Breaking the Mould: 25 Years In to our story

If there’s one character trait you could pin on Bruichladdich Distillery it would be convention defier. The desire to create a whisky dedicated to flavour (rather than maximum profit) is in its bones: in the very foundation of the distillery’s structure.  

At a time when most distilleries grew from their modest beginnings of farm buildings around illicit distillers, the Harvey Brothers set out to build a state-of-the-art distillery. In 1881, William, John, and Robert – a dynastic whisky family that had owned two distilleries in Glasgow since 1770 – opened Bruichladdich on the site chosen for its proximity to the loch and shipping and the gentle slope which took advantage of gravity for the production process. The stillhouse was given a cathedral-like design to accommodate the uniquely tall, narrow-necked stills which give the liquid its elegance. The three brothers – a distiller, an engineer, and an accountant – seemed to have all the necessary elements to make a success of it. While time would prove their vision and design spot on, family feuds and mismanagement led to its closing in 1929 and subsequent sale to a whisky conglomerate in 1938. From there Bruichladdich suffered multiple closings and reopenings and changed hands another five to six times, before finally ending up mothballed in 1994 and sold off to Jim Beam Brands. 

During this time, when Bruichladdich sat quietly on the shores of Loch Indaal – the whisky it produced destined for blends – London-based wine merchant, Mark Reynier (who had never particularly enjoyed whisky) won a bottle of 1970 Bruichladdich in a tombola and was blown away to discover it had all the complexity and elegance of a fine wine, which he’d never experienced before with a whisky. A man with terrier-like determination, Reynier began what would become an annual tradition of writing a letter every January to the owners of Bruichladdich (first Invergordon, then Whyte & McKay, and finally Jim Beam Brands) inquiring if they would be willing to sell him the distillery. This was in the era of whisky conglomerates when international corporations had swallowed up most of the independent distilleries. It was absolutely unheard of for an independent buyer to purchase a whisky company from a conglomerate. In 2000, after nine years, Jim Beam Brands finally acquiesced – with the caveat that the £6.5 million be in the bank by 12:00 on December 19th, or the deal was off. 

Reynier and his business partner, Simon Coughlin, quickly gathered a group of shareholders, and after great struggle, managed to get a loan from a bank for the remainder. With only days left before the deadline and the final £400,000 missing in the ether after being transferred, Reynier and Coughlin began to panic. December 19th found Reynier in his office with a slew of solicitors ready to wipe their hands of this absurd scheme. Numerous calls to the bank all proved fruitless. Then, at two minutes to 12:00 the money landed in Reynier’s account.  

Reynier and Coughlin weren’t in the game simply to expand into the spirits territory. Their vision was to make spirits that pursued the concept of terroir – something that had never before been considered in whisky. They sought to make a whisky the reflected the land and people of Islay. A spirit whose celebration of flavour isn’t only about masterful distillation and excellent casks, but about the place and the ingredients from which it was made: the barley, the Hebridean soil, water, and air...and about the people of Islay. Bruichladdich whisky would be made with the same Victorian equipment that produced the liquid Reynier had fallen in love with. No computers, no mass production; everything done by hand. Slow fermentation in wooden vats, slow distillation in tall stills; matured and bottled on Islay. 

The two wine merchants knew plenty about wine and about business, but they knew nothing about distillation. So, they invited the best of the best to join them: Bowmore Distillery Manager, Jim McEwan.  

McEwan had worked for Bowmore for 38 years, starting as an apprentice cooper and working his way up to Distillery Manager and global ambassador. He knew the ins and outs of running a distillery and his world travels with Bowmore had made him intimately familiar with what whisky fans wanted. He had a secure job, a strong pension, and a rock-solid reputation. What he didn’t have was the means to create something new – to push how the world thinks of Scotch into new territories. Though it would ask him to risk it all, Bruichladddich would give him the chance to become a master artist. McEwan knew how to make incredible whiskies. And he knew how to spin a story so captivating his audience would fall at his feet in adoration. Bruichladdich needed both if they were going to get this dream off the ground. 

