Ardnamurchan 10 year old

Last month, I had the rare opportunity to attend a Jolly Toper tasting in Edinburgh, an event I've been sporadically visiting for as long as I can recall. If you find yourself nearby, these tastings are always a treat, as Mark brings a wealth of entertainment and passion to each pour.

My trips across the Forth bridge have become increasingly rare, much like the moments I sit down at this old laptop to bash out my musings - akin to the rhythmic beats of a Fire Engines song. I was on the verge of retirement, or at least well into semi-retirement, when I was drawn back for this one-off piece you’re currently reading, as everything started to crystallise.

During the tasting, a couple of whisky enthusiasts reciprocated my earlier generosity by offering to buy me a dram, but with a twist. I won’t name them, as I’m unsure if they wish to remain anonymous having been in my company, and ultimately, it’s irrelevant. Typically, when someone offers to buy me a dram, it’s almost always a Jura, just to gauge my reaction. How hilarious. I suspect they find it amusing, but after all these years, it has grown a bit tiresome to be met with that unmistakable Jura funk or its varying woody layers in search of flavour.

Fortunately, this time, it wasn’t a Jura, but as I hinted, there was a purpose behind their kindness. Over the past three years, I’ve distanced myself from the whisky world, aside from the occasional Instagram post and some delightfully nerdy historical explorations of Glen Mhor. This detachment has allowed me to escape the chaos surrounding whisky. The flood of press releases and PR emails has dwindled from an overwhelming torrent to a mere trickle. Let me tell you, stepping back from the fray has been refreshing, especially in light of the absurdly priced and poorly conceived whisky releases that seem to lack any genuine motivation related to the spirit itself.

Returning to the bar, this duo confessed their surprise at the overwhelming positivity surrounding a new whisky release. They didn’t share the same enthusiasm, believing it to be flawed. Given my previous candour about honesty, they wanted to purchase a 3cl sample for me to take home and share my thoughts. I found myself intrigued; this didn’t seem like a Jura proposition at all, especially considering the lack of excitement typically associated with it. I was curious not only to uncover the identity of this whisky but also to understand why these generally optimistic whisky enthusiasts felt the need to consult an old, jaded ex-editor like me for my perspective.

This was a captivating moment, as the industry and social circles proclaim that we are in the golden age of whisky, a notion that is utterly absurd. Yet, having witnessed the evolution of whisky culture and the rise of social media within this realm, it presented a fascinating perspective. Just as long as it’s not a Waterford, I mused, hoping to avoid that dark world of deceit, intimidation, and manipulation; it’s not even a pretty corpse after all this time.

My hosts remained blissfully unaware of the rip tides of my inner mind, just as I can be at times. Yet, I pondered whether they had arrived at a moment of clarity and revelation? Had these contemporary and sociable whisky aficionados finally liberated themselves from the Sarlacc Pit of relentless whisky optimism? The influencers, ambassadors, the evangelists, and the incessant chorus of cheer - had the whisky bubble finally burst for them?

Their proposal was accepted and the barmaid was called over and grabbed the ladder, climbing towards the elevated echelons of the Belfry's impressive collection of bottles. Curiosity sparked within me as I pondered what treasures lay hidden in those heights, just as the bottle with a familiar silhouette gracefully descended from its lofty position, joining our gathering.

I had caught wind of some distant excitement surrounding Ardnamurchan's release of their inaugural 10 year old whisky in deepest and darkest Fife. It is a significant milestone for any emerging distillery; it represents the culmination of their hard work and dedication. We often place excessive importance on age statements, treating them as benchmarks with specific numbers attached. The introduction of a 10 year old serves as a foundational acknowledgment, signalling that they’ve reached a notable milestone and can now set their sights on the prestigious 18 next. Meanwhile, Kilkerran takes a different approach with their 16, which, until recently, struggled to meet expectations. The truth is, while age matters, certain whisky styles shine brighter at a younger age or benefit from extended maturation. Ultimately, it all boils down to tasting and forming your own judgement and not listening to others.

Sighting an Ardnamurchan has become quite common thing and they do pop up everywhere these days. I've always had a soft spot of respect for those who eagerly pursued the first releases and have remained committed on their journey ever since. Those early whisky offerings were grabbed up as swiftly as hand sanitisers during the height of the COVID pandemic, a time when both were in high demand. The distillery has since unleashed a steady stream of releases, with many independent bottlers making excellent use of the available casks.

Without a doubt, there’s a strong sense of goodwill surrounding Ardnamurchan and Adelphi, which I truly can appreciate. Recently, our community gathering had the pleasure of their company, and we managed to raise funds for a local charity. Their willingness to support others is commendable, with the distillery doors seemingly open to everyone - except perhaps late at night. This openness is not only a positive gesture but also a savvy business move.

