typical 1870s sample room,” he explained, recounting some of the history, how a master blender would put together the perfect blend. Given a number of options, I selected their standard Islay, from GlenAllachie Distillery.
What’s the proper way to taste? Give it a good sniff beforehand—aroma is important. Pay attention to the look, the legs, the taste, the finish. But ultimately, Keo said, just have fun. “The right way is any way you want to, as long as you enjoy it.” Sipping it from the glencairn glass, the Islay was smoky, warming, and lovely.
And then, the grand finale—a visit to the largest collection of unopened whisky in the world. Seeing 3,384 unopened bottles is an awe-inspiring exercise. Set behind glass in backlit cabinets, it’s just row upon row upon row of brown and green and amber, all under the light of chandeliers. A hallowed room, in Scotch circles—one Brazilian man’s private collection. “In his eyes, the whisky is back with its family,” said Keo.
He showed me the two oldest bottles. One from 1897, the other, 1904. Tattered labels on both, with a significant amount of liquid absent. The result, not of a sneaky visitor getting behind the glass, but rather natural evaporation, over time. What would it taste like? “I have no idea,” said Keo, while noting that whiskies rarely or never go off. So, perhaps, quite good.
I’ll never know. We exited into—where else?—a bar. Keo directed me to try a couple other samples. Too soon, I rejoined the crush of foot traffic on the Royal Mile. It had been quite a half-day so far. Tasting the good stuff, and learning so much. And feeling satisfied and confident that the next time I encounter a great glencairn of whisky, I’ll never again take it for granted.