With McEwan’s skills in whisky making and storytelling, Reynier’s maverick vision and talent for turning threads of stories into PR masterpieces, and Coughlin’s steady mind for operations, the Bruichladdich Distillery’s renaissance was being led by a dream team. And it was a good thing, too: the distillery was in ruins and the 6,000 barrels of whisky – the sale of which would be essential to keep operations running – were maturing in tired, weather-beaten casks. With the help of former Distillery Manager, Duncan McGillivray, John Rennie, and Duncan “Budgie” MacFayden, along with the endless support from the community who offered machinery, expertise, or freshly baked goods to power the team, the distillery officially reopened just five months later. On May 29th, 2001 at 08:26, the first drops ran from the still. (Interestingly, the first spirit to be distilled post renaissance was not an unpeated Bruichladdich, but a heavily peated Port Charlotte). 

Bruichladdich in the early days was the Frank Zappa of the whisky industry: they dedicated heart and soul to making whisky the way they wanted to (and were quite happy to give the middle finger to stodgy traditionalists in the process). It wasn’t that the founders wanted to carve out their niche by doing something different, they were so wholly committed to their values that they simply didn’t care what was or was not done in the industry. 

First off, the liquid itself. The team was adamant about creating a whisky of incredible quality. This meant no chill-filtration (which strips the spirit of flavour compounds) and no colourants. Bruichladdich’s founders believed in transparency and authenticity, celebrating natural whisky; taking shortcuts like adding colourants felt like deception.  

That a distillery located on an island famous for its peated Scotch decided to sell an unpeated whisky was also unusual. But Bruichladdich had been making an unpeated Scotch since the 1960s (all intended for blending), and it was this whisky that Reynier had fallen in love with. It was elegant, fresh, and floral, and stands out from the medicinal, tarry flavours of a typical Islay peated Scotch. The new owners had also inherited 6,000 casks of spirit that were, at most, only very lightly peated. These would be the company’s reentry into the market while they waited for the new spirit to age.   

Another differentiating point was that Bruichladdich began maturing some of its spirit in wine casks at a time when the convention was to use ex-bourbon barrels. In part, this was a practical issue: the spirit they’d inherited was aging in tired casks that had been exposed to harsh weather conditions (due to the deteriorating state of the warehouses after closure). In order to sell this as a single malt they could stand behind, they needed to mature it in the highest quality casks in terms of both oak and liquid previously used – and quickly. With Reynier and Coughlin’s access to exquisite wine casks in impeccable condition at an affordable price, McEwan had an entire palette to play with. Wine casks hold more of the oak flavours than those from spirit casks as the higher the level of alcohol, the more those flavour compounds are drawn out of the wood. But time and money certainly weren’t the only reasons. Wine casks also add an extra dimension: greater complexity and length of flavour. Experimentation, discovering new flavours, and creating something different were also driving forces. 

Perhaps the most audacious stand that the Bruichladdich founders took was to focus on terroir – a concept of utmost importance in the wine world that did not exist in whisky at the time. Since its renaissance, Bruichladdich has striven to create spirits that give a genuine sense of place. Terroir, then, has been at the centre of everything the company works towards. Every parcel of barley is labelled and traced, from the different varieties of the grain to what farm it came from, and even which field it grew in. Right from the beginning, it became apparent how much each individual crop varies from place to place – even within the confines of the island or an individual farm. 

Those explorations in barley have grown over the last 25 years. In 2003, Bruichladdich began the first Great Barley Experiment, working with its first Islay farmer. (We now have 20 farmers that we partner with to grow barley for our malt). The distillery soon took on other barely projects, working with farmers of organic and biodynamic barley, rye, and the heritage grain, bere barley. All of these were not just experiments in flavour, but part of our dedication to sustainability. The organic, biodynamic, and rye whiskies each focus on supporting soil and environmental health, while our Bere Barley is part of a wider project in developing a market for a barley varietal that is resistant to climate change and nutrient-poor soils. 

From the moment Bruichladdich Distillery reopened its doors, it made a commitment to the islanders. The Rhinns community had suffered through numerous layoffs and closures over the years. On a small island, the effect is devastating. For the founders there was no question that the community be an integral part of distillery operations. This is why we mature and bottle our all of our whisky on Islay, rather than ship the new make spirit off to the mainland like most distilleries. Terroir, in our belief, is not only about soil and climate – it’s also about the people and the stories that go into the whisky.  

From its earliest days, Bruichladdich has been about creating incredible, thought-provoking whisky. Since our renaissance, we have dedicated ourselves to creating the most interesting, elegant spirits, grounded in a sense of place with an eye towards the future. For us, it is not enough to create a great single malt. We are on a mission to change how the world thinks about whisky and how the spirits industry moves into the future.