Five Single Malts & a Calvados | Various ABV

When the Penny Drops

Independent bottlers are an odd thing to get your head around don’t you think? It’s tricky to explain too.

Back in 2010, already into whisky, I took a weekend trip to Scotland with a couple of friends. I didn’t have a collection of hundreds of bottles or anything, but I probably had ten or fifteen expressions in the house.

While that doesn’t sound like a lot to some of us here, let’s face it, to the uninitiated it’s a fairly excessive amount of whisky to have on hand at any one time. It’s likely more single malt than you’d find at your local Wetherspoons pub.

At the time I was mostly buying my whisky from the supermarket and, generally speaking, the upper end of my budget was around the £30 mark. Nowadays, £30 barely gets you through the single malt door, but back then you could pick up some decent bottles for that sort of money.

It helped that most of the whisky I was buying was officially bottled ‘core range’ stuff from the distillery owners: Talisker 10, Ardbeg 10, Caol Ila 12 and Oban 14 were all regular staples in the Mackay cabinet. I didn’t really have any awareness of limited-edition bottlings, single cask expressions and certainly not indy bottlers. What I could lay my hands on in my local Sainsburys was enough to keep me sated.

All of this changed that weekend that I visited Scotland – or at least, shortly after. I can still recall the two bottles of whisky I took with me – a Caol Ila 12 and a Benriach Bernie Moss. The latter is discontinued now, but as a Dramface reader you’re likely familiar with the former. ABV aside, Caol Ila 12 is and always will be a whisky that’s dear to me. The saying ‘you can’t really screw up Caol Ila’ is borne out by the entry level release – even at 43%, chill filtered and likely with colour, it’s still a solid proposition.

The Caol Ila 12 was also the whisky that went down well with my non-whisky drinking mates that weekend. We rented a cottage near Dufftown and polished off the bottle over two or three nights. I remember one of my friends taking a particularly strong liking to it. Despite having had no real previous experience with whisky, by the end of the weekend, he was coming up with tasting notes on the fly.

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and that same mate was celebrating his birthday. As I mused over what to get him, that bottle of Caol Ila 12 suddenly popped into my head. Back then, you could pick it up for about £30, so I figured I’d grab him a bottle. In doing so, I did something that, until that point, I’d never done before – I made my first online whisky purchase.

Why I decided to buy that bottle online - rather than from the supermarket - I have no idea. But had I not decided to do so, the rest of this story wouldn’t have happened. I can still remember, as I clicked on the link of whatever website came up first, being greeted with several Caol Ilas. One of them, in particular, caught my eye. It was Caol Ila 12 - but it wasn’t in the same packaging.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was to be my first introduction to the world of independent bottlers. I wish for the life of me I could remember which bottler it was, but I can’t. What I do know is that it wasn’t one of the usual suspects. It was an indy bottler that I haven’t seen since, and which may not even exist anymore. Anyway, it was a fiver cheaper than the OB and I ended up buying two – one for myself and one for my mate.

I’d be lying if I said that I knew what I was buying when I picked up that Caol Ila. If I’m being honest, I think at the time, I assumed it was some older stock and that was why it was cheaper (ironic, when you consider that whisky in defunct packaging generally commands a premium these days). Anyway, what I do know is that I didn’t think much of it until the bottle arrived and I noticed the ABV. It was 48%. Why, I wondered, would Caol Ila sell their whisky cheaper, at a higher ABV? There was really only one thing for it, and that was to jump on the internet and do some research.

Now, if you’re someone who got into whisky around the time of the pandemic, which I know many did, then it might well be inconceivable that someone could own ten or fifteen bottles of single malt and have no idea what an indy bottler is. What you have to remember, though, is that fifteen years ago, the whisky scene was very different.

There really wasn’t the community of whisky reviewers on YouTube that there is nowadays – there was Ralfy, sure, and maybe Horst Luening, but that was about it. As for the internet more broadly, Serge Valentin was doing his thing and there was the forum over at scotchmaltwhisky.co.uk but there really wasn’t the community of whisky reviewers and commentators that we have today.

