Limited Edition Official Bottling | 57.3% ABV

Score: 8/10

**Something special.**
***TL;DR***
*Waxy, oily, lemony purity. More privilege not to be missed*

Sunshine on Leith

It really was. Crisp, springtime sunshine seemed to flood the streets and lanes as it cast its warming tones across the blonde sandstone buildings of Leith.

Bright blue skies, for a day or two, defied the onslaught of chilly winds and puffy clouds. Right on cue for the 2026 Independent Spirits Festival. Perfect.

Now in its second year, the festival still dovetails closely with the team behind the previous Water of Life films, and they chose the event to once more premier another whisky-themed production. This time around it was the first instalment of the latest in their docuseries arsenal; Field to Flavour.

As the name suggests, we find them highlighting farm-to-bottle and single estate producers, with the first episode screened on the day and focusing mostly, though not exclusively, on Daftmill. While the film itself whets the appetite for what’s to follow in the series, the real star was the after-show performance from Daftmill’s Francis Cuthbert.

In the post-show Q&A the normally crowd-shy farmer-cum-distiller lit the crowd up with delighted giggles at literally everything he uttered. With his infamous, dead-pan matter-of-factness, he answered everything as if stifling incredulity. But he was having fun with the adoring audience as he settled into a to-and-fro, deftly holding everyone’s attention. I found myself wanting more. Whisky topics or otherwise, I’d have stayed and listened.

Joe from Spirit of Yorkshire shared the stage and you had to admire his best efforts giving way to polite pragmatism as he realised he was never going to compete with one of whisky’s most enigmatic accidental showmen. Fair play though.

As an example, upon being asked what pairs well with whisky, the retort from Francis was - not without a fair lick of incredulity “pickled onion Monster Munch!”. You can bet on puzzlement in the wee convenience shops around Leith that afternoon as they witnessed a run on their stocks of the oddball corn snack. Everything Francis said was a hoot. Listening along was a joy.

After the Q&A session the crowds were ushered out to catch some pre-festival fresh air and sunshine as they filled their stomachs (hopefully with something more substantial than Monster Munch) before the afternoon festival doors opened at 4pm. Meanwhile, the theatre hall was repurposed from rows of screen-facing seating to exhibitor tables as the festival stretched its remit this year to include independent distillers as well as bottlers. We now see why they named it ‘Independent Spirits’. Smart move.

Now, if I wander into the streets of critique at this point I need to be absolutely clear, it comes from a position of love and a genuine desire to help curate what I think could quickly become the best event in the UK’s whisky calendar. That’s if it hasn’t reached that lofty height already.

Seriously, everything I care about in whisky is on display here, and I’d love for them to perfect the formula for many years to come. Make no mistake in reading the words that follow, this festival was one for the ages. A belter. It takes a lot of will, from the right people, to pull something like this off.

David Stirk is the main engine behind everything, drawing together teams of people to make everything happen on the day. Heroes such as John, Jo and the team from Indy Love Newcastle and their magical army of helpers making everyone feel welcome and organised alongside the ever-vigilant team of Douglas and Josephine from Leith Theatre itself. A wonderful effort.

But honestly, it’s the calibre of invested exhibitors that makes this thing so appealing on paper and it’s hard to imagine someone better placed than Stirk to pull this off. It’s a masterclass in collaborative vision. This year they welcomed fifty-seven tables hosting more than seventy different whisky brands over two halls.

Yet, in many ways, it’s too much.

Already, only in its second year, we see potential challenges appearing. To understand what I mean, a quick glance at the list of exhibitors on the webpage already starts to offer up anxiety - how to hit everything we’re interested in over the short, four-hour timespan?

Well, quite simply. We cannot.

And before you say it’s all a question of planning I’d argue it’s the opposite. Because this is not a festival of known quantities to be meticulously plotted - although good luck to you should you try. Rather, it’s a smorgasbord of serendipitous marvels encouraging you to abandon all that you planned and open yourself up to all the wild surprises you will inevitably be led by.

Would you like some examples? Well, it’s well documented that Russel from Gordon & Macphail doubled down on last year’s rinsing of a 1949 Glen Grant - in a single mass boss-action pour-to-all mind you - with some even older 1948 Glen Grant this time around. And there were rumours of some even older than that, although this goggle-eyed whisky wibbler missed out. No matter, I was busy being served gems at the Thompson Brothers table; a 1973 Ben Nevis was immediately eclipsed by a belter of a 1996 vintage from the same distillery. Astonishing whisky. I can still taste it.

Then we stumble upon the Old & Rare sparklers on Hunter Laing’s table; a ghostly 33yo Pittyvaich, a 28yo Tomatin and a Springbank clocking a venerable 32 years too. This wondrous theme continues throughout the show with table after table giddily sharing of the proverbial family jewels in an outpouring of sheer joyous celebration.

