“The only thing more fun than drinking wine is buying wine,” says Allan Frischman, our new Vice President of Global Client Reserves, arching an eyebrow and laughing. He should know – he’s been working in the wine business since the early 1990s, with the vast majority of that spent sourcing, studying, authenticating and selling fine wine collections for a leading auction house. As of this month, he’ll be working to develop our network of reservists and their portfolios – allowing our clients to both sell and buy even more than before, giving us – and you – access to the world’s finest (and deepest) cellars. Beyond this, he’ll be finessing local pricing for each market we work in and helping manage clients’ wine storage – a job for which he is uniquely qualified. Frischman grew up in New Jersey and never planned to get into wine – but he took a part-time job at college (“to pay for beer”, he confesses) in a wine shop. The shop’s storage system was divided by country and region, with a warren-like basement that he needed to navigate, finding the right bin for new stocks. Reading about the different appellations, and using his staff discount to buy the odd bottle, got him interested – but it was a bottle of 1975 Ch. Talbot, tasted at Mary Ewing-Mulligan MW’s International Wine Center that hooked him: “At that point, I knew that this is what I wanted to do.”  The economics graduate was working at Manhattan’s Morell & Co. when, in 1994, the laws changed. For the first time since Prohibition, wine auctions were permitted to take place in New York State. “I didn’t know anything at all about auctions,” says Frischman – but it didn’t stop him jumping headfirst into something new, organising the state’s first commercial wine auction since 1920. “I didn’t know if we were going to get 10 bidders or 1,000,” he tells me. He shouldn’t have worried, for that auction was met with such enthusiasm that he walked away from the event on cloud nine, confident that he had found his calling.  In the 30 years since, he’s seen the auction business transformed. The 1994 law change created a new hub for wine’s secondary market, with New York rapidly becoming a rival for its traditional heartland in London – and the Big Apple rapidly added its own signature. Until then, auctions were staid affairs, dominated by trade buyers with little action beyond the raising of paddles in muted crowds – in Frischman’s words, “something dreary that dragged on for 10 hours”.  But Zachys – one of the auction houses that popped up in New York – added American flair, a touch of Broadway jazz hands to turn auctions into events, gathering bidders at round tables with great food and wine. Traditionalists said it wouldn’t work – but they were wrong. No longer were auctions purely a way to buy wine, they became fun – they became a place for wine lovers to gather, eat, drink and be seen. Higher attendance meant more bids, higher hammer prices – and more consignments that in turn brought more business, and a shift from trade to individuals.  The late 2000s brought challenges. “The Dow Jones was tumbling and it looked like the world was about to collapse,” Frischman tells me, looking back at the worldwide recession. “It was terrifying and of course people stopped buying wine.” But as Frischman rapidly learnt, people were waiting for the bottom of the market – and then they started buying again. At the same time, Hong Kong abolished import duty on wine (initially halved in 2007 and removed entirely in 2008) – and, like New York in 1994, instantly became a new centre for the wine trade. “The Asian market evolved almost over days,” remarks Frischman. “It became extremely sophisticated very quickly.” American auction houses started opening offices in Hong Kong. “For a few years, Hong Kong was just chewing up all the wine and the big hammer prices were all [there].”  The most recent shift in the world of auctioneering has been the advent of real-time, online bidding – one forced by the Covid-19 pandemic. “There was a perception that it would discourage people to show up in the sale room and would also discourage people from leaving bids in advance,” Frischman says, explaining why the industry was perhaps a little slow to embrace the online sphere. Interestingly, however, he anticipates that before online bidding was introduced, maybe only 10% of lots went to bidders physically in the room. With consumers stranded at home, and the technology already up to scratch, online auctions rocketed – and opened the market to an even broader range of consumers, with bidding wars between wine lovers in Brazil, Singapore, London, New York, Hong Kong and beyond now the norm.  As auction houses realised that online auctions worked, the need for events and associated spend dropped – and the auction style established by Zachys in the 1990s has become significantly less common. You might argue that this also heralds the end of the auctioneer – but even online companies have retained the compère, the familiar patter still something that bidders want.   