Furthermore there was no Instagram, and Facebook was still in its infancy. As a relative newbie to whisky – albeit one who was diligently perusing the supermarkets in search of ever more characterful expressions – I had no idea that the independent bottler was even a concept to understand.

And let’s face it, why would I? Indy bottlers are, after all, pretty unique. I’m struggling to think of any other industry in which a third party takes a product, brands it under their own moniker, but also uses the branding of the original producer to market it. There are similarities, don’t get me wrong, but I’m struggling to think of a direct parallel.

I know, for instance, that a lot of budget guitars are made by a company called Cort, and then branded by individual companies and sold under a different name, but ‘white labelling’ like that is not the same. So, if you buy a Squire guitar, that’s made in a Cort factory, it carries the Squire logo, not the Cort logo. There’s no mention of Cort anywhere on the headstock, or even on the packaging. Its origins are kept a close secret, because both Cort and Squire want to protect their brands. The same happens with clothes – your £150 designer trainers could well be made in the same factory as the £20 Asda George supermarket version and, if they are, you won’t hear the company who makes them shouting about it.

Whisky, on the other hand, is a different proposition. Indy bottlers typically use a whisky’s origins to sell the product, and the official brand owners of that product generally don’t have a problem with it. Don’t get me wrong, there are exceptions – an expression from a ‘secret Orkney distillery’ springs to mind, as does Speyside (M) and who can forget the playful wit of a Glenlitigious – but usually, if an indy bottler acquires a cask, they’re often entitled to put both their own logo and the name of the distillery on the packaging.

Hence, we get Caol Ila from Signatory, Bunnahabhain from Gordon and MacPhail, and Aberlour from James Eadie. Gordon and MacPhail even have regular product lines, which sees them selling expressions from the likes of Bunnahabhain and Caol Ila, under the branding of the Distillery Labels Series – something which effectively constitutes their own core range.

To the seasoned whisky drinker this is, of course, not news. We’re all familiar with the indy bottlers, and most of us don’t really think much of grabbing a bottle of Glengoyne from Douglas Laing, in different packaging, at a different ABV and with a different flavour profile. But if you really stop to think about it, it’s crazy. The fact that we have this industry within an industry is really quite unique, not to mention special.

I say special, because to me, independent bottlers and the expressions that they bring us, really are often where it’s at. In fact, when I look at my own whisky collection, indy bottlers probably make up around two thirds of the whiskies I buy today. Expressions from the indy bottlers are often bottled at a higher ABV, usually non-chill filtered and of natural colour. They’re frequently bottled at cask strength, often single cask and many times they serve as a huge departure from the house style that the distillery likes to maintain.

All of these things, to my mind at least, make them an incredibly attractive proposition. Since buying that Caol Ila 12 all those years ago, I’ve given more money to the likes of Signatory Vintage and Gordon and MacPhail than I have to any single distillery. For me, there’s nothing more exciting than tasting a whisky from a distillery that I think I know well, and finding a completely different proposition. The focused, uncompromising nature of the sorts of bottles that the indies bring us is really what it’s all about for me. It just speaks to my inner geek.

If this is the kind of thing that resonates with you too, it’s worth reminding everyone that there’s now a documentary available on Amazon Prime Video in the UK which touches upon this difficult-to-explain topic further, but also uncovers many more details around the intricacies and history of the independent bottler concept. One for all geeks to get comfy with and watch along, you might spot a few familiar faces in this who’s who of whisky tales. You can watch on demand from Amazon Prime here if you’re in the USA, but also here if you’re in Australia, and here if you’re in the UK. I think it’s coming to more territories with the addition of subtitles soon.

This is also the movie that gave birth to the Independent Spirits Festival in Leith which gave Ainsley so much joy this year and is returning in March 2026.

All of this brings me to the whiskies that I’m going to talk about here. When Wally put the call out for somebody to review the latest outturn from Decadent Drinks, I was quick to put my hand up. Ainsley had snagged the July outturn, but they arrived in France just as he skipped off on his summer holiday, so we’ll need to wait for that set.

