2 days ago
Best scotches for Father's Day, from bargains to stupidly expensive
Best scotches for Father's Day, from bargains to stupidly expensive
There's a certain classic vibe that emanates from an open bottle of Scotch whisky. One whiff, and suddenly you're standing behind Sean Connery in line at the bar of a wedding that seems far too fancy to have you on the guest list.
That's an acquired taste, certainly, but a rewarding one. For a small sovereign nation, Scotland produces a tremendous amount of whisky with a wide spectrum of flavors. An Islay malt and a Speyside one will taste very different -- in a good way. Whether you're looking for something smoky and spicy or smooth and mellow, there's a Scotch out there for you (or, since this is a Father's Day guide, your pops).
MORE WHISKEY LISTS FOR FATHER'S DAY:
-- Best flavored whiskeys
-- Best and most affordable bourbons
-- Best spicy ryes
Let's talk about the Scotches I've been lucky enough to review this year and see if we can't find you something nice -- whether you're paying $40 per bottle or, deep sigh, $2,000.
Smokehead
Let's begin with a disclaimer; smoky, peaty Islay malts are my thing. The closer my dram tastes to a campfire between the ocean and a bog, the better.
Cracking a bottle of Smokehead reminds you exactly where it's from. A malty, smoky essence fills the room once poured. It promises you a complex, slightly tough to drink whisky that will, hopefully, reward you for diving into an Islay-born sipper.
Digging your nose into the glass unleashes a whole world of flavor. Salt, oak, smoke, peat, licorice and maybe even a little bit of leather. It's very nice.
The first sip begins gently, with a bit of a buttery feel. The spirit itself is a little denser than I'd anticipated, which leaves it to coat your tongue. Soon after, the smoke rolls in. It brings flavors like honey, oak and even a little citrus sweetness. For a bottle that promises a smoke bomb, it brings campfire vibes without being especially strong or acrid.
Since it's tempered down to 80 proof you're losing some of the bolder flavors you might get from a Laphroaig or Ardbeg. That means you're left with the smoky peat from start to finish while digging for the minor notes throughout. It's not a problem for me -- I love a good smoky dram -- but if you're mostly a Speyside or Highlands whisky drinker this may not be the kind of smoothness for which you're searching.
Still, at about $40 per bottle it clocks in at about half the price of better known Islay neighbors. It won't deliver the complex flavor and deep reflection that come with those bottles, but it will get you halfway there. It's an easy sell and a whiskey you won't feel too badly about mixing with soda or thinning out with a little bit of ice.
Tamhdu 12-year
The presentation here is lovely. The box has an unique open center (seen here framing bobblehead Christian Yelich. I did not think this photo through). The bottle itself is segmented like Suntory's Hibiki, and I love a good tactile bottle.
It pours a modest caramel. It smells similarly light, but there's enough to make you believe the sherry cask that ushered the spirit to near teenage years is still playing a role. There's some minor, gritty fruit -- a little citrus, a little... plum? Something with a pit, certainly.
That fruit is evident throughout the sip. It's a lighter scotch and true to the Speyside form, smooth and a little thinner on your tongue than some of the beefier malts. The sherry influence comes through in a way that reminds me of Great Lakes' Christmas Ale; a little cinnamon, maybe some clove and nutmeg and some warm fruit flavors.
The finish hits you with a little oak, which lingers pleasantly after it clears your lips. Tamdhu isn't a flavor knot that begs you to sip softly over the course of an hour to untangle it. You understand what the goal is right away, and the spirit hits it consistently and cleanly. This makes it a proper sip, though one a more experienced Scotch drinker may find a little easy. Still, it's smooth and flavorful, making it a nice dram to sit with.
Octomore
Let's talk about three of the latest Octomore expressions -- a whisky that brings some of the smokiest, peatiest flavors in the world to each bottle.
Octomore 15.1
True to its five-year age, this pours a pale golden color. Imagine someone left a lager out overnight and all the bubbles disappeared. It's got notable stickiness, leaving a ring of liquid slowly clamoring down the sides of a tulip glass when swirled.
