One would like to believe that people who place their trust in all the good emotions that alcohol can invoke would generally be united in the way they see things. What differences could possibly sprout up between people who are more or less on the same page about what constitutes a fun, social and civil evening? A lot apparently. Some of us possibly realised that good alcohol could lead to too much fun and such prevalent bonhomie isn’t good for shrinks and self-help book writers who would find themselves out of jobs if it weren’t for the drudgery that lies just outside of a casual pint shared with friends. So they collectively schemed up a device to ensure that two imbibers can never entirely agree on what is a good tipple.
Take the world of whisky for example. Or should I say whiskey with an ‘e’? What’s the difference you ask—isn’t it like ‘colour’ and ‘color’, a minor spelling issue depending on which side of the pond you belong to?
Unfortunately not. The thing is that in its country of origin, Scotland, where whiskies were first made and marketed, they spell it without the ‘e’. The Scots go a step further and decree that only the whiskies without an ‘e’ are worthy of discussion. This includes Japan and Canada (and even India), but conveniently leaves out Ireland and the US of A. Not a very fair nor balanced remark, really, for the other side of the debate, the one that does use the ‘e’, doesn’t make any such claims.
So is there a difference really? In the method of production, they are pretty similar, but from the tactile point of view, whisky and whiskey are very different beasts.
It starts with the ingredients. Whisky uses barley, but in the US, the early settlers who tried to emulate that lovely spirit from back home didn’t have much barley and hence settled for corn or a mix thereof. This imparts a sweeter base to the resulting spirit, a certain ripeness, which seems to carry into the final beverage.
Scotch (as whisky from Scotland may be called) is aged long, usually 10 years or more, and preferably in old barrels, which have already been used earlier. This reduces the impact that the oak can have on the whisky and makes for softer mellower flavours of smoke and spice.
Bourbon, the famous American style of whisky, mandatorily uses brand-new charred oak barrels, the kind which will shape not only the flavour, but also the colour of the final blend. Ironically, these new barrels are what Scotland then buys off their American counterparts once the latter folk are done with it. A fairly symbiotic resonance that.
Tennessee, which is another type of American whiskey, is largely similar to Bourbon, but adds an extra step of charcoal filtering, which further mellows down the spirit. Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7 is a Tennessee and not a Bourbon as is commonly misrepresented. Jim Beam, Woodford Reserve, Four Roses and Maker’s Mark are Bourbons. Although most hail from Kentucky, they can be made anywhere in the US. Scotch can only be made in Scotland although the lesser-blended malts may be shipped and bottled in their destination countries.
Both styles differ a lot in taste: while Scotch is about candied fruit and spices, American whiskey is more about butterscotch, tropical fruits like pineapples and coconuts, and sharp spices. The latter sure has more bite. Their innate vibrance makes them easier to enjoy than most Scotch. It also mixes well with fizzy beverages, something that no true Scotch lover would ever subject his dram to. And in case you think Scotch is not too friendly, well, then you haven’t tried what they make in Islay: a well-peated whisky, to the uninitiated, is the equivalent of a doctor’s concoction topped up with iodine and whatever else the sea breeze may bring in. To those who have grown to like the taste, they can’t have enough of it. Go figure.
Even Shakespeare conceded that ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ and yet people seem hell bent on establishing the supremacy of one over another. When will the world learn that the only thing in the world of fine beverages that should be of concern is if there isn’t enough of a type to pass around. Barring such inexplicable paucities, whisky or whiskey, we should appreciate and accommodate either equally.
I wouldn’t abandon one for the other. To me, they are two joys of a different shade and without either, my world would be that much duller.
The writer is a sommelier
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