Until now, I’ve never tried anything from this particular bottler, but I know that they specialise in fairly high end – and, let’s be honest, often pricey – expressions. Anyway, a few days later a small cardboard box arrived in the post containing six samples – five single malts and one Calvados. All but one of these expressions carries a fairly impressive age statement.

Before I get into the tasting notes, I’ll caveat the rest of this review by reiterating the fact that these notes are clearly based on samples. They are, if you like, fleeting encounters. As such, you should think of them as initial impressions – I haven’t shelled out the cash for a full bottle, and I haven’t lived with a bottle over a period of weeks or months, sampled it repeatedly and allowed it to change and breathe as the liquid goes down - as I do with the bottles that I usually review here.

I’m conscious that, when you live with a whisky over time, your impressions may change from one pour to the next.

Review 1/6

Glen Moray 10yo, refill sherry hogshead, 57.1% ABV
£97 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

From Decadent Drinks:

A second fill sherry hogshead of Glen Moray that tastes like fruit after the world ends. Ten years old, bottled at 57.1%, and dripping with stewed berries, burnt sugar, pipe tobacco, sea salt fudge, and something sharp and herbal in the bones. It's bold, messy, and mutating by the minute; a riot of flavour just barely contained in glass. If Speyside had a malfunctioning AI master blender in 2170, this is what it would pour you. Warm, dense, and one glitch away from sentience.

Score: 6/10

**Good stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*A solid sherry-forward sipper*

Nose

The nose is rich and sherry driven. I get black coffee, custard creams and fudge, as well as some baking spices. Based on the nose alone, you might guess that this expression was matured in PX sherry as opposed to oloroso – it has a lot of those very syrupy, sweet, gloopy sort of notes that I generally associate with PX – fudge and syrup, as opposed to nuts and figs.

Palate

The palate, however, tells a different story. This is a lot woodier, darker, and generally more savoury than I was expecting. I get charred oak, black liquorice, some aniseed, some black coffee, some treacle and some pencil lead. It’s quite earthy as well. At the sweeter end of the spectrum I get cinnamon, demerara sugar and strawberry creams. The mouthful is weighty and unctuous and water brings out a lovely Scotch mist.

The Dregs

I’ve only ever tried a few Glen Morays and have always come away with the same impression – it’s good whisky, but I’m not blown away. This one is no exception – it’s very solid, and based on the specs and general quality of the liquid, I’d recommend it, but I wouldn’t crawl over broken glass to buy a bottle. That said, if you like your cask-forward, sherried numbers, this is a good whisky.

Score: 6/10

Review 2/6

Craigellachie 20yo, refill with a first-fill sherry finish, 58.3% ABV
£225 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

From Decadent Drinks:

Big cask Craigellachie that doesn’t care if you’ve had your dinner. A 2005 refill bruiser with four years of first-fill sherry bolted on at the end, bottled at 58.3% and soaked in pipe smoke, walnut oil, BBQ soot, and treacle you’d need a bandsaw to cut. It’s waxy, meaty, sulphur-kissed and unapologetically heavy. Think coal shed, old study, steak tartare and scorched fruit cake. Not elegant. Not clean. Just massive and magnificent.

Score: 8/10

**Something special.**
***TL;DR***
*A complex, characterful and tempting occasional treat*

Nose

My initial thoughts on nosing this are, ‘wow, this is going to be a characterful whisky.’ Craigellachie is a characterful malt anyway, so this isn’t surprising, but truly; this one jumps out of the glass.

I get banana – heaps of banana – and although I’ve never tried banana on a barbecue, my immediate thought is ‘I imagine this is what banana done on a barbecue would smell like.’ For what it’s worth, it’s a good thing – or at least, it works here.

I also get coffee – milky coffee – and walnuts. Put them together and you get coffee and walnut cake, which is also here in spades. There’s icing sugar, Turkish Delight and a little ashy smoke. It’s salty and soapy and complex – and all these different notes are jumping out of the glass, and in the end, I have to put it down and just take a minute or two to recalibrate my senses, because the notes are coming at me so fast that I can’t write them down quickly enough.

