Westward Single Malt
American Single Malt | 45% ABV
Score: 4/10
Dissappointing.
TL;DR
Expectations not quite met
Frustrated and regained expectations
There are few things that I learned in law school that I apply to everyday life. Shocking, I know.
No doubt there are countless lawyers and law professors, devoted to the law, that are utterly astonished by my seemingly derogatory comment. At the risk of adding insult to injury to those in my profession, no one should confuse law school with a place where life lessons are taught.
One of those aforementioned few items that I apply in everyday life came from my Contracts class. It was the first year of law school. The lesson wasn’t some oft-cited legal maxim that was taught to be regurgitated in a courtroom to underscore some stellar argument.Nor was it found in any of the reams of cases I dissected during my year of Contracts. No. It was something that my professor relayed one day as he was going off script. Professor Warner’s class was interesting, unlike the usual first year classes of rote monotony. Indeed, a very active and lucrative black market existed where second and third year students would sell to the first year students, as study aids, their notes from their own first year classes. No variance year after year. Professor Warner, conversely, would not shy away from wandering off script to give some anecdotes or pearls of wisdom. This is why I appreciated him and his classes.
One bleary-eyed morning, we anxious and green students were discussing some aspect of case law that had been the reading assignment for that day’s lecture. This was thirty years ago…so, no, I don’t have any recollection as to what the case was, nor the particular legal principle we were debating, nor indeed the reason we went off subject on that day. However, I have not forgotten what Professor Warner said on that occasion about navigating our way through life. He told us that there is one aspect that is interwoven in all of human interaction: expectations.
Everything that humans do in their interactions with others and the world at large is based upon expectations. While there are many layers to this onion, let me paint with a very broad brush: if expectations are set and met, then things go smoothly. Conversely, if no expectations are set, we have trepidation, going forward blindly. In the middle of that continuum, if expectations (whether presumed or explicitly stated) are set and frustrated, then problems ensue. Sometimes these are easily remedied and no fuss is generated. But some frustrated expectations are larger and may, unfortunately, end in unfriendly barristers in gray suits spouting legal maxims learned from law professors just like Professor Warner.
Discussions with employees, discussions with the person taking my order at the burger place…all are based on, or seek to fix, expectations. Of course, as parents, we have gray hair, and not necessarily due to our age; instead, it’s due to the myriad times discussions with our children have resulted in our expectations about behavior being frustrated. What do you mean, you shaved the cat? And why did you think it a good idea to set off fireworks next to the police station?
And so, as with everything else in life, expectations are woven through our whisky journeys. How often have you been given a dram, and the person pouring says something like, “This is a pretty good whisky, but not my favorite”. Or, maybe something like, “Got this from a friend, and I guess it’s O.K.” When you take a sip, your frame of mind is very different to what it would have been if the same pourer had said, “This is one of my most favorite bottles,” or “I know you will really like this one.” Same liquid. Same pourer. But very different expectations. If the drink were terrible despite the latter set of comments, there would be some level of frustration due to spoiled expectations. Granted, this scenario shouldn’t lead to barristers in gray suits (though if you invite me over to share a bottle I can certainly put on one of my gray suits if you like), but I have seen some people at bars and elsewhere get more than a bit animated when lofty expectations of a sample were not met. What do you do with frustrated whisky expectations?
With that introduction, we turn to the bottle at hand. As I have said previously, I have curiosity about tracking down American single malts. They are a relatively recent development, and I am keen to sample expressions from these relatively new American distilleries. The last few American single malts I have sampled were tasted without any preconceived notions – I went in blindly and had no expectations of either the expression or the distillery. I hadn’t read any reviews or received any opinions before giving the bottles a try. But now, in my hand, I have a bottle of Westward’s American Single Malt.
“Expectations are like fine pottery. The harder you hold them, the more likely they are to crack.”
Westward Distillery of Portland, Oregon is one of the original, leading American distillers of single malt. It was founded in 2004 and proudly claims to have been, at that time, one of only three dozen craft distilleries in the United States. Now, eighteen years later, the Westward website states that it is one of approximately 2,200. Westward is also one of the founding members of the American Single Malt Whiskey Commission (ASMWC), an organization leading the charge for formal government regulations for the official category of American Single Malt. As a founding member of the ASMWC, Westward’s reputation among American whiskey enthusiasts is strong.
Perusing a liquor store recently here in Connecticut, on the opposite side of the country from Portland, I spied a bottle of Westward’s American Single Malt. The reputation of Westward convinced me not to look any further. Once at home, with expectations set – and, frankly, particularly elevated – I uncorked the bottle.
Review
Westward Single Malt, official bottling, 45% ABV
$69.95, limited availability
First Attempt - Uncorked Bottle
Nose
When the cork popped from the bottle, a somewhat unpleasant aroma was apparent. I raised the glass to my nose. What met my nostrils actually stunned me; I recoiled from the whiff. Dank and mouldy basement mixed with the childhood memory of Play-Doh. Artificial cherry flavour from a stale hard candy. A mouldy and mildewy cabin.
Palate
Acrid, chemical taste. Some flavour of jarred Maraschino cherry liquid combined with a lactic spoliation akin to Greek yogurt that has passed its expiration date. Rather unpleasant.
I was taken aback by the less-than-positive experience with this bottle. Was this due to the expectations that I had set for this bottle based on reputation? Could it be chalked up to it being a newly opened bottle with an underwhelming neck pour? I wasn’t sure what the reasons were, but due to my expectations of Westward, I wanted to give it another chance, let the bottle open up a bit, and also let my senses recover and recalibrate. I returned to the bottle two days later for a second round with nose and palate, making sure to allow time to let the liquid open up.
