In 2002, a Islay distillery took its first step that would eventually earn it a spot in whisky Valhalla.
The distillery was not a particularly large one, compared to the juggernauts that dominated the production on the isle. So, the question of resources was always a pressing one.
Worse, it had experienced more than a fair share of financial misfortunes over the decades, leading to it changing hands more than once. Its previous owner, Whyte and Mackay, bought it in 1993, only to mothball it for seven long years. It was, for most intents and purposes, dead.
The name of the distillery? Bruichladdich.
Rising from the grave
Fortunately, its latest owner, a group of private investors, resurrected the plant in December 2000. Yet, the stills had been silent for seven years, so there was the herculean task of starting up production again.
The very first step in the resurrection would be to persuade Jim McEwan, then the distillery manager at Bowmore, to run the new team. As McEwan had been working at Bowmore from 1963, this was no mean feat- but through arts of persuasion unknown to us, he was swayed to become the new Production Director at Bruichladdich.
It was not just the men that needed to be hired, but also the metal. The equipment at the distillery might best be described as antiquated. It was, when it was constructed in the Victorian age, built to last. And to that end, it performed admirably; those same stills, bereft of computers, automation, or any danger of becoming Skynet, are still used today.
Yet, it was tricky to make the old dame run without some coaxing. Strangers might be bucked by the ornery equipment, so it was with the help of Duncan MacGillivray, another alumnus, that the original equipment was restored to working condition.
In September 2001, for the first time in close to a decade, the stills were thrumming with the signs of life.
The signs of life
Paradoxically, with some of the oldest equipment on the isles, and a labour-intensive production, the team describes itself as “Progessive Hebridean Distillers”.
This identity is not a moniker, but earned every day, with every release. Perhaps, for a distillery that was brought back from the underworld, old traditions hold little sway. Perhaps, this was the reason for what was about to happen.
You see, Bruichladdich, despite being an Islay distillery, was not known for peated malts. Its character is floral, citrus-y, elegant- and not at all smoky.
So, if one is to break with tradition, why not go completely the other way, and make the peatiest of all peated whiskies?
If this sounds incredible, the legend goes that this was done after a night of carousing and distillers drinking copious amounts of their own product. The funny thing is, even after everyone sobered up the next day, they went ahead and did it anyway.
And so, in 2002, the very first batch of what was to become Octomore was run through the stills, the first step to making history. At 131 parts per million (ppm) of peat phenols (the compounds that give the smoky flavour), the phenolic content of the first Octomore was more than double that of Ardbeg 10’s 55 ppm and triple that of Laphroaig’s 40 ppm.
A long road to dawn
Still, the very nature of whisky was another challenge to be overcome. Time is one of the ingredients that cannot be bought at any price. Lofty ambitions are no match for the primal forces of the universe.
If one follows the conventions of the industry, then whiskies would be aged for ten years or so before being bottled and sold. Ten years before the distillers make a cent off their work. Ten years of bills needing to be paid, and mouths to be fed.
All this out of a distillery that was resurrected a year past.
Despite the recent trend on Non-Age-Statement whiskies, the very idea was heresy a decade ago. People would brag about the age of the whiskies in their rock glasses (and still do). The very idea that a young whisky, with no age statement emblazoned on the bottle, would be almost unthinkable. The monocles would pop right off the faces of the industry elders.
It would take a pair of brass balls to go against the grain.
Fortunately, the crew at Bruichladdich already proved that they had stones the size of cantaloupes (metaphorically, of course). In 2008, the very first batch of Octomore was bottled and released.
And looking back, now
The very first batch of Octomore, 1.1, was released to general acclaim. It was described as having “le ramage et le plumage (both warbling and plumage.)” by Whiskyfun. Most importantly, it sold very well to an inviting public. Only 6,000 bottles were ever made, and those were snapped up quickly, and we imagine, hoarded.
If the first bottling of Octomores required some serious stones, then the second was simply upping the ante. Perhaps one experiment would be forgiven, but to start on the next one right after? Without having sold a drop of the first? That would require upping the ante.
The second release, 2.1, released the next year, was christened Ochdamh-Mor. The next release, 2.2, following right on its’ predecessor’s heels, was named Orpheus. It seems that in addition to great whisky, there was a run of gallows humour at Bruichladdich.
You see, Ochdamh-Mor was the name of the farm that bestowed its name upon the series. It was also the name of truly dead distillery that shuttered in 1852. A mite inauspicious, perhaps?
If one is familiar with the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, then the tone grows darker still.
In Greek mythology, Orpheus was the son of Apollo, a peerless harpist whose voice could make the rivers weep. To rescue his lover Eurydice, he journeyed into the underworld, and, playing his song, moved the heart of Hades Himself.
Hades agreed to let Eurydice return to the mortal realm, on one condition: Orpheus would lead her back home, but if he turned his head to look at her before reaching the surface, even once, then she would be condemned to the realm of the dead forever.
This being a Greek myth, Orpheus was beset by temptation throughout his journey, but he endures them all. Just as he was about to reach the surface, he was suddenly seized with doubt. What if Hades had lied?
He turned his head…to find Eurydice there. He was briefly elated, but that moment is fleeting. As he reached out for her, she vanished forever. Orpheus, heartbroken, ended his own life to join her.
Thankfully, this was not what happened to the second run of Octomore, and they sold as well as the first.
