Considering myself a relative purist, I find this trend to be disconcerting. It feels like lying by omission somehow. However, I do understand the necessity behind the marketing maneuver. The recent upswing in popularity of single malt whisky has far outpaced available inventory, most of which was produced at least 10 years ago, and any adjustment to consumer demand would take at least another decade to catch up.
I came upon one such distiller already doing so, eschewing age-statements for what it calls 'vintages', a Speyside malt known as Glenrothes (glen-RO-thuss). The squat-shaped bottle features hand-written tasting notes and signatures of the distillers. A nice touch for sure, but although many of their expressions do declare the year of its distillation, it still irks me somehow that there is no indication of how long it was actually aged.
The Glenrothes Distillery argues that there is no magical relationship between a prescribed number of years and completion of aging, and prefers to continually taste test and bottle their whisky at 'the peak of its maturity'. Okay, I agree with the first part in principle, but find the second to be highly subjective and possibly lead to inconsistency between batches. Maybe that explains the handwritten tasting notes. Each of their vintages are double-casked, bourbon and sherry, and all of their characteristics are attributed to their Scottish barley, unique stills, special water, slow distillation, and microclimate, etc. Sound familiar? Only like every other one of these I have reviewed. Sheesh.
So far the idea of GSR as a non-vintage, blended 'single malt' of unknowable age that it used primarily for blended brands flies in the face of why I have chosen to focus my attention on the artistry of crafting a single malt whisky in the first place. Pulling the cork, I'll admit I had predetermined that I would hate it. Not a healthy start. However, I drew in a strong whiff and a funny thing happened. The nose was delightful. Vanilla, oak, sort of a peach/plum fruit note, and this might be a new one for me - toasted coconut. "Smells like ladies lying in the sun," to paraphrase a Widespread Panic song from my unfortunate mid-90's jam band phase. He's not wrong though.
Normally I try to draw my own conclusions as to what aromas and flavors I'm experiencing, at least the first time I try a whisky. However, when they're handwritten on the bottle itself, it's hard to ignore and too easy to pick out the flavors you're supposed to be looking for. Seems a bit like cheating, or at least like they're talking down to you, like when your wine says it pairs well with barbecue chicken pizza.
"Ripe fruits, citrus, vanilla, hints of spice," the bottle reads. I can't be sure if this would have been my blindfolded assessment or if I just got handed someone else's answers to a test, but I found myself in agreement. Orange would be the citrus, with a hint of mulling spice notes - cinnamon, nutmeg, maybe ginger. The finish has a bit of a cappuccino note to it. Medium bodied, nice malt flavor, very clean and simple.
I can see why this would be an ideal base for a blended whisky. There is nothing overpowering or offensive about it, which as a single malt can come off as boring. To my palate, GSR works quite nicely as a starter whisky, especially if you haven't already predicated your expectations about what constitutes a proper single malt like I had. With its unique bottle and packaging, not to mention its reasonable price tag, this might work for a nice gift, or perhaps bribing your friend for his VCU season tickets in case he can't make it to the U. Richmond game.
Overall Grade: 83/100, B-
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