Cadenhead’s Glenburgie 13yo
Authentic Collection 2011 - 2025 | 58% ABV
Score: 8/10
Something special.
TL;DR
Cask-driven, but still a rich, moreish, fruit-bomb
Collector? Hoarder? Or Rabbit-holer?
A few years ago, my dad gave me a present for Christmas – a drawing that he’d done back in the 1980s.
Although he’s retired now, my dad was a freelance illustrator. If you ever used to get the Radio Times at Christmas, back in the 80s and 90s, you might remember that the borders of the TV listings were illustrated with pictures of presents and Christmas trees and the like. That was his work. He also illustrated the Yorkshire Tea packaging, as well as packaging for Waitrose, Fox’s Biscuits and Crabtree and Evelyn, among others.
Anyway, this picture he gave me was of a map that he’d done for You magazine, a now defunct print publication. The magazine had run a feature on Scotch whisky and they’d commissioned him to illustrate it. At the time, he was quite well known for decorative map illustrations, so the magazine had asked him to draw a map of Scotland with every Scotch whisky distillery labelled on it. This was a decorative map, as opposed to a geographically accurate one – just something illustrative to accompany the copy.
Although he licensed the rights, he retained the original artwork. Back in the early 2000s, the drawing appeared as part of an exhibition at the Herbert Art Gallery, and as part of the exhibition it was professionally mounted and framed. Because he knows I like whisky, my dad figured that it would make a nice addition to the house, hanging above the cabinet that I keep the bulk of my bottles in, so that Christmas, he offered it to me as a gift.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I was doing some cleaning, and I took this picture down to clean the glass. As I stood there studying it, two things struck me.
The first was just how many new distilleries have been built since that drawing was commissioned; the second was the sheer number of distilleries that are on that picture that I’ve never tasted whisky from.
Looking at that picture really emphasised just how narrow my focus tends to be, when it comes to Scotch. For somebody with quite a sizable collection of bottles, there are still a hell of a lot of distilleries out there whose whisky I’ve yet to taste.
In some cases this is understandable. Expressions from distilleries such as Brora and Port Ellen are prohibitively expensive, whilst whisky from a distillery such as Dornoch is virtually impossible to get hold of. I don’t chase bottles, so the likelihood of me getting to try some Dornoch in the near future is virtually non-existent.
Still, that doesn’t change the fact that there are a lot of fairly prolific distilleries out there that I’ve never tasted whisky from. Glenglassaugh, Invergordon and Tomintoul, for example, are just three distilleries whose expressions can be found right now, on any of the big whisky retailers’ websites, but which, for whatever reason, I’ve yet to familiarise myself with. And okay, so there are a lot of Scotch whisky distilleries in existence – 141 and growing, according to the Dramface Top 40 (get your votes updated - snapshot imminent!) – but over the last couple of decades, I’ve gotten through a lot of bottles.
I haven’t kept count or anything, but I must have bought close to a thousand bottles since getting into whisky. I’ve made tasting notes on a few hundred expressions. And none of this includes samples I’ve been given, or whiskies I’ve tried in bars or at other people’s houses.
So why then, as somebody who loves Scotch, and who’s managed to amass more bottles than any rational human being should ever own, are there so many Scottish distilleries that I’ve yet to get around to tasting whisky from?
The answer, I think, lies in the way that I buy whisky – and also, on a deeper level, in the kind of personality that I have. Because here’s the thing: whilst I don’t really have a ‘perma-shelf,’ so to speak, I tend to go down rabbit holes when it comes to particular distilleries. As such, I often end up spending an inordinate amount of time and money exploring one particular distillery, as opposed to trying whisky from a range of different producers. To put it another way, when it comes to exploring Scotch, I have a tendency to go deep, instead of wide.
An example of this is Edradour. Right now, in my collection, I have eight 10yo Edradour expressions from Signatory Vintage, all from different years. I don’t even drink that much heavily sherried whisky anymore – in fact, it’s been a while since I bought an Edradour – but five or six years ago, when I first started to get a taste for those dirty, heavily-sherried worm tub malts, I went absolutely mad for it.
In fact, I became so enamoured with Edradour, that after trying everything in the core range, I started buying up Signatory releases as if they were about to shutter the distillery forever and quit bottling the stuff. I’d buy, say, a bottle of 2009 10yo Edradour, get it home, open it and taste it alongside the 2008 and 2010 expressions, just to see how it compared. I’d draw tables in my whisky book and make notes on the differences and similarities. If a particular vintage was notably better than the others, I’d buy back-up bottles.