It smells great and a little harsh at the same time. The roasted malt is there under a dense layer of peaty smoke. The first sip is, siblings, strong as hell. The peat is as advertised, unmistakable from the second it hits your lips to long after it's settled in your stomach. While there's heat involved here, there's surprisingly little burn from a whisky that clocks in at 59.1 percent alcohol by volume (ABV). This is, undoubtedly, a slow sipper. But it's also not an unpleasant one.
There's a tremendous feeling after that sip clears your throat. You exhale and feel like you're breathing pure delicious and beautiful smoke. This sounds unappealing, I'm aware, but it feels like a superpower; like I'm exhaling magic. Like the best parts of Scotland have been distilled into a glass and processed in my body, which is churning out exhaust as I spring to life.
Too dramatic, perhaps, but hot damn. This is A LOT in all the best ways. It's exactly as advertised, and while it lacks the cache of an 18-year Scotch it never feels unfinished or underdone. It just tastes great in a very specific way that will be WAY TOO MUCH for some people but right in the wheelhouse of a celebratory drink for me.
Octomore 15.2
Again, it pours much lighter than you'd expect for a dram as expensive as it is. But what it lacks in oak influence it makes up for in smoke and peat. That much is clear as soon as you stick your nose in the glass. It's like a salted caramel bonfire and, friends, that rules.
There's a roasted malty sweetness up front. Then comes the smoke, weaving through vanilla and grain and a little salty stone fruit. You hit that exhale I loved so much in the 15.1 -- for me, the best part of drinking Octomore. It's strong, certainly, but there's no burn even for a Scotch less than half the age of most of its peers.
The difference for me between 15.1 and 15.2 is that sweet, nearly fruity start. It's milder in that regard and that smokiness, while still light years ahead of other malts, is a little less notable. This doesn't make it a tame whisky. It just makes it a little more accessible for a drink most people will have to ramp up to (me. That's me. If i tried to drink this in my 20s I would have tried to keep it together in front of my friends while my eyes slowly boiled behind this facade).
Octomore 15.3
This pour is slightly deeper in color than the other two. It smells salty and smoky but not boozy despite the 61 percent ABV inside. OK, maybe it's a little boozy, but not as much as you'd expect.
The first sip is gentle and sweet up front but a monster on the back end. It's warm and smoky and a little harsh. Which, again, we're dealing with a 122 proof spirit so that makes sense. It's much drier than the 15.2. and slightly more than the 15.1, snapping off each sip with a crisp, smoky and slightly spicy finish.
The end result is a complex spirit that works the way good hot sauces do -- adding flavor without letting the heat entirely take over. There's a whole journey here, and while it's not as enjoyable as the other 15-series Octomores it's still very nice. For something with triple the peat of the other malts it's not quite as smoky as I'd expect, but that extra PPM does seem to mute the swirling flavors that make the others so special.
It's strong and lives up to the Octomore reputation. It's not my favorite, but it's still pretty dang good.
Ardbeg Wee Beastie
I will go to bat for the Wee Beastie whenever possible because it packs so many big bold flavors into a five-year Scotch. For a fraction of the price of the Octomore you get many of the same vibes, albeit with rougher edges.
Don't get me wrong, Wee Beastie is not for beginners. It's smoke and peat and big spicy flavors up front, which can be a turnoff. If you stick around you're rewarded.
There are nice little moments of vanilla and caramel underneath that campfire vibe. It's not especially smooth, and it's gonna take you a while to get through it. Still, you get that post-sip exhale where I breathe smoke and try to figure out exactly what I just tasted. It's always a positive thing -- and, again, it's only gonna run you about $50 compared to the $125-plus of the Octomore above.
Ardbeg Smokiverse
"Ooooohhhh ohhh OOOOH ooooh OOOOOOOH." That was my expression after just sniffing this pour. The Smokiverse delivers exactly what it promises; big smoky flavor against the backdrop of a gentle salty canvas. So while it's lighter in color than you may expect, it still brings all the hallmarks you'd expect from Ardbeg.
