Highland Park’s Drakkar single malt Scotch was launched in December of 2011 for the duty free market. One of the things I really appreciate about this whisky is the bottle’s rather impressive size. At one liter, it stands tall, like a Viking dragon meant to strike terror into the hearts of medieval monks and townsfolk who noticed Drakkar ships approaching from the sea.
The word “Drakkar” was the Viking name for a class of ocean-going longboat, which was designed for speed and maneuverability in bays and rivers, as well. Many of these boats, at least those placed in the front of a fleet, had dragon heads carved into them. I didn’t miss the irony that Drakkar is named after a mode of transport for Norsemen and women, whereas modern travelers in airports and other hubs for transportation were given the chance to grab a bottle, or two. And now, you have not missed that irony, either.
Selling for a little over sixty bucks in the U.K., Drakkar was certainly a bargain in 2011 and beyond, although these days most bottles are gone, baby, gone. If you find one, I suggest you give serious thought to pillaging it…or, at the very least, paying for it with your rather fickle fiat currency.
All right, let’s sail down to the interactive section of our review, shall we? It’s high time we uncork and sample the dragon’s bewitching spirit!
Tasting Notes: Highland Park Drakkar
Vital stats: 1 liter; 40% ABV / 80 proof; travel retail market; significant percentage of Spanish sherry casks; released in December 2011.
Appearance: Burnished gold in color. Fast-moving, gushy legs reveal a whisky of relatively young age, while big “tears” indicate a low percentage of alcohol by volume.
Nose: Star anise; creamed honey; orange marmalade; toffee; marzipan; rancid butter. Spanish sherry hangs back gracefully but maintains a presence. Finally, the scent of this peat reminds me of decomposing old growth stumps in an old growth forest of Doug fir and hemlock (quite pleasant, actually). Not very smoky on the nose.
Palate: Nice balance of sweet, bitter, and smoky. In fact, the flavors are so integrated that it is challenging to pick them out of the line-up. With some effort, one can detect individual notes of vanilla bean, orange blossom, caramel, honey butter, marshmallow nougat, and burnt toast (in a good way). Follow-up sips reveal figgy pudding, date, and sultana. Concentrated sugars in these fruit notes mingle quite nicely with mild peat smoke.
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Finish: I’m quite happy the smoke lasts well into this medium length finish. Often Highland Park doesn’t get enough smoke into the bottles for my taste. Is it oak that dries things out here? Yes, what else would it be? Interesting development for such a young whisky. Could there be a few older casks mixed in? On second thought, it could be a few virgin oak casks.
Now comes high quality cocoa powder, wood tannin, that persistent rancid butter note (which, strangely, I quite like), and finally some marzipan. Sweet smoke lingers on the tongue well past this whisky’s final death throes. It’s not strong enough to feel like cigarette smoke, however, which is fine with me.
Final Thoughts
Highland Park distillery’s Drakkar is very pleasing to my nose and palate, although not terribly complex. Even still, the finish is satisfying, despite a rather underwhelming 40% ABV. Generally speaking, I think ratings for Drakkar were a tad on the low side. I could not, in all conscience, give Drakkar four stars, but I found myself wanting to. Why? Because it’s delicious!
Alas, I can’t rank Drakkar up in the same category as truly outstanding, older, and higher ABV bottles that have earned my four star rating on The Whiskey Wash. If the criteria for ratings hinged solely on personal enjoyment, then Drakkar would have earned four stars, for sure.
I am quite partial to the magickal tendency at Highland Park distillery to hit all the right places on my enjoyment index: sweet; bitter; fruity; and smoky. How many single malt Scotches can lay claim to such a feat?
Yes, granted, Drakkar is a bit watery, and a bit simple-minded–but no matter. I shall drink it round a Viking bonfire on the beach, holding my skull-cup high! Or, more likely . . . I will sit at my kitchen table, nosing a Glencairn of Drakkar while gazing stoically at ice collecting on the window.
Outside: darkness, wind, freezing rain. A branch falls on the roof. Thud. And then it will be time to scare up the remaining half of a roasted squash, a wilted apple, a bit of cheese (minus scraped off mold), and a piece of frozen rye bread to toast. Such is the winter repast that awaits Yours Truly, after he finishes writing the last word of this review.
Many of the simpler things in life aren’t really so different from the Viking Age, are they? Skal.
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