Piper in the Warehouse
There are many mysterious things about whisky. Perhaps
the most puzzling is the question of ageing. At Aberlour, we leave
our whisky to mature undisturbed in casks for at least ten years.
So what happens as time ticks slowly by in the cool, dark depths
of the warehouse? How does the raw spirit straight from the still
develop into something so subtle and complex?
I believe some of the answers can be found in Aberlour's
setting. There are more than 250,000 casks here, stacked in warehouses
in a shady site down in the glen, protected from the extremes
of hot sun and violent wind, and bathed in the gentle dampness
of the Speyside air. The grain of the oak casks breathes in the
fragrance, while letting out a tiny fraction of alcohol (whimsically
known as "the angels' share").
My predecessors have come up with other solutions.
The most bizarre - and ingenious - was put forward by Ian Mitchell,
who was distillery manager here in the 1970s and 80s. He claimed
that the unique taste of Aberlour Single Malt was due to the fact
that his master brewer, Kenny Fraser, used to play his bagpipes
as he walked his evening rounds. The notes of the pipes, he said,
"rocked and soothed" the maturing whisky.
Ian was well known for his dry sense of humour, but there was
some truth in his theory. Kenny Fraser was no mean piper. He belonged
to the Dufftown Pipe Band, and regularly practised on his eighty-year-old
ebony pipes during quiet periods at the distillery. The warehouses
had especially good acoustics, he once told me, "the high
roof and the concrete floors gave a terrific echo". Whether
Kenny's music had any effect on the whisky no one will ever know
- but it certainly didn't do it any harm!
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