At one point I overhear Andrew Symington - yes that Andrew Symington - declaring he is ‘struggling to give away’ his 30 year old cask strength Benrinnes and Clynelish as he held it high. Upon the realisation it wasn’t rude to just ask for some - droves of glasses were quickly drained and proffered into the air in the hope of enjoying a pour directly from the scene’s very own Godfather himself. How might he follow that up? Well, he managed - with fifty year old Bunnahabhain. Incredible. I really hope folk were mindful enough to make a donation to the Air Ambulance rep on his table as a show of thanks. If not, there’s still time.

I could go on because, quite frankly, it was all verging on an embarrassment of riches. Table after table of unicorns learning their final fate, after decades of waiting, as they were sloshed into the glasses of eager and grateful whisky geeks who, down to a face, need not be told just how special these gestures were or, more importantly, what an independent bottler was.

If this is the festival where the top-of-the-table pours match under-the-table pours elsewhere, and the under-the-table pours are the bottles you’ve never even seen in real life before - where do they go from there? How do they improve? How do they even maintain this?

There are always opportunities for things to be better and of course I have ideas, but I share them only in the spirit of hoping we can ringfence the 19th to 21st of March 2027 to raise the bar towards another session of whisky perfection once more.

Firstly though, we need more time.

Festivals are always daunting and there’s always too much choice. But the punters at this gig were seasoned botherers who knew how to navigate their way around and how to pace themselves without panic, making friends of spittoons and water towers along the way, and even they struggled. In theory, it could stretch by an hour without too many casualties, I’m certain.

However, it’s my personal belief that a two-day event could be the ideal solution. I know exhibitors might baulk at such an idea, as it forces them to consider logistics and accommodation, but two sessions on the same day doesn’t help the issues I felt. Indeed, it brings other problems.

Allowing folks to attend two sessions will inevitably be problematic and encourage overconsumption, because administering this to avoid double attendance is difficult and introduces potential flash points. And, in the end, it still hasn’t solved the problem of too much choice to squeeze into a four-hour timespan.

An entire weekend in Leith is appealing, spreading it over, say, the Friday and Saturday, or Saturday and Sunday. A two-day, paced event with integration and outreach to local whisky bars, restaurants, hotels and even distilleries to encourage them to make visitors feel ensconced and welcome whilst in Leith. Just a thought. It’s a nice place these days.

Then we have the issue of too much choice.

After all the crazy, the rare, the pursuit of whiskies-older-than-us, we can all too easily miss so much table-top gold; gems waiting right in front of our eyes. Don’t get me wrong; this is not a symptom of entitlement, not at all - it’s on offer and it’s difficult to say no to the things mere mortals can’t typically afford, so no judgment intended at all - I was all over it myself. But what about that which we can afford?

Is this being overlooked?

A few of the most interesting whiskies I tried on the day I can simply buy and take home. Whisky Find’s Bowmore 20yo (at a reading-the-room, fan-friendly price of £150) was delicious, Signatory’s Clynelish 10yo from their 100º Proof Series (a light and bright palate-cleansing blast of purity at £50) and Single Cask Nation’s Balmenach (and I’ll bet I only sampled half of its layers in those short sips) were all brilliant and affordable. How can the organisers get eyes on what’s on offer on the table-top while reminding everyone that the unicorns are stashed under-the-table because they’re special?

Well, and I apologise if I’m speaking for you all, but we could simply pay for them.

How about the Air Ambulance has its own table in the reception hall, selling tokens for the premium pours? How about Leith Theatre itself does the same? The building is beautiful - and perfect for the event - but it’s in need of funds and TLC. I don’t think anyone could complain and it would be a perfect way to attenuate the fervour for the unicorn pours while encouraging the keen exhibitors to bring them along. A fiver a pour? For unobtanium? For charity? Wouldn’t everyone win?

Then there’s the issue of capacity.

Until the last moment there was a waiting list. Not everyone got a ticket. This was despite the ticket sales for this being a slow burn, with tickets still available weeks after going on sale. That will not be the case next year. The word is out. This was not a one-off. This is now a must visit on the annual whisky pilgrim calendar.

Once more, a two-day option adds extra capacity while still offering additional access with fresh palates for those who need a little more browse time, a little more networking, a little more whisky happiness. It might be possible to choke back the capacity by fifty or so per session too, but honestly it was perfectly fine running at the body count we witnessed last Saturday.

Regardless, what’s been demonstrated here is that the stuffy side of whisky exists elsewhere, this is the independent side of whisky and it’s as vibrant to my eyes today as it’s ever been. Perhaps even more so. It exists in a warm glow of people enjoying themselves responsibly with mindful appreciation. If you need a glimpse of what was happening, there are some great official photos by whisky photographer Gordon Burniston on the Independent Spirits Festival website as well as others sharing on the festival’s Facebook group.

