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A sure sign of over-zealous indulgence is (of course)
drinking alone. Another is (of course) drinking in the morning.
This should concern me, I suppose. Solitary drinking
is part of my job, and the best time to taste is late morning,
when the palate is fresh. But though solitary, I am not alone:
the professional tasters and blenders in the whisky trade do the
same thing as me day in, day out. A few of them do not even like
the taste of whisky. They keep their jobs, and their sanity, by
evaluating whisky with their noses alone.
For 'tasting' read 'nosing'; whisky 'tasters' are
referred to as 'noses' in the trade. (Likewise, a 'whisky tasting'
is a 'nosing' and the 'tasting room' a 'nosing room'.) The tastebuds
are of secondary importance when it comes to the sensory evaluation
of any whisky.
The implications of this are twofold. First, you
don't actually have to like the taste of whisky to participate
in a tasting. Second, whisky is best tasted in glasses that will
bring out its aroma.
Forget, therefore, about using traditional cut-crystal
whisky tumblers: they're hopeless for nosing purposes. They were
designed for swilling whisky and soda, and are perfectly adapted
to this purpose, but they neither catch the delicate aromas of
malt nor permit the spirit to be properly agitated (which helps
release the aromas). A good nosing glass performs both these functions.
It is tulip-shaped, with a decent bowl (for swirling the spirit)
and a narrow lip (to catch the aromas). Ideally it is made from
crystal (so the lambent colour of the spirit can be considered)
but not cut crystal, which distorts the hue in its facets. A tulip-shaped
wine glass is ideal, but not a Paris goblet.
The next consideration is water. Whisky always benefits
from a little water. It opens up the aromas Ð you can actually
see the little oily chains of aroma-bearing compounds swirling
in the glass, and your nose will give you ample proof.
The question is: how much water? This is a delicate
matter. I once ruined a glass of whisky from a bottle which cost
£500 (Whyte & Mackay's award-winning The 500 to be precise)
by drowning it, and I only added a teaspoon. As a general guide
you should dilute to around 30%Vol, but some whiskies take more
water than others and some take less, so add a little at a time.
The optimum point of dilution is when any prickle or burning sensation
you might feel on the nose when you sniff it straight disappears.
The ideal water to use will be drawn from the same
source as the production water for the individual malt you are
sampling. This may be difficult to obtain. At any rate, it should
be still and soft. Bottled Scottish water meets these criteria;
ordinary tap water, so long as it is completely odourless, is
perfectly adequate. It should be cool but not chilled (say 15°C);
if the water is chilled it closes down the aromatics. The same
is true of ice, of course, which should never be added during
a tasting. Indeed, warming the glass in the palm of your hand
helps to bring out the aromas.
The next question is that of exactly what you can
tell from the nose of a whisky. If you're a professional blender
you can probably tell all you need to know; the rest of us should
note that while you can judge smokiness, fruitiness, peatiness,
woodiness and age, you can't judge alcohol from the nose, nor
acidity, nor structure.
Should you taste alone, or with friends? The latter,
obviously, can be more fun. Tasting with other people also allows
you to realize when you are imagining scents. There is no surer
way of determining whether or not an aroma is present in a whisky
sample than receiving the enthusiastic agreement of other people
when you come up with a descriptor. But bear in mind too that
nosing or tasting is subjective, and your seaweed may be another
person's kipper boxes. People don't have to agree; indeed, I'm
looking forward to some spectactular disagreements between Jim
Murray and Michael Jackson on our tastings pages over the next
few issues.
To avoid sabotaging your senses, don't taste in
a room with a wood fire which is blowing back, or a kitchen in
which you are cooking a curry, or a freshly painted bathroom.
Encourage your panel not to wear scent or after-shave, and not
to smoke while they are tasting, or for half an hour before the
tasting. Speaking as an enthusiastic smoker, I am pleased to report
that smoking does not impair your ability to nose and taste. Some
of the best noses in Scotland (let alone France) are heavy smokers.
However, your smoke can play havoc with the tasting ability of
anyone who is not a smoker.
The huge majority of people (around 80 per cent
of us) have first rate noses. Noses equipped with some five million
olfactory cells, which can detect aromas diluted to one part in
a million - in the case of especially pungent compounds, one part
in a trillion. The main drawback to being able to smell is age:
one's sense of smell deteriorates in time, like the rest of one.
Also, be aware of a phenomenon called 'anosmia', 'odour blindness',
occuring among your panel. This is identified when one member
simply
can't smell certain groups of aromas. It can also work the other
way, where an individual is acutely sensitive to certain scents.
There are only three primary colours (yellow, blue
and red) and four primary tastes (sweet, sour, salty and bitter),
yet there are 32 primary aromas from which we build our sensory
universe. Even when you think you are tasting with your palate
it is in fact your olfactory cells that are doing most of the
work: if you don't believe me, hold your nose when you next take
a sip of whisky, and see how much flavour the whisky has.
The first two pieces in this series have stressed
the importance of smell in the evaluation and enjoyment of Scotch
whisky - hence the use of the rather ponderous 'sensory evaluation'
rather than simply 'whisky tasting'. So when we address ourselves
to the question of how to describe whisky, we are talking mainly
about putting words to smells. Compared to this, describing taste
is simple, and I will say something about it later.
It is notoriously difficult to describe aromas,
yet they are the most evocative dimension in our sensory universe.
Think how memories of childhood can be awakened by certain scents;
think how a place or a time, a holiday or a meal, can be vividly
brought to mind by a smell - for good or bad. Remember, while
there are only four primary tastes (sweet, sour, salty and bitter)
there are 32 primary aromas, and we can detect some of them diluted
to one part in a trillion. Every sample of malt whisky presents
a bouquet of aromas - in some cases 20 or 30 identifiable scents
- and although it is now possible to
measure trace quantities of aromatic compounds scientifically,
the only means of assessing the overall impact of a whisky is
by nosing and tasting.
