Words by Johanna Ngoh
Photography by James Mortimer
To come upon Mortlach is to breathe a sigh of relief, and then to realise after the fact that you'd been holding said breath, such is the state of rampant, unbridled expansion of Speyside distilleries in recent times. So much so, that it is refreshing to turn right on the switchback off the A941 and be met by a sign that still proudly proclaims George Cowie and Sons as proprietors, a throwback to a hundred years earlier before its sale to John Alexander.
Equally refreshing is the candour with which we are greeted when asking about Mortlach's short-lived outing as the ‘Rare Old’ collection: “Yeah, we got that one wrong.” Runeirt, our host, is forthright in a most unexpected, almost disarming manner, his Norwegian roots no doubt.
Mortlach does indeed have its own vaulting ambition, slated for an empty clearing which will one day (soon we are told) accommodate a second stillhouse and visitor centre. But for now the distillery appears pristine and peaceful under a blanket of fresh snow that glitters in the brightness of the winter sun.
Mortlach employs a complement of five to produce 3.5 million litres per year, and all we meet are in high spirits, likely buoyed in anticipation of a new official release that is “in the pipelines, can’t say more”. This has understandably imbued the distillery staff with a heightened sense of pride, and it is always a joy to meet the operators whose tenure dates back to a time when distilleries were run by mashmen, stillmen and warehousemen. They are excited to receive visitors and eager to show off their workspace, in particular Matthew who is manning the stillhouse today.
He is passionate about his work and his distillery, and there is banter about tasting Mortlach made in the sixties, of disappointment in its failure to launch as an official bottling, and of taking pride in being able to gift friends and family with bottles of a malt one had a hand in making.
Matthew opens the spirit receiver and grins. “Smell the sulphur?” It is clearly a rhetorical question and an amusing sequitur given that one could light a cigarette off the aroma of new make Mortlach alone. In context and in situ, it is a powerful, pleasingly meaty odour that eventually numbs the nostrils and reminds that Mortlach isn’t nicknamed the ‘Beast of Dufftown’ for nothing, that this big, strapping new make spirit will spend long years in cask taming its sulphury beast, and evolving into one of Scotland’s most admired whiskies. Yes, we do smell the sulphur.
As we survey the six stills of varying shapes and sizes, we come to the ‘Wee Witchie’, the smallest of the lot by half, and the linchpin to Mortlach’s byzantine 2.81 distillation regime. Matthew delivers a crash course and we nod our heads, but it is a daunting lesson, though more technical minds would likely disagree.
It is heartening to leave the stillhouse and find that Mortlach still uses wormtubs, as well as traditional dunnage warehouses where part of the Beast is tamed, for the most part in sherry casks. We pass an operator who points to a particularly nice cask from 1967, “not that I’ve sampled it,” he winks.
There is a welcome chill in the air as we step back into the courtyard to admire the distillery’s compact – daresay bijou? – layout in silence. “It doesn’t get more craft than this,” Runeirt remarks.
We are inclined to agree.