Leaving it for five minutes and then going back to it, I get tobacco. Think rolling tobacco – Golden Virginia, to be specific – that’s been open and left on the side for five or six months. It’s dry, slightly stale tobacco. And it’s lovely.

I’m already very excited about this whisky before I’ve even tasted it.

Palate

The palate doesn’t disappoint. I get more banana, more tobacco, more milky coffee and more walnuts. There’s also some old leather, some very dark chocolate and a lovely hint of coconut, which adds an unexpected tropical dimension to it. I think what I really like, though, is how savoury this whisky is – there’s an underlying, salty, brothy, mushroom sort of note too. It’s almost like beef stock, but earthier. A genuine, bona-fide, umami character that’s rare in whisky, but which always pulls me in.

The Dregs

Complex, characterful and old. I rarely break the £100 mark when it comes to buying whisky, but this is a bottle I’d consider shelling out significant money for as a once a year treat – possibly once a decade, depending how expensive it is. It’s the sort of whisky that I’d genuinely relish spending more time with.

Score: 8/10

Review 3/6

Springbank 25yo, 1999 vintage refill hogshead, 42.2% ABV
£595 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

From Decadent Drinks:

Whiskyland Chapter Nineteen comes to you on tip toes and with a shy whisper. A delicate, yet intricate, old Springbank 1999, fully matured for 25 years in a refill hogshead and landed at naturally gentle cask strength of 42.2%. Pure Springbank distillate with all the usual suspects: waxes, minerals, delicate threads of peat smoke, coastal 'things' - only all delivered with elegance, charm and grace.

Score: 9/10

**Exceptional**
***TL;DR***
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.

Nose

As with the Craigellachie, the Springbank jumps out of the glass. It’s immediately characterful and complex and I know, if nothing else, that I’m likely about to taste something completely unique. It’s also very Springbank – soft, and fruity, but also somehow industrial.

I get strawberries, camomile, some crème brûlée, some cloudy lemonade, white wine as well as some ice cream soda. Like I said, it’s also quite industrial – there’s some ashy, almost coal like smoke here – it reminds me of the sort of smoke you used to smell on a cold Autumnal day, when people lit coal fires. There’s also a slightly brothy, mushroom type note going on.

Palate

There’s a softness that I always get with Springbank – a jammy, overripe fruit sort of note – and that’s definitely here. I get lemon juice, a touch of orange, some white grape, some kiwi and maybe even a little strawberry. It’s tropical and vibrant – almost to the point of being thirst quenching – but at the same time, very soft. There’s lemonade here, but not fizzy lemonade – rather freshly squeezed, cloudy lemonade. I think that’s what makes this expression so striking – despite the softness and its age – it’s also, somehow, incredibly effervescent.

On the funkier, savoury end of things, I get some camomile – especially in the finish – and more of that ashy, coal-like smoke that I picked up on the nose. The smoke plays second fiddle to the fruit, though.

The Dregs

I’m going to caveat the following by saying that I’m wary of awarding a very high score based on such a small sample. We all know that you can’t judge a whisky based on a neck pour, and just because you sample and enjoy a malt, it doesn’t mean that you’re going to feel the same way after getting through a full bottle. That said, a sample is all I have to judge this on, and based on that sample, I’d say that it’s excellent. Initially, I gave this an 8. In my head, I wanted to give a 9, but like I said, I’m wary of singing the praises of something that I’ve literally only tasted once.

Fortunately, I saved a bit in the bottom of the sample bottle and the next day, I went back to it and tasted it again. The second taste confirmed what I already knew – this is stunning stuff.

I’ll be honest, after the initial tasting, I couldn’t stop thinking about this whisky.

I literally only had a mouthful to go on the second time round, but it was every bit as complex, engaging, and delicious as I’d originally thought. In fact, there’s really only one thing that could make this whisky any better, and that would be owning a full bottle. There’s no way that will ever happen, so I have to judge it on the sample I’ve tried.

As such, I have to give it a 9. It truly is stunning – tropical, funky, soft, effervescent, complex, vibrant, restrained…it’s all here.

