Nothing about Scotch whisky is more astonishing than this: every drop is aged in second-hand casks. Most of these casks are the by-product of the American bourbon industry. By law, bourbon must be aged in new casks of white oak (Quercus alba); Scotch feasts on the left-overs. A small minority of casks continue to come from sherry bodegas too: these are made of European oak (Quercus robur or Quercus sessiliflora). All of these casks have different shapes and sizes and are reused repeatedly to different effect every time.
Convenience? Parsimony? Serendipity? Whatever the truth, this vast used-cask lot is a major reason for the speckled, dappled, soft-contoured subtlety of Scotch. New wood is assertive, leaching vanillins like a spraying tomcat. Older wood is more restrained and less predictable
The practical result is difference. No two casks of Scotch malt, even from a single distillery, are ever truly identical. If they were aged in new oak, by contrast, they would have a far greater homogeneity. The innocent whisky drinker is unaware of this: the blender's job (whether for blends per se or for the core expression of a distillery's malt) is to smooth away these differences. As in a Seurat painting, the individual points of colour make a harmonious whole. There is one organisation, though, dedicated to pouncing on the differences, championing them and celebrating them: the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.
I sat down one windswept Edinburgh afternoon this autumn with newly appointed managing director Andrew MacDonald and the society's long-serving venue director and taste tutor Anne Griffiths. I'd picked five malts from the Society's winter list (see box), hunting above all for variety. We nosed them, splashed water into them, tasted them, teased them, lobbed words around them like balls at a Wimbledon warm-up. Scotch malt of this sort is sui generis: it can be impolite, abrasive, enchanting, arresting, disconcerting...but is never less than characterful. You don't know Scotch until you've tried a few drams like this.
The society's operating principles are simple enough. The tasting committee - notable members include whisky writer Charles MacLean and folk singer Robin Laing - meets weekly or thereabouts. They inspect possible samples, discarding a good third of those submitted. Those that are selected, though, are bottled with simple reverence. This means that all are of cask strength, which in the case of the younger ones equates to great strength: 60 per cent abv (alcohol by volume) or more. They need to be watered before drinking. Distilling dates are provided on the labels.
Words and puzzles are other pleasures of the society. The tasting panel produces notes on each bottling, the baroque wordplay of which is semi-humorous and much relished by members. "The nose, predominantly tar and carbolic," the panel declares of one malt, "still inspired some fancies, including lemon icing sugar, sage vinegar and Moroccan leather cured in pigeon poo."
The puzzles consist of identifying the distilleries of origin. Some brand owners are relaxed about the identification of origin (Highland Park, for example, or Glen Ord); others aren't, so strategic clues are given in the description. Once you've made your identification, of course, you'll know what to look out for, since each distillery is given a number, which is always used in combination with the cask's own notation. The code 3.123, for example, means the 123rd cask the Society has bottled from distillery number 3 and a quick glance at a reference book will allow you to turn the given clues (such as "distilled in Islay's capital") into the knowledge that distillery 3 is Bowmore. Distillery 24, for example, would be Macallan ("the famous Easter Elchies distillery"); number 30 ("On the night of the Tay Bridge disaster the first spirit ran from this distillery") has to be Glen Rothes; and the latest to be welcomed into the fold, distillery 125, is the long-awaited Glenmorangie ("the distillery which takes its water from the nearby Tarlogie Spring").
Mind you, just because you loved one cask from a distillery doesn't mean that you'll like the next. "Sometimes," says Anne Griffiths, "I get members who say, 'Oh, I loved that whisky: when are you going to get it again?' And I have to say to them, 'Never. Next time it'll be different.'"
Andrew Jefford is the author of 'Peat Smoke and Spirit: A Portrait of Islay and Its Whiskies' (Headline)
Nothing about Scotch whisky is more astonishing than this: every drop is aged in second-hand casks. Most of these casks are the by-product of the American bourbon industry. By law, bourbon must be aged in new casks of white oak (Quercus alba); Scotch feasts on the left-overs. A small minority of casks continue to come from sherry bodegas too: these are made of European oak (Quercus robur or Quercus sessiliflora). All of these casks have different shapes and sizes and are reused repeatedly to different effect every time.
