Craigellachie 13yo
Official Bottling| 46% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good Stuff.
TL;DR
Neither complex nor simple, this dram is a delicious golden delight
The Inner Sanctum Of Our Obsession Is A Tricky Place To Enter
I remember the first time I stepped into a shop that only sells whisky because it was a rare, beautiful sunny day in Edinburgh. I’d spent the afternoon drinking whisky and chatting absolute tripe with my uncle, in the Bow Bar, stationed near the bottom of the city’s most photographed cobbled Old Town thoroughfare, Victoria Street. Lockdown restrictions had just been relaxed enough to allow us to do things like drink in pubs, and despite a puckered arse at the prospect of getting the bus 25 miles from my house in the sticks, to a pub in the city, I was glad I made the covid-flouting trip. After we’d emptied the tripe talk reserves, I bid my uncle a good day and took a leisurely stroll up the winding path to the High Street where I stood, nervously for a moment, at the doors of Royal Mile Whiskies.
Freedom of choice is a wonderful thing until you’re faced with a cramped shop with towering walls of colourful labels, bottle designs and age statements, shop staff looming in the periphery and other people arching their necks to see what you’re looking at so intensely. Whisky shops are intimidating, stage-fright inducing, nerve-jangling places for someone who is new to this game. That’s because despite it being ultimately some glass objects arranged neatly on wooden shelves, there’s an inherent pressure to the retail whisky experience. You’re there as a whisky enthusiast with a budget to spend and an idea of what you like in whisky, but both of those things are fluid entities. In this environment you suddenly find the ability to articulate what you want reduced to blurting out, “whisky!”
Whisky enthusiasm is a sliding scale and in places such as Royal Mile Whiskies, the people stationed inside are some of the most enthusiastic whisky enjoyers around and clearly know a thing or two about the subject. This only serves to increase the weight of expectation upon your shoulders, because after a few fleeting moments in the transition between the blinding sunny external and the mood-lit inner sanctum of whisky, a question is posed from the gloomy depths: “How may I help you today?” On this spring day in 2021, I was already suitably oiled from the afternoon in the Bow Bar, so I had a bit more courage than if I had walked in fresh from the electric bus. Instead of clamming up and whimpering: “I’m just looking thanks,” I proffered my uncertainty, and said that I was new to whisky.
In life there are things to enjoy, believe it or not, whether it be learning to fly, running a marathon, raking a garden or collecting things like watches or stamps. Whisky is a place, from the amount I’ve been exposed to, where everyone has an immediate and empathetic connection to all whisky enthusiasts, regardless of how rudimentary or advanced you are. I’ve noticed it more as I’ve started talking to others about it, and I’m constantly astounded by the kindness shown by other whisky enthusiasts – not just to me, but to everyone else too. It’s a really enjoyable place to inhabit.
When I stated to the woman in Royal Mile Whiskies that I was new to whisky, she didn’t slump or pensively enquire as to my reason for existing; instead she lit up at the prospect of connecting with someone green, like me – a chance to show someone the magnificence of whisky through the keyhole of experience. Thereafter, a long and meandering chat ensued about my experience so far in whisky; what I’d bought and what I’d enjoyed in each one. Did I want to try something different or in the same vein as what I’d enjoyed already? With each question posed, the information was being collated quickly and authoritatively enough that, when we’d reached a certain point, the suggestions of what I might like to try began. Interestingly enough the word “budget” only arrived after all of that foundation chat had concluded. I got the impression that no matter what budget I arrived with, I’d have received the same attention anyway.
I left that day with a bottle of Aultmore 12 Foggie Moss for a few reasons – one was because it had an age statement and the other choice, a Kingsbarns, didn’t. At that time Ralfy was my king. But another, more important reason was the staff member had to dig around a bottom shelf to extract it. This bottle hadn’t been on display and if anyone is up for a bit of obscurity, it’s me.
I enjoyed the Aultmore enough to know that my time had been spent well with the staff at Royal Mile Whiskies. I had something that didn’t taste or smell like anything I’d already bought or tried at that stage. As an experience, it was reassuring and positive and the Aultmore remains in my cupboard, half-depleted, waiting for a time when I want to revisit it with a more educated and weathered palate. The same connection occurred when I nipped into Drinkmonger in Pitlochry at the time when the Ukraine Springbank fiasco was playing out. We were having a good giggle about the absurdity of it all until my wife walked past the window, saw me enjoying myself, and promptly made the time-established micro-adjustment of her eyebrows that represented a simple choice; either exit the shop immediately without holding anything in my hands, or walk the 40 miles home.
“Two men were behind the scheme to build a distillery at Craigellachie: a young local, Alexander Edward, and Peter Jeffrey Mackie, the owner of Lagavulin Distillery, Islay, and also of the White Horse brand of blended Scotch.”
