Our guide asks adc, JS and me if we have been to a distillery before. Yes. She is relieved that she does not have to go through how whisky is made. She tells us she started in Stirlingshire and had enough of explaining the difference between a Bourbon cask and a Sherry cask. We go through the distillery cogs all the same.
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| What remains of the hotel that used to be on the site. Still used as a hotel, now linked to and operated by the distillery |
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| Inside is this dried-herb wall |
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| I ask how many waters they use; it is all on this board |
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| A spirit safe of a kind we have never seen |
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| This is where botanicals are macerated for their gin |
Once the quick tour is over, our guide packs supplies and us in her pick-up and drives us to the nearby warehouse. That is where the real work begins.
She has a great method to keep track of which glass is whose: she writes our names on a bung that she places at the top of each row of glasses. adc says her name; our scribe does not get it. adc repeats and spells; the hostess spells it incorrectly. JS points out the misspelling and spells it again; she corrects and spells it a different shade of incorrectly. Ahem.
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| Ahem. |
On the menu are six casks which are the components for Isle of Raasay The Draam (46.4%, OB, American Rye + Chinkapin Oak + Bordeaux Casks). That means similar types of casks, not these exact casks. We will valinch the content out of the casks ourselves, yay!
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| Except for the first, which sets the tone: our hostess makes huge pours! |
Isle of Raasay (unknown ABV, cask sample, ex-Rye Cask, C#651, d. ca. 2019): nose: plenty of Bourbon-y goodness, starting with vanilla custard and sweet-citrus zest. It also has a distinct note of ethanol: new make, rubbing alcohol, hand sanitiser. Yup, this is young and it struggles to hide it, initially. Shortly thereafter, we have pastry, choux dough (a favourite of the Lapland bees', hence the Bee Choux Dough, the Sámi Rye Code -- if you get that one, leave a comment :-) ), pulped pineapple and vanilla milkshake. The alcohol scent turns into shy shampoo in a way so discreet it is hard to imagine anyone complaining about it. The custard-y aromas become darker, milk chocolate pudding and soft toffee, and it gains a drop of light coffee off a hot tin pot. The second nose is pure confectionary sugar and pastry. Sponge cake, plain cupcakes, plain muffins, vanilla... Oh! That dissipates to leave clean dishes in a cooled-down dishwasher. How odd! The last thing to reach the nostrils is a softly-vanilla-scented hand soap. Mouth: it is rougher than anticipated on the tongue. There is sharp citrus, acidic, stripping, and a blend of rubbing alcohol and industrial cleaning agent. For a fleeting second, we spot dishwater too. Chewing reveals tincture of iodine, Iso Betadine and burnt caramel. The second sip is in line. Some herbal infusion, maybe, thyme, rosemary, hawthorn, or honey-glazed tarragon. Finish: burnt pastry, caramelised pancakes, ananas flambé still dripping with alcohol. It retains some of the creaminess, astoundingly, yet the dominant presence is now that of pancake submerged in heated Grand Marnier. One can still taste the batter, but the liqueur is overwhelming. Grand Marnier is apt, since this has an orange-peel bitterness at the death. More to my liking at second gulp, it is still fairly bitter, this time a mineral bitterness, rather than a fruity or leafy one. Indeed, beach pebbles and polished limestone come show their attributes, as does a lick of milk chocolate. Meh. It has potential, but it does not deliver on its promises, in my opinion. 5/10 (I finally try this on 08/08/2025)
Isle of Raasay d.2019 (unknown ABV, cask sample, Château Margaux Cask, C#435): nose: what have we here? Raw poultry meat, perhaps? Plucked pigeon, pheasant or peacock? It promises chewy morels, candlewax, Brighton Rock and ash. A very singular nose that I do not recall experiencing in any other whisky. The ashy note grows, and we find rosewood and sandalwood, dry rather than burnt to a crisp. We have burnt fruit stones, on the other hand, with a mere drop of the fruit's juice -- I call cherry and cured plum. Squashed blueberries reach the nostrils on the late tip, maybe not totally ripe, pressed unripe dark grapes, pips and all, slowly turning into vinegar with oxidation. The second nose has chewy cork, wet with cheap red wine (Beaujolais Nouveau comes to mind) and lemon juice, before sandalwood makes a comeback. Phew! A drop of water transforms this into a metallic affair, with hot steel plates, zinc gutters in the