This side of whisky enjoyment is firmly embedded in capturing the spirit of our community; those who care, those who know and - interestingly - those who are still spending money on the stuff.

In whatever shape it appears next year - bring it on once more.

If you attended the Independent Spirits Festival this year and are interested in sharing feedback - they’d love to hear from you. This form should only take a moment to fill in and will direct the shape of the ISF in 2027.

Review

Wire Works Heritage Chevallier, White Peak Distillery, 100% ex-bourbon barrels, chevallier barley, 57.3% ABV
£79 paid (twice) and still some availability

There were some ‘independents’ notable by their absence, such as Douglas Laing, but I sense it’s a difficult juggle to fit everyone in, especially when there’s such diversity on offer. We hope DL get the memo next year.

To illustrate the variety, I’ve chosen one of my stand out whiskies of recent times. And no, it’s not Scotch whisky.

But it was there - alongside its stablemates on the White Peak stand - there’s nothing explicitly mentioned about this festival that states it’s only about Scotch. The fact that this is English is a frustration to this proud Scot, but it’s also incidental. What we have here is just bloody lovely modern whisky.

Modern - how? Well, it’s made for flavour’s sake. Not only is the yield of alcohol per tonne already low, reviving this ancient Chevallier barley means that there’s less yield of tonnage per acre. A double whammy. The only reason to pursue this Victorian varietal is for flavour sake. Oh, and very possibly texture. We must dwell on the texture.

Nose

Waxy lemon rind, chamomile tea leaves, lovely perfume - almost like lemon citrus hand soap, in a good way. White lilies, Ovaltine, creamy porridge, lemon custard, ginger ale. With time there’s more wax with vanilla and citrus pot pourri.

With a dot of water the lemon pops and brings on some white sugar syrup; we have limoncello!

Palate

Ethereal, silky and oily. Yes, waxy too. Goodness, it says 57.3% ABV but it hides it well. Since this bottle’s arrival I’m smashing it at an alarming rate; only when I sit to take notes do I realise why. It’s all about purity and poise.

Hunting for fruits I can find green apples but it’s hard to taste past the beautiful bright lemons; it’s slightly reminiscent of some good, well-handled Teaninichs. There are some quiet spices; soft ginger and light pepper with heaps of florality woven in, verging on a lemony rose water, with a little sweet vanilla.

Adding a splash livens things further, a splash more and it sweetens, but on the second glass I’m back into the texture hit, leaving it completely neat.

The finish is super tight and drying, suggesting there might be a third pour.

The Dregs

This is unpeated White Peak malt, which is interesting to see, and to my knowledge a first? It also is a little ambiguous to see the cask type listed as simply ’oak’, but a little digging uncovers that it’s purely ex-bourbon barrels, as pure as it gets.

However, we do have at least one elephant in the room. This cost £79. There’s not even a hint at the age on the bottle, despite loose chatter it’s a five year old. So, not cheap then.

However, I refer you back to the yield issue. This alone makes it difficult to ever make these heritage grain liquids much cheaper. It is also genuinely rare, with this outturn serving up just 999 bottles. We can also compare it to a multitude of other experimental releases from Springbank, Bruichladdich and many more to see that actually, it’s not so expensive for such an ancient grain privilege. Even Ardnamurchan’s (relatively much more modern) Heritage release of Golden Promise was £65-£75 although a far larger outturn of bottles.

To return to my point of not seeing the wood for the trees and on focusing on the brilliantly fading past - only to miss the brilliantly lit future, which is actually already appearing here in the present. This - much like I mentioned in my review of the Ardnamurchan Heritage Release - reminds us of the privileges of today.

It is truly amazing to have a festival with all the old gems and antiques finally breathing as their corks are popped, but don’t skip what lies ahead, don’t miss what’s on the table top horizon, right in front of our eyes. Because one day maybe these will be the unicorns of the past and we’ll be able to say we were there to witness them standing strong against all that came before.

And as far as Leith is concerned, I know the organisers read us, so pour your feedback into the comments below - or let us know if we’ll see you there in 2027. It’s worth your time.

I’ll pre-book the sunshine.

Score: 8/10

Images of Leith Theatre and the ISF courtesy of Gordon Burniston.

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

Dramface is free.
Its fierce independence and community-focused content is funded by that same community. We don’t do ads, sponsorships or paid-for content. If you like what we do you can support us by becoming a Dramface member for the price of a magazine.
However, if you’ve found a particular article valuable, you also have the option to make a direct donation to the writer, here: buy me a dram - you’d make their day. Thank you.
For more on Dramface and our funding read our about page here.