It isn’t just where and how wine was selling, but which wines were selling that has evolved. In the mid-1990s and early 2000s, Frischman notes how the US market centred on Napa’s cult Cabernets, along with wines from the likes Williams Selyem, Ravenswood and, of course, Bordeaux’s top names. “[There was] across the board demand for Bordeaux,” Frischman tells me, “but you couldn’t give Burgundy away.” Of course, that’s all changed now – and Burgundy, despite its extremely limited supply, has become the darling of the fine wine scene. As prices have soared for the Côte d’Or’s top wines, wine lovers have started looking elsewhere, to Italy (Barolo, Barbaresco and some Brunello), Madeira (especially older vintages) and the Northern Rhône (Côte-Rôtie, Cornas and Saint-Joseph) – but none have the liquidity of Bordeaux. “They [the Bordelais] don’t get enough credit for the sheer, mind-boggling amount of great wine they’re able to put out every year,” says Frischman.  Over the years, Frischman has become an expert authenticator – the sort of knowledge that can only be gained by handling immense volumes of fine wine, working closely with producers and getting up close and personal with the rarest bottles. In 2006, he went to check over some wines that had been sent to the auction house he then worked for by a young Asian collector. The consignment was significant, worth millions of dollars – but even from across the room, Frischman knew that the wines didn’t look right. Closer inspection only confirmed that the wines looked like fakes – and the auction house turned them away, sending them back to the collector, then a new name on the scene, Rudy Kurniawan. A couple of years later, he got a call from the FBI’s Jim Wynn, asking if he would be an expert witness in a wine fraud case against Kurniawan, who had – by that point – become prolific. “I inspected, I don’t know, 40 bankers boxes of stuff that they’d gotten from his home, stamps for corks, fake labels, fake import strips – all kinds of stuff,” he says. In a warehouse in Queens, he studied the evidence – “going through bottle after bottle after bottle and writing a report about why I thought that they were fake”. It was – and still is – the biggest wine forgery case to have ever taken place, and Frischman, along with fellow authentication expert Michael Egan, was essential to proving Kurniawan’s guilt.  Wine authentication has become an essential component of wine collecting, and a key reason to work with trusted merchants. There are people who suggest that as much as 10% of wine on the secondary market is fake, but – in Frischman’s view, having handled fine wine for over 30 years – “That’s a substantial overestimate.” Despite such claims, forgery has only become more sophisticated, and it’s important, he says, to work with someone who knows what they’re looking at. “You want someone who is experienced to look at the bottle and who is empowered to say, ‘I don’t like it – we’re not offering it.’” There’s a big difference, he explains, between being convinced something is fake, and being convinced something is real – and you always want the person checking wines you’re buying to be in the latter camp.  The wine business is a people business – and he’s been lucky to spend three decades getting to know the world’s foremost collectors, spending time rustling through cellars, lugging his fair share of cases in and out of vans, and cradling bottles of elusive vintages and cuvées. Beyond this privilege, he’s often found himself on the receiving end of collectors’ generosity – recognising a fellow enthusiast’s passion. When I ask him if there’s a bottle that stands out, beyond the 1975 Talbot that was his hook into the industry, his eyes mist over. It was, he tells me, on a trip to Tokyo, at a remarkable dinner that included some incredible wines, including the fabled 1947 Cheval Blanc. But it was a bottle of 1978 La Romanée-Conti from Domaine de la Romanée-Conti that stole the show: it was “breathtaking, magical”, he says. “I was practically brought to tears.” Until that moment, he’d never necessarily understood why collectors kept this prized cuvée, and didn’t sell it to fund their La Tâche or Romanée-Saint-Vivant – but this bottle made him realise just why people don’t. “This wine was perfect,” he says.  It’s easy, perhaps, to imagine the auctioneering world is over-run with wine investors, but that’s far from what Frischman has found. “The vast majority, regardless of what they say they’re doing, are buying to drink,” he says. On paper, that may not make sense – after all, who needs 30,000 bottles of wine? But that, as Frischman and any wine obsessive knows, is the collector’s mentality – and, deciding to sell, despite owning more wine than could possibly be consumed in a lifetime, is much harder than buying another case or 10.  When Frischman first started auctioning wine, he recalls talking to his father, who wondered if there was enough fine wine to sustain a career. The beauty, Frischman, now knows, is that there’s a new vintage every year – beyond that, and as he’s seen over the past 30 years, the wine world is constantly shifting, with an ever-expanding range of regions and producers. And he’s evolving with the industry, making a move of his own and bringing his expertise to FINE+RARE. We can’t wait to see what he’ll do. Whether you’re looking to buy, sell or anything else, contact Allan Frischman directly at allan.frischman@frw.co.uk

