It’s late September when we return to Talisker after far too many years, and once again it’s the tranquility of its immediate surrounds that catches the breath. In spite of recent renovations to accommodate an increased number of visitors, the distillery’s outcrop of whitewashed stone remains thankfully unscathed, providing us with the reassurance that yes, one of Scotland’s Grand Cru whiskies is still here, being Made By the Sea™.
From an economic standpoint, expanded whisky tourism can only be a good thing in the Highlands. That said, it’s still a disappointment for whisky romantics when a dunnage warehouse is deemed surplus to requirements. As with many island distilleries, the powers that be have determined that Talisker has greater need for visitor space than on-site warehousing. Such is the state of affairs that has transformed Warehouse 4 into a full fledged tourist mecca with a truck stop’s worth of toilets – and very swish, with private sinks! – a whisky bar, a gas fireplace with bench seating, private tasting rooms and a custom-built media centre hosting a multisensory sound and light show.
And an expanded gift shop. So! Much! Merch! The selection of branded goods is tempting I cannot lie, even if most items cost several bob more than you’ll pay at visitor centres on the mainland. Hoodies, sweaters, hats, scarves, jackets, gloves, cycling jerseys, rain gear; full marks for the inclusion of a clothing boutique, a savvy business move given the number of visitors blissfully unprepared for Skye’s erratic weather – the cold Atlantic winds alone can almost justify £649 for a cashmere sweater. Across the road, on the water’s edge, sits the Wild Spirits™ café and bar, thus far only hosting industry bigwigs but meant to open to the public, soon, once staffing can be arranged.
Being Wild Spirits™ ourselves we had booked the Cask Draw and Tasting Experience for a “journey of flavour and discovery”. At a cost of £150 apiece this seemed like a wild sum to charge for five samples of whisky, but seeing a Talisker crystal decanter similarly priced at £150 (not to mention another £60 for two matching tumblers) reminds us that value is a relative concept.
We’re directed to meet our guide in the foyer which is buzzing loudly with throngs of day trippers in search of the facilities. James is gracious and soft spoken, with a dignified manner that speaks to 20 years in the Queen’s service before his retirement to Skye. He motions for us to follow him outside away from the madding crowd: “Let’s move to some place a bit quieter.” James corrals us into the courtyard where Instagram moments are signposted with helpful reminders that social media is your friend, and theirs too: “Raise one for the sea! Capture your moment and tag us #TALISKER”
Unexpectedly, James appears reticent, even bashful as we begin our experience. While the booking site gave explicit warning that spending £150 does not afford a tour, one gets the impression that James struggles with the value proposition and has taken it upon himself to rewrite the script. “Let’s start with some introductions and then move into the still house.”
James polls the group for our origins – all Midwest America save for ourselves and an Israeli whisky importer – and then is curious to know who has tried whisky before. In and of itself the question is a glimpse into the visitor demographics of one of the main attractions on Skye, a destination that has suddenly vaulted to the top of travel editors’ listicles. Again, save for the three of us on a busman’s holiday, no, our group has not tasted whisky, but certainly looks forward to doing so.
Inside the still house we’re invited to take photos behind a red cordon while our host recites the usual cursory soundbites: Talisker was triple distilled until 1928, and is one of a handful of distilleries using worm tubs; two wash stills and three spirit stills yields a system of unbalanced distillation; four thousand casks are kept onsite in a warehouse behind the parking lot, and no, it can’t be visited – not even for £150 – because “health and safety”, Scotland’s favourite catchphrase. It would be nice to have the option of a technical tour that covered these subjects in greater depth, but given the distillery’s already considerable footfall, one suspects this is nowhere on the drawing board.
Back inside the visitor centre we’re led away from the rank-and-file into a private space that speaks to good taste and urban design. Rustic chic is accentuated by stone tiles and steel beams, while the low lighting and coolness of stone walls mimic a working warehouse, minus the draft and dampness. It’s a pleasing facsimile full of ambiance, and we seat ourselves at raised tables set with placemats, stemmed tasting glasses, pipettes and ample jugs of drinking water. There are empty mini bottles for drivers not to mention a generous assortment of branded goods, and I bag every piece of swag that my £150 has bought – #alltheswag! Credit to the distillery for coming up with such a well considered space; it’s always the little things that elevate an experience, such as wool blankets draped over the backs of each chair. I quickly wrap mine around the shoulders like a fur stole and eagerly await our suite of exclusive drams.