That salt and smoke are front and center, but it makes for a remarkably smooth and interesting dram. The salt keeps things dry, while the smoke lends cover to the rich well of flavor lying underneath. There's a gentle touch of licorice and a little light citrus -- not much, but just enough to reward you if you keep coming back.
And the Smokiverse has some tremendous replay value. It's dry and has those tiny notes of leather and vanilla and pepper that all operate under that cover of classic Islay flavors. Ardbeg's special releases come out on a regular basis, and it's reasonable not to collect them all. But if you're looking for something slightly difference, they're always worth a splurge -- and, my sample bottle aside, typically come in the kind of lovely bottle that suggests, yep, you're treating your guests to something niiiiiice.
Ardbeg doesn't miss, and this is another beautiful example of it.
Glenfiddich Grand Chateau 22
My sample bottle isn't nearly as ornate as the real thing, which comes in a lovely shoebox-sized case. The bottle itself is Glenfiddich's signature triangular mold, which you can see here but not in my own photos because, understandably, the company didn't want to mail an $1,800 bottle to a random journalist. Fair play, Glenfiddich.
Understandably, that's going to make it a niche purchase -- a dram that's more of a conversation piece than a functional whisky. Here's where I level with you and say, no, I'd never buy a bottle of this myself. Tragically, I was raised with an incurable case of poor brain. But I could be tempted to buy a pour on a special night, and maybe that's what you've got in mind for Father's Day. Or, hell, maybe you've got the kind of cash to drop two grand on Scotch. So, you know, good for you. That rules.
Anyway, this Speyside whisky is greatly affected by the Bordeaux red wine casks it spends the final nine years of its 31-year aging cycle inside. The smell from the top brings the undeniable aged grape/young brandy vibe of a nice bottle of wine. Underneath that is a little salt, leather, chocolate and oak. While it's going to be smooth -- 31 years! -- it's also going to have a lot going on below the surface.
That wine influence creates a sweet and soft landing spot up front. You get lots of rich fruit flavor and a little honey sweetness the moment it hits your lips. Then comes a little pepper, swirling with that fruit and oak and just a little bit of salt to keep things dry. There's more than just grape here, as you get some orange and cherry in each dense sip. That applies to the texture as well, as this brings a little heft to your tongue. If *feels* expensive, which is great because, you know, it is.
There's a little bit of a "creme brulee at a fancy restaurant" vibe given the lush fruit flavor, vanilla and hints of caramel that linger through each sip. It really is quite nice. $1,800 nice? Maaaaan, I dunno. But it's still extremely good whisky.
Longmorn 30
Once more, we venture into the world of the stupidly expensive. There's nothing ostentatious about the sample bottle Longmorn mailed for review. But that's about $250 worth of whisky in that small bottle labeled so lightly you can hardly see. The actual bottle is much nicer and, at around $2,000 USD per fifth, it damn well better be.
Longmorn may not look it, but it certainly smells expensive. This is clearly a spirit that's taken its time getting to us. It pours a rich deep copper. The smell off the top is imbued with the oak it's spent three decades sitting in. You get vanilla, cinnamon, caramel and a little pepper. There's a steady current of mashed fruit underneath -- spreadables like marmalade and grape jelly (you know, but fancy). All in all it gives off the impression of a fancy, complex dessert at a place you had to make reservations at three months ago.
The first sip is, as you'd expect, remarkably smooth. There's a gentle sweetness that carries each pull along, acting like a slow-moving river of honey and brown sugar. You get hints of that fruit influence along with the vanilla you'd expect. Things aren't overly sweet, but that's undoubtedly core to Longmorn's flavor profile. Soft, sugary fruit, honey and vanilla before just a little bit of roasted almond and cinnamon remind you of its roots.
It's delightful to drink; complex, sweet and incredibly easy to come back to. Is it worth the money? Personally, I'm not going to drop two grand on whiskey, even if it's so old Leonardo DiCaprio would ignore it. But there's no questioning the smoothness and quality at play. If you're looking for a gift that serves as a status symbol but backs it up with more than just empty displays, Longmorn's your huckleberry.
