Think back to a set of identical twins you knew in high school. One of them was inevitably dubbed the 'hot one', right? Captain of the tennis team, etc., while the other got facial piercings and wore a lot of black denim. Over the course of time, two things that theoretically started out exactly the same will eventually diverge into unique individuals. Nature versus nurture and all that jazz. Well folks, as it turns out there is a relevant example of this phenomenon from the world of scotch...
Port Ellen Distillery, on the south coast of Islay, casked their last batch of whisky in 1983. Their leftover stock of single malts are now highly prized collector items (the same reason I'm wisely holding on to my Blockbuster card). Shortly after the stills went quiet, Port Ellen was purchased by the Diageo group and repurposed as a malting facility. They have been tasked with transforming barley into peat-smoked malt for two major Islay distilleries, Lagavulin and Caol Ila, both of which are supplied the same malt, prepared by the exact same 'recipe' specifications. Hence...identical twins.
I didn't know this when I purchased the bottle. I did know about its malt recipe being the same as Lagavulin, and was hoping this would be an economical substitute. Spoiler alert - I was wrong, but not necessarily disappointed.
I had the unopened Caol Ila 12 in my bar back when I received the Balvenie 12 as a Christmas gift, and deferred to the deeper, richer Speyside malt until it was nearly empty. I decided to taste them back to back one evening, and finally cracked the seal on the cork. Maybe I would have gotten a better first impression if I had tried the Caol Ila first, but the lingering fruity richness of the Balvenie ran over the lighter Islay malt, leaving only peat smoke in its wake. I've actually found this to be a pattern when tasting a number of whiskys back to back, the first always tastes the best, and subsequent ones are a bit muddled. Anyway, not a great start.
My first proper tasting came sitting down with a meal of chicken Jalfrezi curry. Apparently this is the most popular Indian/Pakastani dish served in the UK, so I figured that might bode well for pairing with scotch. The curry gives off a pungent set of aromas, which are an acquired taste in their own right. Cumin, coriander, turmeric, onions, a variety of peppers, and sometimes coconut, simmered in a tomato-based sauce, served over nutty and aromatic basmati rice with a dollop of raita (Indian yogurt) to cool it down, and a slab of warm naan bread to soak everything up. Tastes great, smells like armpit.
A lightly sweet citrus flavor surprised me as I hadn't picked it up in the aromas, but it helped offset some of the spice kick of the curry and the slightly sour raita. The deep smoky flavor and oily texture were also a nice complement to the chicken and vegetables. The coconut flavors of both were brought out of both the sauce and the whisky, marrying the two quite nicely into what I would consider a successful pairing experiment.
I would love to try the same Caol Ila 12 and curry pairing with Penny Lane Pub's 'English curry', or Millie's Diner's brunch masterpiece 'the Devil's Mess'. What a way to shake off the Sunday morning fogginess. Well, that and a nap in the hammock before the neighborhood chorus of lawnmowers starts up.
The following weekend I repeated the experiment with equally exotic cuisine, this time a bit after the fact. We had gone to a Japanese teppanyaki steakhouse, the kind where they cook in front of you on a hibachi grill, performing tricks with spinning eggs and onion volcanoes, and I still had a heavy salty/umami taste of teriyaki shrimp coating my palate. The Caol Ila cleansed it almost immediately, and this time I got more maritime and shellfish notes from the malt than I noticed before. The dank peat smoke finish was reminiscent of the combo of smoked salmon and seaweed from our sushi roll starter. It is not an coincidence that the Japanese are quickly becoming masters of malt whisky in their own right, the pairing just works.
My biggest issue with Caol Ila 12 is when I have tasted it by itself with a fresh palate. The nose and palate are dominated by the smoke and industrial phenol notes, leaving the malt way too light in comparison. If peat is to scotch what hops are to beer, try to imagine Coors Light IPA. The balance seems out of whack without the benefit of food pairing. I did pick up some spice which had gone previously unnoticed, black pepper mostly. The other subtle notes disappear in the haze of smoke, and I found the finish to be a bit bitter, lingering like raw onion. I've come across this once before in a Lowland malt, Glenkinchie 12, but without the smokescreen. The distillery does a yearly limited release of an unpeated version of their malt as well, which tends to get rave reviews (although the 60% ABV doesn't hurt). Perhaps its hallmark smoke musk is actually a detriment to the rest of the delicate malt.
I do see why its light malt flavor and strong smokiness make it perfect for blending. It allows Johnnie Walker to add the Islay peat smoke flavor without disturbing whatever other malts they've thrown in the pool. It must work with food the same way. Butter makes everything better too, but I would never eat it by itself. Now that I know how well it pairs with spicy and salty foods, I think I'll save the rest of the bottle for such occasions. Like the hot twin's other half, this one is less about standing out than blending in.
Overall Grade: 82/100, B-
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