They had lived in Edinburgh about 20 years prior, and knew the city well. They were also fans of whisky, and indeed, had introduced me to my first alcoholic drink the year prior — the whisky-adjacent Baileys Irish Cream.
On the last day of their trip, my aunt and uncle took me on a bar crawl of Auld Reekie, starting with The Royal Oak, a 200-year-old pub and folk music venue, and beloved of one of my favourite literary characters, Detective Inspector John Rebus.
Over the course of an unseasonably sunny day, we worked our way through some 15 pubs in Edinburgh’s Old Town, consuming a variety of whiskies as we went.
That is, while my uncle had at least one whisky at each pub; my aunt halted my own supply and had me switch to coffee after the fourth pub.
Nevertheless, I sampled, or watched my uncle sample, the gamut of Scotch whiskies — from rich and peaty Highland whiskies to more delicate Lowland varieties, from a smoky Talisker to a sherry-hued Dalmore single malt.
Needless to say, we were all the worse for wear by the time we finally meandered home.
On the same trip with my aunt and uncle, we drove from Edinburgh to Ullapool via several distilleries, stopping for tours and tastings.
The first one we visited was Edradour distillery, a Highland single malt whisky distillery based in Pitlochry, Perthshire.
At the time of our visit, it was the smallest distillery in Scotland, and even today it is the last stronghold of handmade single malt whisky from a farm distillery still in production. We also visited Dalwhinnie, Talisker and Tomatin distilleries on this trip, but Edradour was my favourite.
The tour guide was a cheery man in a purple-hued kilt, who hailed from Aviemore and knew some of our distant relations.
He showed us around the premises, explaining how malt whisky is made. Whisky production begins with malting, wherein the barley is soaked in water, allowed to germinate, and then dried in a kiln.
The next step is mashing: the malted barley is ground and combined with hot water to release sugars.
During fermentation, yeast is introduced to the sugary mixture, known as "wort", to create alcohol. The resulting fermented liquid, called "wash", undergoes distillation, typically twice, in copper pot stills.
I will never forget the beauty of the gleaming copper stills in Edradour’s pretty little white-washed buildings.
This distilled spirit is then aged in oak casks, such as sherry, bourbon, or even wine barrels, for a minimum of three years in Scotland.
The type of cask used imparts unique flavours to the whisky, much like different notes in a perfume. While longer ageing can lead to more complex flavours, it does not always guarantee superior quality.
Single malt whisky is strictly crafted using only malted barley, whereas blends can incorporate a variety of grains such as corn, rye and wheat.
Each bottle of single malt whisky is the unique creation of a single distillery, reflecting its distinct character and craftsmanship.
In contrast, blended whiskies bring together spirits from different distilleries, allowing for a harmonious blend of flavours and characteristics.
And so, different regions of Scotland are known for the varieties of whiskies they produce.
In the Highlands, for example, whisky tends to be heavy, rich and peaty. Lowland whiskies are often lighter and more delicate, with hints of honeysuckle, ginger, grass and cream. The Speyside famously produces sweet, elegant whiskies, with notes of nuts and fruits, vanilla and honey.
Over on Islay, the whisky is known for its powerful smoky flavour and maritime influences, whereas in Campbelltown the peatiness is typically balanced by sweetness. It’s nothing if not poetic.
The story of whisky in Scotland is one steeped in mystery and tradition. Before the 15th century, whisky was primarily used for medicinal purposes and enjoyed in small gatherings.
The earliest recorded mention of whisky distillation dates back to 1494, with a tax record noting malt given to Friar John Cor to produce "aqua vitae".
Whisky was often produced illegally in small pot stills, especially in the Highlands, leading to a cat-and-mouse game between Highland distillers and tax officers.
The Excise Act of 1823 transformed the industry by encouraging legal production through licensing, which led to the establishment of distilleries like Edradour in 1825.
Then, the invention of the Coffey still (a column variation of the traditional pot still which enabled continuous distillation instead of batch distillation) in 1831 allowed for the production of grain whisky, from unmalted barley, wheat, corn and rye, instead of just malted barley.
Key figures like Johnnie Walker and Tommy Dewar expanded the reach of Scotch whisky globally in the 19th century, and today, Scotch whisky is a multibillion-dollar industry, celebrated worldwide for its rich heritage and diverse flavours.
There’s something compelling about the aesthetics of whisky too.
The term "whisky" is derived from the classical Gaelic word "uisce" (or "uisge"), which translates to "water" in English.
"Uisge beatha" is, quite literally, the "water of life".
Whisky is the classy man’s drink — the gentleman clad in a three piece suit with gleaming cufflinks, sitting in a high-backed antique armchair, cigar in one hand, tumbler in the other. It’s the drink beloved of James Bond (besides his martinis), the staunch Churchill, the debonair Sinatra.
Irish novelist and inveterate drinker James Joyce once described "the light music of whiskey falling into a glass" as an "agreeable interlude".
Just imagine the amber glow of whisky in a finely-cut glass glinting in the firelight. It’s a world away from the mayhem and mischief of Buckfast, the jollity of rum, or the trashiness of Smirnoff Ice.
A sip of whisky slows time; the warmth and strength of whisky demands one’s focus.
It is not sugary or easy like strawberry daiquiri, or bubbly and effervescent like champagne.
Its presence in one’s body is striking and undeniable, and to me, this very quality enables the drinker to better appreciate and parse the elements of the drink.
There is so much more I could write on the topic of whisky.
I could discuss the rise of fancy new craft distilleries, or the adoption of sustainable practices in the industry, from using renewable energy to reducing waste.
I could write an entire column on the importance of whisky and distillery tours to Scottish tourism, or the economic significance of whisky in Scotland.
But all this will have to wait. It’s getting late, and there’s an Ardray blend I want to try at the pub on the corner.
Whisky in Scotland is more than a mere tipple — it is an integral part of Scottish culture, flowing through the nation’s very history.
The astonishing array of whiskies produced by Scottish distilleries, from the sunny Lowlands to the remote Highlands and Islands stands as testament to the nation’s craftsmanship, talent and love of socialising.
So join me in raising your glass.
Slainte mhath!
— Jean Balchin is an ODT columnist who has started a new life in Edinburgh.
