CAN WHISKY SAVE OUR SOIL?

In the second essay of this three-part series, he looks at “other” cereals being explored by progressive distillers, and the implications for malting and farming.

DB: In 2017, I was approached by five distillers, independently of each other. ‘Can you keep a secret?,’ they all asked. I promised I could. ‘Well… we’re making a Scottish rye whisky, but don’t tell anyone, as we’ll be the first, OK?’ Sworn to secrecy as I was, I couldn’t tell any of them that they were actually part of a group which they knew nothing about. In alphabetical order they were Arbikie, Brewdog (aka Lone Wolf), Bruichladdich, Diageo (which produced rye at its Leven pilot plant in 2015 and subsequently at Teaninich), and Inchdairnie.

THE TIME IS RYE

I did feel somewhat guilty when, one by one, these distillers discovered that their world exclusive was anything but. Cheer up, I told them, surely it’s better to be part of a movement. After all, making a rye whisky (which under current regulations must be called a grain whisky) made sense. There has been a boom in the style internationally, with distinct regional styles emerging. Rye’s punchy spiciness widens the flavour palette of Scotch.

So far, only the Arbikie has been released. Distilled on an Angus farm which has been owned and run by the Stirling family for four generations, it is part of a portfolio which includes gin and vodka – including ‘climate positive’ Nàdar made from peas. Its malt whisky is still to appear.

Arbikie’s approach is, director John Stirling says, a modern interpretation of a time when most of Scotland’s distilleries were farm-based, utilising the cereals which grew – and which were capable of growing – in each location. Barley certainly, but also oats, and rye. This idea of discovering his farm’s potential was also behind Andrew Jones’ decision to plant rye for Bruichladdich at Coull farm on Islay in 2017. To farmer Andrew, it was a feasibility test of a rotational crop that occupies a field for almost a full year and has the ability to regenerate the soil, enabled by Bruichladdich’s agreement to buy whatever he could harvest.

At the same point, Ian Palmer, MD of Fife distiller Inchdairnie, was also at work with rye, running experiments in malting, mashing regimes, yeast selection and micro-distilling with a number of specialist firms. His rye was sourced by Muntons, micro-malted in Stowmarket, Suffolk. The mashing regime was worked out by Belgian specialist Meura, while Mauri was commissioned to source a suitable yeast. The initial distillation was run by technical and research service provider, Campden BRI.

The aim, Palmer said at the time, was to show that the flavours produced in distilling are as interesting as flavours of maturation. Rye was an obvious candidate, though its production would be anything but straightforward.

RYE – THE DEVIL IN THE DETAIL

Let’s not kid ourselves here – rye is a bugger to work with. The grain doesn’t have an outer hull and is good at retaining water. It is also high in starches called beta glucans. All of this means that it can turn into something like wallpaper paste in the mashtun, making draining almost impossible. It can also foam like crazy when fermenting, and if the wash is too thick burn in the stills.

Why bother, you ask? Because of the flavour – and also because distillers just love a challenge, although memories of the painful wait for the rye wort to filter through the solid mass in the Bruichladdich mash tun still gives Allan Logan and Adam Hannett nightmares.

Each distiller has found a slightly different way to get around rye’s more challenging qualities – varying the percentage of rye in the mashbill, using barley husks as a filter bed, making a thinner wort, resting the wort at a high temperature, filling washbacks low, or, like Inchdairnie and Teaninich, avoiding the hassle by installing a mash filter.

Rye has been distilled in column (Arbikie), pots (Bruichladdich, Leven, Teaninich), and hybrid stills (Lone Wolf). At Inchdairnie, it was given a second distillation in its ‘Lomond Hills’ still, which has fixed reflux plates in its neck.

FIFE REVIVAL

Inchdairnie is quietly establishing itself as a centre of innovation. The spirit for its own releases is made in four styles, using different yeasts and distillation techniques to reflect the characters of each season. There’s another range for third-party sales, while each year an experimental spirit is made. Rye (now a permanent member of the range) was first, then came oats and, last year, a wheat:barley spirit, and a sourmash were produced.

Oat whisky might may seem a tad outré, but the 17th century traveller Martin Martin speaks of whisky in Lewis (including the famed trestarig and usquebaugh-baul) being made from the cereal. Oats (and rye) were used in the Caledonian and North British grain distilleries’ mashbill in the 1930s, and possibly later.