However, I must admit that I haven’t been a huge fan of their offerings to date. Every team member I’ve encountered has been warm and engaging, which I appreciate and you can sense their passion for what they are making is from the heart. My lack of enthusiasm might stem from the fact that I haven’t sampled the exceptional whiskies that some rave about - I don’t pursue single casks - and my experiences over the years have been more towards the standard fare. As with many aspects of life, the reality of quality resides somewhere in the middle. While I find most of their whiskies to be decent, I struggle to grasp the fervour that some enthusiasts express.

Yes, I can be quite particular, which is no secret. I’m perfectly fine labelling something as ‘average’ because, frankly, many whiskies fall into that category. I’ve noticed that many reviewers who are fans tend to rate whiskies 2-3 points higher than they deserve, or even more on a 100-point scale, which is essentially just a 20-point system that has been stretched over the years to benefit the industry.

It’s fascinating to observe that most of us lead ordinary lives, residing in average homes, holding average jobs, and driving average cars etc. We embrace these realities and make the most of them, yet when it comes to whisky, there seems to be a hesitance to accept anything as merely average. Perhaps this is a topic I should explore in depth with my fellow Tormore 3 member, Dave. It’s clear that we have higher expectations for whisky, believing that what we buy should be extraordinary or at least closer to the pinnacle of quality. Yet this can never be the case on a consistent basis.

I'm not suggesting that the goodwill accumulated by this Ardnamurchan, or any other distillery, is part of some grand scheme. This unspoken sense of goodwill serves as a kind of currency, and I believe many find it challenging to critique whisky honestly because of it. After all, it's only natural for most of us to be influenced by acts of generosity or by pre-existing relationships - whether personal or professional - with a distillery, which often go unmentioned during a review.

Such dynamics can place individuals in a position where their capacity for complete honesty is compromised. For example, having ties with a company like Diageo or a public relations agency can easily sway opinions and the desire to remain on such lists. I recall how Gordon & MacPhail removed me from their sample mailing list after just one shipment, likely because they weren't fond of the candid discussions about pricing. Keep that in mind the next time you come across an overly positive review of G&M. Those receiving such perks are acutely aware of the expectations placed upon them and the consequences of straying from them.

It takes a uniquely cold person to completely separate themselves from emotions and subconscious biases. I’ll readily admit that I fit that description, as I’m indifferent to such matters. If my closest friend produced a single cask that didn’t meet the mark, I would gladly critique it honestly. My passion for whisky drives me to value transparency above all else. I simply cannot face my reflection each morning, nor would I wish that burden on anyone, if I knew I had misled someone into purchasing a bottle that ultimately disappointed them.

Throughout my extensive journey of writing reviews, I can only recall two individuals who voiced their dissatisfaction with my assessments. Interestingly, both were regarding the same bottle, which had been highlighted as a polarising marmite dram. Each person is entitled to their opinion, even if they are wrong in your mind, and I appreciate that.

Let's return to the topic at hand and the conversation at the bar. This whisky made its grand entrance at the Edinburgh Whisky Fringe, receiving a very positive reception and garnering significant votes in the awards, which I suspect laid the groundwork for this challenge I now face. First off, I apologise to anyone who attended the Whisky Fringe (I haven't been in years) because your assessments are unreliable. Picture the scene: numerous vendors, countless drams being poured, and many attendees treating it like a session with mates. It's already riddled with flaws in terms of reliability when it comes to a whisky opinion, much like awards where judges spend a day tasting drams. It is also evident in how easily people get swept up in the excitement and allure of an Ardnamurchan 10 specially bottled for the occasion.

In my view, I cherish the same glass, the same room, the same time of day, and the same ambiance when I take a moment to reflect. There’s no hurry, no interruptions, and no one dictating my thoughts. A hasty sip amidst the lively chaos of a festival is as unpredictable as the Scottish weather or the next Raith match. While my perspective isn’t the ultimate authority, and doesn’t come close, you’d be wise to seek someone with a similar palate and tastes, if you can.

I had completely lost track of the sample and challenge until a handful of individuals reached out to me, clearly stirred by the buzz surrounding this whisky. A light bulb went off in my mind as I recalled the chat at the bar. It appears there's a trend developing! I haven’t delved into any reviews yet; I’ve only listened to what others have said. I believe it’s crucial to remain as authentic as possible to the experience right in front of you.