After two decades at one of the world’s leading auction houses, Allan Frischman has joined our team, as Vice President of Global Client Reserves. We caught up with him to dive into the world of auctioneering, his 30 years in the business and his new role

After two decades at one of the USA’s leading auction houses, auctioneer and wine authentication expert Allan Frischman has joined our team

Introducing Allan Frischman

Hammer time: Allan Frischman

The Langhe is unspeakably beautiful. You may have seen Allessandro Masnaghetti’s 3D maps – a painstaking project by this now-iconic cartographer to translate these terroirs to paper. Their textured surfaces speak of Barolo and Barbaresco’s complex geology – and yet they don’t fully convey its endless curves and corners, winding roads and intricate jigsaw of villages and vineyards, nestled in amongst each other. This is a landscape carved and sculpted by nature over 15 million years; the vines cling to precipitous slopes, sweeping down toward the valleys. Like the effortless lines of Michaelangelo’s marble, it’s a masterpiece.  We’ve just returned from a trip to Piedmont’s most prestigious vineyards, dipping a toe in the waters of this fascinating area over three days. With the layers of region, village (11 in Barolo, three in Barbaresco), its Crus (officially known as MGAs, Menzione Geografica Aggiuntiva) and individual vigne or vineyards, Barolo and Barbaresco are often compared to Burgundy. These layers of complexity and nuance are what wine-lovers thrive on, the detail that allows us to indulge new levels of geekery. Add to this the finesse and aromatic perfume of Nebbiolo, and it’s easy to see why Pinot Noir lovers fall for the region.   While wine has long been made in the Langhe (for at least 2,000 years), the first dry Barolo is thought to have been bottled in 1844, with wines before that often sweet or lightly sparkling. It’s only really in the 1960s that the region’s reputation started to be built. Wines were – as in Burgundy – mainly made by négociants until this point, when individual estates started making their own wine. Traditionally wines from across the region were blended to create an expression of Barolo as a whole, but this too started to change. Prunotto and Vietti were the first to identify and vinify individual plots in Barolo, following a trip to Burgundy in the 1950s and ’60s (read more about the birth of Barolo’s Crus here); while in Barbaresco, it was Angelo Gaja who started to make wine exclusively from vineyards the family owned (from 1961) and then bottled the single vineyard Sorì San Lorenzo separately for the first time in 1967.  Traditionally the wines were made with long maceration times (leaving the wine in contact with the skins for 50 or more days) and several years in large oak casks, to extract colour, tannin and flavour from the thin-skinned Nebbiolo. These wines were immensely age-worthy, but their rasping tannins often needed time to become approachable – in some cases the fruit would fade while waiting for the tannins to come round. Winemaking – as elsewhere – was rudimentary, and the late 20th century brought with it modern technology and better hygiene. But the 1980s also saw Barolo divided.  