GLENGOYNE 10

High off my experience with Laphroaig, my interest was piqued by whatever latent Scottish-ness might still be lurking in my DNA. I decided to investigate as to what part of Scotland my people (at least the ones who share my last name) called home and whether or not there was a nearby distillery. I thought it might be interesting to taste my 'ancestral scotch', and sure enough I found a candidate.

It took maybe five minutes playing around on Google Earth to find the area of western Stirlingshire flanked by Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine in the southwestern Highlands, a half-hour drive north from Glasgow. Back in the day this is was a lawless area for cattle thieves, smugglers, and the politically/religiously oppressed. This is Rob Roy's birthplace, as well as the sites of major battles fought by William Wallace and (much later) the Jacobite rebellions. These were some bad ass Scots who didn't take any crap from the English (or each other), and no doubt could drink me under the table. Now I really wanna try their whisky.

Since most modern distilleries operated illegally for ages before the Excise Act of 1823, it is widely assumed that Glengoyne (glen-GOYN, rhymes with 'coin') was around long before its advertised establishment date of 1833. My ancestors skipped town for Northern Ireland in the 1750's with so many other Covenanters (hence the designation 'Scotch-Irish'), and there are records of at least 18 illicit distilleries operating in the area back then, so this was almost definitely not what my family tree was drinking. Oh well, close enough.

There are a couple of things that make the Glengoyne Distillery unique. Geographically, it literally sits on the boundary between the Highlands and Lowlands, the 'Highland Line', so much so that their stills are designated Highland, while the warehouse for its cask aging across the street is considered Lowland. The distillery itself is one of the most picturesque in Scotland, and is a fixture for hikers traveling the 96 mile West Highland Way. Like a miniature version of our Appalachian Trail (but with scotch!).

The Glengoyne Distillery is the first (and perhaps only) in Scotland to 'go green', using only renewable energy sources (e.g. wind power) to run their production. The malt is dried with hot air, no smoke whatsoever, and they claim to be the "slowest distillers in Scotland". Their website is one of the most informative and transparent I have seen about their production process, not to mention downright humorous at times. The kilted tour guide pic probably doesn't hurt either (admit it, you clicked on her).

This is starting to sound like a something they would have at Ellwood Thompson's if they could sell liquor. Glengoyne uses a rare barley, Golden Promise (Macallan is the only other buyer), which is known for its high quality, but low yield. Also like Macallan, they rely on Spanish sherry casks for their distinctive properties.

I've gone from expecting 'liquid Braveheart' to an eco-friendly version of Macallan. Wrong on both counts. When I originally tasted Glengoyne 10, I had not yet sampled any variety of Lowland scotch, and had no basis for comparison until recently when I found a bottle of Glenkinchie. It does seem to better fit the Lowland profile, despite the protests of their marketing department.

Pouring a dram, I noted both the light color, almost glowing, and a distinct lack of aroma I normally get when pulling the cork on a new bottle, surprising on both counts after sherry casking. Sinking my nose down into the glass, I did get sour apple notes and fresh cut grass. Maybe nutty, but lightly so, like sunflower seeds. Zero smoke, although that is what they're going for.

I found it very sweet for my taste, Then again I find bourbon to be very sweet, and indeed I am getting the bourbon influence more than the sherry. Not so fruity, but herbal. Italian parsley, I suppose. It does have a nicely creamy texture. Not terribly rich or spicy, but very clean. The finish is simultaneously sweet and sour, making me wonder how well this would pair with Chinese food.

I am wondering if 10 years is too little time for the malt to mature the way they intend with all the extra effort going into its production. The reviews for the 15-25 year old varieties are ecstatic across the board, and ho-hum for this younger expression. Maybe its subtlety and understated craftsmanship were lost on me having scorched my palate with Laphroaig. Oh well, I was just hoping to find a scotch with which I could toast my long dead relatives; it looks like I'd need to splurge a little more than Glengoyne 10.

Overall Grade: 78/100, C+

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