Convenience? Parsimony? Serendipity? Whatever the truth, this vast used-cask lot is a major reason for the speckled, dappled, soft-contoured subtlety of Scotch. New wood is assertive, leaching vanillins like a spraying tomcat. Older wood is more restrained and less predictable
The practical result is difference. No two casks of Scotch malt, even from a single distillery, are ever truly identical. If they were aged in new oak, by contrast, they would have a far greater homogeneity. The innocent whisky drinker is unaware of this: the blender's job (whether for blends per se or for the core expression of a distillery's malt) is to smooth away these differences. As in a Seurat painting, the individual points of colour make a harmonious whole. There is one organisation, though, dedicated to pouncing on the differences, championing them and celebrating them: the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.
I sat down one windswept Edinburgh afternoon this autumn with newly appointed managing director Andrew MacDonald and the society's long-serving venue director and taste tutor Anne Griffiths. I'd picked five malts from the Society's winter list (see box), hunting above all for variety. We nosed them, splashed water into them, tasted them, teased them, lobbed words around them like balls at a Wimbledon warm-up. Scotch malt of this sort is sui generis: it can be impolite, abrasive, enchanting, arresting, disconcerting...but is never less than characterful. You don't know Scotch until you've tried a few drams like this.
The society's operating principles are simple enough. The tasting committee - notable members include whisky writer Charles MacLean and folk singer Robin Laing - meets weekly or thereabouts. They inspect possible samples, discarding a good third of those submitted. Those that are selected, though, are bottled with simple reverence. This means that all are of cask strength, which in the case of the younger ones equates to great strength: 60 per cent abv (alcohol by volume) or more. They need to be watered before drinking. Distilling dates are provided on the labels.
Words and puzzles are other pleasures of the society. The tasting panel produces notes on each bottling, the baroque wordplay of which is semi-humorous and much relished by members. "The nose, predominantly tar and carbolic," the panel declares of one malt, "still inspired some fancies, including lemon icing sugar, sage vinegar and Moroccan leather cured in pigeon poo."
The puzzles consist of identifying the distilleries of origin. Some brand owners are relaxed about the identification of origin (Highland Park, for example, or Glen Ord); others aren't, so strategic clues are given in the description. Once you've made your identification, of course, you'll know what to look out for, since each distillery is given a number, which is always used in combination with the cask's own notation. The code 3.123, for example, means the 123rd cask the Society has bottled from distillery number 3 and a quick glance at a reference book will allow you to turn the given clues (such as "distilled in Islay's capital") into the knowledge that distillery 3 is Bowmore. Distillery 24, for example, would be Macallan ("the famous Easter Elchies distillery"); number 30 ("On the night of the Tay Bridge disaster the first spirit ran from this distillery") has to be Glen Rothes; and the latest to be welcomed into the fold, distillery 125, is the long-awaited Glenmorangie ("the distillery which takes its water from the nearby Tarlogie Spring").
Mind you, just because you loved one cask from a distillery doesn't mean that you'll like the next. "Sometimes," says Anne Griffiths, "I get members who say, 'Oh, I loved that whisky: when are you going to get it again?' And I have to say to them, 'Never. Next time it'll be different.'"
50.26, 57.2% abv
£44
Scotland's most southerly distillery is Bladnoch and this almost bewilderingly characterful 13-year-old dram perfectly illustrates its aptitude as an aperitif, with scents of linseed and mineral oil, of orris root and gentian root. Its flavour is crisp and sinewy, bracing, faintly astringent and peppery at the finish.
31.15, 58.8% abv
£47
I asked to see this 17-year-old dram since it's from a distillery whose whisky I've never liked much, the Isle of Jura, and the panel's notes were hugely enthusiastic ("has to be tried to be believed"). I'm still not convinced. Its nose of hessian and horseblanket is a challenge but the palate was well-balanced, intense and sinewy.