This was the period of Parker and Parkerization, with rich, voluptuous wines with sweet fruit and vanilla tones from new French oak all the rage. Barolo couldn’t be further from this style – and its winemakers were humble farmers, with little recognition (financial or otherwise) for their work. But then a group of producers, led by Elio Altare, embraced the barrique (the traditional 225-litre French oak barrel), looking to put Barolo and its wines on the world map. These modernists, sometimes known as the “Barolo boys”, used new oak, and shorter, more vigorous extractions to craft wines that were fruitier, darker and more immediate – and received instant acclaim. The traditionalists of the region, however, fiercely defended the Langhe’s historical ways, the use of long macerations and large, old botte casks. Bartolo Mascarello famously released a label stating “No Barrique, No Berlusconi” (adorning the 1998 and 1999 vintage), decrying the use of new oak and Berlusconi’s right-wing politics.   Modernisation was essential – and better hygiene, with the arrival of stainless steel, was revolutionary. Today, as more and more producers around the world turn to large oak casks, it’s unsurprising that many in Barolo and Barbaresco are returning to their botti, and new oak has generally fallen from favour (at least in high proportions), yet the barrel certainly lives on, even if still controversial.  “Barrique… it’s an ugly word here in the Langhe,” says Dave Fletcher, the Australian producer who left the Yarra to make wine in Piedmont over a decade ago (under Fletcher Wines and Cantina della Stazione). He avoids new wood, but prefers barrels for the ability to vinify plots separately – something he feels is important for quality. There are also  those who feel that the minimum ageing requirements (18 months in oak for Barbaresco and 24 months in oak for Barolo) are old-fashioned, forcing the production of wood-heavy wines that are removed from current tastes – even suggesting that there’s a movement for these minimum times in oak to be adjusted.  As in Burgundy, whole-bunch has become a divisive topic. Some wines have traditionally been made with whole-bunch fermentation (as with Burlotto’s Monvigliero), but now some producers feel a small percentage can help bring freshness in warmer vintages, while others feel it distracts from the terroir, and doesn’t suit Nebbiolo.  Climate change is seeing a shift in the most prized plots, with some producers now feeling south/southwest-facing sites (historically the most desirable) too warm, and north/northeasterly exposure better for the long term, or finding other ways to manage global warming. Land prices have been rising, and there’s an increasing amount of outside investment, as well an increasing number of producers arriving from beyond Piedmont – although there are still those, such as Vietti’s Eugenio Palumbo, Burlotto’s Alessandria or Gaja’s Gaia Gaja, who were born and bred here, and have been embedded in the industry, and often their family business, their entire lives. We dove into recent vintages, especially the very different yet both excellent 2020 and 2021s, the former open and approachable, the latter closed and needing time. We talked about clones and rootstocks, the persistence and suitability of Chardonnay in the Langhe, the pressure on the region’s biodiversity – and much, much more.  We’ll be publishing more in the coming weeks and months, as well as shining a light on the wines of the region – one that should be part of any collector’s cellar. But, as with the wines here, there is so much to consider. As Nicola Oberto of Trediberri told us, “It doesn’t need to be obvious – it needs to be interesting.” And that, the endless nuance and complexity, is what makes the region’s great Nebbiolo so enchanting.  Keep an eye out for more on Piedmont over the coming months or browse all current listings from the region 

Just returned from a whistlestop tour of Barolo and Barbaresco, Sophie Thorpe mulls the complexity that defines the Langhe, and makes it so endlessly appealing

Just returned from a tour of Barolo and Barbaresco, Sophie Thorpe mulls the complexity that defines the Langhe, and makes it so endlessly appealing

