Aberlour A'bunadh Batch 57 - Review
Age: No age statement; rumored to include casks as young as 5 years old (so, under the youngest-age-in-the-bottle scotch rule, this is really Aberlour 5 Cask Strength)
Barrel type: Ex-Oloroso sherry butts
Region: Speyside
ABV: 60.7%
Price: $70
Additional details: Non-chill filtered, natural color
Who knows whether it's apocryphal or the invention of a clever Don Draper (or Peggy Olson), but A'bunadh has an interesting story behind it. Supposedly, in the 1970s, workmen doing some work at the distillery found a bottle that had been lying around, wrapped in a newspaper, for 80-some years. The bottle was a sherry-aged whiskey, and its discovery led to the reinvigoration of Aberlour's forgotten tradition of sherry-aging their whiskies. The distillery analyzed the 19th century relic and, starting with the first release of A'bunadh in the 1990s, set out to replicate the scotch in that bottle and reclaim their legacy. The scotch I'm reviewing today is Batch 57 of the project, a cask-strength or barrel-proof, sherry-aged scotch that comes from a variety of barrels aged from 5 to 25 years.
Interestingly enough, other distilleries in Speyside, the region of Scotland best known for producing so-called "sherry bombs," also seem to have their own stories for how they started (or rediscovered) sherry aging. GlenDronach, for instance, claims that its founder, James Allardice, was a pioneer of either sherry aging or wood finishing more generally. In some ways, these stories remind me of the number of Kentuckyians who at some point between 1750 and 1850 "invented" the process of barrel aging, or charring, or wheated mash bills. The history of whiskey, for better or worse, does not seem well-documented, or at least not documented with accuracy in mind, and its artifacts tend to tempt their most dedicated devotees to consumption rather than preservation.
As much as I like a good story, I love a good whiskey, so let's see what's in the glass.
Appearance: A'bunadh is the Maker's Mark of scotch bottles. It has a distinctive red wax cap, and a bit of an odd feature -- unlike most wax-capped spirits or wines, it does not have an outside tab that allows for easy removal. I literally had to take a knife and cut through the wax seal. I suppose this "feature," or lack thereof, amplifies the old-school image that Aberlour wants to achieve. If we still lived in the days when everyone carried a pocket knife, it'd be cool, but nowadays it feels . . . inconvenient. That being said, it's a good-looking bottle, with a pretty unique shape in the scotch world that contributes to its distinctive character. The bottle also helpfully informs me that A'bunadh means "of the origin."
In the glass, A'bunadh is one of the darkest scotches I've encountered, with a bourbon or maple syrup color. The darkness comes from the fact that it's aged in "first-fill" sherry casks, meaning that no scotch has been aged in the same barrels before (most distilleries reuse barrels multiple times, and, as one would expect, first-fill casks tend to impart the most color and flavor in the shortest amount of time).
Nose: A word of advice -- pour this scotch out, and then go do something else. Have a quick bite to eat, call home and talk to your parents, or go for a mile run. It needs time to open up. Straight from the bottle, a wave of intense alcohol burn is going to make up half the nose and drown out other scents, not to mention singe the nostrils. To put it nicely, it's temperamental. Once it has some time to settle down, the nose is lovely and may be the best feature of this scotch. It fills the air with cherry pie, raisins, guava paste, and anise. As with most cask-strength whiskies, I find that water mellows out the sharper or tangier flavors and so gives rise to an almost creamy sweetness.
Palate: Again, a neat dram of this scotch is an intense experience with a lot of upfront burn, maybe a bit too much for my taste. The cherry sweetness comes through most strongly for me, with a good amount of tingling heat on the lips and on the insides of my cheeks. There's a battle against the clock with any 60%+ alcohol dram, where the alcohol deadens the taste receptors. The trick is that some whiskies hit a huge range of flavors before that effect sets in. Unfortunately with the A'bunadh, I'm just not getting that. It's a really sweet, cherry cola flavor, along with a similar note reminiscent of the various dried fruits or fruit-flavored jellies in a trail mix. Before I can detect other notes, however, I have to swallow to save the top layer of skin in my mouth.
One might think dilution is the easy solution to this issue. Water, however, seems to dull the flavors down a little too much, as I lose the spiciness that I like pretty quickly. On the one hand, I may just not have found the sweet spot yet. On the other hand, I don't really like working this hard to enjoy my scotch. Drinking shouldn't be a science experiment.
Finish: The finish is explosive, fiery, and effervescent, with a spicy and bourbon-like cherry-pie fade, along with notes of bittersweet chocolate. The heat is really strong here, and it's a few ticks too much in my mind. To the extent it adds a note, the note is capsaicin, like biting into the core of a chili pepper and its seeds. In some ways, the finish feels like a cask-strength bourbon stripped of some oak and vanilla flavors. And, once more, the issue is that there's a desirable spiciness to it, but it's closely tied to an undesirable rubbing alcohol heat, and I can't figure out how to pry those two features apart.
Value for Money and Final Impressions: I don't mind A'bunadh, but I don't love it. After going once more into the breach several times with this scotch, I haven't found the right amount of water to add to enhance the experience. It either seems a bit too hot for me (and to be clear, I drink most whiskies, including 62% Elijah Craig Barrel Proof, straight) or the nose and palate get too milquetoast and transform into a flat, Cherry Vanilla Coke. I prefer the slightly-too-hot rendition, which at least has those explosive and spicy flavors going for it.
The price of this bottle varies widely. I ordered it online for $60 (not including about $10 per bottle in shipping costs), but see it for $100 or so in local liquor stores. At $60, it's not a bad value, but its game is a bit one-dimensional for me, like a pitcher who relies exclusively on a high-octane fastball. I can see how sherry-bomb lovers would enjoy this bottle, but I found Auchentoshan Three Wood provided some similar flavor highlights without the dragon's breath.
Rating: B-