Welcome back to FTW’s Beverage of the Week series. Here, we mostly chronicle and review beers, but happily expand that scope to any beverage that pairs well with sports. Yes, even cookie dough whiskey.
I started this column for two reasons; to write what I love (and continue living a life in which I have the job described by a 15 year old dirtbag) and to get paid for sipping whisky. Friends, today is the realization of that dream. We’re drinking scotch.
My typical malt comes from Islay, where you can taste the ocean air in each warming dram of Laphroaig or Lagavulin or my personal favorite, Bunnahabhain (where, sadly, I can no longer find my preferred Ceobanach, which absolutely ruled). But I’m happy to drink anything from the wonderful sovereign nation, particularly from Glenmorangie’s region to the north of Scotland.
My normal Highland malt is Dalwhinnie; a distillery capable of making a $80 spirit at a $30 price tag (their former Game of Thrones branded House Stark scotch) and a $120 one for $60 (their 15 year). But Glenmorangie retains a presence in my brain, even if I rarely drink it. First off, it’s because it’s available everywhere and at a ton of different ages and price points. But secondly, it’s because it’s the favorite whisky of New York Giants punter Jamie Gillan.
Gillan, nicknamed the Scottish Hammer, is a native of Inverness and a former rugby player who worked his way up from little-regarded high school prospect to veteran NFL special teamer. When I talked to him four years ago he covered everything from how he ended up on scholarship at Arkansas-Pine Bluff (via Facebook post and accepted sight-unseen) to his Scottish roots. And his favorite malt? Glenmorangie.
So we’re gonna do a quick distillery tour, sipping whisky that ranges from 10 years to 18 years in age.
Glenmorangie 10: B-
You get a little of that boozy burn from the smell off the top that you wouldn’t get with older malts but also a little fruit and some charred oak from the bourbon barrels it has been kept in. The first sip is smoother than it smells. There’s a little heat that chases it off your tongue, but that comes after some vanilla up front … and then at the end too, lingering with warmth.
It’s a little basic as a whisky; it wouldn’t be my go-to sipper and doesn’t match the complexity of Laphroaig (but that’s a tough comparison between a Highland and Islay malt). It’s better with a single ice cube — I’m generally not an ice-in-scotch guy, but some people are and I respect that, drink whatever you like however you like — but perhaps that’s because I am, in fact, the basic one here. The ice brings out more of the vanilla and tames that fire a bit. It’s extremely not bad, particularly for a starter whisky in the Glenmorangie portfolio.
Glenmorangie Lasanta 12 year: B
There’s more fruit to go with the malt on this one. The vanilla from the last scotch is still there but the flavor is more notable and the intensity is much more mellow. There’s raisins, maybe some dark cherry — all in the whisky sense, so it’s subtle, but it’s there. You can also tell this isn’t just a product of the bourbon casks like the 10 year. The sherry involved creates swirling stone fruit taste that infuses what could have been a boring malt with some complexity.
Tossing in an ice cube doesn’t dilute that flavor and actually seems to concentrate the slight boozy burn a little. There’s a little honey sweetness that makes it easy to drink and while running deeper than the 10. It’s a step up that’s worth the cash.
Glenmorangie Quinta Ruban 14 year: A
That comes through on the first sip, which is fruity and sweet and packed with flavor. There’s a fructose sweetness that hits the tip of your tongue and stays there even after the light burn fizzles at the back of your throat. There’s something there to balance it out so it’s not overpowered — not the salt of an Islay malt but not quite tobacco or dirt either. Just a smooth, subtle spice that creates a dry finish.
Adding an ice cube to the mix … isn’t something I want to do, but here we are. It doesn’t really change that profile other than making it colder. There’s no fire to cool off. Somewhere in the middle of each pull is a lovely, sweet malty current that showcases what letting a spirit hit its teenage years can do. All you’ve got is an inherently unique scotch that’s sweet and fruity and inviting to someone who maybe loves wine or brandy but never really thought much of whisky.
Glenmorangie 18 year: A
It’s all tasty, boozy malt. The first sip backs that up. The salt and peat of an Islay malt aren’t there — notable only since that’s my typical go-to — but this is a Highland scotch through and through. Very mellow, a little sweet and tremendously smooth. There’s no burn to speak of, just a thick, almost chewy malt. There’s some vanilla and cinnamon involved, but it’s not especially complex; just very easy to drink.
I do miss some of those complications. With an Islay pour you’re working with a little bit more — the effect of a nearby ocean, the earthy smoke of the peat — but this is straight highland goodness. Simple, clean, a little fruity but absolutely what you’d expect from a Scotch that’s old enough to vote.
The problem is there’s a pretty significant price increase from the 14 year to the 18 year. While that results a more mellow and rich dram, the difference between the two bottles at my local Woodman’s is roughly $90. I’m not sure the 18 year is *that* much better than the Quinta Ruban, even if it’s pretty dang good.
Would I drink it instead of a Hamm's?
Welcome to a new feature on these reviews; a pass/fail mechanism where I compare whatever I’m drinking to my baseline cheap beer. That’s the standby from the land of sky-blue waters, Hamm’s. So the question to answer is: on a typical day, would I opt for Glenmorangie’s single malts over a cold can of Hamm’s?
I mean we’re talking apples and anvils here. But yes. The 14 year isn’t cheap, but it’s much better than its $55(ish) price point suggests. I might not spring for the $150 bottle of the 18 year knowing that, but there’s something luxurious about that as well. Glenmorangie isn’t going to knock the Islay malts I love off my shelf, but it’s earned a spot next to them.