The allure of the Langhe’s Barolo and Barbaresco

The allure of the Langhe

The Scotch whisky world is a fickle beast. In its 500-year history, the number of distilleries in Scotland has swelled and contracted many times. There have been myriad casualties, and very few have lived through these downturns without shedding stills and stocks to stay afloat.  The less fortunate were shuttered temporarily, mothballed for inordinately long periods of time, or were ghosted with no hopes of revival. In many cases, everything – lock, stock and, quite literally, barrel – was sold to pay off debtors, and the site was razed to the ground. In the years that have followed, these silent or so-called ghost distilleries have taken on an almost mythical new name: lost distilleries. While these producers were invariably unknown while in active production, the allure of what is no more has made them astoundingly popular, sending prices into the tens, and in many cases, hundreds of thousands. In the 40-plus years since the last whisky loch, when a devastating number of distilleries were forced to close, some producers have languished in relative obscurity, with only the most devout knowing of their existence and diligently sourcing their precious nectar. Others have developed a cult-like status and become exceptionally collectable as a consequence. So collectable, in fact, that their owners have moved heaven and earth to bring them back to life. The most famous are those considered the “Holy Trinity” of lost distilleries: Port Ellen, Brora and Rosebank. “They are the lost history of Scotland’s distilling and whisky heritage,” Stephen Rankin, Director of Prestige at independent bottler Gordon & MacPhail, says wistfully. “They are from a time when whisky was made slightly differently from today. It’s a lost character. We cannot go back and make these whiskies like they were originally made. They reflect both the time as well as the people and place in our history,” he adds. When the vast majority of these distilleries were in production, huge quantities of their output was destined for blends. Their young single malts simply were not available, or more accurately, were not widely available, as distillery bottlings. If it hadn’t been for independent bottlers like Gordon & MacPhail, who prudently bought stock and squirreled it away, when distilleries were closing down in their droves, then these whiskies would almost certainly have been consigned to the very dusty history books. “I think the popularity has a lot to do with the mystery of times gone by and what older whiskies used to be,” the newly appointed Rosebank Distillery Manager Malcolm Rennie tells me. “There’s a certain element of the misty-eyed past being better in some way,” he muses. “Not always the case in my opinion – the exception being Rosebank, of course,” Rennie quips. For James Mackay, Head of Rare & Exceptional Spirits at Diageo, which owns Port Ellen, Brora (and Rosebank until 2017), it’s all about the experience. “Due to the very nature of ghost distilleries and their finite stocks, these are whiskies we will never be able to taste again. When you share a whisky from a ghost distillery with a friend, they’ll know that they're being treated to something completely irreplaceable and there is something very special about that.” This special experience is a costly one. Collectors – and flippers – have driven the price of lost distillery bottlings to exorbitant highs. Questions have been raised about what the reawakening of these lost distilleries will do to the prices of existing bottlings and where these new-old whiskies from the likes of Port Ellen, Brora and Rosebank will sit in terms of price and taste profile. On this last point, Mackay says: “This is the big question we’re all asking ourselves.” He continues: “We are confident that the new Brora and Port Ellen whiskies will sit amongst the best in the world, however we’ll have to wait two or three decades before we know for sure!” In terms of taste profile, Rennie says the new Rosebank will be a “very accessible” whisky “on the lighter end