Equally, Inchdairnie’s sour-mash might seem a break with tradition, but a version of sour- mashing was used in Scotland in the 18th century, before it was common practise in America. (A version is still used in one Scottish grain distillery.) Not for the first time, the idea that Scotch has been made in the same way since time immemorial is shown to be untrue. You could make the case that there was greater innovation and a wider range of flavour in the 18th and 19th centuries than there is now.

These new explorations of different cereals and mashbills reflect a new, deeper examination about Scotch, with a growing number of distillers questioning the current orthodoxy. It’s Scotch, but not as we know it.

BARLEY VARIETIES

Neither is this restricted to different cereals, barley varieties are also being examined. Foremost among these is Bere, which Bruichladdich pioneered in 2004 in partnership with UHI Agronomy Institute in Orkney. Bere plays an important role in whisky’s evolution. A long with small oat (and Shetland cabbage) it is the oldest agricultural plant growing in Scotland and was the sole type of barley used by Highland and Island distillers in the 18th and 19th centuries.

As the industry grew in size, so distillers looked for higher yields – more alcohol per ton of barley – and from the end of the 19th century new varieties began appearing: Plumage Archer, Centurion, Golden Promise, Chariot, Oxbridge, Concerto, Sassy, each one promising easier handling and higher yields. Bere struggled in this new world. By the 1980s, less than 10ha was being grown in Scotland, the bulk of which was on Orkney. Food tradition and a vestigial flavour link to the past had kept it alive. Just.

It was only with the opening of the Agronomy Institute in 2002 that Bere’s revival started, with the building up of seed and then the Bruichladdich partnership. Now the UHI grows 100 tons a year and plantings are increasing, not just on Orkney, but the Western Isles and in the Scottish Borders.

WHAT’S THE SIGNIFICANCE OF HERITAGE VARIETIES?

Bere is a landrace – a genetically diverse variety of species which are the result of natural processes rather than breeding. Examining where they grow and prosper gives firstly an understanding of soil and climatic conditions and secondly opens up the intriguing possibility of new barley crosses. New hybrids would help widen malting barley’s too narrow genetic base, and achieve the holy grail of low inputs, high yields, and flavour.

Inchdairnie is looking at another landrace, Goldthorpe, as well as heritage varieties Bevans-Archer, and Golden Pheasant. Other distillers are looking at varieties such as Centurion, Plumage Archer, Maris Otter, and Nordic varieties Salome, Braga, and Iskra, partly because of flavour, but also to find varieties which suit specific soil and climate conditions. Scotland’s west coast is very different to its east.

The heritage approach is part of Arbikie’s plan. John Stirling is using old farm records to see what varieties prospered in the past in Angus environment – an advantage of the farm being in the same family for generations.

Alison and Daniel Milne are growing bere, and heritage varieties Scotch Annat, and Scotch Common on their farm in Auchtermuchty out of their belief in flavour-led crops. They are partnering with the cereal research body, the James Hutton Institute. The first batches have just been distilled by Simon and Phil Thompson at their Dornoch distillery [pictured at top of page].

The Thompson brothers are hardly strangers to working with older varieties – their own whisky is made from floor-malted Plumage-Archer and Maris Otter – the reasoning being, Phil tells me, that since there are only a handful of ingredients to play with in whisky, it makes sense to look at barley and yeast for their ability to create different flavour.

They are also willing to take the hit on the lower yields on Bere, Annat, and Common because of the quality of the spirit, its greater textural quality and extended finish. Although the whisky might be slightly more expensive, it will sell, they feel, because of its quality and fascinating backstory.

There is also the fact that the brothers are noted aficionados of old-style whiskies – those dating from the ‘60s back – which they consider to be some of the best ever made. Though they accept consistency was an issue, for them the peaks and the concentration of flavour achieved makes the search worthwhile. If they were to revive the style, it was inevitable that older varieties and different yeasts would have to be used.

There is a sound commercial reasoning behind this. There were 70 distilleries at work in the 1990s. Now there are 140, and the new arrivals need an authentic reason to show why they are different. One way is through grains.

As Simon Thompson pointed out, if every distiller is using the same varieties and same yeast, there are fewer levers to pull in terms of flavour. In his words, exploring the cutting room floor is a wise strategy. It isn’t that there is anything inherently wrong with Concerto barley or distillers’ yeast. ‘They do an excellent job,’ he says. ‘The trouble is everyone is doing the same excellent job.’

While this might not be a model a large distiller could countenance – they and the big brewers need the current supply system to function – it doesn’t negate the fact that it is a valid approach for those smaller producers who want to explore flavour and the possibilities of Scotch. This not a binary decision, it’s simply allowing choice to exist.