What's the Wood got to do with it?

Oh, you thought you knew all the aspects of flavors in a whisky? HAH! You are mistaken, my friend.

Welcome back. Today we broach the subject of casks: what wood, why, and where from?

Traditionally, oak makes the best casks/barrels. Reason? The wood is strong but pliant; able to curve with the gentle shape of a barrel while remaining strong to not snap or crack under stress. Originally, the casks were merely a transportation and storage method. Inn-keepers and customers began noticing that storing them in the casks mellowed the flavors and altered the flavors for the better. BOOM: maturation in barrels.

Back in the beginnings of whisky, casks used for sherry from Spain were readily available, and therefore easily obtainable, and therefore widely used (and therefore once again). The thought process went like this: vast quantities and cheaply obtainable. Then in 1975, the dictator Franco of Spain died and Spain became a democracy. The trade unions demanded that the bottling of wines become a local Spanish business, and the supply became harder to obtain. Sherry fell out of fashion, and distilleries looked elsewhere. Bourbon barrels from the United States became more available, and the UK distilleries began using them...and they noticed different flavor profiles (crazy, right?).

Now, onto the nitty-gritty. What type of oak is preferred? Well, there are several types of oak trees ranging in size (half a dozen in Europe alone!). The preferred variety is Quercus robor aka the pendunculate oak. Q. robor tolerates a wide variety of growing environments typically found in England, France, and the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal).

These trees once fed the Spanish Galleon production of the great era of exploration (Columbus anyone?). Macallan has been the most consistent user of Spanish sherry casks and has always had a steady supply. The city of Lugo is the modern-day center of sherry casks. To make these casks, the trees are cut into staves and air-dried for 12 to 13 months in the sun. The sun and weather washes out some of the tannins (a compound that is bitter in taste and (almost) acts as protection for plants. Too much tannin gives that dry, puckery feeling in wines). The staves then become barrels at a cooperage in Jerez. There, the barrels are used twice: once from 2 weeks to six months, and then a second time of the same length. They are then shipped whole to Scotland to be used for scotch whisky maturation.

The (silly) term used for the sherry casks are sherry butts. They have a 132 gallon capacity. They are big...and their size makes them difficult to handle. The preferred size are called "hogsheads" and are half the size. The hogsheads are usually American Oak (used for bourbon) casks.

American Oak (bourbon) casks have an entire aspect that sherry casks do not have: Charring. The legend goes like this: there was an accidental fire in a distillery that burned the casks. The integrity of the casks were preserved, so the distillery aged the whiskey anyways...and surprise: it was awesome. Realistically, it was an experiment gone right.

Remember: print the legend.

American Oak barrels have 3 levels of charring: light, medium, and alligator (cool).

So what does this have to do with scotch? Well, wood, being an organic compound, changes with weather. During maturation, the heat causes the wood to expand, and contract, allowing the whisky to "breathe" the air. On Islay? Seaweed and salt. In the Highlands? Floral flavors. Also, the type of casks imparts its flavor into the whisky. Sherry casks impart a fruity, nutty flavor while a bourbon barrel can add vanilla and tannins (also a charred flavor depending on how charred it is). Each barrel can be used multiple times: the first having the most profound, the second less, the third a little. If there is a fourth, it is usually used for blends. Some distilleries boast "only first-fill sherry casks used" while others prefer a more mellow second-fill. Many distilleries use both sherry casks and bourbon casks to create something in between (Glenmorangie is a proponent of this method). Remember when I said the wood breathes? Well, it breathes oxygen. Oxygen has a large effect on the liquid inside. Wines must be "aerated" before drinking. Once you open a bottle, it will not last long before oxygen makes the wine stale. With whisky, oxygen has been said to bring out the pleasant flavors of the whisky. When the whisky enters the cask, it brings traces of copper from the stills: that is the catalyst. Those begin to change the oxygen into hydrogen peroxide and that attacks the wood, releasing vanillin. The vanillin promotes oxygenation and brings the "pleasant" flavors to the fore. Vanillin is a naturally occurring element in the oak and gives a vanilla flavor (duh). The climate of tree growth plays a role in what happens during the oxygenation attack: Spanish oak is more resiny, American Oaks have poorer soil, making them heady trees, making them more active in the process of oxygenation. 

OH MY GOODNESS THAT'S SO MUCH STUFF.

Yes. Yes it is. Also, that's not all of it. Balvenie has a 21 year old Portwood scotch as well as a 14 year old Rum Cask.

As you can imagine, they change the flavor in the direction of the previous liquid inside the cask.

It is difficult to find a whisky that is the same liquid, but I have one particular scotch that I have. Lagavulin 16. If you remember, that's a damn fine whisky in my book. There is a "Distiller's Edition" (more on that another time) that has been matured in Pedro Ximenez casks near the end of its maturation. 

Lagavulin is a hearty whisky of seaweed, iodine, salt, peat, and warmth. I thought to myself as I shelled out a good chunk of change for the D.E. "What will the wine cask do to the flavor? How can a fruity, dry wine add anything to such a strong, bold flavored whisky?" Well...wow. 

Just

Wow

Let me give a brief review of both...

Lagavulin 16

Color: Deep amber, very viscous

Nose: Ocean, peaty, smoky (fo sho). Very strong nose

Taste: Warmth all over, peat and smoke, undertones of vanilla, oily, grassy, salty campfire.

Finish: Long and beautiful.

Now...if that doesn't make you want a dram, nothing will.

Here we go...