of the scale with a typical fresh, fruity smooth character but with an additional dimension of distillery character giving some depth also”. On the question of price, he says “I couldn’t comment.” Adding: “It would depend on age, I’m sure. Safe to say Rosebank will be viewed as a premium whisky.” In many ways, Rosebank was the least likely lost distillery revival, as Diageo offloaded the distillery site to British Waterways in 2002, and the original three pot stills and mash tun were stolen by thieves in 2008. Rennie says it has been a real honour to be entrusted with resurrecting the distillery, which was mothballed in 1993. When we speak, three new copper pot stills are being delivered to the site – a landmark moment in any distillery’s history, old or new. A new distillery team is being assembled and the goal is clear: emulate the original, heavy and oily triple-distilled style of Rosebank spirit. The new Distillery Manager says no expense has been spared on equipment and operating systems to give the team as much control as possible. He acknowledges there will be a lot of trial and error to get the spirit character to where they all want it to be, but he is confident the finished article will be “as good as, if not better, than the original”. “It may take a few goes but we will get it,” Rennie adds determinedly. When asked why he thinks the Lowland distillery has become such an icon, Rennie says: “I think the fact that Rosebank was always a sought-after whisky way back in time says a lot. It was in demand 100 years ago by blenders, so the spirit was always special. It didn’t become special only because it closed, not like some other lost distilleries. “Rosebank has always been seen as the ultimate Lowland whisky and deservedly so. When it was closed in 1993 that reputation was only going to be enhanced and [it was] a real loss to the local area and overall whisky industry.” Rosebank’s location on the banks of the Forth & Clyde Union Canal was integral to its prosperity and eventual closure. In many ways the distillery’s fate was sealed when the canal which connected Scotland’s two main cities, Edinburgh and Glasgow, closed in 1963. When the whisky industry spluttered and stalled in the 1990s, the then-owners made what many believe to be the wrong decision to officially mothball the distillery. To great surprise and delight, Ian Macleod Distillers announced in 2017 that Rosebank would be revived having secured the site from Scottish Canals – a former division of British Waterways – and acquired the remaining stock from Diageo in preparation for the £10 million project to bring Rosebank back to life. The decision to restore Brora and Port Ellen was also made in 2017, 34 years after their closure. Mackay says this was partly a response to the demands from whisky enthusiasts but also as a result of the strong growth in single malt Scotch and the opportunity to create a new generation of whisky consumers. He says the £35 million restoration process – which started at the same time for Brora and Port Ellen – has required enormous support from local communities, teams of highly skilled engineers, whisky noses and the Diageo archives. Brora, in the Highlands, took little under four years to bring back to life and opened in May 2021. Port Ellen on the isle of Islay has taken slightly longer and should begin distilling in spring 2023.
 With an eye to the future, many speculate which ghost distilleries could be earmarked for revival next – Diageo alone owns another 15 of them. Rankin believes there are very few left that could come back, but when pushed suggests there could be one or two, depending on the condition of the buildings, their current broader environment and land use around them, and the financing structure in place of those doing the resurrection. He remains tight-lipped on which. Regardless, there has arguably never been a more exciting time in Scotch whisky, with lost distilleries being brought back to former glory, a glut of new distillery builds and collectability at an all-time high. “It is a unique time for whisky lovers,” Rankin