So what's your problem with blends?

I realized after my recent post on a few blended scotches that I probably needed to lay out more explicitly and coherently my take on blended scotch. Let's start with the purpose of a blend. You might think that it is obvious -- to be drunk. And you would be right, but only to a limited extent. The nature of a blend is to reflect its original purpose -- to provide a consistent and balanced product with a broad appeal. When Mr. Walker took over from his father in the grocery business, he realized that customers wanted a product that was consistent, not variable, from week to week. As the business of blends took off in the 19th century, and drinks like gin were seen as inconsistent and, potentially, lethal, the idea of a beverage accessible to a broad drinking public took hold. Hence the use of grain whiskies to provide a back-bone for blends that helps even out the fiery malts.

All of this is to say that blends create an enjoyable, drinkable beverage that can contain complex flavors and aromas, but generally are prized for the melding of flavors, not allowing them to stand out or dominate. But unique flavors and aromas are what draw me to a single malt. The smoky peatiness of an Islay. Talisker's pepperiness, which even the new make spirit has, announcing to the world exactly where it came from. The floral and honey notes of a Speysider. All of these announce a unique character and provide a medium to enjoy a slower pace of life contemplating its richness. Or just enjoying it with a good book. Blends, on the other hand, strike me as an "after work" de-stressor, something to be drunk neat or on the rocks or with water or soda, but to be drunk as an enjoyable, but often quickly consumed (not that I am advocating quick consumption) transition from the work-day to the after-hours, or to get things going at a dinner. And finally, they often just seem tad, well, boring.

So, take this all with a grain of salt and enjoy what you want to enjoy, when you want to enjoy it. These opinions are mine own, and therefore subject to reflect all my personal predilections and foibles.

Two Methods for Winning a Pie Crust Bake-Off - Food - The Atlantic

I am bad at making pie crusts, and deeply suspicious of people who claim to have fool-proof methods. Here's another attempt to give us ham-handed cooks a means to create the perfect crust: Two Methods for Winning a Pie Crust Bake-Off - Food - The Atlantic.

One other secret that I have heard works well to create a light, flaky crust is to add about a tablespoon or so of Vodka to the dough. When the crust bakes the alcohol evaporates, lifting the crust and causing flaking. No idea if this is true, but I think I got it from Cook's Illustrated, who are usually reliable (because they actually test their recipes... over, and over, and over again).

Three Blends

As a general rule, I tend not to drink blended whiskies all that often, the reason being traceable to the very reason blends gained their popularity in the first place. Since Ayrshire's John Walker developed the eponymous blend in the 19th century, blended whiskies have dominated the market-place, accounting for 90% of Scotch whisky sales by most reckoning. The advantage of blends is their consistency, and their smoothness next to the often fiery and volatile single casks. In fact, the popularity of single malts and single casks is a relatively recent phenomenon. All this is introduction, of course, to the tasting of three blended whiskies, which still dominate the marketplace. If you are looking for a good, quality drink that will consistently delivery the goods, then a blend is for you. (Which one is a different question all-together). The reason I tend not to drink them is that I find it difficult to pick out striking flavors and smells in them, which shows how well the different characteristics have been brought into balance.

The three blends I am writing about today, unfortunately, are not available in the US to my knowledge. First up is the Black Grouse, a peated version of the Famous Grouse that I picked up a few months ago in the duty free in the Netherlands. Bottled at 40% ABV, the Black Grouse is a peated version of this blend. It has a some phenolic qualities on the nose, wisps of smoke, green veg, and perhaps some mint? This is definitely Grouse, though, no doubt about it. It is sweet tasting, with light spice, oranges and marmalade. With water it dies a little bit (at 40% ABV to start, one should be careful when adding water). The spice kicks in a bit and there are more jams and marmalade. Quite a good drink; one to rival Johnnie Walker Black Label.

Next up is the famous (in some quarters) Black Bottle, which is apparently a blend of the Islay whiskies, and claims Bunnahabhain as its spiritual home. Also bottled at 40% ABV, this one has a buttery chardonnay color. The nose is yeasty, and masculine. There's some savory candy, but it seems a little watery and washed out (might be because of its 40% bottling strength). On the tongue it is round, with a lighter body, smokey and drying flavor. It is quite nice; a warming dram in which I can definitely detect the Bunnahabhain (it's at this point that someone is supposed to pop up and tell me that the bottle I have is a mistake that contains no Bunnahabhain... no one? Okay, on we go.)

Finally we have a smaller-scale blend from Loch Fyne whiskies in Inverary, Scotland. Own-label whiskies are quite common across the pond, and this one in particular was surprisingly good. Surprisingly? Well, perhaps I wrote too soon, because this small shop in the middle of the Inverary high street (which is a bit garish and touristy) is a gem in its own right and a serious place to buy whisky (not least demonstrated by the 20cl bottle of 70 year old Mortlach on sale in a locked, glass case). The Loch Fyne blend is a darker whisky than the Black Bottle, more a golden-copper. It has a light floral nose, with more alcohol, even though it is also bottled at 40%. There's some honey, and it is much thicker on the tongue than the Black Bottle, and chewy. I think there might be some young Bowmore in here because I get some chewy, bourbon-aged Bowmore with plastic and rubber hose. This is lovely stuff actually that I dare not dilute, because it is so drinkable straight from the bottle. It leaves just a bit of fire and spice on the roof of my mouth. With water it gets more honey and smoke on the nose. This one is very close to being like the Johnnie Walker Black -- it's the smoke that does it, see?

Each of these is an enjoyable blend in its own right, and would find a welcome place in my glass at the end of a long, hard day.