sun, a hot tin roof, weathered and lacklustre, though not corroded. A moment later, we spot citrus foliage, probably clementines or bergamots. Mouth: ooft! it is wine on steroids, flirting with vinegar. Quite acidic, it is also clearly fruity, now, despite those fruits not being too ripe -- grapes, blackberries, plums. Chewing reveals an unexpected width: the whole mouth is properly filled with flavours. Melted chocolate, melted caramel, banane flambée, hardly-ripe currants. In the long run, woody tones show up, tree sap and oily planks, both fairly bitter. Thanks to the fruitiness, all that is fine. The second sip is sweeter, though not sweet. Pressed citrus (calamansi, lemon, a few drops of grapefruit) augmented with a pinch of salt. Indeed, salt has now shaken the bitter, wine-y elements like, well, salt sprinkled on wine-cured purple berries. It keeps one's interest with the zest of sweeter citrus (calamansi, Buddha's hand). Although still bitter with water, it feels more balanced. It is also less cloying. Now, it reveals warm marmalade (warmalade) and apricot-and-citrus compote. It retains a tiny bitterness alright and adds a dash of fruit squash. Finish: we have caramelised jam, here, not sure which. It is still a tad bitter -- more so than orange marmalade: we are really in the presence of unripe fruits. Once the taste buds get over the numbness from the seemingly-high ABV, the palate detects some chocolate again, albeit far from dominant. Once more, dark grapes, plums, even prunes are in the spotlight, at a level of maturity that lets a clear bitterness get the better of whatever sweetness those fruits could muster up. Repeated quaffing makes this a little sweeter. It never becomes sickly sweet, owing to the considerable ABV -- even though it is not stated, it is clearly high enough. With water, a lick of metal is immediately followed by a hefty serving of fruits. Here are the juicy bitterness of oranges and the warm sweetness of apricots, topped with the acidity of a drop of lime juice. This is better with water. I had it at 6 neat. 7/10 (I finally try this on 01/08/2025)
Our guide points at wicker on a wine-cask head and explains it is a cooper's trademark. I object that winemakers put that wicker to attract parasites and protect the cask. She is unconvinced and will not check while we are there.
Isle of Raasay d.2019 (unknown ABV, cask sample, Chinkapin Oak Cask, C#1061): nose: we have some delicate oily wood, old mahogany or chestnut tree, so old they have barely any oil to give, and, therefore, little scent. It is not extinct, however, and in fact, gains in intensity with time: soon, we discover chocolate left out on a summer day that is starting to sweat a little. We also have a drop of sweet red wine. It is but a minute before we go back to the wood, this time old, freshly-oiled stick chairs. Chocolate ice cream at room temperature and the bark shaved off of hazelwood or chestnut tree. It grows darker with time and stops just shy of mushrooms to bounce back towards chestnuts. The second nose is creamier, with glimpses of a mocha custard, or cocoa-enhanced rice tart (the filling, not the crust). Mouth: wood oil, oily chestnuts, and the sweetness of apricots. It appears to be rather strong and leaves the tongue throbbing and gasping for air. Chewing brings forth a lovely nuttiness, creamy hazelnut spread or almond paste, without the bitterness one might associate with that. Apricot becomes more and more obvious. There may even be a spoonful of warm raspberry jam somewhere, and a dash of wood oil, not as intense or volatile as teak oil. The second sip is woodier to a point; the teak oil now also takes on a splintery edge. That is no bother whatsoever, thanks to an abundance of sweet, juicy fruits to balance that. Finish: we start off with fruits (apricots, raspberries) and quickly graduate to wood flavours, oil and oily bark. It balances a certain sweetness with a modest level of bitterness. The shift from fruits to wood feels akin to being centrifugated during a sharp turn of a rollercoaster. The finish is hot and reasonably spicy, a pinch of chilli, amchur, garlic granules with a honey glaze. There may be yellow fruits towards the death, Mirabelle plums or greengages. They are in season, after all. Here too, more oily-wood heat at second gulp, perhaps asafoetida or ginger powder, quickly overtaken by marmalade. Could that spell stem ginger, at once spicy and sweet? This is delicious. 8/10 (I finally try this on 04/08/2025)
Isle of Raasay is owned by R&B Distillers. Our guide explains it was necessary to have the independent bottler activity to finance the distillery. I ask what they have bottled; I am only aware of an Ardnamurchan in their Caskshare range. she fumbles a few attempts to answer, I try to clarify what I mean, but she clearly does not understand. She closes the subject by saying she is not involved in the other side of the business.
