Glasgow 1770 8yo Bourbon Cask Lightly Peated
Official Bottling Batch #1 | 54% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good stuff.
TL;DR
Solid, honest, and spirit-forward; a bit like the city it comes from
A Weekend in Scotland
Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved Scotland. In fact, my first ever taste of whisky was in a little two-up-two-down fisherman’s cottage in Applecross that my parents had rented for the week.
The whisky in question was an 8yo Talisker. It was on the side, in the kitchen of the cottage that we’d rented, two upturned tumblers placed next to it. One evening, me and my dad decided to have a dram. My dad isn’t a whisky drinker and I was 11 at the time, so I can’t really comment on whether it was any good or not, but I can still remember being surprised that he let me taste it.
This was in 1991, so no doubt that bottle is worth a fair bit now, and I wish that I could remember it. All I really remember is that it tasted like whisky. Because, let’s be honest, to the uninitiated palate, that’s what whisky tastes like. If you’re able to get past the burn, then you get notes of…whisky.
I still think about that holiday in Scotland. We spent three weeks, travelling up the West Coast and back in my parents’ Landrover, pitching the tent wherever we happened to pull over for the night. I can still remember the feeling of being in the Highlands – the sense of solitude that crept over me as we pitched our tent on the shore of Kinloch Hourn, a veil of grey mist descending from the mountains that hemmed us in on either side. It took us five or six days to reach Applecross, and we stayed in the cottage for a week, before driving back down the West coast, following the same route we’d taken on the way up. Prior to that trip to Scotland, the only holidays we’d ever taken were to my parents’ cottage in Cornwall. Cornwall is rugged, don’t get me wrong, but it’s nothing compared to the Scottish Highlands. It puts you in your place, Scotland does. The scale, and the loneliness of it all reminds you that, ultimately, you’re insignificant. It’s a sobering place.
A couple of years later we made the trip again, only this time the end destination was Skye. I was thirteen by then and I distinctly remember sitting in the back of the car, desperately wanting to be doing anything else than going on holiday with my parents. I spent most of the trip listening to Nirvana’s ‘Bleach’ album on my Sony Walkman, staring out of the window in a fug of abject misery at the idea of having to spend two weeks living in such close proximity to the family. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy Scotland – Skye was incredible – but I was at that age when I just wanted to be with my friends. Still, the holiday stayed with me. I can still remember the Cuillins, black and monolithic in the distance, as we pitched our tent in a windswept field and tried desperately to get the paraffin stove lit so that we could make a cup of tea. Again, Scotland has a way of reminding you of your own insignificance. As do swarms of midgies. And believe me, we suffered that holiday. I remember waking up one morning next to Loch Awe, to see the mosquito net over the door of the tent shimmering with thousands of wriggling little black dots, desperately trying to find a way in. Venturing out of the tent to brush your teeth was to risk being eaten alive.
Over the last couple of decades I’ve visited Scotland several times, both before and since I became enamoured with whisky. Until a couple of weeks ago, though, I’d never been to Glasgow.
Actually, that’s not strictly true – I’d travelled through Glasgow before, but I’d never stopped to explore the place. My only memory of Glasgow from those early trips to Scotland is an image of high-rise buildings from the car window as we travelled along a motorway. Memories are unreliable, of course, but I can just remember rows of tower blocks, the colour of damp sand, set against a pewter-grey sky. It looked brutal, and industrial and cold; the antithesis of everything else I saw in Scotland that holiday. I also remember being oddly intrigued by it.
Travelling to Glasgow for the Glasgow Whisky Festival a couple of weeks ago, I found myself curious as to whether my memory of Glasgow bore any relation to reality. Glasgow is a place with a tough reputation, but being, as I am, from Birmingham, I’m also well aware that the perception of a city doesn’t always match the reality. My initial impression, getting off the train at 9pm on the Friday night, was that it was a lot like any other UK city. It felt chaotic, and noisy and…well, drunk.
I was travelling with a friend, and despite being tired, we decided to have a wander and grab a beer before heading for the Airbnb that we’d booked. After all, we were due to travel back early on the Sunday, so we wanted to take the opportunity to do as much exploring as we could in the fleeting time that we had there.
We ended up in the Shilling Brew Co., a craft beer pub-come-brewery in the city centre. I’ve already written on Dramface about how I’m a sucker for those hazy, fruit-forward IPAs, and I have to say that the Shilling place didn’t disappoint. Having done some Googling, it doesn’t seem that their beers are available to buy online, which is a shame because the beer was great. After a couple of pints, we decided to call it a night and headed to the Airbnb we’d rented; a two-bed flat in a Victorian tenement in Gallowgate; an area that reminded me a lot of Digbeth in Birmingham – industrial, slightly arty, and edgy enough at 11:30 at night to make you mildly concerned for your wallet, but certainly not for your life.
