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 If you are trying to devise a Christmas present for a boyfriend, husband or father, you have to ask yourself only two questions. Does he have a mouth? Is there a tongue inside his mouth with functioning tastebuds? If the answer to both questions is yes, then you know exactly what to buy: single malt scotch.
The downside to single malts are that they’re pricey. But the upside is that it’s nearly impossible to find a bad Scotch (although the peaty ones like Lagavulin and Laphroaig are acquired tastes). However, some bottles are better than others. One of my favourites (to both give and receive) has always been The Glenrothes. I’m drawn to the Glenrothes Vintage Single Malt ($91.95, LCBO #543694) because it’s unusually spicy and rich, with the fruity character of a Christmas cake. I recently had lunch with Ronnie Cox, Glenrothes’ brand ambassador-at-large; he didn’t really have to sell me on the advantages of his scotch, but he did clear up a few mysteries that have kept me scratching my head. My first question was whether the rumours are true — will an expanding market in China and India mean that the supply of Single Malts is going to dry up in Canada? His answer was both bitter and sweet. Yes, up until the economy imploded, it looked like Single Malt was going to become an endangered species in Canada. But now that the developing world’s appetite for luxury goods has been curbed by disaster, the Canadian supply is safe for another five to ten years. The moral: gather ye rosebuds while ye may. I was also curious about Glenrothes’ unique decision to produce “vintage” Scotches — for instance, the current vintage in stores is the 1994, which will soon be replaced by 1998. Most distilleries strive to produce a uniform flavour from year to year, and they accomplish this by mixing the contents of various barrels from various years until they achieve their house style. Glenrothes, on the other hand, just wants to make the best scotch possible. So they don’t worry about consistency as much as ensuring that the malt is aged to its peak level of maturity. The result is a celebration of the incredible (and unpredictable) variations that arise from barrel-aging. Glenrothes is an organic creature, more like wine than Scotch — in fact, Ronnie tells me that this pursuit of a “unique flavour profile” comes from “our background in wine” (Glenrothes is owned by the iconic fine wine merchants Berry Brothers & Rudd). No wonder I like it. Finally, I’ve always wondered about Glenrothes’ distinctive “pot-bellied” bottle. Ronnie says that it’s inspired by the shape of the laboratory bottles used to archive samples of scotch in the distillery’s testing facilities. I find this shape fits Glenrothes’s overall philosophy quite nicely — each bottle captures a moment in time that’s been frozen in amber. Tasty, alcoholic amber. Next week, I’ll give my complete tasting notes on the range of Glenrothes Scotch. Matthew Sullivan is a civil litigator in Toronto. He writes a weekly blog entry here on lawandstyle.ca. The Short Cellar column also appears in the print edition of Precedent. Matthew can be reached at
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. Follow along on Twitter: @shortcellar.
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