James brandishes a valinch and withdraws amber goodness from the first cask, decanted into a jug so that his assistant can fill our glasses. First sips often make the lasting impression, and this 9-year-old from a refill hogshead is Talisker writ large with its sweet, fudgy maritime nose and spicy pepper on the palate. At 60.3% this drinks like nectar and is a brilliant start that leaves the collective in good spirits and, for many, pleasantly surprised. Yes, it would seem that whisky – Talisker to be specific – agrees with everyone in our group.
Having established the distillery’s baseline of excellence, we work our way through a lineup of casks that sport a variety of wood finishes: a 10-year-old from a recharred wine cask is full of berries and goes down a treat with a few of us noting that it would make for a lovely digestif. At twelve years – the last four spent in a Jamaican rum cask – Talisker takes on the playfulness of two kittens in a tangle, with the smoke of the whisky and the dunder sweetness of the rum vying for dominance. It’s an interesting experiment albeit one that works better over hot porridge the next morning.
James seesaws skillfully between the corporate playbook – making whisky is such arduous work, hurrah for automation, nobody misses the old days! – and insights into day-to-day life at the distillery, bluesky guesses as to the possibility of expansion, traffic jams on the island, and plans to build staff accommodation given the desperate lack of housing on Skye, an island that sees upwards of 70% of its properties advertised as vacation rentals.
A pleasant buzz has settled over the room and we chatter amongst ourselves. As seasoned wine drinkers the couple from Idaho take a particular shine to Cask #31, the incubation of Talisker after nine years in a refill hogshead followed by two years in port wood and eight years in a sherry puncheon. In spite of heavy wine on the nose I, too, am charmed by this Eurovision take on Talisker, which is surprisingly dry and well balanced to taste.
James has been asking for volunteers in drawing the casks – a privilege for which we’ve each paid £150 – but it’s becoming difficult to cajole a group settled into such comfortable chairs. The non-whisky drinkers in particular seem slow to connect the dots between paying good money, and getting their hands dirty to fetch their own drinks. Most can’t make the connection, so come Cask #1010 Charles graciously volunteers for a second shift with the valinch, this time drawing an 11-year-old whisky finished for three years in a Gonzalez Byass PX cask that couches Talisker’s DNA in a robe of sticky, figgy sweetness. Our new friends from Minneapolis are pink cheeked and pleased as punch. As wine tourists with forty years experience visiting Napa Valley, Talisker has made them feel right at home, and they seem chuffed to find out that they enjoy the whisky too.
Just as we think we’re done, James once again demurs as he goes off-piste and approaches the table with a bottle in hand, lowering his voice to present us with a bonus. “This Talisker 27 Year Old Elements is a distillery exclusive that was bottled last year. Shall we have a taste of this as well?” We nod our collective heads as James makes the rounds, but despite the glowing ratings online this well-aged Talisker comes across as hot and uninspired. For a moment the group is subdued at the prospect of ending on such an anticlimactic note, but we needn’t have worried; James reads the room like a pro, quickly remedying the vibe with an offer to top up our glasses (and sample bottles!) with our favourite Talisker of the session. Without hesitation I make a beeline for the 9-year-old cask and fill my boots with a youthful, unadorned whisky that for me brings Talisker’s thumbprint into the sharpest focus.
The group is once again animated by more freebies, but our fellow Israeli whisky lover is not so easily bribed. “Sorry, not worth the price,” he flatly concludes of the experience, pulling out a sample from a private cask of Israeli whisky and entreating us to have a taste. I find the candour refreshing and politely concede that sure, the value is highly debatable, but in all fairness to our host, we are taking our leave in good spirits with a healthy clutch of samples and swag, so hey ho, Talisker for the win.
We exit the distillery and walk towards the pier of Loch Harport – a pint in one of the Highlands’ greatest pubs is only a few steps away, but for now that can wait. A cursory glance around the forecourt leaves no doubt that Skye attracts the leisure class, and the distillery is poised to take full advantage. All the more power to them, we say to ourselves, and why begrudge? Upscale toilets don’t pay for themselves.
That said I remain grateful – if a little smug – that everything I ever wanted from Talisker can be had for free by strolling along its shoreline, underscored by the simple beauty of a 9-year-old whisky in my hand.