36.35, 52.5% abv
£100
Again, a wildly enthusiastic note (for this elderly 36-year-old from Ben Rinnes) attracted my attention and this time the panel weren't over-egging their pudding: it's a stunner. Lavish, multi-layered scents combine cream, banana and exotic flowers. The flavour is toothsome, rich and explosively perfumed.
93.2, 57.2%
£42
I don't get many chances to sample the rare Glen Scotia from Campbeltown, so I was keen to have a look at this 13-year-old. It began unseductively, with a rather unyielding aroma; the palate, though, was craggily appealing, with plenty of seaside and camphor notes and a jut-jawed depth. The more I sipped, the more I found to admire.
3.123 61.6% abv
£35
"The peat freaks will wet themselves," promised the tasting panel of this seven-year-old Bowmore, so I thought I'd take a cautious look. Aromatically, it was calmer than I was expecting: sweet and only mildly carbolic, like Pears soap. It was, though, very, very good on the palate: calm, dense and pure, with a lovely sooty warmth
二手酒桶的奥秘
苏格兰威士忌最让人惊讶的莫过于此：每一滴威士忌都是在二手酒桶中醇化变陈的。这些二手酒桶大多数都是美国波旁酒业的副产品。根据法律规定，波旁酒必须在新的白橡木（美洲白橡）酒桶中醇化；而苏格兰威士忌却独爱经年的旧酒桶。这些二手酒桶还有一小部分来自于雪莉酒厂，以欧洲橡木制成。这些酒桶大小不一，形态各异，每次被反复用于不同的目的。
这是为了方便、省钱？或者只是个偶然的发现？不管怎样，巨大的旧酒桶正是苏格兰威士忌保持泡沫丰富、口感醇厚、细腻的秘诀之一。新木材会像喷雾器一样过滤掉香兰素，而旧木材则能很好地保留香味，但最终效果相对难以预料。
现实中，这种二手木桶里酿出来的酒有很大的差异。没有两桶苏格兰麦芽威士忌酒是完全相同的，即便是同一酒厂出产的也不完全相同。相反，倘若是在新橡木桶中醇化变陈，口感要一致得多，但喝威士忌的人可能都没有意识到。勾兑人的工作就是去除这些口感上的差异。就像秀拉（Seurat）的印象派作品一样，无数的色点组合在一起就构成了一幅完美和谐的画作。然而，有一个机构专门寻找这些差异，并且对这些微妙的差异津津乐道--那就是苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会（Scotch Malt Whisky Society）。
苏格兰品酒委员会的猜谜
今年秋天的一个下午，典型的爱丁堡式大风天气，我和该协会新上任的董事总经理安德鲁•麦克唐纳（Andrew MacDonald）以及协会的元老级当地主管兼品酒师安妮•格里菲斯（Anne Griffiths）小聚。我从该协会的冬季酒单（见附表）中挑选了五种麦芽威士忌，极力想找出它们的不同之处。我们又是闻又是尝，又是摇来又是看，就像在温布尔登（Wimbledon）热身赛上热热闹闹地开高球一样。这些苏格兰麦芽有着自己独特的个性，带给人完全不同的感受：或者粗糙狂放，或者独特迷人，也可能令人慌乱而难以自持......但是永远都不缺个性。只有像这样品尝对比，你才会真正了解苏格兰威士忌。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的工作十分简单。品酒委员会（最著名的成员包括威士忌专栏作家查尔斯•麦克林[Charles MacLean]及民谣歌手罗宾•莱恩[Robin Laing]等）大约每周开一次会，对取样进行仔细的检视（超过三分之一的取样将会被舍弃），然后将选中的取样装瓶，并加上简单注释。这意味着所有品种的浓度都与桶装酒一样，其中新酒的烈性极强，可达60度（标准酒度）甚至更高，喝之前需要兑水。酿造的日期会标注在标签上。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的另一乐事是写评语和"猜谜"。品酒小组会给每瓶酒贴上评语，其中巴罗克式的双关语透着些许幽默，很多委员非常喜欢这种措辞。譬如，他们是这么描述一种麦芽的："一股子沥青和石碳酸味儿，但同时也令你想起了柠檬糖粉、鼠尾草醋和摩洛哥皮革在鸽子窝里烘干的味道。"
