Glenturret Triple Wood

Official Bottling 2022 Release | 45% ABV

Score: 5/10

Average. In a good way.

TL;DR
You won’t hate it, but you might wonder how it can be awarded 99 points…

 

“What’s your favourite whisky?”

It’s a question that you’ve almost certainly been asked if you’re known as a bit of a whisky nerd among your wider groups of friends. And it’s generally asked by those who are less enamoured, infatuated, obsessed and possessed by all things scotch. You know the ones – normal people.

It’s also a question that I find utterly impossible to answer directly. It’s not that I don’t have a favourite whisky. I do. Lots of them. And that’s the problem.

When I’m asked to pin down my single, solitary favourite from the vast array of single malt scotches that I’ve been lucky enough to enjoy, I basically malfunction. How can I possibly choose between all the profound, gobsmackingly wonderful and emotionally resonant experiences that I’ve had at the hands of the scotch whisky industry?

I can’t. I’m not up to the task.

The pleasure we take in scotch is so strongly influenced by the occasion and the context in which we drink, that it seems to me that we try to pick a favourite based purely on the liquid itself, we aren’t comparing apples with apples. It’s more like apples and steak and kidney pie.

Whether or not it’s the company we’re in, the weather, the day we’ve had, the meal we’ve just eaten or where we are, all these variables combine to shape our mood and our desires – and therefore the experience of the whisky – to such a degree that direct comparison of the liquid consumed is virtually impossible.

Sure, we can talk technically about how it was made, the aromas and the tastes we perceive. The viscosity and how it lingers on the palate. And how much we like it.

But can we really compare a whisky drunk with friends around the fire pit on a cold winter's night with one consumed in a hot, noisy bar as the antidote to a crappy day at work? I’m pretty sure I can’t (and I’m genuinely impressed if you can). But each can be equally satisfying – albeit in very different ways.

The mood we’re in and the emotional resonance of the setting is such an integral part of the experience that it surely has to be taken into account when making any kind of comparative assessment of different drams. Assuming you want to embark on such folly.

Which is why I inevitably re-frame the question from the notion of one single favourite to my favourite “right now” – based on the mood and the situation I’m in. Ask me a week later, or even a day, and you’re likely to get a different answer. I’ll be in a different mood.

The same applies to movies or food. I can reel off a list of movies that I’ll happily see again and foods that make me drool at the mere thought of them. But I couldn’t choose one over the other without reference to my mood.

There’s a reason why, when choosing our next dram, we generally say “I feel like drinking….”. It’s all about the emotional pay-off. Which brings me to the issue of whisky competitions.

Many, many years ago I used to work in the arts world, and I never really bought into the whole notion of competitions and prizes that anointed one play or book or performance as the one that was better than the rest.

Any artistic expression comes from its own place and represents a different voice from any other. It addresses different issues and seeks to move its audience in different ways. And our response is always intensely personal, individual and almost certainly unique. Because we bring our own unique blend of emotions, memories and expectations to it.

Just like whisky.

And while whisky-making does rely heavily on a whole boatload of science-type stuff, there’s an awful lot more involved. Whether you choose to call it art or craft or magic or anything else, there’s no end of decisions and judgements that are made based entirely on a combination of assessments of intangibles by individuals and teams that are striving for a specific combination of factors that are intended to move us; to give pleasure and create memories. If it isn’t outright art, then maybe we can call it alchemy.

And let’s be clear, this is less true – though not entirely untrue – of those making the industrial scale products that successfully strive to be the same every time. But whatever we call it we can’t escape the reality that how we experience a whisky, how it moves us (or not) and the memories we form are entirely personal and of ourselves.

In effect, our response to the work of the distillers and blenders and everyone else that has a part in the glorious endeavour of making whisky is only completed when we savour it and respond.

Just like a painting, a poem or a song, whisky is given life the moment it connects with its audience. The process is finally completed on the palate and in the heart and the mind of the drinker. That’s when the distiller’s work is done. And on that basis, I’m not entirely convinced you can truly draw comparisons.

