Longrow 100° Proof
Peated, Pinot Noir Finish | 57.1% ABV
Score: 6/10
Good Stuff.
TL;DR
It’s a decent Campbeltown whisky, but I’m not sure it’s doing enough, for me.
The Wandering Belgian
Astonishing. Remarkable. Awe-inspiring. Of such vivid luminescence that, despite it being almost midday, it made my eyes feel like they were burning from the brightness radiating beneath the undulating tide.
We’d ventured down to Broadford to see if we could find a walk much lauded by locals, and as we rounded the bend past Dunan the sea was of such vivid aquamarine that we couldn’t quite believe our eyes.
As you’ve probably guessed, I take photos like I breathe. It’s my biggest passion, alongside Mr. Universe, and in another life I’m sure I would’ve been a professional photographer, although I’m also glad I didn’t. Something about making, and relying on, money from a hobby that turns into a profession has a habit of killing the thrill of it, more often than not. I love photography and the art of taking photographs 25 years on.
Looking out at the view over the water to Scalpay, I knew that any photo I could take, even if I uploaded them direct from camera, would look manipulated. Doctored. Fiddled with to emphasise colours, or even change the tone of certain areas. The sea around Scotland, as deep as it is here, simply isn’t this colour.
Desperate to get home to download them to the computer, we first headed back to Broadford to charge the car up and get an ice cream. The chat around Broadford was minimal, and over the weekend, even though the sun was blazing and the ground was baking, the island felt quiet.
Sure enough, looking at the pictures on the big screen, I still couldn’t get over the colour of the sea. It always reminds me of the Big Yin talking about the sea around Scotland, and he’s right - it’s still incredibly cold in the water - something I felt keenly last week when the waves picked up and I almost capsized at Kayak Club, spending the rest of the paddle crapping my pants.
It turns out that there was an algae bloom around the entire eastern Inner Sound of Raasay and across to Applecross, that made the water a vivid aquamarine, and satellite images show the full extent. Astonishing indeed.
Anyway, we wandered, and we saw beautiful things. We try to wander often but the tourist season has kicked off properly now and it becomes challenging to travel around the island, both from a time and a safety perspective. Cars are forcibly interfacing left, right and centre, through random wild manoeuvres or braking sharply to grab the drive-by instahoot gold.
Walkers are having their own issues, with the mountain rescue being called out every day to tend to wayward hikers, losing their grip from hand-holds up the Cuillins or going over on their flip-flopped ankles at The Quiraing. It’s become such a common injury that the Mountain Rescue Team calls it a Quirankle.
We live under the direct route between Stornoway Coastguard and the Cuillins, so enjoy the thumping buzz of the red and white Sikorsky S-92 Search & Rescue Helicopter, as it makes its lowly way overhead to the scene. I love looking at them through the billy becks, and I feel comforted knowing that, even if I fall 100ft from a cliff face and survive, that within a few moments someone will be descending from a wire to pluck me off the ground.
A few weeks ago I felt differently, because my wonderful Belgian friend Sabrina had returned to the island and was walking the paths of southern Skye, from Broadford down to Torrin, onwards to Elgol and back over the mountains to Broadford once more. Each time I saw that helicopter I held my breath.
Luckily she’s a strong, courageous and sensible lady, and was never in danger as she walked and camped here, there and everywhere. The weather - bright sunny days leading up to the week of her visit, had dampened to overcast and rainy days. Then, just as we waved goodbye and she set off on her return journey to Belgium, the sun appeared again and never left, casting its warming glow for five weeks straight.
She curses me, and I accept gratefully. We had a lovely lunch and caught up properly, with Mrs Crystal tagging along because word had escaped of there being sandwiches and coffee, and it would be impolite to not step up in service to venison salami, cheddar and apple chutter ciabattas.
During lunch Sabrina posed me a game. I had to guess a bottle she had lugged in the Fridge backpack, from Brussels to London, London to Glasgow and Glasgow to Skye. It was a whisky. It was from a distillery I visited every year. It was red. It was rare.
It’s embarrassing to say that, despite offering up four or five answers, the bottle in question never entered my mind. Even when Sabrina offered up clues like “it’s from Campbeltown”, I still couldn’t find the answer. I suppose in my defence I don’t really think about the distillery this bottle came from much at all; I lost my desire to chase Springbank long ago. But this isn’t Springbank.
I’ve bought whisky from this distillery and rated it highly. I’ve spent hours wandering the hallowed walls where it’s produced, and I’ve looked at it in the shop; but when Sabrina presented the bottle of Longrow 100º Proof, I was surprised both that she had found it in Brussels, but also that I didn’t have the ability to identify it from those very simple clues.
Review
Longrow 100º Proof, Batch 1 - 6 years old: Bourbon for 4 years, Pinot Noir for 2 years | 57.1% ABV
£65 - sold out and challenging to find unless overpaying at auctions.