Despite my initial hesitation, I sensed a growing need for a more balanced perspective. So, I decided to engage with my audience on Instagram, and to my surprise, it sparked one of my most popular story polls ever. I can’t quite tell if this reflects a longing for the truth, which seems to be elusive, or if it stems from people's disillusionment with the actions of others, leading them astray.

Here we are now. Instead of posting this on Instagram, I’m delighted to confirm that Phil has graciously offered to feature the entire piece on his website. I believe you’ll have the opportunity to leave your thoughts below, but I won’t be diving into the comments. The mere idea of Phil having to respond brings me a delightful sense of amusement. And if you’ve landed here looking for a review of a caravan park on the Irish coast, then I can only apologise for wasting your time.

For the record, this is the Adelphi Ardnamurchan that was bottled for the 2024 Whisky Fringe just a couple of days prior to the event. The 1st fill bourbon barrel yielded 252 bottles at 56.8% and this would have cost you circa £88, which raises another point we’ll come to in my thoughts.

 

On the nose

Richly resinous with a youthful punch, this experience is off to a promising start. The baked vanilla cheesecake paired with apple jelly introduces a fruity note, enveloped in a soft layer of flour. A subtle tartness reminiscent of Jaffa Cakes emerges, complemented by hints of wood spice and nougat. Creaminess and a rice pudding quality are evident, yet a certain depth is missing, which is expected at this age, and it leans heavily into the vanilla spectrum of aromas.

One might even sense a hint of worn carpet or hemp lurking in the background. I’ve noticed the fresh scent of marigold gloves - it's fascinating how a liquid can evoke such imagery. The vanilla playfully ventures into a new, almost synthetic realm. A touch of dustiness lingers, but that vanilla essence continues to assert itself, growing more pronounced as it sits in the glass. A whisper of apricot appears, only to retreat back into the comforting embrace of vanilla. I think I’ll add a splash of water on my next pour.

Speaking of which, daisies and a more floral arrival with a touch of earthiness. It’s actually surprisingly neutral now and forgettable – a shame.  

 

In the mouth

The resinous notes that tease the nose seamlessly transform into the liquid itself, revealing a tantalising stickiness reminiscent of runny jam that will entice some enthusiasts. Along for the ride is a robust vanilla presence, a vanilla bomb rather than a sherry equivalent. Imagine indulging in a home baked Victoria Sponge cake where your sister went a little overboard with the vanilla essence – that’s this in a glass. The experience is further enriched by freshly grated nutmeg, the nostalgic taste of chewed shoelaces, and a touch of bitter wood spice that lingers at the finish.

Next up are those big American style vanilla marshmallows dipped in white chocolate. Water takes us towards tonka beans and a well-fired sweet pastry crust. Molten caramel and that wood bitterness persists, but I do prefer it with a splash of water.  

 

My thoughts

This offers a rather unique experience; some may find it invigorating, while others might recoil from the overwhelming synthetic vanilla flavour. I can understand both perspectives, and personally, I wouldn’t want to indulge in too much of this. Perhaps just a small pour to kick off the evening, awakening the senses and rinsing away the day’s residue with a liquid reminiscent of vanilla toothpaste.

The vanilla coating hides the lack of complexity, which isn’t surprising given its age, but this particular cask seems quite lively, having matured for nearly a decade when perhaps a younger age would have provided a more harmonious profile. I’d be eager to sample other Ardnamurchan expressions aged in bourbon casks as they reach this milestone for comparison. I suspect it will reveal this as a quirky outlier, appealing to some but not all.

Now, let’s address the pricing, as I know Ardnamurchan enthusiasts appreciate the reasonable cost of their offerings, yet they have voiced concerns about other emerging Scottish distilleries charging over £70 for their younger whiskies. It’s important to maintain consistency in this discussion. Take Ballindalloch, for instance, which has faced criticism from some areas. While it may be younger, it often boasts a higher strength and presents a more balanced and intricate whisky, even when considering the ex-bourbon maturation releases. Their sherried expressions are outstanding and surpass some of the Ardnamurchan whiskies I’ve sampled over the years, knocking them for six. Speaking of which, I would rate this bottling a six, highlighting its slight flaws - too much vanilla and a bit steep on the price. It’s a decent score for something that holds value for some, yet also reflects the whisky’s limitations.

Of course, sceptics will argue that pricing is subjective, which it is, but they often follow up with tasting notes that are even more personal. Ultimately, I’m glad to have experienced this whisky; I wouldn’t buy a bottle, but I do appreciate the generosity and the challenge it presented. Just be wary when you start conversations at the bar and where they might lead to, the truth is indeed out there even if it proves to be evasive.

 

Score: 6/10

WR