Richmond, Virginia is the farthest north I have ever lived. I was mostly raised here in Virginia, but having also spent 12 years among both Carolinas, Tennessee, and Texas, it's a small wonder I don't have an accent like Foghorn Leghorn. Still, with what I consider to be a minimal drawl, I sound absolutely ridiculous trying to pronounce Glenfarclas (glen-FAR-kluss) with any degree of dignity.
Owned by Speyside magnates Grant & Sons, there is an immediate association with Glenfiddich. This got me wondering though. I like Glenfiddich. but I really like its cousin, Balvenie; the Lexus to Glenfiddich's Toyota. But where does Glenfarclas fit into this metaphor? Yikes, is it a Scion?! Thankfully not, as it turns out.
Maybe you know the White Elephant party by another name, but you are no doubt familiar with the tradition of swapping unwanted gifts as cutthroat entertainment. Awkward segueway, but for decades, Glenfarclas was the White Elephant of the scotch world.
Glenfarclas was once known as 'Glenlivet' until a lawsuit granted exclusivity of that moniker to a nearby Speyside mega-distillery. Purchased by the Grant family from its original owner, Robert Hay, the distillery was entrusted to John Smith. where it languished as distant second fiddle to Smith's passion project, Cragganmore.
By 1895, the Grant family sold half its stake in Glenfarclas to the notorious Pattison Brothers, whom you may remember almost bankrupted the entire whisky industry single-handedly. One of my favorite examples of their foolhardy extravagances was an advertising campaign of purchasing lavish numbers of parrots, training them to continuously squawk whisky slogans, and releasing them inside grocery markets. Upon the Pattison Brothers' monumental financial implosion and subsequent imprisonment, full control of the Glenfarclas Distillery fell back to the Grant family, literally by default.
The Glenfarclas Distillery is the last in Scotland to use direct heat for its stills as opposed to an indirect heat source. I am curious to know if this is was a deliberate manufacturing decision with a significant impact on flavor profile, or are they simply using outdated hand-me-down distillery technology? For the record, my children have older cousins, so I have no qualms with using hand-me-down goods.
Somewhere along the way, somebody finally starting giving Glenfarclas the attention it deserved. This is the first whisky I have come across to declare its sole intention as an aperitif, let alone one intended for a specific holiday season. Not that other malts don't work as aperitifs nor remind me of certain holidays, but the narrow scope of focus for this ostensibly superfluous distillery struck me as unique.
The nose is immediately reminiscent of Christmas with a big hit of fresh pine and mixed nuts. After a few minutes its piney-ness seemed to morph more towards rosemary. No real fruit to speak of despite its sherry casking, but a strong brown sugary sweetness. Honey? Toffee? Decently malty with a hint of spices one might find in a punchbowl of eggnog. I am impressed with its complexity as new aromas seem to 'open up' the longer it sits. I normally don't add water to malts of 40% ABV lest I weaken it further, but if that's your thing, this would be an ideal case for doing so just for the sake of exploring the aromas.
The palate was along the same lines. Sticky sweet from the honey and what I imagined to be pine tree sap. It could probably pass for a really strong mead. Liquid candy decadence, like a melted down bag of Werther's. A little bit of hardwood smoke flavor shows up. No peat. Nutty, pistachios perhaps. Very creamy texture, clean, and above all... fresh. Vanilla at the onset, delicate spice throughout, golden raisins near the end. Surprising complexity for such a young malt. The finish was a little off if I had to nitpick, a tad bitter with a mouthwash sting. I grew accustomed to it though, and figured it helps keep that lingering sweetness in check so I don't go brush my teeth after every sip.
The good people of the Glenfarclas marketing department nailed the whole 'Christmas' thing, but I am curious as to why it would be considered an aperitif, rather than a digestif (the latter being of the sweet variety, the former more savory and dry). My only real experience with aperitifs was a caraway seed liqueur my sister-in-law brought me from Germany (no sprechen zie Deutsch, I have no idea what its name was), but it was like 'essence of reuben sandwich'. Now that will stimulate your appetite. Quite the opposite of that experience, Glenfarclas 10 is more likely to satisfy your sweet tooth after a belly full of spiral ham and might even make your relatives a little more tolerable.
Overall Grade: 88/100, B+
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