Edradour isn’t the only distillery that has inspired this level of geekery in me, either. I did the same with Balblair. And Glen Scotia. And before that, Caol Ila. In fact, you can look at my current whisky collection and see the outlines of the various rabbit holes that I’ve been down over the years. A lot of the bottles I own are bottles that don’t even really appeal to me that much. For instance, I don’t tend to drink much heavily peated whisky nowadays at all. And yet I still own five or six indy Caol Ilas, a couple of Staoishas and four or five bottles of Ledaig. None of them are open. Based on the frequency that I tend to reach for heavily peated Scotch nowadays, I’ve probably got enough peated whisky to last for the next ten or twelve years.
Because here’s the thing with collecting stuff – whether it’s whisky, stamps, coins, old Star Wars figurines or vintage postcards, there are rabbit holes. What nobody tells you, though, when you fall down that first rabbit hole, is that there are rabbit holes within rabbit holes. And within those rabbit holes, there are yet more rabbit holes. If you have the type of personality that I have, it’s easy to become so deeply ensconced in a particular rabbit hole that it can take a couple of years to emerge from it.
As I stood there, studying my dad’s whisky map, reflecting on all of this, the thought briefly flashed through my mind that from now on, I might start only buying bottles from distilleries that I’ve yet to taste any whisky from. If I did this, I thought, then over the next decade, I could probably tick off every Scotch whisky distillery on the map. It would mean hunting for certain bottles, sure – and it would probably mean buying samples rather than full bottles from certain distilleries – but it is doable. I’m already about a third of the way there, so it’s not beyond the realms of possibility.
I won’t do that, though, because it’s not really what whisky is about – not to me anyway. I’m not a completionist by any means, and I never will be. It’s much better, to my way of thinking, to just buy bottles that look good and to see where the journey takes me. Besides which, collecting whisky is different from collecting a lot of other things, because ultimately most of it gets opened and drunk. If you’re a coin collector, you don’t hunt down a rare and valuable coin, only to walk into your local Tesco and indulge in the pleasure of spending it on a chocolate bar. You track it down and then you put it away with all the other coins you’ve collected and move onto the next one. Part of the pleasure comes from ticking certain coins off the list.
Whisky is different, though, in that most of us collect it with the specific intention of one day consuming it. We’re not buying the stuff to look at, we’re buying it to drink. In that respect, it’s probably more accurate to refer to somebody like myself as a whisky hoarder, as opposed to a collector. My whisky collection is in a constant state of flux, with some bottles gathering dust, whilst others are opened and consumed.
Semantics aside, the whisky that I’m going to review today is from a distillery that I haven’t tried whisky from before – or rather, one that I hadn’t tried whisky from, until a couple of weeks ago. In that respect, if I do ever decide to try and tick every Scotch whisky distillery off the list, I’m now one distillery closer to achieving that goal.
That distillery is Glenburgie.
A while back, I got into a conversation with someone on Facebook, and they mentioned that Glenburgie make particularly fruit-forward whisky. Being someone whose tastes nowadays lurk around the fruit-forward, ex-bourbon end of the whisky spectrum, I made a mental note that I had to get my hands on some Glenburgie when I next got a chance.
That chance came a few weeks ago when I took a trip to London with the family. After visiting Borough Market for some lunch my kids wanted to go to Regents Park and feed the geese. Knowing that Regents Park is only a short hop and a skip to the London branch of Cadenhead’s, I mumbled something to Mrs Mackay about going to get coffee, and took a wander. Half an hour later, I emerged from the Cadenhead’s shop £62 lighter.
Sans coffee.
Review
Glenburgie 13yo, Cadenhead’s Authentic Collection, 2011 - 2025, ex-bourbon barrel, 174 bottles, 58% ABV
£62 paid, now sold out
Like I said before, this is my first encounter with a Glenburgie and also with a Cadenhead’s expression. Although I’ve tried whisky from Cadenhead’s at festivals, I’ve never actually bought a bottle from them before.