Isle of Raasay d.2020 (unknown ABV, cask sample, ex-Woodford Reserve Rye Cask, C#200): nose: immediately ashy and cereal-y. Indeed, here is toasted barley meddling with dusty hay. It oddly has a fruity-eau-de-vie quality to it (likely plum), as well as a mineral side. Limestone chippings, moraine. It is not openly farm-y, yet one may find a timid mucky element too. The second nose has burning Virginia tobacco, cut fruits, and a discreet dash of cider vinegar, which is unexpected. Mouth: milky-and-a-half, it peddles yellow or white fruits: peach, nectarines, white plum in milkshake form, albeit without that sickly dose of sugar that such a preparation would suffer from in a fast-food joint. It takes limited chewing to revive the dusty hay, ashes and toasted cereals. This is not overly smoky, yet it is hard not to see chargrilled fruits, likely dusted with ground black cumin. The second sip manages to be both juicier and more drying -- quite the antithesis! Alongside cut peach, we have not sand but crushed glass and stone chippings. It turns softly salty after a moment (it might be sand after all, then) and introduces a medicinal touch too, ether or tame TCP. Finish: more fruity-smoky-ashy action, soon complemented with dentistry products: it shines as ashy toothpaste at first, then morphs into anaesthetics -- xylocaine? I am no expert in that field. It is indeed numbing, leaves the tongue tingling, and just about allows ashy, smoked peach slices to come through. Once all that has settled, the mouth is left as if coated in coal dust (not soot), sticky, drying, staining. The second gulp juggles tame fruits and a growing medicinal side alright. It is definitely TCP more than ether, at this point, disinfectant and charred peaches. Powerful and good. 7/10 (I finally try this on 04/08/2025)
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| Valinchin' for a livin' |
Isle of Raasay d.2020 (unknown ABV, cask sample, ex-Bordeaux Red Wine Cask, C#333): nose: would you know it? This is smoky and wine-y. Ha! Ha! Cured meats, , smoked hams, a (pre-roasting) boar roast -- yes, it is gamy, dripping with black blood from the hunt and mud from the horses' hooves. Slowly, smoke gets the better of that meaty side, with burnt hay and a huge hearth in a medieval kitchen. Toasted barley, cereal dust out of the oven (oooh!) and, quite clearly too, a pitcher of bold red wine. We catch fleeting glimpses of an oilcloth tablecloth on a smoky-kitchen table. In fact, the smoke becomes increasingly perceptible and ends up prominent, although the nose seems to bring us to grapes, eventually -- not wine: grapes; smoked grapes. The second nose adds plump mushrooms, pan fried and splashed with wine before they have had a chance to release their water. Add the smoke from a nearby brasero -- there it is! Mouth: it is frankly wine-y on the palate. Sure, there is a barbecue grill dripping with meat oil and tatters, but that is easily overtaken by bold red wine. Very rustic, this rolls out old wooden chairs, tables the age of Papa Smurf, and brooms made of twigs, witch style. Chewing relentlessly pours red wine on all that wood, which somehow stirs ashes and generates a lot of acrid smoke. Burnt white wood, burnt bones, even soot, though less sticky. The second sip has a brief-but-clear medicinal side, with tincture of iodine and brine. That is soon joined by a cup of heady red wine drunk by the fireplace. Finish: burnt-nutshell ash, burnt hazelwood and the oil that it released