One morning a few weeks ago, we travelled to Perth to enjoy the side-eyed, simmering aggro pleasantries of the playpark, followed by a nice lunch at the manky plastic picnic bench, before the girls headed for their routine hair adjustment therapy session. The question was posed: “What are you going to do for 40 minutes?” Not really knowing the answer, I punched “whisky” into Google Maps and much to my surprise, a pin appeared across the city. “Daddy will see you both shortly,” I said, “for I have Dramface work to do.” I vaguely recalled a whisky shop on South Street but as I passed, it was very much shut and empty. As I made my way through the bustling streets of Perth’s shopping precinct, two buskers bellowed their acoustic performances through shoebox amps and the sun was shining. The prospect of chatting whisky in my current phase of rampant burrowing into whiskyland, was palpable. Turning on to George Street, I made my way up the sunlit avenue with the beautiful columned facade of the Museum & Art Gallery ahead. Things felt normal – I was making my way to a whisky shop in the warm spring sun, with no real indication that this, as an activity, had become a bit of a novelty these past few years.
Arriving at the small doorway into Malts and Spirits, two people were concluding their sale at the small till zone, so I lingered outside until I felt awkward and then made my way in. Gone were the nerves, the expectations or the worry about having to chat to the proprietor about whisky, replaced instead with an anticipation of discovering something new from his brain-based store of whisky information. Soon the proprietor, Steve, was free and we struck up a conversation about whisky from the perspective of availability in Perth. His shop was relatively new, having opened in September 2021 and was enjoying a boom of footfall as the population returned to the streets for their purchases. As we chatted, I looked around his stock and was astounded at just how many “enthusiasts” whiskies there were. In fact I’d say that 90% of his stock was the stuff that gets folk like us excited. From Arran through to Signatory, Edradour, Caol Ila and even Daftmill, this was a place that clearly had the good stuff at the forefront of requirements.
So many interesting whiskies lined the shelves and Steve had handily labelled them with coloured dots for regions, so you could quickly assess what styles were available – and they were all alphabetically arranged to boot. He asked me what I was looking for and once again I didn’t really know, however this time I knew what I didn’t want. As much as I enjoyed the sherry casked frivolities of late, I fancied something a bit different. Suggestions came thick and fast, but the ones that interested me were Tomatin, Glenglassaugh and Craigellachie – three distilleries I’d yet to try.
“Are you driving today?” he asked, materialising a bottle of Craigellachie 13 from thin-air, and for a split second my answer was instinctively no, because I’m always the designated driver wherever we go. Something about my chat with Steve, my walk to the shop and the general feeling of excitement at standing in my place, made me bravely bash into my phone a message to my wife. I wrote three simple words with untold consequences: “You are driving…” A transparent thimble of whisky was filled and we began discussing Craigellachie and what they were all about, and before long we had two thimbles going – the Craigellachie 17 was now on the table too.
Impressed enough with what I was getting from this small pour, in a shop with other patrons appearing – and knowing I had limited time to get any deals done before my wife was on to me, I decided to go for the 13 year old. The premium demanded for the 17 wasn’t yet in my comfort zone. The fact that Craigellachie has chosen to release their whisky at these odd maturation points is enough to hook me in – be different from everyone else, that’s the spirit! As we were sorting payment, two women entered the shop and began participating in our discussion about never having enough whisky; soon all four of us were animated. It’s amazing just how quickly the topic of whisky breaks ice. Deal done and Dramface suitably promoted, we thanked each other and I vowed to return soon for more, and left the shop feeling like I’d been absorbed into the giant whisky sponge that little bit further.
Review
2022 bottling, natural colour, non chill filtered, 46% ABV
£45+ available everywhere. I paid £49 in the Malts & Spirits Company, Perth
I arrived back at the car before the girls and despite my attempts to hide the wee black bag in the boot, it was immediately spotted by the boss. I was able to put on a convincing enough show to prevent me walking home, although I did get a “come on, drunk little man” as I squeezed myself into the rear seat of our tiny car. When home, I looked more closely at the packaging and was struck by how much space was given to the distillery's usage of worm tubs. It takes up the whole rear label, almost, and even includes a handy wee illustration of the worm tub itself, for effect.
A worm tub, for those uneducated in the intricacies of distillation like me, is used in the distillation process after the spirit has been boiled in the copper stills. As the spirit bubbles away inside the still, it releases vapours which creep upwards after much refluxing and travel along the horizontal pipe at the top of the still – the lyne arm – to the zone where the gaseous spirit is converted back into a higher proof, liquid distillate. This is achieved by cooling the distillate through either a vertical condenser (shell & tube), or a worm tub. Most distilleries use shell & tube condensers because they’re more efficient, smaller and easier to maintain, but a worm tub brings other interesting flavour compounds to the table.
The worm tub is in fact a large wooden cask-like vessel within which a coil of copper tubing snakes downwards, surrounded by cool water. A worm tub condenser features significantly less copper tubing than a vertical condenser; copper contact is what removes the heavier elemental things that can embellish a whisky’s flavour, like sulphur. By cooling the spirit in a worm tub, rather than condenser, the copper contact is reduced, thus it gives the spirit a more robust “meaty” flavour component due to the retention of these heavier compounds. Phew! Craigellachie, as it’s now established, prefers to retain these “meatier” compounds in their whisky, thus… big worm tub picture on label.