Looking at the specs on this one, it’s not clear why I’ve not bought more of their whiskies, because they’re obviously aiming these expressions at the enthusiast market. Not only is this one cask strength, but it also gives us some useful info on the label, such as the year that it was distilled – 2011 – the year that it was bottled – 2025 – and the cask type – an ex-bourbon barrel. Although it doesn’t say natural colour on the label, I know that it is, as it clearly states on the Cadenhead’s website that they don’t colour any of their whiskies.
As for chill-filtration, there’s no way that this has had any of the oils stripped from it - a drop of water brings out a lovely Scotch mist. Still, it would be nice to have this stuff printed on the label. As far as I’m concerned, producers and bottlers who are presenting their whisky naturally should be shouting about it. At 58%, it’s likely not going to have been chill-filtered anyway, but even so, it’s always reassuring to see those words on the bottle somewhere. After all, as far as I’m concerned, it’s a big selling point. Is there logic in not putting it on the bottle?
Score: 8/10
Something special.
TL;DR
Cask-driven, but still a rich, moreish, fruit-bomb
Nose
Fruity and glassy on the nose. I get white grapes, pineapple, some boiled sweets, lychee, white wine and even – if I hunt for it – a touch of coconut. There’s also some vanilla, but the main thing here is the fruit.
Palate
The palate initially is more about the vanilla. There’s a lot of it and it’s very upfront. The label on the bottle doesn’t state whether the bourbon barrel that this whisky was matured in was first or second fill, but based on the palate, I’d put my money on it being a first fill bourbon cask - because the vanilla note is really prominent. I wouldn’t call it a ‘vanilla bomb’, exactly, but it’s leaning that way. There’s some butter cream here as well, and even a touch of ice cream soda.
In and of itself, this could make for a fairly one-dimensional experience. Too much vanilla in a whisky tends to be…well, a bit vanilla. It’s one of those flavours – a bit like honey – that’s just somewhat generic and middle of the road. I’ve had whiskies before that have been very vanilla heavy and I’ve always come away feeling somewhat underwhelmed. It just isn’t that interesting.
Fortunately, this Glenburgie has plenty of other stuff going on to balance things out. The vanilla is prominent – and it lends the whisky a very rich, dense quality – but it’s accompanied by a lot of fruit. There’s kiwi here, as well as lychee, orange juice, lemon and pear-drops. There’s also – maybe – a tiny hint of coconut. I also sometimes get a fleeting hint of clove, although it’s subtle.
The mouthfeel is dense and viscous in a way that you don’t always expect from something that’s come from an ex-bourbon cask. It really is a flavour-forward whisky. It’s delicious as well. Lively, complex, rich and fresh. One of the most moreish whiskies I’ve tasted in a while.
The Dregs
One sure-fire way of judging whether or not you’re really enjoying a whisky is how quickly the liquid in the bottle disappears. Considering how many bottles I currently have open, this Glenburgie is disappearing quickly. Were it not for the fact that I’m making a conscious effort to finish off some of the dregs that I’ve got hanging around in already open bottles, the fill level may well be even lower. Because this is very, very good stuff.
That said, it won’t be for everyone. Whilst it’s by no means over-oaked, the cask that it’s been matured in is a really big component of the flavour profile. When it comes to ex-bourbon, we don’t really talk much about cask driven expressions like we do with ex-sherry or ex-port maturation, but those expressions do exist. This is one of them. The cask has definitely asserted itself, and whilst I’d say that a lot of the fruitier notes are probably coming from the distillate, the cask influence is still strong.
For me personally, that’s okay. Like I said earlier, the vanilla notes could potentially overwhelm this whisky, but there’s enough going on beyond that to make it engaging. I typically don’t tend to think of ex-bourbon matured expressions as rich, but this one definitely is. It’s rich and dense and heavy, but also, somehow, fruity and fresh. Mango isn’t a specific tasting note that I picked up in this one, but in many ways, this whisky reminds me of mango juice. Despite being fruit forward, it’s unctuous and rich as well.
On the whole, then, this is a bottle that I’d definitely recommend. Being my first outing with a Glenburgie, I can’t say for sure whether or not it’s typical of the distillery’s style, but if it is, then I could easily see more Glenburgie expressions gracing the shelves of the Mackay household in future. I might even try and track down another bottle of this one.
After all, it’s nice to have a back-up.
And there we have the Glenburgie rabbit hole, just baiting me to dive in.
Score: 8/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. FMc
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