"猜谜"是指辨别威士忌的原产酒厂。有些品牌拥有人对委员们是否认出原产地不以为意，有些人则万分紧张，因此把关键线索提示在瓶身标签中。当然，一旦你认出了酒的产地，就会知道该留意什么，因为每家酒厂都有一个编号，与酒桶的记号结合使用。譬如，编号3.123代表该协会从3号酒厂灌装的第123桶酒。只要翻一下参考书就能由已知线索（如"在伊莱首府酿造"）得知3号酒厂就是指波摩尔（Bowmore）。又如，24号酒厂是麦卡伦 （Macallan ，"著名的伊斯特•艾尔奇庄园酒厂"）；30号为格兰罗斯（Glen Rothes ，"Tay桥事故发生当晚，这家酒厂酿出了第一瓶烈酒"）；最新的125号是人们期待已久的格兰杰（Glenmorangie ，"酒厂只使用临近的泰洛希泉水酿酒"）。
我得提醒你，喜欢上某个酒厂的某桶酒并不意味着你也一定会喜欢上它的下一桶酒。安妮•格里菲斯（Anne Griffiths）说："有时候，有人对我说'哦，我太喜欢这种威士忌了，你们什么时候再有？'我不得不告诉他们，'永远不会再有，下次肯定不一样了。'"
安德鲁•杰福德（Andrew Jefford）为《泥炭与烟酒：品味苏格兰爱雷岛和她的威士忌》（Peat Smoke and Spirit: A Portrait of Islay and Its Whiskies）一文的作者。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的圣诞酒单
50.26，57.2% 标准酒度
44英镑
苏格兰最南面的酒厂当数布莱德诺克（Bladnoch）。该厂个性独特迷人的13年陈威士忌完美诠释了其作为最佳开胃酒当仁不让的地位，它混合了亚麻籽、矿物油、鸢尾根和龙胆素植物根部的独特气味，口感清冽浓郁，余味稍带辛辣刺激感。
31.15，58.8% 标准酒度
47英镑
我想试试这种17年陈的威士忌是因为它产自侏罗岛（Isle of Jura）--我一直都不怎么喜欢这家酒厂的威士忌，而品酒小组却将其捧得很高（"品过才会相信"）。但品过之后我仍然没有信服。混合着粗麻布和马毯的气味很不好闻，但口味很是均衡，浓郁强劲。
36.35，52.5% 标准酒度
100英镑
又是评价极高的评语吸引了我，这一次品酒小组没有夸大其词，着实令人惊喜不已。这瓶来自本•利尼斯（Ben Rinnes）的36年陈威士忌酒香成熟丰厚，层次多样，混合了奶油、香蕉及浓郁的异域芳香。口感醇厚可口，酒香四溢，令人齿颊留香。
93.2，57.2%标准酒度
42英镑
我不是常有机会品尝到这种产自甘贝尔敦（Campbeltown）的稀有格兰斯柯蒂亚（Glen Scotia）威士忌，因此我迫不及待地想一探这种13年陈威士忌的究竟。酒香浓烈刺鼻，并不十分吸引人；然而，其粗糙的口感却一下子把我迷住了，萦绕着海边和樟脑的气息，口感绵长--叫人越喝越爱。
3.123 61.6% 标准酒度
35英镑
"酷爱泥炭烟熏味儿的家伙们可要乐疯了！"--品酒小组是这么评价这种7年陈波摩尔威士忌的。我也很想一尝究竟。它的香味比想象的要低调些，甜香怡人，略带石碳酸味，就好像皮尔斯肥皂的味道。口感美妙无比，浓郁纯净，透着温暖的烟熏味儿。
关键字:异域风情
生词表:
Convenience? Parsimony? Serendipity? Whatever the truth, this vast used-cask lot is a major reason for the speckled, dappled, soft-contoured subtlety of Scotch. New wood is assertive, leaching vanillins like a spraying tomcat. Older wood is more restrained and less predictable
The practical result is difference. No two casks of Scotch malt, even from a single distillery, are ever truly identical. If they were aged in new oak, by contrast, they would have a far greater homogeneity. The innocent whisky drinker is unaware of this: the blender's job (whether for blends per se or for the core expression of a distillery's malt) is to smooth away these differences. As in a Seurat painting, the individual points of colour make a harmonious whole. There is one organisation, though, dedicated to pouncing on the differences, championing them and celebrating them: the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.
