Whisky tasting not for the faint-hearted
GIVE IT A GO!
Whisky is a tipple I know little about, but I have often fancied the idea of sagely sipping it from a cut crystal glass, while surrounded by leather-bound books and mahogany.
My previous ventures into whisky have been unfruitful stabs in the dark. But I always suspected among the huge variety, there was gold to be found.
So it was I found myself with whisky enthusiast John Puklowski in an Irish pub, ready to learn a lesson about scotch whisky.
Puklowski leads tasting evenings for the Manawatu¯ Scottish Society and believes a ‘‘proper’’ tasting should include a haggis – bagpiped into the room – and Scottish poetry recited with ‘‘gusto and passion’’.
Until the 1980s, most whisky was blended, but Puklowski is most interested in single malts. The maturation is where the magic comes in, he says.
He shows me how to swirl my first sample in the glass to see whether it has ‘‘legs’’ – rivulets that slowly run down the side of the glass and give clues to the richness of the flavours to come.
The curvy tasting glass is designed to hold onto the fiery smells for the drinker to breathe in and enjoy.
When you take a sip, you should hold the whisky on your tongue ‘‘for a second for every year it has aged’’, to get the full experience. When I try it, the initial alcohol burn settles into a lively glow, then a comes a deluge of complicated flavours, dancing across my tongue.
I taste a Dalwhinnie, a 15-yearold central highlands style. It’s a gentle, easily likeable whisky, and I enjoyed it.
I tasted warm honey alongside the rich, whisky heat.
Next up is a Highland Park 10-year-old, which tastes blunter to me – if a flavour can be described that way.
A Talisker Dark Storm tastes smokey and complicated and is my favourite. I can’t tell if the hint of seaspray is really there, or if I’ve been influenced by the picture on the packaging.
Laphroaig is one of the notoriously strong whiskies of the Islay style. Puklowski warns me it can ‘‘knock the wind right out of the sails’’.
But I’m curious. Sure enough, it’s a taste assault – the peaty, charcoaly taste strikes me.
It’s an incredible experience – how can that much taste be packed
into one sip – but it might short circuit my brain to have more.
I’m left interested in sampling more whiskies on cold winter nights and still a little daunted, but I have a new insight into how impressively wide and complex the flavour range of whisky is.