Speaking of which, a rather lovely pastel yellow and nicely textured paper is deployed on the Craigellachie 13 labels, lending a tré-vintage and endearing aesthetic to the bottle. Gold debossing and shoulder bands really make this whisky feel like it’s straight out of the roaring 20s - it wouldn’t look out of place inside Gatsby’s drinks cabinet, that’s for sure. The whisky itself looks gorgeous; deep amber in colour. I’m reassured that it’s non-chill filtered by the statement on the label, but there’s nothing to say if it’s coloured. Whiskybase holds the answer and I’m satisfied it’s naturally presented, but even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t mind too much – it doesn’t have the Irn-Bru-like Aberlour Casg Annamh vibrancy to it. Presented at 46% ABV, it’s very much in the enthusiasts wheelhouse. Final point of order: Craigellachie, as a distillery, used to be a supply for Dewar's blended whisky, but luckily for us the owners, Bacardi, decided to release the Craigellachie spirit under its own single malt label.
Nose
Smelling like the inside of a plastic water tub that’s been in the sun, but you’re now inside a dusty damp warehouse. Chalky toffee whiffs and citrus pops start appearing, alongside a match strike paper edge. Frying green peppers beside unsalted peanuts. Salted caramel wafers, like the ones you get in ice cream shops. A drop of water emphasises a floral sweet note.
Palate
It’s quite sharp to begin with but soon smooths out into liquid fruity toffee. A farmyard funkiness shouts for a split second but recedes and then a sweet and sour tango begins. It’s all caramel waves intermingling with sharper fruit notes for a while before a tropical, coconut pineapple thing appeared but left before I’d really taken it in. On purchase day I’d eaten mildly spicy fajitas beforehand, and I think this offset the tartness of the arrival and emphasised the long caramel notes. Tonight, with porridge for dinner (bicycle night) it’s a little sharper and the caramel threads are more subdued – a drop of water brings it back nicely.
The Dregs
I’ve tried a few whiskies now where the bottle level has disappeared rapidly due to the moreish nature, but this one might hold the record. I had to stuff it away in the cupboard quickly out of sight or it would have been an awkward conversation in the morning. I was sipping this dram (and all the refills thereafter) outside, because the sunshine was still splitting the sky and the night was young. As I did so my whisky was clouding up – I’ve never seen that happen before without water interference, and is evidence enough of all those unfiltered microbes floating about in there. Bravo Craigellachie, bravo. So what is this whisky, then? Where does it fit on the scale of whiskies available at this price, with these attributes?
The price sits between £45 and £50, and in that bracket we have a number of quite delicious malts. Of the official bottle single malts with age statement, non-chill filtered and natural colour that I’ve tried, there’s only Tobermory 12 and the Benriach 12 in this area. A lot of great malts like Arran 10, Ledaig 10, Glen Garioch 12 are well under this, and even some NAS whiskies are pushing for attention in this bracket too, like the Glen Scotia Double Cask, Bruichladdich Classic Laddie and the rather exciting Bladnoch Vinaya. Of all these tasty whiskies I’ve tried and liked, the Craigellachie 13 still sits in its own little niche. It’s nothing like any of these malts, and I can’t recall having such a vivid reaction to any of them, with exception perhaps to with the Glen Scotia and the Bladnoch, but not as pronounced.
The Craigellachie 13 has a gorgeous caramel vanilla wave, albeit with a thinner tart edge, slight matchbox ping and a brighter zingy fruitiness. But there’s also a depth, or weightiness, that bolsters the experience to one that ramps up my enjoyment with each sip. I want to keep exploring it, to dive down further into the golden ocean below because, in the very distant depths I can almost see something: an outline, or a shadow. With each stroke of my legs I’m propelled closer, but the silhouetted somethings and sandy surfaces remain distant. For a while I fight it, pushing harder and squinting tighter, but eventually I realise the glowing amber liquid I am suspended in, is enough – it’s worthy of luxuriating in without the need to seek out more, or travel deeper. I feel weightless and nothing hurts; cascading citrus sunrays split the hazy horizon and I know then that this Craigellachie, bought at the suggestion of a new whisky acquaintance, is one of the more resonant drams I’ve tried in a while.
It’s not simple, yet it’s not complicated. It’s thick and oily, but not heavy or unctuous. It’s not saccharine and it’s not overly sharp; it’s just right. The smell is captivating and the taste is compelling, despite there being no further depths to dive. I am completely content floating inside this amber prism, for when I’m in there the world, and all its complications, are refracted away in the mirrored undersides. I look up from my floating perspective and I see the gradually lightening landscape above; checking my air reserves, I have time enough that I can float here for a while, or push back up to the noisy world. The choice is as redundant as my flippers – I will stay here as long as I can, if only to bask in the fleeting flavour dance that this dram delivers in spades.
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC
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