Second Attempt - Two Days Later
Nose
Grassy hit of barley. Still that scent of Play-Doh, but — what relief — now also some discernible hints of fruit (peaches? nectarines?). Fruit, but a chemical version. A lingering sense of dampness. There is some musty and leathery aroma as well as some waft of Maraschino cherry liquid. Strange and still not wholly welcoming, but certainly an improvement from a few days ago.
Palate
A curious malt flavour. Not mellowed. Earthy. A sharp note, like an aged cheddar. Also a bit sweet – but not sugary like pastries and confections. Rather, more of a fruit that isn’t completely ripe. I also have the sense of taking a walk in an old forest. The Play-Doh has morphed into Silly Putty and is not backing down, though there is a nice mouthfeel for a 45% ABV expression. The mid-palate has some of those background, yet-to-be-identified fruits. The liquid is edgy and feels a bit young. Not biting, but not mellow. As the mid-palate ebbs to the finish, a very strange lemon-lime soda flavour emerges with some effervescence. The taste fades with hints of lime on the tongue. Lime and pine flavours. Interesting; not something that I ever expected in a dram. Taking a second and third sip, the lemon-lime soda is not as apparent, but what becomes more prominent is an overlay – slight but noticeable – of pipe tobacco throughout the experience.
Again, I’m very glad that the first tastings from a few days ago may be chalked up to a neck pour; a bottle that had not had a chance to open up. That said, the flavour profile here continues to be strange – not in a bad way, but also not in a delicious way. It has depth to it, but I have the nagging sense that this might be better if it were aged more. It seems like there is fruit back there, but it is covered by that Silly Putty layer of flavour. Improved but still not good. I am not connecting with this. Expectations.
Admittedly, I can’t escape those initial expectations. They continue to rattle in my head. How could it be that this bottle is as poor as I have found it? Is the bottle I purchased defective in some way? Bottle shock? Did some defect creep in at the bottling stage? But the seal was not compromised, and the cork is fine. At this point in my reflections, I remember my first bottle of Kilchoman – a Machir Bay expression. I opened that bottle with great expectations, but the first pour was acrid bordering on sour and a bit putrid. I almost gagged as I went through my first dram. I was a bit leery about going back to the bottle, but I did a week later. I poured a second dram and allowed it to sit and open a bit and was rewarded with a much better tasting experience. After my third time with that bottle, it was wonderful and became one of the best bottles of my 2021. So I hope this Westward will travel a similar path. But, as of this second attempt, it is a whiskey that is, at best, muddled and needs more time in the cask; at worst the liquid is young with a chemical/Silly Putty overlay on muted chemical fruit flavours.
I am not a sommelier, nor do I claim any expert status with regard to tasting whiskey. And that is fine. I don’t need to be an “expert”. This is my taste and my experience. But those damned expectations…I feel as if I am missing something here. The thoughts of Kilchoman run through my head again.
As I am now a quarter through this bottle, let’s see what happens if I wait another four or five days to give it more time to open up. Would I be giving such leeway to a bottle that did not carry such high expectations? Maybe not, but let’s give this the majority of a week more and try a third pour.
Third Attempt - Over a Week Later
Nose
Very different. Oak and tobacco notes. Fruit is in the background – again, not dark fruits, but apricot or nectarine. The chemical fruit flavour is largely gone and I have the scent of actual fruit. That foresty/grassy malt mustiness is there, but is not a detriment to the flavour profile. Now it’s a bit bready, with a touch of yeast flavour emerging. A pipe tobacco note remains; it is faint yet clearly present. Quite the difference from nosing #1 to nosing #2 to this third round.
Palate
Initial flavour hit is the fruit. It is rich but a bit flat, if that makes any sense. This gives way to flavours of oak and vanilla – sort of an oaky cream soda. It mingles with the fruit as the back of my tongue starts to tingle. The finish is not long, and unfortunately the aforementioned Silly Putty notes are still there. Faint, but still there. Not a huge fan of the finish, but the overall palate is good. I remain with the sense that this expression would be significantly improved with some more age. There is a youthfulness that is ever-present here that is not bad, per se, but having an older distillate might just make this a more rounded and integrated experience. Good mouth feel, especially given that this is 45% ABV. Again, an amazing difference from the initial sample I had from this bottle more than a week ago.
The Dregs
Expectations. I keep saying it, and it remains central to this review.
Would I have discarded this bottle if it was from an unknown distillery and presented to me in a plastic bottle with a screw cap, a simple label, and a price tag of $25.00 USD? Almost certainly. This would have been panned and either shoved to the back of my whiskey cabinet or donated to my son, who would have had it among his lower-shelf bottles at his next house party. So, the expectations of Westward that I carried into this tasting clearly saved this bottle — and ultimately, they restored my faith in Westward.
Perhaps this bottle was compromised. As with my first Kilchoman, it needed time to cure itself and bloom. Unlike the Kilchoman, I get the sense that the Westward will need more than a third pour to fully emerge as it should.
The flavours are now reflecting what I have read about the Westward process. I can appreciate the locally malted barley, the lightly charred new oak barrels, and the double distillation in unique pot stills. Maybe this whiskey will continue to open and develop, maybe not. That said, I am glad that this bottle is not what was reflected in the initial sensory horror.
Consider the score here as simply the point I am presently at with this bottle. I do believe there is some anomaly negatively affecting this bottle, and I do look forward to trying the other Westward single malt expressions (there appear to be another eight) as well as coming back to another bottle of this American Single Malt in another year to see how the difference. Hopefully, I will be able to simply uncork, pour, and enjoy.
The next time I get a bottle of Westward, however, what do you think my expectations will be? And what expectations do you carry into a tasting of a whiskey brand that is new to you? Once again, Professor Warner rings in my ears.
Score: 4/10
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. OS
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