History is a rose-tinted anomaly. The architect of all things current, you’d imagine it to be solid, yet it perches on rather shaky foundations. An ever-shifting mess of he said, she said, it unravels as easily as it changes tack, sometimes slipping surreptitiously into silence. Anyone who tells you otherwise wants to either own the narrative or conceal a secret.
However, it’s from this uneven ground that we tend to evaluate the present. And though somewhat bumpy, it offers undeniable, sometimes inconvenient truths. Here’s one: there was a time when Irish whiskey outperformed Scottish whisky. In 1871 The Distillers Company claimed the demand for Dublin drams would be “more than fivefold that of Scotch” — a foresight no doubt fuelled by heightened hindsight. Either way, the Emerald Isle had its tail up.
So why is it that, 150 years later, Irish whiskey is playing catch-up? Harsh, I know, but there’s no denying Scotland’s dominance in scale, depth and reputation.
“Ireland is an emotional place,” Rowan Leibbrandt tells me. “The history of their whiskey industry is a rollercoaster ride.”
Co-founder of Truman & Orange, Leibbrandt, distributes Dunville’s, a favourite of mine that appeared suddenly out of nowhere. The brand’s story — once mighty, then forgotten, now on the rise again — closely parallels the bigger picture, which Leibbrandt paints. Here’s the summary.
The boom is on, the landscape is changing, and the accompanying shift involves a degree of soul-searching, figuring out exactly what it is that makes Irish whiskey Irish.
In the late 1800s, the Irish industry was well established, shipping large quantities to a huge fanbase of American expats. But then history threw a few curveballs. Distilling technology took a leap, but the distillers did not. There was the Irish War of Independence, the American Civil War and the trade war with Britain, all curtailing exports. And the US got all puritanical. Prohibition. Great for the bootlegging Scots. Death for the law-abiding Irish.
The rest of the 20th century was mostly a meander. When John Cashman entered the industry in 1997 there were only three operational distilleries: Bushmills, Midleton and Cooley. The head of brand at Powerscourt Distillery, he’s been at the coalface for more than a quarter century, bearing witness to the enormous growth that has seen a handful of producers jump to more than 40.
“We’re only getting back to maybe where we were,” he says, with a little less assurance than those cocky statements from 1871.
It’s unclear if history does repeat itself, but one thing’s for sure: it inevitably evolves into the present. And now, Irish whiskey is undergoing something of a renaissance. “They’ve started to resurrect themselves,” observes Leibbrandt.
The boom is on, the landscape is changing and the accompanying shift involves a degree of soul-searching, figuring out exactly what it is that makes Irish whiskey Irish. Alex de Ujfalussy, the founder of Navigate World Whisky, cautions against categorising this spirit according to catch-all qualities such as triple distillation, side-noting that Ireland produces higher quantities of double-distilled liquid. “The new distilleries are working on how they want to invent themselves,” he says, before adding, “But what the Irish have going for them is pot still. It could be something that really puts them on the map.”
I’m glad he brings this up, because I love the style of whiskey and its origin story. It started with the Malt Tax of 1785. This levy, cooked up by the British government, placed a duty on malted barley used in whiskey production. Ever-inventive distillers immediately saw a loophole and leapt through it, adding unmalted grain into the mix. Sounds dodgy, but the results proved otherwise. It’s surprisingly creamy and spicy, with a rich, robust profile that tastes nothing like the smooth, easy-drinking Irish stereotype. A fine example is the unbeatable Redbreast 12 Year Old Cask Strength. When I first encountered it at a blind tasting, it destroyed everything else in the line-up.
Pot still whiskey is a wholly Irish thing, but it by no means paints the full picture. As with any burgeoning movement, the current wave of Irish producers are testing the limits of the island’s identity and what can be considered whisky. When chatting to Ujfalussy, it doesn’t take long for the most explorative of these distilleries to come up. “There are others in Ireland making very different whisky, that you would almost consider subcategory,” he says. “Such as Waterford.”
Less than 10 years old and already punching way above its weight, this highly revered distillery is the brainchild, passion project and personal playground of founder Mark Reynier. His early years in the wine industry shaped his terroir-focused approach to whiskey making. He began experimenting in this ... um ... field when he owned Islay distillery Bruichladdich, and he’s now pushing his methods to the extreme at Waterford. The first thing I ask him is why he chose Ireland as his laboratory. His answer is to the point: “Barley.”
As it turns out, the south of Ireland grows the best barley. So that’s why he’s here, making whisky (sans the “e”) that emulates a style from way back — before, as he puts it, “distilling became industrial and about the cheapest litre of alcohol possible”. Guided by deep-seated Burgundian philosophies, Reynier works closely with numerous local farmers — more than 110 to date — who grow barley specifically for him, exactly as he specifies. It’s a return to the basics, albeit abetted by some of the most advanced distilling technology on the planet. “Whisky was never a manufactured product,” he concludes. “It was an agricultural produce. It was always about the barley. We’ve just forgotten that.”
Waterford may be reminding us of a purer past, but it’s fully focused on the future. This is whiskey’s way. Today’s plans take years, sometimes decades, to be fully realised. It’s a bit of a guessing game, but for Ireland, things are looking good. “It is a very exciting time for the Irish whiskey industry,” says Cashman.
Agreed. It really does feels like Ireland’s time, an era that’s just beginning, an important moment that will one day be regarded as a proud point in history.
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