Lagavulin Distiller's Edition; Double-Matured in Pedro Ximenez sherry casks

Color: Deep amber with a reddish hue (obviously the sherry cask influence)

Nose: Still peaty and smoky (but less so), raisins, honey

Taste: Warm, warm, warm...there is the peaty/smoky base and oily viscous body, but an enveloping hug of fruit (raisins and cream). Overall mellower and rounder

Finish: Less intense, but longer and sweeter; smoooooooooth

It's as if the opposites completed each other by merging in a way one would not think possible. The wood began merely as a transportation and holding device. Yet, what a development. How amazing. Who knows what other casks distillers may use in the future. I, for one, support every experiment.

Slainte mhath!

A Moment in a Glass: Lagavulin 16

Well, we get to the meat of the issue: why would young 20s gentlemen drink a drink that is associated with old fogies with pocketwatches? The ones who make a noise every time they sit down? Locked away in a study, full of books and newspapers (what are those about?!) listening to Jazz or Classical music.

Gross (not)

I, myself, am a jazz musician and have a degree in music, so I am biased in favor of Art Music of old and modern. Yet, there is something timeless about a Scotch whisky. I utilize the Lagavulin 16 for my review this post for a purpose. The Lagavulin (lagga-voo-lin) means "the hollow where the mill is." Located on the island of Islay, it is on the souther coast bordering the sea. Amongst the 5 main distilling regions of Scotland, the Islay has the most distinct characteristics. One sniff and you immediately know what you are dealing with. It's been said that the first time you have an Islay malt, be in Scotland. The second time, have it elsewhere. I have not yet visited Scotland, so I didn't know what to make of that statement. In tasting the Lagavulin 16, here were my findings.

Color: Amber with a hint of orange
Nose: Sea shore, peat, smoke, full (almost harsh), underlying butter
Taste: Dry, peaty, iodine, warmth, oily, grassy, biscuity, salty
Finish: long, smooth, tar, peaty, warrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrm

When I drank, I closed my eyes and an image came to mind. I was on a beach, a cold beach. There was a fire that was lowly burning on the sand while the waves were small sets. It was sunset, almost dusk. Behind me, there was green and in front of me were roasting fish.

That is the Lagavulin distillery. Now I had never seen that until much later after my introduction to Lagavulin. But I'll be damned if that isn't pretty darn close to the image in my head. The creation of a Scotch Whisky is a product of the environment. The water comes from the land nearby. On Islay, there is a multitude of peat, hence the strength of that flavor in the taste. The maturation room shares a wall with the sea: salt, seawater, iodine, seaweed, oils. The drink is where it comes from: the purest expression of origin. Of craftsmanship and love. 16 years it had to sit in a cask to be bottled before gracing my tongue. With such work, it demands a certain pace...

When you pour a dram, you must measure your pour because firstly, it's expensive. A bottle of Lagavulin 16 will run around $60-$80. That's not something to be wasted, drunk too fast, wasted on someone who doesn't appreciate, or spilled. The smell takes you on a journey to the place of inception. Also, to a time past. 16 years ago (more, actually, because Scotch doesn't age in the bottle), this drink was began. You are drinking a piece of history. When my friends and I gather, there is no TV. There is music at an acceptable level to listen to, but not so much to be intrusive. We examine the color, and smell deeeeeeply. Then discuss. Using the vocabulary we know, we do our best (we started simply, and then grew more educated). Then a drink: 1 second for each year old. Exhaaaaale. 

Wow.

Then conversation begins. We'll drink maybe 3 or 4 drink over a 4-6 hour hang. Not much. The goal is not one of intoxication, it is of enjoyment of company, of beverage, and an exploration of opinion. The man who truly takes his time with his drink cannot be so obtuse to the opinion of another. When you live the life of a Scotch, you see all sides. You watch the water from spring to sea, you see the peat fire burning, you taste the salt air, and smell the dankness of the maturation room. Feel the heat of the stills, and see the final result. (yes, it may seem like a silly "scotch is a metaphor for life, dude" and well...sort of. Keep reading.) 

Youth culture is filled with ways to do things NOW. Texting, emails, Google, fast food, fast cars, hook ups, shots shots shots, loud music, etc etc. Generalization, of course, but there is much truth. What happens when you want to sit and just enjoy a drink? "What's wrong?" "Tappin' out, lightweight?" You can't go drop $40 for club entrance fee and sit and enjoy and discuss ideas. You can barely be heard. Maybe it's a maturation issue. I know I was born an old man. My tastes in music and attitudes towards social conventions will attest to my "old-fogie"ness. But sometime, we all ought to use the mass in our skull. Why can't we talk politics? Really talk, though. Not a shouting match. Not a right vs. wrong. Can there be a final solution to anything? Life is never so simple. Neither is Scotch or the drinking experience. I have good drinking friends of mine who we disagree on some very fundamental things. I'm not terribly religious, am socially liberal (personally conservative), and believe in the good in people. I have friends who are as conservative as they come and as religious as they come. Some are pessimists, some are apathetic. Yet we talk about the most divisive issues with no anger. God. The President. Education funding. Drugs. Abortion. Music. Sex. Anything. I ask because I have a desire to know how they think. What makes them tick. I take an active interest, aided by the thoughtfulness inspired by whisky. If you try to drink it too fast, you'll know to stop. You can't, not with a good scotch. It burns, it fights, it lets you know, "Hey lad, slow down." A forcible slowing down in a world of hectic pace is just what you need. Once you drink, you'll find you can relax without the necessity of getting drunk. 

Lagavulin 16 is one of my top 5 scotch whiskies. There's something special about the warmth without the fire that permeates from the finish, keeping you warm. The place it takes you is special. Someday, I wish to visit in reality. But for now, it is a special treat to be shared amongst close friends. You may be an acquaintance at the beginning of the drink, but by the end, you've become a friend of mine. It is a shared experience that lasts long after the finish has left your  palate. You will remember who you were with when you first drank a scotch. A story for the ages. 

 Slàinte mhath!