I sat down one windswept Edinburgh afternoon this autumn with newly appointed managing director Andrew MacDonald and the society's long-serving venue director and taste tutor Anne Griffiths. I'd picked five malts from the Society's winter list (see box), hunting above all for variety. We nosed them, splashed water into them, tasted them, teased them, lobbed words around them like balls at a Wimbledon warm-up. Scotch malt of this sort is sui generis: it can be impolite, abrasive, enchanting, arresting, disconcerting...but is never less than characterful. You don't know Scotch until you've tried a few drams like this.
The society's operating principles are simple enough. The tasting committee - notable members include whisky writer Charles MacLean and folk singer Robin Laing - meets weekly or thereabouts. They inspect possible samples, discarding a good third of those submitted. Those that are selected, though, are bottled with simple reverence. This means that all are of cask strength, which in the case of the younger ones equates to great strength: 60 per cent abv (alcohol by volume) or more. They need to be watered before drinking. Distilling dates are provided on the labels.
Words and puzzles are other pleasures of the society. The tasting panel produces notes on each bottling, the baroque wordplay of which is semi-humorous and much relished by members. "The nose, predominantly tar and carbolic," the panel declares of one malt, "still inspired some fancies, including lemon icing sugar, sage vinegar and Moroccan leather cured in pigeon poo."
The puzzles consist of identifying the distilleries of origin. Some brand owners are relaxed about the identification of origin (Highland Park, for example, or Glen Ord); others aren't, so strategic clues are given in the description. Once you've made your identification, of course, you'll know what to look out for, since each distillery is given a number, which is always used in combination with the cask's own notation. The code 3.123, for example, means the 123rd cask the Society has bottled from distillery number 3 and a quick glance at a reference book will allow you to turn the given clues (such as "distilled in Islay's capital") into the knowledge that distillery 3 is Bowmore. Distillery 24, for example, would be Macallan ("the famous Easter Elchies distillery"); number 30 ("On the night of the Tay Bridge disaster the first spirit ran from this distillery") has to be Glen Rothes; and the latest to be welcomed into the fold, distillery 125, is the long-awaited Glenmorangie ("the distillery which takes its water from the nearby Tarlogie Spring").
Mind you, just because you loved one cask from a distillery doesn't mean that you'll like the next. "Sometimes," says Anne Griffiths, "I get members who say, 'Oh, I loved that whisky: when are you going to get it again?' And I have to say to them, 'Never. Next time it'll be different.'"
Andrew Jefford is the author of 'Peat Smoke and Spirit: A Portrait of Islay and Its Whiskies' (Headline)
Nothing about Scotch whisky is more astonishing than this: every drop is aged in second-hand casks. Most of these casks are the by-product of the American bourbon industry. By law, bourbon must be aged in new casks of white oak (Quercus alba); Scotch feasts on the left-overs. A small minority of casks continue to come from sherry bodegas too: these are made of European oak (Quercus robur or Quercus sessiliflora). All of these casks have different shapes and sizes and are reused repeatedly to different effect every time.
Convenience? Parsimony? Serendipity? Whatever the truth, this vast used-cask lot is a major reason for the speckled, dappled, soft-contoured subtlety of Scotch. New wood is assertive, leaching vanillins like a spraying tomcat. Older wood is more restrained and less predictable
The practical result is difference. No two casks of Scotch malt, even from a single distillery, are ever truly identical. If they were aged in new oak, by contrast, they would have a far greater homogeneity. The innocent whisky drinker is unaware of this: the blender's job (whether for blends per se or for the core expression of a distillery's malt) is to smooth away these differences. As in a Seurat painting, the individual points of colour make a harmonious whole. There is one organisation, though, dedicated to pouncing on the differences, championing them and celebrating them: the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.