In conclusion I should of course acknowledge that competitions are largely about marketing and recognition within the business rather than any kind of absolute declaration of what is “best”.

And fair enough. The results serve the valuable purpose of at least helping us learn about whiskies that – in the collective opinion of a gathering of folks that actually do know their stuff – are worthy of our attention and perhaps our hard-earned cash.

They just don’t necessarily mean you’ll fall in love with those that score the most points.

 

 

Review

Glenturret Triple Wood, 2022 Release, 45% ABV
USD$75 at retail paid, occasional availability still

For reference, this whisky scored highest at the 2023 IWSC competition with an impressive 99 points(!)

This is significant, and a good enough reason to offer it up for another Dramface take; even if our Paisley covered this very expression as recently as March, albeit the later 2023 release, which is important and likely quite different. Anyway, at Dramface we really don’t mind having multiple opinions on the same or similar bottles. We hope you don’t either.

 

Score: 5/10

Average. In a good way.

TL;DR
You won’t hate it, but you might wonder how it can be awarded 99 points…

 

Nose

For me the nose is at the subtle end of the spectrum. You might say it's reticent or even shy. There’s some baking spice and some fruitiness – maybe orchard fruit or peach and maybe apricot but none of it is strongly present. And after a while there’s something like shoe polish on leather coming through – which some might think is an off-note, but for me that’s probably the most interesting element in the glass.

On the whole, the nose doesn’t give a lot to work with and it doesn’t leave you with a clear idea of what might follow.

 

Palate

The palate improves upon the nose and has much more going on. The oak influence is clear from the outset and brings more character than suggested by the nose. It also delivers a degree of astringency which I find appealing.

A light vanilla comes through early on along with date, digestive biscuit (plain – no chocolate), a hint of shortbread, a little almond or marzipan and a touch of coconut. The baking spice that was on the nose reappears on the palate and is followed up by a little white pepper.

There’s not a lot of viscosity and it’s a touch thin for my liking. The finish is dry and the oak influence carries right through to the end, with that touch of astringency lingering too, and a note of ginger emerging late in the day. The finish is medium length.

It’s well-balanced with no particular element dominating, though the oak is a consistent presence throughout.

 

The Dregs

Overall, this is a decent dram that, though uninspiring on the nose, delivers a nuanced and balanced profile on the palate and lingers nicely – as long as you like an oaky, dry finish. 

That said, it doesn’t leave a strong impression. I don’t find myself reaching to pour another dram or thinking about hunting down another bottle.

It’s definitely developed in the months since it was first opened when frankly it was a disappointment. My first thought at the time was that maybe my expectations were too high having known about this IWSC 99-point ‘win’, but then it seemed watery and unremarkable.

There’s no question this whisky has evolved for the better since then. The palate is more distinctive and the oak notes have come to the fore.

But for me, it’s not a world-beating dram. Respectable but uninspiring. Try it if you get the chance – maybe it’ll find you in the perfect mood and you’ll be one of the folks that would score it a world-beating 99. 

I’ll stick with a 5.

 

Score: 5/10

 

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. NF

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Other opinions on this:

Whiskybase

Dramface (Paisley MacKinnon, 2023 Release)

Got a link to a reliable review? Tell us.

Nick Fleming

An Englishman of substantial standing, Nicholas (Nick - since we’re his pals) was already in love with whisky since stealing Teacher’s from his dad’s cabinet decades ago. More recently, discovering so many of our team are displaced was, for him, yet another natural draw to Dramface. Living in New York, he’s doing media stuff that we pretend to understand, while conspiring with his whisky pals on how to source the best liquid, despite living so far from the source. He and his ranks have been successful, accumulating lochs of the stuff, only to discover they’ll drink anything half decent. Two drams in though, he’ll be demanding something “meaty, chewy, grubby, dirty and gnarly” where, upon receipt, he’ll open up on his love of this golden liquid and the glorious community it nurtures. We’re all ears, Nick.

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