Dalmore 18yo
Official bottling | 43% ABV
Score: 5/10
Average. In a Good Way
TL;DR
A ‘smooth’ drinker, and perfect example of hyper-premiumisation
We Can Go Our Own Way
Taste is one of the most personal things we carry. Whether it’s a patterned shirt, a bold haircut, or our go-to dram, it’s an expression of who we are and what resonates with us.
And with time - age, experience, call it what we might - comes a certain clarity. We stop worrying about what others might think. We learn to enjoy what we enjoy without seeking approval.
But recently, I’ve found myself reflecting on whether that independence is sometimes muddied. Whether, every now and then, there’s a current pulling us toward consensus. A sense of familiarity that feels... Less discovery, more echo.
The Scotch whisky community, to its great credit, is welcoming, generous, and endlessly passionate. It’s a genuine source of camaraderie and knowledge. But even without intention to do so, the best conversations can create momentum - where enthusiasm builds so quickly, you find yourself nodding along before you've even tasted the dram.
In the category of whisky drinker that I class myself, I do not feel, in any way, at the whim of a distillery marketing department - well maybe the odd inaugural or special edition chase - but in general their decisions are not aimed at selling anything to me.
The ‘marketing department’ that has me make a decision tends to be the serious Scotch whisky community. That could be an individual, it could be a Dramface reviewer, a podcaster or a YouTube personality; it could even be a knowledgeable liquor shop staff member. I have bought bottles on the recommendations of all of those.
And let’s be honest, I’ve had some absolutely banging drams added to my collection because of these recommendations and mentions, and unless we are willing to spend serious time and money in whisky bars to try new drams it would be difficult to uncover most of these working alone.
Praised or highly anticipated bottles can vanish from digital shelves within seconds; retailers run ballots for some. And you start to ask yourself: Do I love this whisky or have I been swept up in someone else’s certainty?
I am in no way cynical - it’s about staying honest. Remembering that there’s more to enjoyment than approval. Because at the end of the day, the best dram isn’t the most hyped - it’s the one that feels like home. And what about the potential counterpoint to that; is there a tier of whisky that can’t be openly enjoyed in polite whisky society? A layer that doesn’t align with the flavour profiles, ABVs, or cask pedigrees that dominate the community’s collective palate?
I’ve already outed myself with this particular dram, which had a quiet cameo from me on Dramface before; but somehow, it’s never had its moment in the spotlight. And it’s not like there are rules. At Dramface, the brief is beautifully open: write what you love, what fell short, or what left you contemplating the bottom of the glass with a shrug. I’ve written about drams that barely scraped three stars - so why not this one? Why hasn’t this well-worn favourite stepped forward for its encore?
Maybe it’s because it’s not a whisky we advertise. Not a bottle we would pour when the geek squad pops round. But the truth is, I still like it. No - I enjoy it. Because it’s threaded through my whisky journey like a well-worn hoodie: unassuming, slightly faded, but unmistakably mine. And maybe that’s the hesitation. Because I know full well this bottle wouldn’t make the cut for many.
But it was never about scoring points. It was about a dram that kept turning up when the noise died down.
Review
Dalmore 18yo, Official bottling, available everywhere, 43% ABV
£88 paid (current RRP £315)
We know Dalmore is chill-filtered, and it’s probably best not to dwell on (or even think about) just how much E150A caramel colouring has been added to achieve that signature hue - let alone what it might have done to the flavour. It is whisky aimed squarely at the “premium” market, where the plastic stag on the bottle arguably matters more than a natural presentation.
Whyte & Mackay, who own Dalmore, have been in the whisky game a long time and they undoubtedly make decisions for a reason. They also operate the rising star of Fettercairn, the world’s fastest growing malt in Tamnavulin, and the supermarket-stocking juggernaut that is Jura. And while those names might not stir geek hearts in the same way as some indie darlings, there are highlights (or chinks of light depending on how you look at it). There are some genuinely interesting Fettercairn releases and the recent Jura Perspectives bottling, which offered a glimpse of the spirit’s potential before it's subdued by colour, chill filtration, and dilution.
Dalmore’s website outlines the cask recipe as a combination of American white oak ex-bourbon barrels and aged Matusalem Oloroso sherry casks. I’ve not been able to confirm if this applies to my batch, but I suspect the formula stays broadly consistent - because when you build a brand around luxury and uniformity, consistency is everything.
Score: 5/10
Average. In a Good Way
TL;DR
A ‘smooth’ drinker, and perfect example of hyper-premiumisation
Nose
The nose on this is very promising, sweet cherry, dark chocolate and sherry, a hint of orange and strawberry somewhere.
Palate
It’s not the sherry bomb it could be - and I suspect that’s by design. You don’t want to risk too much flavour in case it puts off the premium-drinking crowd. That said, there is sherry influence - just enough to nudge it in the right direction without taking over.
It’s a very smooth drinker. You get caramel wrapped in dark chocolate orange and a touch of espresso. It benefits from a generous pour and a proper, deliberate sip - the fruit starts to emerge a little more then, pulling the dram forward from its opening notes of old, tanned leather and dry tobacco. In the back of my mind there is always the thought on whether the soft caramel comes naturally or is affected by the caramel colouring.
The finish is medium, bringing in some mild spice and dried fruit, a nice warmth in the mouth. The aftertaste is genuinely pleasant. But that easy-drinking character is also where it falls short - it’s missing complexity. It glides by without much resistance and you’re left wondering what could’ve been in a natural strength version, free of colour and filtration.
The Dregs
Back in 2021, Dalmore 18 was it - my special occasion slow jam. At £88, it was the crown jewel of my cabinet, the most I’d ever dropped on a bottle. It felt like top-tier living.
Fast-forward to now and it’s got Three Barrels taste with Rémy Martin Louis XIII pricing - £236 (£315 on the distillery website) and rising like a Space X rocket. That’s not luxury anymore, that is hyper-premiumisation.
And here as I stand - medium rare in whisky knowledge terms (pink in the middle, still learning, well-seasoned but not burnt out). Would I pay over £200 for it now? Not a chance, sugar. That groove just ain’t got the same swing. But would I pay that £88 again? Maybe. Because it wasn’t just the liquid - it was the moment. A situationship dram; perfectly timed, probably fleeting, and made sweeter by the soundtrack of where I was on the journey.
I don’t expect to see it at that price again. And maybe that’s okay. Some tracks aren’t meant to play on repeat.
I have moved on, but not through echo chambers or mindlessly following others, but through my own earnest curiosity and discovery. Probably exactly like many of you.
Score: 5/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. CC
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Other opinions on this:
Whiskybase
Ralfy (2020)
Whisky, Aye? (2019)
Got a link to a reliable review? Tell us.
