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.
Glenglassaugh has a classic scotch story — one that nearly ended multiple times. It was one of Scotland’s many coastal distilleries, a whisky mill in a classic stone building turning water into something better. The northeastern fishing town, a breezy mix of salt and sand, saw its brewer shutter its doors twice since its 1875 founding. Once in 1908 and once as it faced the hardships of the whisky crash of the 1980s.
But the stills roared back to life in 2008. Now, a little more than 15 years later, Glenglassaugh has pushed its way back onto the marketplace with a proper dram. 2023 marked an aggressive marking strategy revolving around a new 12-year whisky to complement the distillery’s other standbys. Its place as a coastal Highland suggests it could hit the sweet spot between the inland’s smoother, full-bodied malts and Islay’s salty, smoky, brassy offerings.
I love both those styles. Let’s see how Glenglassaugh holds up.
Portsoy: B
Let’s start off with a peaty single malt that, on paper, is everything I look for in a whisky. Portsoy is a cask strength dram with coastal influences that should bring a little smoky salt to the table like the Islay malts toward which I generally steer.
It smells exactly like you’d hope, rich and peaty with a little bit of coastal spray behind it. The first sip is strong but not harsh, a warm spirit that hits on all the right notes — though without the full body of the better offerings you’d get from Bunnahabhain or Caol Ila. It fades a bit between first impression and clearing your tongue.
That means it goes from a little sweetness — licorice? Chocolate? — to the warm, peaty outro with a muted middle. But that’s a minimal complaint. It doesn’t drink like it’s approaching 100 proof, but you can tell there’s a little more heat involved in the Portsoy than either of Glenglassaugh’s other offerings.
It’s not quite as peaty as the Islay malts that are my jam, but per brand ambassador/whisky judge Rory Glasgow, there’s a reason for that. Islay’s peat is homogenous with moss and kelp due to the island’s climate and lack of natural tree presence, while Highland peat like this has varying amounts of pine, leading to different flavors.
Sandend: A-
Sweetness and salt, fittingly named after the local beach four minutes away. It’s aged in three casks, then married by Rachel Barrie in a blend.
It’s a very light looking malt, and the smell rings up a little ocean salt and tropical fruit, albeit lightly. The first sip brings up that sweet fruit and a little … licorice? Anise? Either way, it’s much richer than it looks, so while the pour looks like a $20 gift set of Glen Moray it doesn’t belie the quality of the drink itself.
The whisky finishes with warmth, but nothing that suggests it’s clocking in at 101 proof. For comparison, you do a shot of Wild Turkey and you *know* you’re getting something that’ll knock you on your ass. This is Scotch through and through, but you wouldn’t guess it’s clocking in at 25 percent boozier than a typical American hard liquor.
You get the impression this spent its idle hours maturing in the sea air. The salt is apparent but never overpowering, giving you a whisky that compares favorably to Oban’s 14-year offering. It’s not as complex as Benriach’s malting season (see below), but it’s a rock solid dram with a lot to like.
12-year old: B+
This is a blend of 12-year whiskies, mixed between bourbon, sherry and red wine casks. The smell off the top is a little more bread-y than I’m used to. Nuts and dried fruit linger underneath.
The first sip leans into that baked, nutty sweetness up front. Toward the end it phases into a little bit of jam-ish, stone fruit that leaves you with something to remember it by. And, since it’s Glenglassaugh, there’s a hint of that sea salt that snaps everything off, leaving you wanting a little more.
I was lucky enough to try this against a backdrop of milk chocolate and salted caramel and, oh friends, it absolutely rules. The richness of these sugars works in concert with the sweetness of the malt. It’s not quite as flavorful as the Sandend, but it’s a bit more traditional for a Highland whisky. I’d happily drink more.
Bonus! Benriach Malting Season third edition: A-
Here’s a 9.5-year malt and a 10.5-year malt mixed together, floor-malted in the traditional style. It’s meant to strip away all the rest of the influences on Scotch — virgin barrels, no peat, it’s just barley and time. What you see is what you get.
It’s boozy right off the top, with a fruity nose to pair with the 48.3 percent ABV within. That sweetness sticks around through the opening notes, lending to an almost creamy taste and feel before that barley kicks in to bring it to a warm finish. That fructose sweetness lingers, balancing the whisky’s natural dry-ness after it has left your lips.
For a very basic whisky it’s imbued with a lot of flavor. Juicy fruit, roasted malt, a little bit of vanilla. Nothing’s overpowering and the end result is complex and mellow at the same time. It’s a low intensity scotch that you can drink all night without getting sick of.
Double bonus! Glendronach Batch 12, 29 years old: A
As you’d expect, there’s zero burn from a whisky old enough to rent a car. Instead, you get a lot of that caramel flavor up front, riding alongside the malt in an extremely smooth dram. It’s not especially complex, and the lingering expression is bready to give you something to think about as the warmth spreads across your midsection.
It’s a great spirit, even if it carries the simplicity of a whisky that’s been mellowing longer than it takes to get from birth to an MD. Those breakfast grains remain on your palate long after it’s cleared your tongue.
Would I drink it instead of a Hamm's?
This 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 drink Glenglassaugh over a cold can of Hamm’s?
Oh yeah. Not at a tailgate or anything, but say, after the Super Bowl and my busiest stretch of work is over? Absolutely.