If you like Springbank – and if you can afford a full bottle of this – then don’t let the low ABV put you off; it’s natural cask strength. On that basis, it’s a different animal to a whisky that’s been diluted. Even at 42.2%, it has bags of flavour and lacks nothing in the way of mouthfeel.

It's the sort of whisky that makes me wish I’d chosen a more lucrative career path.

Score: 9/10

Review 4/6

Tobermory 17yo, 2008 vintage refill barrel, 54.9% ABV
£135 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

I tasted these drams over the course of two evenings and this Tobermory was the first dram of the second evening. I’m a huge fan of Ledaig, but have yet to taste any Tobermory, so this is a first for me.

From Decadent Drinks:

Refill wood, west coast air, 17 years of silence. This 2008 Tobermory has done everything the slow way, bottled at 54.9%, with salted lemon, sea herbs, wax polish and just enough funk to keep things interesting. Understated until it isn’t. The kind of malt that unpacks itself sideways: you get fruit, then oil, then brine, then smoke, then regret that you didn’t buy two. If you’ve ever eaten driftwood and called it terroir, this one’s for you.

Score: 6/10

**Good stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*Herbaceous complexity but plays a little younger than its stated 17 years*

Nose

The nose is clean and fresh. I get vanilla, pear and icing sugar. There’s also a touch of strawberry and some strawberry creams.

A pleasant nose – fresh and fruity, but not particularly unique or characterful like some of the drams I tasted yesterday.

Palate

On the palate it’s a touch more herbaceous than the nose would suggest. I get some watercress, some star anise and a hint of orange. It’s a very salty whisky, which gives it a somewhat savoury character. The salt emerges more with time in the glass.

The Dregs

I’m enjoying this, but of all the samples I’ve tried so far, it’s probably the least engaging for me. Whilst there’s some complexity here, there’s little that speaks of 17 years in the cask, to my palate at least. That said, it is based on a small sample, so perhaps if I had a full bottle and spent some time with it that might change. It feels to me a bit like a neck pour – promising, but a little uptight and, perhaps, a little underwhelming. The score is based on the assumption that it’s going to be reasonably priced once it hits the shelves.

Score: 6/10

Review 5/6

Calvados 30yo, 1992/1994 vintage refill barrel, Domaine des Hauts Vents, 51.4% ABV
£199 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

I’ll be the first to admit that I have very little experience when it comes to brandy. Aside from the cheapo, back of your nan’s cupboard stuff that gets wheeled out at Christmas and added to coffee, I’m something of a newbie. A few years ago I decided to dip my toe into the Armagnac waters and bought an independently bottled 15 year old, which I had high hopes for. I can’t remember who it was bottled by, but it wasn’t Decadent Drinks. Anyway, it was so hot, it was practically undrinkable. Since then, I’ve generally steered clear of the stuff.

From Decadent Drinks:

A 30-year-old Calvados assembled from 1992 and 1994 vintages, double pot distilled at Domaine des Hauts Vents and left in French oak until the apples turned philosophical. Bottled at 51.4% natural cask strength, this is all oxidised orchard, leathery tannin, cellar funk, and autumnal mood swings; dry, spicy, and just on the edge of falling apart in the best possible way.

Score: 8/10

**Something special.**
***TL;DR***
*Hoping I can afford this, the flavour is huge*

Nose

The nose suggests that this is going to be a lot better than the paint stripper Armagnac I encountered a few years ago. I know that Calvados can sometimes be made with pears, but I’m going to stick my neck out here and say that I reckon this one’s been made with apples. Because the apple notes are in full effect here.

I get bright red apple, some cider and – with the addition of water – a more artificial apple note, like Applejack sweets or apple chews. With time in the glass, and as I warm it in my hands, the apple notes begin to lean more towards scrumpy – cloudy, homemade scrumpy.

Aside from the apple, there’s a slight gluey note – not unpleasant at all – and a tiny, tiny touch of mint. I also get some elderberry, some white wine and some candy floss. It is, really, all about the apples, though.

Palate

This might speak to my inexperience with this particular spirit, but again, on the palate it takes me a while to get past the apples. That said, there are some other things going on.