I sat down one windswept Edinburgh afternoon this autumn with newly appointed managing director Andrew MacDonald and the society's long-serving venue director and taste tutor Anne Griffiths. I'd picked five malts from the Society's winter list (see box), hunting above all for variety. We nosed them, splashed water into them, tasted them, teased them, lobbed words around them like balls at a Wimbledon warm-up. Scotch malt of this sort is sui generis: it can be impolite, abrasive, enchanting, arresting, disconcerting...but is never less than characterful. You don't know Scotch until you've tried a few drams like this.
The society's operating principles are simple enough. The tasting committee - notable members include whisky writer Charles MacLean and folk singer Robin Laing - meets weekly or thereabouts. They inspect possible samples, discarding a good third of those submitted. Those that are selected, though, are bottled with simple reverence. This means that all are of cask strength, which in the case of the younger ones equates to great strength: 60 per cent abv (alcohol by volume) or more. They need to be watered before drinking. Distilling dates are provided on the labels.
Words and puzzles are other pleasures of the society. The tasting panel produces notes on each bottling, the baroque wordplay of which is semi-humorous and much relished by members. "The nose, predominantly tar and carbolic," the panel declares of one malt, "still inspired some fancies, including lemon icing sugar, sage vinegar and Moroccan leather cured in pigeon poo."
The puzzles consist of identifying the distilleries of origin. Some brand owners are relaxed about the identification of origin (Highland Park, for example, or Glen Ord); others aren't, so strategic clues are given in the description. Once you've made your identification, of course, you'll know what to look out for, since each distillery is given a number, which is always used in combination with the cask's own notation. The code 3.123, for example, means the 123rd cask the Society has bottled from distillery number 3 and a quick glance at a reference book will allow you to turn the given clues (such as "distilled in Islay's capital") into the knowledge that distillery 3 is Bowmore. Distillery 24, for example, would be Macallan ("the famous Easter Elchies distillery"); number 30 ("On the night of the Tay Bridge disaster the first spirit ran from this distillery") has to be Glen Rothes; and the latest to be welcomed into the fold, distillery 125, is the long-awaited Glenmorangie ("the distillery which takes its water from the nearby Tarlogie Spring").
Mind you, just because you loved one cask from a distillery doesn't mean that you'll like the next. "Sometimes," says Anne Griffiths, "I get members who say, 'Oh, I loved that whisky: when are you going to get it again?' And I have to say to them, 'Never. Next time it'll be different.'"
50.26, 57.2% abv
£44
Scotland's most southerly distillery is Bladnoch and this almost bewilderingly characterful 13-year-old dram perfectly illustrates its aptitude as an aperitif, with scents of linseed and mineral oil, of orris root and gentian root. Its flavour is crisp and sinewy, bracing, faintly astringent and peppery at the finish.
31.15, 58.8% abv
£47
I asked to see this 17-year-old dram since it's from a distillery whose whisky I've never liked much, the Isle of Jura, and the panel's notes were hugely enthusiastic ("has to be tried to be believed"). I'm still not convinced. Its nose of hessian and horseblanket is a challenge but the palate was well-balanced, intense and sinewy.
36.35, 52.5% abv
£100
Again, a wildly enthusiastic note (for this elderly 36-year-old from Ben Rinnes) attracted my attention and this time the panel weren't over-egging their pudding: it's a stunner. Lavish, multi-layered scents combine cream, banana and exotic flowers. The flavour is toothsome, rich and explosively perfumed.
93.2, 57.2%
£42
I don't get many chances to sample the rare Glen Scotia from Campbeltown, so I was keen to have a look at this 13-year-old. It began unseductively, with a rather unyielding aroma; the palate, though, was craggily appealing, with plenty of seaside and camphor notes and a jut-jawed depth. The more I sipped, the more I found to admire.