in the blaze. The wine influence is still clear, yet it is less bold. Wood speaks louder, here, and we have wooden wine goblets (to say 'cask' would be overstating it) and wine-stained wooden coasters. The second gulp presents dark chocolate -- a dark chocolate that would be taken with a glass of red wine so bold one hardly notices it is a tad corked. Then, as the final hurrah, the finish welcomes a chargrilled fatty leg of lamb, the fat of which is blackened by fire, crispy and charred on the outside, soft and juicy on the inside. Wow. (I finally try this on 08/08/2025)
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| We take a stroll and spot those ex-Black Isle beer casks |
Isle of Raasay (unknown ABV, cask sample, ex-Chinkapin Oak Cask, C#1122, d. ca. 2019): nose: a mahogany cabinet in which ashes are sprinkled liberally. A second later, we have oily nuts: chestnuts, Brazil nuts, macadamia nuts, all shells included, stewed apricot stones, roasted avocado stones. Then, we have a hodge-podge of scents coming up, amongst which dental-impression paste, oiled birch shelves, a thick sauce in a cast-iron pot, gravy, Horlicks, beach pebble, chewing tobacco and cigarette ash. Does it read like an insane melting pot? Well, it is. The second nose offers willow branches, cut and burnt. It is sappy to a point, and dispenses fruity goodness: currants and gooseberries at various stages of ripeness fallen into the mud. There may even be a dash of dark ink, though it stops short of creosote. Mouth: strangely wine-y and fairly syrupy. One may call it Tawny Port, or a Montbazillac about to turn into Madeira. It is thick, coating, sweet, and a little bitter. It is also strong and has a medicinal aspect to it -- more in that it numbs the gums than it tastes like antiseptic. Gauze springs to mind, but it is much too sweet to be gauze. Nut jams end up making their way to the front -- pistachio, chestnut, almonds, perhaps punctuated by smoked raisins. This is crazy. The second sip has torched fruits and torched mud. Blackberries trampled in tar, vapourised disinfectant and burnt fruit-tree wood. Tar grows in stature and adds a dark, acrid note to this otherwise-mostly-fruity drop. Smoked blackcurrants and cassis liqueur. Wow. Finish: fruity-sweet and medicinal-smoky again, it quickly shoots wood chips covered in honey, cinnamon sweets (it is not particularly cinnamon-y; it gives the same anaesthetising feel is all), before, finally, hot jam settles in with a dusting of ash. The second gulp is more-closely tarry, if not petrolic, sticky, dark and acrid, as well as fruity. Again, let us go for smoked blackcurrants; that seems appropriate. What a ride this one is! 8/10 (I finally try this on 04/08/2025)
Our guide's mood changes hallway through. Is she tired? Annoyed? Late? Longing for home? Are we that unpleasant? (I can be a difficult guest) Whatever the reason, she seems to lose interest and gives off a vibe that she cannot wait to get rid of us. An unpleasant feeling, that.
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| Wonder what this Glenwyvis is doing here |
We finish the tasting, make driver's drams of our leftovers and leave. The distillery has a bar, and I notice they serve exclusive and regional bottlings that cannot be purchased by the bottle. Perhaps later.
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| Enjoying the view of the Cuilin from the veranda. Also, samplin' for a livin' |
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