There’s demerara sugar, for a start, and also, quite a lot of salt. I also get some more elderberry, and even a little gooseberry. There’s a woody, slightly bitter note which plays nicely against the sweeter aspects, and with the time in the glass, the apple notes become more akin to apple juice.

The finish is huge – and I mean, huge. It seems to go on forever.

The Dregs

I have no real bar to compare this to, as I don’t drink enough brandy to have acquired any sort of frame of reference. However, marking it purely on flavour – and how much I think I’d enjoy a bottle if I bought one – I’d give it an 8. It’s not hugely complex, but it is delicious, and if I can afford it when it’s released, then I’ll probably go for a bottle. It would be nice to have a tasty bottle of Calvados in the collection and this certainly ticks all the boxes when it comes to flavour.

Review 6/6

Kildalton 22yo, refill barrel, 53.6% ABV
£365 and still available direct and from selected retailers at time of writing

I saved this one until last because I figured it would be peated, and I was worried that if I drank something heavily peated, it would taint my palate. From what I’ve been able to gather from briefly Googling it, Kildalton is typically associated with Ardbeg, so I’m assuming that’s what it is. I’ll be completely honest, though – if you gave me this blind and asked me to guess what it was, I wouldn’t have a clue. I’d probably be able to tell you that it was an Islay whisky, but that’s about it.

From Decadent Drinks:

Welcome to the far future of Whiskyland. Please excuse the mess, but the rise and fall of countless civilisations, distilleries and 'brands' has left a fair bit of clutter over the fathomless aeons of time. While you are acclimatising, please pour yourself a hefty measure of this 22 year old 'Kildalton' Islay malt whisky and relax. It was aged for 22 years in a 2nd fill barrel, then finished in sub-space cryo-stasis for Googolplex^(Graham's Number). It was finally bottled at natural cask strength for the enjoyment of all post-consciousness beings in the present era of Whiskyland.

Score: 7/10

**Very good indeed.**
***TL;DR***
*I bet if I had more of this, the score would climb higher*

Nose

The nose is immediately salty and savoury. I get dog kibble, cereal, salt and mushroom broth. It’s really quite intriguing and not something I was expecting.

The smoke is present, but as you might expect with a whisky of this age, it’s dialled down. I also get some Indian ink, some brine and a touch of apple.

A very engaging nose.

Palate

On the palate, I get black tea, as well as that green, leafy herbaceous note, which I often get with peated whiskies. Even at 53.6% it doesn’t need water, but after a couple more sips I add a drop anyway, just to see if it opens up.

It does. With water, I get more of that cereal note that I picked up on the nose, along with some earthy, mushroom, umami notes. There’s also some icing sugar, some apple and a touch of clove.

The Dregs

Very interesting. Something tells me that if I had a full bottle of this, I’d probably end up giving it a higher score as it is very engaging and I suspect that the more time you spend with it, the more it reveals. That said, I’m scoring these based on samples. As it is, it’s a very solid, well-aged peated whisky in which the smoke plays second fiddle to the earthy, umami notes. Very compelling.

Score: 7/10

The Final Dregs

I’ve really enjoyed my time with these whiskies. The highlight for me has been the Springbank, closely followed by the Craigellachie. Both were delicious, complex and utterly unique. This is hardly a surprise, as both of these distilleries are known for making exactly the sorts of whiskies that enthusiasts like myself love to eulogise. But as somebody on a fairly typical budget, who tries to keep up with all the new, exciting expressions that regularly come to market, the chance to try such well-aged drams from such highly regarded producers has been a really great opportunity.

Decadent Drinks have been pretty quick on sampling this set. At the time of writing, these haven’t been released yet so I can’t see the cask details or the retail prices. I’m happy to interact in the comments when they’re released to discuss prices etc.

Whilst I know I’ll never be able to justify buying a bottle of the Springbank, I’ll be keeping an eye on the Decadent Drinks website over the coming weeks to see what the prices are on some of the other expressions in this outrun.

Both the Craigellachie and the Calvados are bottles that I’d be willing to splash out on. That said, all of these were decent and I’ve had fun sampling them.

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

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