A Scot on Scotch

WHISKY REVIEWS, NEWS, HISTORY & FOLKLORE

Facing up to Childhood Trauma

A Halloween-themed review of Jackton Distillery’s RAER Amontillado Expression Blended Scotch Whisky.

Halloween is one of my favourite times of the year. In fact, I think Autumn, in general, is a great season to indulge one’s passion for whisky. Especially in Scotland. Our clocks have just turned back, leading to darker evenings. The trees that haven’t yet been stripped bare by harsh winds have turned a glorious shade of auburn. The temperatures are plummeting, Atlantic storms are loitering and the inescapable approach of winter lurks menacingly on the horizon.

It’s no wonder a dram goes down well at this time of year and it’s equally unsurprising that Scotland has such a rich traditon for tales of the supernatural. Ours is a country steeped in the lore of witchcraft and devil worship and of dread creatures that go bump in the night.

Each year I choose a favourite story to share (alongside a dram recommendation, of course!) that’s in the spirit of Halloween night. Or as it’s known in the Gaelic, Oidhche Shamhna.

The 31^st of October traditionally marked the end of Harvest season and the beginning of winter and that changing of the seasons was believed to create a weakness in the boundaries between this world and the otherworld. Through this weak point travel all manner of ghosts, spirits and bogles with varying degrees of malevolent intentions.

I thought long and hard about which story to tell but my mind kept being drawn back to a memory from my childhood. From the age of 5 to 11, I would walk each day from school to my Gran’s house for lunch. There I’d be filled to bursting with plates of Mince & Tatties – a dish whose frequent appearance on my Gran’s menu caused me no end of frustration at the time. What I would give to have her make it for me now.

One day, I came home chattering away about Tam O’Shanter, the renowned Burns work that deals in devilry and witchcraft. My Grandfather, or Granda, as we say in Glasgow, took great interest in this and decided to regale me with a few stories of his own. One of them, in particular, has stayed with me to this day. Let me tell you, my walk back to school took an interesting turn that afternoon. It may have been a beautiful day but in my memory everything seemed suddenly darker and evey tree cast fearful shadows within which all sorts of fiends and beasties lay in wait. I think I set a new record for the journey that day.

For many years I’ve wondered where the old bugger got the story from. I’ve amassed a fair collection of books over the years that deal with myths, legends, folklore and ghost stories yet never did I find any trace of my Granda’s story in any of them. That is until a couple of years ago when I visited Aberfeldy and bought a book called Perthshire Folk Tales. Sure enough, a version of the story resided within. I’ve since found other spins on the same tale and must confess to feeling a sense of relief. I was becoming a tad concerned that the murky origins of the story lay in the hidden recesses of my old Granda’s mind which had perhaps become addled by a few too many drams. The only other alternative was much worse – what if the story were true?!

An Uncanny Card Game

The way the tale was told to me, my Grandfather’s Father (my Great-Grandfather) always met with two friends, once a month, to play cards. In most other versions it’s simply three unnamed friends. I suppose I quite like that my Granda gave it a sense of legitimacy by changing it to someone in the family. To my young mind, it gave the story credibility. I was certain that it actually happened!

Every month, without fail, the three old pals would come together in a local hostelry of their choosing to play cards. Over a long evening they would throw in a few coins and share a few drams. Rain or shine, you’d find the trio all present and correct, laughing and bantering at their usual table.

One dark and stormy night, the door to the pub flew open, startling the hardy souls that had braved the wind and rain in search of a dram. In the open doorway stood an imposing figure of unnatural height. He was dressed head to toe in black, with the high collar of his enormous coat covering the lower half of his face and his bunnet pulled down to his eyes.

The strange visitor entered and made for the bar. After a short conversation with the fearful barman, he turned his gaze towards the card game and was soon looming over the table. In a voice unlike any heard before, he asked to join the game. Now, we Scots are famous for our hospitality, so even though the lads wanted to send the weird newcomer away, they told him instead to sit and to make himself comfortable.

All night they played and they wagered and round after round was won by the stranger. As the evening wore on, the friends began to eye their diminishing coin piles with serious concern but no matter the hand that was dealt, the stranger inevitably took the prize in the end.

Eventually, through subtle gestures and hurriedly exchanged glances, the friends reached a silent agreement that the game must be brought to a close before they were left penniless. The stranger agreed but insisted on one last hand. Winner takes all.

Though desperate to get home, the men reluctantly agreed and the dealer lifted the deck and began to shuffle. In his eagerness to be done with the game, a single card dropped from the deck to the floor. Bending to pick it up, his gaze was drawn to the seat opposite his own. He froze, mouth agape, his eyes wide with horror. The undefeated stranger wore no shoes on his feet. Indeed, he had no feet at all. In their place, protruding from the bottom of his long coat were a pair of black, cloven hooves.

Startled, the man leapt to his feet, thumping his head on the table as he rose. “Run lads,” he yelled, “it’s Auld Nick himself!”. With that the friends dashed for the door and made off in different directions. Each of them tore through the cobbled streets, all the while looking over their shoulder for any sign of pursuit.

I was told that my Great-Grandfather made it home, slamming and bolting the door behind him. My Great-Grandmother wandered into the hall, asking what in the name of the Lord had been going on. “It’s got nothing to do with the Lord. I’ve just been set running by the very de’il himself!”.

You’ve got to give it to him. Of all the excuses ever uttered by drunk men who returned home from the pub penniless, this must surely be among the most creative.

RAER Blended Scotch Amontillado Finish Review

My Granda was the first whisky drinker I knew. Most of what he enjoyed were blends, sipped with lemonade and a half pint of beer but towards the end of his life, he developed an interest in the malts and we shared a visit to Bladnoch together, a memory that will always afford the lowland distillery a special place in my heart. God knows what he’d make of the whiskies I drink nowadays but I like to think he’d be happy that he had some influence on the direction my life has taken and I know he’d chuckle to hear that his devil stories have stayed with me all this time.

Since my old Granda was more of a blend drinker, it seemed appropriate to pair his story with an interesting blended Scotch. The RAER brand comes from the team at Jackton Distillery, a lovable family-owned business near East Kilbride, south-east of Glasgow. The dram in question is their Amontillado Expression, which comes bottled at 40% abv.

Tasting notes: The nose is nutty and malty. There’s honey and agave syrup with pine needles, resin and a touch of caramel. Hazelnuts and woodwork shops. Also apples, pears and waxy lemons. Herbal, nutty Amontillado leads the way onto the palate, followed by some subtle woody spice, tobacco and milk chocolate. There’s also some wee cereal notes in there, a touch of oak and some apple tarts. Dry, dusty, wood finish.

Thoughts: This is an enjoyable wee sip. Perhaps it lacks the weight and intensity you might find in a malt but it carries enough flavour to capture the attention. The Amontillado delivers well without completely overpowering the spirit and everything comes together to produce an everyday dram that’s far more interesting and shows a lot more character than you might expect.

I’m still intrigued by the Jackton team’s decision to go down the blended Scotch route whilst they await the arrival of their own maturing malt. Surprisingly few of the new distilleries have taken the same path. To be fair, it seems to be working for them.

Price: £42. It’s all about framing with this dram. If you come with the view that no-age-statement blends, bottled at 40%, are mass-produced super-market fodder then the asking price might seem a bit steep but if we shift the lens and view it as a quality product with an interesting and unusual finish (how many other Amontillado-finished blends are there?) then I think things begin to look quite reasonable.

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For more on RAER Whisky and Jackton Distillery visit here

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