3.123 61.6% abv
£35
"The peat freaks will wet themselves," promised the tasting panel of this seven-year-old Bowmore, so I thought I'd take a cautious look. Aromatically, it was calmer than I was expecting: sweet and only mildly carbolic, like Pears soap. It was, though, very, very good on the palate: calm, dense and pure, with a lovely sooty warmth
二手酒桶的奥秘
苏格兰威士忌最让人惊讶的莫过于此：每一滴威士忌都是在二手酒桶中醇化变陈的。这些二手酒桶大多数都是美国波旁酒业的副产品。根据法律规定，波旁酒必须在新的白橡木（美洲白橡）酒桶中醇化；而苏格兰威士忌却独爱经年的旧酒桶。这些二手酒桶还有一小部分来自于雪莉酒厂，以欧洲橡木制成。这些酒桶大小不一，形态各异，每次被反复用于不同的目的。
这是为了方便、省钱？或者只是个偶然的发现？不管怎样，巨大的旧酒桶正是苏格兰威士忌保持泡沫丰富、口感醇厚、细腻的秘诀之一。新木材会像喷雾器一样过滤掉香兰素，而旧木材则能很好地保留香味，但最终效果相对难以预料。
现实中，这种二手木桶里酿出来的酒有很大的差异。没有两桶苏格兰麦芽威士忌酒是完全相同的，即便是同一酒厂出产的也不完全相同。相反，倘若是在新橡木桶中醇化变陈，口感要一致得多，但喝威士忌的人可能都没有意识到。勾兑人的工作就是去除这些口感上的差异。就像秀拉（Seurat）的印象派作品一样，无数的色点组合在一起就构成了一幅完美和谐的画作。然而，有一个机构专门寻找这些差异，并且对这些微妙的差异津津乐道--那就是苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会（Scotch Malt Whisky Society）。
苏格兰品酒委员会的猜谜
今年秋天的一个下午，典型的爱丁堡式大风天气，我和该协会新上任的董事总经理安德鲁•麦克唐纳（Andrew MacDonald）以及协会的元老级当地主管兼品酒师安妮•格里菲斯（Anne Griffiths）小聚。我从该协会的冬季酒单（见附表）中挑选了五种麦芽威士忌，极力想找出它们的不同之处。我们又是闻又是尝，又是摇来又是看，就像在温布尔登（Wimbledon）热身赛上热热闹闹地开高球一样。这些苏格兰麦芽有着自己独特的个性，带给人完全不同的感受：或者粗糙狂放，或者独特迷人，也可能令人慌乱而难以自持......但是永远都不缺个性。只有像这样品尝对比，你才会真正了解苏格兰威士忌。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的工作十分简单。品酒委员会（最著名的成员包括威士忌专栏作家查尔斯•麦克林[Charles MacLean]及民谣歌手罗宾•莱恩[Robin Laing]等）大约每周开一次会，对取样进行仔细的检视（超过三分之一的取样将会被舍弃），然后将选中的取样装瓶，并加上简单注释。这意味着所有品种的浓度都与桶装酒一样，其中新酒的烈性极强，可达60度（标准酒度）甚至更高，喝之前需要兑水。酿造的日期会标注在标签上。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的另一乐事是写评语和"猜谜"。品酒小组会给每瓶酒贴上评语，其中巴罗克式的双关语透着些许幽默，很多委员非常喜欢这种措辞。譬如，他们是这么描述一种麦芽的："一股子沥青和石碳酸味儿，但同时也令你想起了柠檬糖粉、鼠尾草醋和摩洛哥皮革在鸽子窝里烘干的味道。"