I can’t remember the last time I thought “Longrow”, if I ever have. It’s not a place I have much experience with, nor a place where I find my heart glows at the very mention of it. I’ve tried a handful of Longrows in my short time, and they’ve been ok. The hand-fill was excellent, but afterwards didn’t make me want to explore it further.
Anyway, Sabrina had seen this in a whisky shop in Brussels, alongside a Springbank Local Barley and decided that she’d buy both - the LB for the Belgian whisky club to split, and the other to bring to her aging pal on the Misty Isle. She’s an extremely generous lady.
Alongside the bottle of Longrow , she also gave me a sample set with a Menno-style quiz for me to play. Given my ineptitude with identifying Longrow Red from the clues “Campbeltown” and “Red”, I don’t hold out much hope for success. To be discovered.
So, to this whisky then; the one that hangs around on shelves when Springbank barely touches the wood before it’s scanned and bagged. Red in this context means red wine casks, in particular Pinot Noir of which this whisky has rested for two years in refill Pinot Noir, after a bout of four years maturation in refill bourbon, making this a 6yo whisky.
Not being an ardent Springbanker/Longrower/Hazelburner, I didn’t know that Longrow recently discontinued their existing “Red” range of whiskies which, going by the chatter online, seemed to split the whisky contingent as to whether they were any good or not. This is held by those excited by Longrow as the “replacement” batch for the Red series.
Alongside a huge collective review of the Longrow Peated, oor Nick reviewed the Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon finished 13yo Longrow and found it very good indeed. Tyree has reviewed a few of the Longrow stable, including their 18yo and 21yo releases, finding them ranging from Good Stuff to Something Special, the latter a single cask for Australia, priced at AUD$600, or around £290.
Does Longrow get overshadowed by its more lucrative brother in Springbank? Am I the one to listen to on Longrow, Springbank or indeed anything about whisky at all? Definitely not. On we go regardless, to this youthful little number.
Score: 6/10
Good Stuff.
TL;DR
It’s a decent Campbeltown whisky, but I’m not sure it’s doing enough, for me.
Nose
Brick paints. Strawberry laces. Sea salt. Earthy smoke. Farm. Cherry tart. Lattice pastry. Very tart. Mango/banana chewits. Sour raisin fudge. Over ripe/decaying fruit (vinegar). Icing Sugar.
Water: more woody, cedar not oak. Plastic tubs. Soil, grassy. New car smell.
Palate
Sweet, heat ramps, big spice. Wee bit acidic. Brick paints, souring. Damp coal. Sour cream/chilli. Toffee, salted. New car, plastic, fabric glue. Sweet smoke, earthy. Definitely exhibiting the funk we expect in C’Town whiskies.
Water: pencils elbow their way in.
The Dregs
I have a confession to make, and it’ll firmly entrench those who think me a hapless simpleton who can’t see the woods for Ardnamurchan. If I’m keen for a whisky that will have me pondering, I don’t gravitate to Springbank, Longrow or Hazelburn. I don’t gravitate to Kilkerran, either and I chase none of them, and haven’t chased them since 2021. I don’t know why, and I don’t know what it is about these whiskies that makes me indifferent.
Thinking about it, I suppose that my enjoyment of whisky, now that I’m several years into it, is in the pursuit of the niche - the whisky that makes me involuntarily shout “wow!”. If I’m being honest, those moments are becoming less and less frequent, but that perhaps is a symptom of having tried a fair bit of whisky now, and those first experiences, of distilleries or of expressions, are less frequent; a symptom too of having less disposable income right now to spend on a plethora of new whisky and discover those hidden gems.
My interest in whisky is also now leaning more towards the pursuit of exploring, in the widest and most full capacity that I can reasonably achieve, one particular distillery that aligns with what I love about whisky, the liquid, as well as whisky the experience. I’ll explore that hot potato in a review coming soon, but for now I wanted to state why I find this Longrow 100º Proof to be a good, but not overly exciting whisky.
It pains me to say it because Sabrina lugged this heavy bottle all the way from Brussels as a surprise, and nothing can be regarded as impoliteness more than publicly stating that someone's very kind and generous gift was decent, if a bit underwhelming. But I know Sabrina enough to know that whisky is personal and she will be glad that I got to try this whisky that she knew I wouldn’t have otherwise experienced.
Overall this is a good Campbeltown whisky. I don’t have enough knowledge of Longrow to know what the Pinot Noir casks have done to it, but it’s an enjoyable, tasty whisky. I do know that many opinions I trust and respect posit that nothing good can come of wine casked whisky. I’m not there myself, but it’s something I think about.
Maybe I am just one of those strange-o folk who don’t resonate with everyone else’s thoughts when it comes to what amazing whisky is, and why.
Anyway, I would be happy to sip this when I’m in the mood for some Campbeltown funk, as I would Springbank 10 or Glen Scotia 15, but I’m not sure I’d ever seek it outside of that specific frame of mind. It’s not a session dram, it’s not a whisky to cherish as rare golden joy, and it’s not something I’d chase to replace.
Such is life.
Thank you, as always Sabrina, and I’m sorry I’m a strange-o.
Score: 6/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. DC
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