I’m not going to review the Glasgow Whisky Festival here because Dougie’s already done a stellar job of it, but what I will say is that it was everything that I’d hoped it would be. It was fantastic to meet so many Barflies and fellow Dramface writers, even though many of the encounters I had were little more than introductions and fleeting handshakes. I didn’t get to say hello to everybody that I’d have liked to, but the nature of the event meant that it was impossible to connect with everyone. Still, it was fantastic to finally meet Wally and some of the team. Everybody there – from the Barflies I sat next to at dinner, to the people manning the stands at the festival – seemed friendly and welcoming. Even the security on the door of the festival were friendly, and believe me, that’s saying something. In Birmingham, ‘friendly security’ is an oxymoron.
The whisky I’m reviewing here is one that I picked up from the festival; specifically, an 8yo Bourbon Cask Matured expression from the Glasgow Distillery. This was one of two bottles that I bought, the other being a 20yo Auchentoshan from Whisky Craft. I also tried a very good Glen Garioch 13yo bourbon matured expression, which had sold out by the time I went to buy it, but which I’ve since managed to track down online. The Glasgow 8yo was the most affordable of the three bottles. At £57 – and with a voucher for a tenner off which came with the price of the festival ticket – it felt like a no brainer.
Review
Glasgow 1770 8yo, Bourbon Cask, Lightly Peated, Official bottling, batch #1, 54% ABV
£57 and still widely available
Of course, enjoying a whisky at a festival, when you’re already eight or nine drams in, isn’t really saying much. When I got home on Sunday, I was tempted to open the Glasgow 8yo and taste it in the comfort of my living room, but I decided to give my liver a rest and instead cracked it open the following weekend. If anything, it tasted even better than it did when I tried it at the Glasgow stand, and as soon as it passed my lips, I knew I’d made a solid buy. Then again, Glasgow is quickly becoming one of my favourite distilleries. With their focus on transparency and natural presentation, they’re a distillery whose expressions I’ll happily take a punt on nowadays, such is the calibre of the other releases I’ve tried from them.
As with all of Glasgow’s releases, the info on the bottle doesn’t disappoint. As well as an age statement, the label also tells us that the whisky in the bottle was matured in 6 first fill ex-bourbon barrels, 50% of which were peated and 50% of which were unpeated. After 8 years’ maturation, the whole lot was vatted together. Altogether, there are 1400 bottles, so not a huge outturn, but enough that this should be available for a while. The casks were filled in 2017, with the whisky being bottled on 1st of October 2025.
Score: 6/10
Good stuff.
TL;DR
Solid, honest, and spirit-forward; a bit like the city it comes from
Nose
The nose isn’t hugely expressive. There’s a little industrial smoke, but it’s fairly subtle, along with some vanilla, some icing sugar and some Victoria sponge. I also get some fruit – specifically white grape and a little barbequed pineapple. I’ve never tasted pineapple off a barbeque, but as soon as I smelt this whisky, that was what came to mind. I guess it’s a combination of smoke and tropical fruit that made me conflate the two. Either way, it’s a good nose, albeit a fairly subtle one.
Palate
The palate is a lot more expressive. The pineapple is there, as is the white grape, along with some cloudy lemonade – something which gives this whisky a lovely, effervescent quality. There’s a little waxiness as well, which is nice, along with some salt and some bitter tannins in the finish. What I like about it is how restrained the smoke is. There’s just enough smoke to add some depth, and a layer of complexity to the whisky, without it ever stealing the show. I’d venture to say that if you were a big peat-head who’s used to very phenolic Islay whisky, you might not even notice the smoke. For me, it’s about the right level of peat smoke. It doesn’t blanket or stifle any of the other notes, which is good.
The Dregs
The Glaswegians who are reading this might not thank me for saying it, but one of the things that struck me, whilst I was in the city, was how similar it is to Birmingham, my own city. Glasgow is smaller – and the people don’t have a dopey accent – but there are definitely some parallels. Perhaps not as salubrious as their glamorous cousins, both cities tend to get overlooked, somewhat. They’re industrial, and a bit rough around the edges, but there’s a certain down-to-earth warmth that you don’t get in cities like London. If I had to sum it up in a sentence, I’d say that Glasgow, like Birmingham, lacks pretentiousness. I won’t pretend to know the place, after spending 48 hours there, but I felt a sense of being at home.
This Glasgow 8yo – and all of the whisky that I’ve tried from the Glasgow distillery for that matter – feels fitting. Glasgow is a distillery that also lacks pretentiousness; a distillery that’s sited on an industrial estate, and which is focused on making well presented, accessible expressions at fair prices, minus the hype, fanfare, or premiumisation that so many other distilleries choose to indulge in. As it says on their website, they create whisky with a ‘no-nonsense, honest, and down-to-earth attitude.’ Whilst I haven’t always been blown away by their expressions, I’ve never tried one that’s been anything less than solid, and I’ve never felt that they’re asking too much price wise.
This 8yo is no exception. It’s honest, straight-to-the-point and full of spirit, much like the city it hails from. For the price, I’d definitely recommend it.
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. FMc
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