Professional tastings for the trade set out to be
as objective and analytical as possible. The conditions in which
tasting takes place are carefully controlled, and members of tasting
panels are rigorously trained: if the human instrument is the
best available, training is the standardisation and calibration
of that instrument, in terms of both the language to be used and
the measure of aromas discovered.
This does not concern us, as consumers. We are tasting
for pleasure and the language we use to describe what we find
in a whisky can be as subjective and as imaginative as we choose.
The most obvious figures of speech to use in describing
smells are allusive:
similes ('smells like Parma violets/new-mown hay') and metaphors
('a barber's shop'; 'a beach bonfire'). Communication here relies
upon your audience having smelled whatever it is you are alluding
to. Hens' mash is an oft-encountered descriptor, but it may be
meaningless to people who have never fed chickens. Likewise with
very personal allusions like' the inside of my grandfather's car'.
But the broader your experience of and exposure to different aromatic
groups the better: flowers and herbs, cooking and
cleaning, babies and hill-walking ... Generally speaking, women
are better at coming up with allusive descriptors than men, and
some of the best noses in the whisky trade are women.
Many of the words we use to describe sensations
are abstract - general concepts, rather than strictly objective
descriptors. These are as legitimate as similes and metaphors,
but they describe an overall impression - the whisky's construction
(to borrow a wine term), general style, character and quality
- rather than specific aromas. As such they are useful. But they
are not precise, and since they cannot be defined by reference
to a standard, they are not strictly scientific.
Think of terms like 'smooth', 'clean', 'fresh',
'coarse', 'heavy', 'light', 'rich', 'mellow' or 'young'. Some
are relative terms (smooth compared to other malts, or perhaps
other Speyside malts? Heavy for a Lowland malt?). Others have
double meanings (soft can mean a suppression of alcohol and pungency,
or it can mean gentle mouthfeel; young can mean immature or lithe
and well-shaped). Many more are imprecise (rich can imply an intensity
of character, or can mean rich as a fruit cake; fresh can mean
acidic or vibrant). Such loose descriptors should be used with
caution.
The first systematic attempt to define the language
of whisky tasting was undertaken in the late 1970s by a group
of sensory scientists in Edinburgh, Pentlands Scotch Whisky Research
(now The Scotch Whisky Research Institute). They displayed their
findings in the form of a wheel. This is now the accepted way
of tabulating aromas and flavours, but at the time it was novel.
The Pentlands Wheel was for the use of the whisky
industry, not the consumer, and could be applied to new-make spirit
as well as mature whisky. With Dr Jim Swan (one of the wheel's
original authors) and Dr Jennifer Newton (his partner at Tatlock
& Thompson, Chemical Analysts to the Whisky Industry), and
drawing upon a vast lexicon of descriptors gathered from tasting
panels over many years, I am currently working on Pentlands' findings
to produce a wheel which will be more useful to the consumer;
the wheel you see here is work in progress.
The wheel has eight segments and three tiers. Users
can begin from the outside rim, with the kind of vague aroma description
which often arises spontaneously during a tasting, and work inwards
to the core aromas on the first tier, or vice versa.
The order of the segments broadly reflects the development
of aromatics during production (sections 1-6) and maturation (sections
6-8).
Aromas arising during production are:
- Cereal: these aromas come from the malted barley,
and are usually modified by the later stages of
production (fermentation and distillation).
- Fruity (the scientific term is 'estery'): the
sweet, fragrant, fruity, solvent- like scents which characterize
Speyside malts in particular, arise during fermentation and
distillation.
- Floral (or 'aldehydic'): leafy, grassy or hay-like
scents, sometimes like Parma violets or gorse bushes, and often
found in Lowland malts.
- Peaty (also called phenolic) - these scents are
abundant in Islay malts and range from wood-smoke to tar, iodine
to carbolic. Almost all phenols are imparted to the malt during
kilning.
- Feinty: this group is the most difficult to describe,
yet feints give whisky its essential character. They start coming
in halfway through the spirit run, beginning as pleasant biscuity,
toasted scents, then build through tobacco-like and honeyed
to sweaty. The wise still-man stops collecting spirit at the
honeyed stage, for the deterioration can be dramatic thereafter.
Feints are mellowed and transformed by maturation in good casks.
- Sulphury (from organosulphur compounds): these
arise during both distillation and maturation. Copper plays
a crucial role in removing such aromas, which are generally
unpleasant. Maturation introduces the last two key aromatic
groups:
- Woody: the vanilla-related aromas in this group
derive from American white oak. Some woody aromas are directly
related to age: malts can become woody when they have been in
cask for too long. Oak increases complexity, enhances fragrance
and delicacy, creates astringency, lends colour and develops
roundness.
- Winey (also called extractives): if the cask
has previously been filled with wine (mainly sherry, but sometimes
port or others), the wood absorbs wine residues, which are extracted
by the spirit and become part of its flavour.
The descriptive language of whisky tasting sets
out to be as objective as possible, and to use precisely defined
terminology. But the descriptors are a guide only. Use your own
words and, if you like, group them under the various primary tier
headings. Hold your own whisky tastings; see how colourful and
original you can be in describing the whiskies. You will know
your descriptions are accurate when the other members of your
panel nod enthusiastically and exclaim, 'Yes! Yes! I Know just
what you mean - tea-time on a fishing boat stormbound in Mallaig
harbour'
Print here
http://www.whiskymag.com/
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