agrees. “Scotland shall be seen as the home of single malt and blended whisky. Those overseas are starting with a blank canvas and are making their own history, while those new in Scotland have the legacy of a 500-year-old industry to build upon. “Even if the whisky that draws them in is one distilled in Japan or the USA, India or Switzerland, they will find their way to Scotland and in turn to past bottlings from our history, as well as to new expressions from long-established brands, resurrected ones, or brand new ones. “As my grandfather said: ‘The future is shaped by what you do today, while today reveals what we did in the past.’” As the past and present meet, there will be a keen eye on these formerly lost distilleries and what their resurrection means for those fortunate enough to own bottlings from a bygone era. Five of our favourite lost distilleries Glenury Royal Highland whisky distillery Glenury Royal has a rather ill-fated history. Severe fire, a distillery worker death in a boiler-incident and ultimate closure in 1985 have all befallen the distillery which once stood near Stonehaven in Aberdeenshire. Despite all this, the Glenury Royal name has survived, and very aged bottlings are increasingly scarce and collectable. Diageo has released some remarkable aged Glenury Royal bottlings (including a 50-year-old) as part of its highly sought-after Cask of Distinction series. Gordon & MacPhail has also bottled some rare Glenury Royal single malts. Littlemill Littlemill is the oldest licensed whisky distillery in Scotland. Whisky from the Lowland producer is incredibly rare and is no longer being produced after the distillery was closed, demolished and consumed by fire. Some independent bottlings and very rare own labels have been released. To date, Testament – a 44-year-old limited expression distilled in 1976 – is the oldest single malt from Scotland’s first distillery. Celestial Edition (40 years), Private Cellar (25-, 27- and 29-year-old) and a 1991 vintage have all been released in extremely limited quantities. Port Ellen The  Port Ellen distillery on the south coast of the Hebridean island of Islay is responsible for some of the rarest peated single malts on the market. The distillery, founded in 1825, was a victim of the whisky downturn and eventually shuttered for good in 1983. As stocks decreased, secondary market demand for Port Ellen intensified and bottlings regularly fetched five-figure sums. The distillery is being brought back to life with two copper pot stills that are faithful replicas of the originals, and two smaller stills which will produce more experimental and innovative spirit.  Brora Brora distillery – or Clynelish as it was originally known – was established in 1819 by the Marquis of Stafford, later the Duke of Sutherland. Sadly, Brora was a casualty of the 1980s whisky loch and closed its doors in 1983. In the years that followed, Brora has become one of the most highly sought-after Scotch whiskies. Some of the most expensive bottles ever sold have included the 40-year-old Brora bottlings from 1972 which have sold for upwards of £26,000. Many believe bottlings from the late 1960s and early ‘70s to be the most exciting in Brora’s distilling history. There are some remarkable official and independent bottlings from the early 1970s as part of the Rare Malts series and Douglas Laing & Co’s whiskies. Rosebank Rosebank is a highly sought-after and respected Lowland producer, famed for its triple-distilled whisky, that was mothballed in 1993. In the years that followed, Rosebank joined Port Ellen in Islay and Brora in the Highlands as one of the hallowed, and highly collectable, trinity of lost distilleries. The so-called “King of the Lowlands” developed a cult following for its triple-distilled whisky – a practice that is highly irregular in Scotland as most double distil. With new whisky from the distillery unlikely to appear until 2030, there will be heightened interest in and demand for the last remaining bottles from the original distillery. Browse all Scotch whisky listings or read more Editorial 