"猜谜"是指辨别威士忌的原产酒厂。有些品牌拥有人对委员们是否认出原产地不以为意，有些人则万分紧张，因此把关键线索提示在瓶身标签中。当然，一旦你认出了酒的产地，就会知道该留意什么，因为每家酒厂都有一个编号，与酒桶的记号结合使用。譬如，编号3.123代表该协会从3号酒厂灌装的第123桶酒。只要翻一下参考书就能由已知线索（如"在伊莱首府酿造"）得知3号酒厂就是指波摩尔（Bowmore）。又如，24号酒厂是麦卡伦 （Macallan ，"著名的伊斯特•艾尔奇庄园酒厂"）；30号为格兰罗斯（Glen Rothes ，"Tay桥事故发生当晚，这家酒厂酿出了第一瓶烈酒"）；最新的125号是人们期待已久的格兰杰（Glenmorangie ，"酒厂只使用临近的泰洛希泉水酿酒"）。
我得提醒你，喜欢上某个酒厂的某桶酒并不意味着你也一定会喜欢上它的下一桶酒。安妮•格里菲斯（Anne Griffiths）说："有时候，有人对我说'哦，我太喜欢这种威士忌了，你们什么时候再有？'我不得不告诉他们，'永远不会再有，下次肯定不一样了。'"
安德鲁•杰福德（Andrew Jefford）为《泥炭与烟酒：品味苏格兰爱雷岛和她的威士忌》（Peat Smoke and Spirit: A Portrait of Islay and Its Whiskies）一文的作者。
苏格兰麦芽威士忌协会的圣诞酒单
50.26，57.2% 标准酒度
44英镑
苏格兰最南面的酒厂当数布莱德诺克（Bladnoch）。该厂个性独特迷人的13年陈威士忌完美诠释了其作为最佳开胃酒当仁不让的地位，它混合了亚麻籽、矿物油、鸢尾根和龙胆素植物根部的独特气味，口感清冽浓郁，余味稍带辛辣刺激感。
31.15，58.8% 标准酒度
47英镑
我想试试这种17年陈的威士忌是因为它产自侏罗岛（Isle of Jura）--我一直都不怎么喜欢这家酒厂的威士忌，而品酒小组却将其捧得很高（"品过才会相信"）。但品过之后我仍然没有信服。混合着粗麻布和马毯的气味很不好闻，但口味很是均衡，浓郁强劲。
36.35，52.5% 标准酒度
100英镑
又是评价极高的评语吸引了我，这一次品酒小组没有夸大其词，着实令人惊喜不已。这瓶来自本•利尼斯（Ben Rinnes）的36年陈威士忌酒香成熟丰厚，层次多样，混合了奶油、香蕉及浓郁的异域芳香。口感醇厚可口，酒香四溢，令人齿颊留香。
93.2，57.2%标准酒度
42英镑
我不是常有机会品尝到这种产自甘贝尔敦（Campbeltown）的稀有格兰斯柯蒂亚（Glen Scotia）威士忌，因此我迫不及待地想一探这种13年陈威士忌的究竟。酒香浓烈刺鼻，并不十分吸引人；然而，其粗糙的口感却一下子把我迷住了，萦绕着海边和樟脑的气息，口感绵长--叫人越喝越爱。
3.123 61.6% 标准酒度
35英镑
"酷爱泥炭烟熏味儿的家伙们可要乐疯了！"--品酒小组是这么评价这种7年陈波摩尔威士忌的。我也很想一尝究竟。它的香味比想象的要低调些，甜香怡人，略带石碳酸味，就好像皮尔斯肥皂的味道。口感美妙无比，浓郁纯净，透着温暖的烟熏味儿。
关键字:异域风情
生词表:
- repeatedly [ri´pi:tidli]
ad.反复地；再三地 四级词汇 - subtlety [´sʌtlti] n.敏锐；巧妙；微妙 六级词汇
- unaware [,ʌnə´weə] a.不知道的；不觉察的 四级词汇
- harmonious [hɑ:məuniəs] a.协调的，悦耳的 四级词汇
- edinburgh [´edinbərə] n.爱丁堡 四级词汇
- hunting [´hʌntiŋ] n.打猎 六级词汇
- vinegar [´vinigə] n.醋 四级词汇
- bridge [bridʒ] n.桥(梁)；鼻梁；桥牌 四级词汇
- linseed [´linsi:d] n.亚麻籽 六级词汇
- elderly [´eldəli] a. 较老的，年长的 四级词汇
- lavish [´læviʃ] a.慷慨的；浪费的 四级词汇
- cautious [´kɔ:ʃəs] a.小心的；谨慎的 四级词汇
- mildly [´maildli] ad.温和地；适度地 四级词汇
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