A new lease on life
The story of Octomore does not end there, and for the last 10 years, there have been annual releases, no two of which are the same. Till this day, they retain their experimental nature, limited in production but ambitious in scope.
Some of the Octomores were named, like the Orpheus, but others were only identified by the familiar set of numerals. Interesting too, are the variations in production. Many were matured exclusively in ex-Bourbons- but others were finished with casks of exotic provenance. Orpheus itself was finished in Chateau Petrus casks. 2012’s 4.2 was finished in Chateau d’Yquem, and even Duoro casks were used in 7.3.
The only constant seems to be a sense of adventure.
So, finally, fifteen years after the first run of Octomore was run through the stills, the Octomore Eights have finally arrived. Head distiller Adam Hannett has put together a set of four expressions in what he terms as a “Masterclass”.
Confusing nomenclature aside, these might be the most ambitious Octomores so far.
And finally, the Octomore Eights
Each of the 8 series is distinct and have a unique flavour profile. They are meant to be tasted as a set, but yet, stand on their own.
Octomore 8.1
The first in the series is a light, straw gold in colour. Distilled in 2008 from 2007’s barley harvest, it is bottled at a whopping 167 ppm and 59.3% ABV. The maturation was entirely in Bourbon casks from Buffalo Trace, Clermont Springs, Four Roses, Heaven Hill and Jack Daniels.
Nose: While there is, of course, peat, it is actually fairly subdued and even somewhat floral. There is a nice whiff of grain, cream, then a subtle vanilla note.
Palate: A hit of earthy peat, followed by a strong flavour of citrus- lemon, then sweet syrupy orange. A cream and vanilla flavour rises, then citrus appears again before it moves to the finish.
Finish: A light peaty finish of medium length. We get spice and oak before it returns to a certain sweetness of vanilla ice cream.
Overall, very pleasant with some depth to it, stepping beyond the expected peat and expressing lightness and elegance beneath it all.
Octomore 8.2
In contrast to its sibling, this expression is a dark orange, almost umber in colour. It is 8 years old and bottled at 167 ppm, though “only” at 58.4% ABV. The whisky spent six years in second fill ex-Sauternes, French Mourvedres and Austrian sweet wine casks, and were then vatted and re-casked in first-fill ex-Amarone casks for two years. A complex arrangement.
Nose: It starts of grainier and peatier than the 8.1, but manages at the same time to be both rounder and more mellow. A strong scent of berries follows; strawberries, redcurrants and blackcurrants. It then moves into honey and candied orange.
Palate: A full bodied, robust feel. It is much sweeter and fruitier than the 8.1. On the initial attack, we get honey, flowers and candied orange, which then tapers off into sweet red berries, cherries and plums.
Finish: A peaty finish with a cinnamon note baked in. It stays on the tongue for an eternity.
Our favourite of the lot. Big, powerful, highly expressive. We love it, but be forewarned: it’s available only at Global Travel Retail (read: duty-free).
Octomore 8.3
Dark gold, almost a burnt sienna in colour. This was made solely with Islay barley, then matured in a combination of first fill ex-Bourbon casks and Pauillac, Ventoux, Rhone and Burgundy casks.
Oh, and it’s bottled at a jaw-dropping 309.1 ppm and 61.2% ABV.
Nose: Of course, the peat, but not overpowering as the ppm would suggest. We get stone fruit; peaches and apricots. There are pears, lemon and apples in there somewhere. Like the 8.1, there is a strong vanilla element.
Palate: The peat hits instantly, but not unpleasantly. There are nuances; a floral note, a spiciness and even smoked herbs. Only proving that peat flavours do not always lead to a burning petrol fire. We tasted cream and a very strong grain flavour. There’s honey, a little brief flash of lemon, and finishes with a hint of orange and raspberries.
Finish: Peat, with a little honey and chocolate. Again, the finish goes on forever.
Overall, pretty good. There is a nice balance to it, despite the stratospheric ABV and peat content.
Octomore 8.4
An amber colour that is just a shade lighter than the 8.3. 8 years old and bottled at 170ppm and 58.7% ABV.
All were matured in first fill virgin oak casks, with 20% of the batch spending the entire time in those casks, and 80% finished in European virgin oak that previously held Octomore 7.4. A second-fill virgin oak cask is a virgin oak cask that has been refilled once- which does stretch the nomenclature slightly. A confession: we tasted this right after the 8.3, so our perceptions of the peat might be lighter than usual.
Nose: Fire and ash. A touch of grain, oak, and vanilla.
Taste: We get peat, but lighter than the others. There is a clear savoury element. We also get a nice sweet grain flavour, vanilla, and unless we are very much mistaken, heather.
Finish: There’s a light spiciness of cloves, then a delay before hitting the peat, which lingers on and on.
Summing it all up
Wow, what a ride. Four very different expressions- that you can identify instantly both as Octomores and as different whiskies in their own right. Tasting them individually will be satisfying, but tasting them as a set would be an experience in itself; comparing and contrasting them is surely ones of the most enjoyable things a whisky lover could do.
That said, while all of them deserve a place on your bar shelf, if you could only get one, then we suggest the 8.2 for its immense depth and interesting play of peat and sweet. You might want to hurry, though. These things tend to sell out fast.
We definitely think that this set would earn Bruichladdich into whisky Valhalla, if it isn’t there already. Not bad for a distillery that crawled back from the brink of death.