Some of the most collectable whiskies are those from distilleries that no longer exist. These ghost or lost distilleries hold a unique allure – but as attempts to revive Scotland’s so-called “Holy Trinity” get underway, Holly Motion explores whether it’s really possible to turn back the clock

We explore how Scotland’s most coveted and iconic distilleries have come back to life, including the Holy Trinity of Brora, Port Ellen and Rosebank. 

Haunting the present: ghost whisky distilleries

Haunting the present: ghost distilleries

Colin Scott should be one year into his retirement. After 47 years at Chivas Brothers, 31 of which were spent as the Master Blender, he should be enjoying a well-earned rest. Instead, the ebullient Scott is lighting up the screens of the FINE+RARE team as he talks about a certain 50-year-old blended whisky he has created for remarkable spirits curators The Last Drop Distillers.   “It’s just fantastic to come to The Last Drop and find these nuggets of gold and all these wonderful casks of very precious liquid that have phenomenal complexity and flavour,” Scott says with unabashed glee.   Despite his near-50 years in the whisky industry, this is only the second 50-year-old blend Scott has had a hand in producing. Well-aged whisky was, until relatively recently, only a small part of Chivas’ business.   “By the time we’d filled a cask and it had matured to 12 years, most of that went into Chivas 12. Once it reached 21 years old, we put it all into Royal Salute. So, there was very little maturing. But of course, as time goes on, the stocks have been held back and the super-premium part of the inventory has grown.”   Scott joined Chivas Brothers in 1973 and became their fifth Master Blender in 1989. But he would have to wait a further 13 years before a 50-year-old whisky project presented itself. The result was The Royal Salute 50 Year Old, released in 2002 – a dual commemorative bottling for Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation and Royal Salute’s 50th anniversary.   Today he’s talking about his latest 50-year-old creation, The Last Drop’s 22nd release and first in-house whisky: a 50-year-old blended Scotch. After a whole three months as a man of leisure, the “retiree” joined the Sazerac-owned company as their first Master Blender in autumn 2020.   “When I joined in September last year, it was really the beginning of finding out what all these nuggets were within the inventory. Sorting through the very special and remarkable casks and finding out a little bit about what they were and what they did and how we could bring them together.”  Scott explains that everything in the blend started out as either a single malt or a single grain whisky, distilled at different distilleries around Scotland over 50 years ago. “At various stages along the way, blends have been made but then of course the balance has been put into cask and stored away for further maturation. So, what we have is a mixture of some of these malts and grains, all with their own unique characters and flavours, that we bring together at the last moment.”   Tasting the blended whisky alongside Scott is like being escorted on a journey back through time – to an age when a lot of distilleries were doing their own maltings and adding peat to the kiln to get a little smoky flavour.   “To me, blending is all about taking the flavours and then balancing them,” he says. “What you have here on the nose is a tsunami of flavour. But, when you taste it, nothing actually lingers and stays on top.”   Scott encourages tasters to add water to remove the aggression of the alcohol and maximise the release of the aromas and characters. When he is tasting more than 50 samples around a nosing table, this trick is vital to reduce all the whiskies to 20% alcohol and allow the flavours to present themselves.   In the case of The Last Drop 50 Year Old, its mellowness, richness and depth means you don’t necessarily need to cut the 48% dram.    “When we blend, we don’t add something, sniff it and then add a bit more of that. What we do is actually write down the whole formula in its entirety. We then pilot blend it. When we add the last addition, it will change the balance of everything you have already. So, you don’t know the final answer until you add that last part of the formula. And then once you’ve got them all together you can evaluate what you have actually created.”  For Scott, the act of blending and evaluating is an entirely personal thing. “All whisky – grains, blends – are fantastic. They are all different and they all bring their own song to the party. The only reason one is better than other is your own personal experience.”   Scott, for instance, isn’t “a fan” of the smoky Islays. “I don’t think they’re bad,” he adds. “It’s all about personal taste. There’s not a bad whisky in the world.”  The Master Blender talks at length about whiskies having different personality traits that require nurturing and, ultimately, respect.   “If you take a single malt as distillate at birth – that has a flavour package. It’s like you when you’re born – you have a character. If you put that new distillate into a cask, over the years this distillate will react with the oak in the cask and take influences and nuances which will then promote other flavours in the new spirit.  “So as time goes on, the volume actually goes down, the strength goes down, but that flavour package actually intensifies and intensifies and multiplies and multiplies.”   When it comes to age, there is some debate about how old you can go. For Scott, the 50-year-old is undoubtedly a rare beast, but he doesn’t see any reason why you can’t go older and rarer if the whisky has been sufficiently nurtured.   “If the angels didn’t interfere, in a quality cask, you could take it to 60-, 70-, 80 years,” he says. “If you’ve got quality casks, you don’t get that wood influence. You get a little touch of the oak but what you have at the end of the day is this small amount of highly intense, complex flavoured whisky that started as the new distillate and just grew with all the different influences from the oak and the cask whether it is Sherry or Bourbon.”  While there have been scientific advancements during Scott’s career, he says there are still a great many unknowns about the maturation and flavour process, and you get the impression this only adds to the allure for him.   “Because it’s nature, we don’t actually know what’s going on,” he adds. “It’s massively complex and the technical people still don’t know the number of components in Scotch whisky. I think they’re up to about 800 now. When I started there were about 200.”   Regardless, you sense Scott will continue to do what he does best: respect, nurture and blend remarkable liquids – retirement be damned.   Browse all Last Drop listings or read more Editorial 

As he approaches his 50th year in the industry, Colin Scott tells Holly Motion about the allure of well-aged whisky and plundering The Last Drop’s remarkable spirits inventory 

The Last Drop Distiller's Colin Scott on the allure of well-aged whisky and his new role plundering the independent bottler's archives.

Allary Haut Brion

Please wait

Allary Haut Brion

Filter

Please wait

Related articles