Kilchoman is the youngest distillery on Islay, and the most westerly. It used to be the farthest west in all of Scotland–until Abhainn Dearg set up shop on the Isle of Lewis. I guess that means I cannot say, “Go west, young man,” to urge readers to sample the magick of this whippersnapper of a distillery in person.
Taking a tour of Kilchoman is a must, however, if you find yourself on the western-most island of the inner Hebrides. And do be sure to try the Machir Bay Brownie, as well as the delightful whisky offerings. Aye, there’s nothing like sniffing a gust of marine air, as you imbibe the spirited promise of generations to come!
In 2016, Kilchoman celebrated its ten year anniversary. The distillery filled its first cask in December of 2005, and went on from there, bottling 3-year-old single malts, starting in September of 2009. Rumor has it that the distillery intends on releasing 10- and 12-year-old whiskies in the not-so-distant future. These will mostly consist of bourbon cask maturation, although some sherry casks will also be used.
Age Before Beauty?
Despite being wet behind the ears, this young upstart has been pumping out bottles like nobody’s business. Barley grown on Rockside Farm is often malted on site at Kilchoman proper. But when it’s not, Port Ellen maltings (the same maltings as Ardbeg) are used. Bottlings of the resulting spirit often make reference to the source of grain used.
Well, this seems like a logical approach to labeling to me, and it makes for a delightfully high level of transparency. Speaking of which, I’ve always been a sucker for Madeira casks, and so Kilchoman’s Madeira offering caught my eye when it was released in 2015. Seventeen casks were filled in 2011, and then set to rest for–count ’em–four long years (wink). The resulting single malt Scotch was then bottled at 50% ABV, which is more than generous in my book.
As usual, I’ve been sipping (and nipping) on the bottle to be reviewed for at least a month before typing up my official tasting notes. In this way, I am able to experience the whisky as it evolves: in a deep, brooding corked bottle, as well as in my glass. Of course, it’s worth pointing out that different whiskies mature differently in the bottle. Some are best right off the bat, when first opened.
I think this Madeira on my desk will probably reach the prime of its life about six months after first being cracked, at least based upon my experience. Alas, alack, I cannot wait that long to write my review! Such is the fate of a critic. Duty calls. But I will certainly continue to appraise the bottle as its level goes down, over time. Suffice it to say, if any interesting changes occur, then I will probably sneak a “malt mention” into one of my future whisky reviews, particularly of another Kilchoman.
Tasting Notes
Vital Stats: Kilchoman Madeira Cask Matured; Special Release 2015; aged 4 years in 17 Madeira casks; 25 ppm of phenols; 50% ABV; 6100 bottles.
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Appearance: Burnt umber; surprisingly nice legs for four years old, along with more than acceptable beading.
Nose: Sharply spirited, as can be expected by the whisky’s youth. Moving my head away from the glass, I now detect a wine-y presence; however, rather than coming across as unadulterated Madeira, I’m getting raisins, prunes, and stewed compote-like notes. A bit of pie crust, along with brown sugar.
The smoke is subtle but pleasing, evoking the scent of a distantly burning wood stove. At a mere 25 ppm, smoke and peat do not fully dominate the sherry. Time for yet another sniff. All right, now there comes a touch of leather, along with a savory note that reminds me of the venison jerky that an old girlfriend of mine used to make. (She also stored her antique gun collection under the bed; I’m not joking! Beautiful girl, though, a blue-eyed blonde and lovely, but also a Type A Tom Boy.)
Palate: Youth is still in evidence; with time in the glass, some delightful flavors emerge . . . such as orchard stone fruits like apricots, peaches, and plumbs. There is also a notable dried concentration of sugars: prune, dark raisins, and sultana. Now comes a wave of oakiness, belying cinnamon, along with a nubbin of red licorice.
The tannins are somewhat aggressive, but not in the sense of a venerable old dram; rather, they are impatient to announce their presence in a way that is not so well integrated, perhaps. Yes, the spirit’s youth seems to have brought out a somewhat feisty disposition. But this, in and of itself, is kind of charming due to the excellent malt character. It’s also worth mentioning that the Madeira casks used in this offering taste as through they are of the highest quality. I am thinking that they must have been sourced from a very reputable seller, and then transported from Spain during the right time of year to avoid spoilage. Bien hecho!
Smoke in my glass feels “cold,” without providing much of a distraction . . . that is, minus a slight menthol note, which some might call “eucalyptus.” This borders on the notorious “ash tray” tasting note, of which I have never been particularly fond. It also might be equated with kissing a smoker of menthol cigarettes immediately after she has burned one.
Finish: Yes, it’s long . . . but this stamina doesn’t feel as though it was “earned.” What do I mean by this rather provocative assertion? Well, long finish though it is, the length is mainly due to fiery youth. Impatience again rears its ugly head. But this kind of “ugly” is not all bad, alighting on one’s tongue like a bird of fire.
I know, I know. Quite a few whisky drinkers have grown to appreciate just this sort of interplay between young spirit and phenols, especially with some interesting sherry thrown into the mix. Yes, I’m thinking of post-2011 Uigeadail, at least in theory, although the sherry influence in that dram is different. Still, I’m a stickler for well integrated elements in a whisky, young or old, which unite harmoniously, rather than fighting each other. Time has a way of uniting the seemingly disparate, but there are always exceptions.
Getting back to the glass at hand, the Madeira presence has grown more subtle now, with lingering orchard fruits, and a hint of sugared raspberry. Dry wood cracking in a hearth. Cinnamon bark. There is also a vague note of guaran (that’s “guar gum” to you), as well as the invigorating scent of forest loam after a late autumn rain shower.
Through it all, the spirited element of youth bullies what could have been at least a four-star dram, if only it had been allowed to mature for another three or four years.
Final Thoughts & Score:
Kilchoman’s founder, Anthony Wills, said of the Madeira Cask Matured release that it is “[a] break from the norm for us, it represents a bit of an experiment with full maturation rather than simply finishing whisky in casks like Madeira.” I agree with him, but the experiment is only partially successful. Another strategy might have been to finish a pre-aged spirit of, say, five years, in Spanish Maderia casks for three or four years. Hey, I’m just sayin’. If Islay had a warmer climate, then four years would have been plenty . . . but it doesn’t. Yet. Knock on wood. Global warming and geo-engineering, be damned.
As I’ve already stated (in so many words) this dram might have sung “Amazing Grace” with more time to age in the casks. Even two additional years would have cultivated an air of sophistication by giving the angels their rightful share. Granted, 6100 bottles probably wouldn’t have come out of older casks. Oh well, them’s the breaks. Coulda woulda shoulda.
And this reminds me . . . I’ve been dying to try a glass of Kilchoman 2008 Vintage. Yeah, baby! We’re talking seven years in Buffalo Trace barrels with a nicely toasted Port Ellen malt. It’s calling my name, and I know just the place to go for a taste: Pinky’s Bar Nowhere in Portland, Oregon, which features over 400 whiskies. Yes, the pavements will probably be a mess tonight, swaddled in glare ice, but I’m heading out anyway. Kilchoman 2008, here I come.
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