We respect the past but don't live in its shadow. We believe in innovation and progress, while striving to create intriguing spirit - a spirit with flawless integrity and provenance. We are curious and restless - we never leave well enough alone. Pathfinders where angels fear to tread.
We believe that Islay whisky should have an authenticity derived from where it is distilled and where it is matured... from the philosophies of those who distil it. A sense of place, of terroir that speaks of the land, the barley, the water and the human soul that gave it life.
There are many who would see whisky distilling as an industrial process – a means of standard manufacture and nothing more. We understand distilling to be an ancient art, one that has intrigued the human spirit for centuries. A black art, a mysterious and enigmatic alchemy, that explores the very depths of the distiller’s soul.
OUR TRADITIONAL OPEN-TOPPED CAST IRON MASH TUN
PG MCCUAIG AT THE WASHBACKS
ALLAN LOGAN AND ADAM HANNETT
THE BUDGIE: SENIOR STILLMAN
Whisky is all about time. Not only the long years spent maturing in damp warehouses, but the time spent in distillation. Or, in our modern world in which most whisky is destined for cheap blends, time is money. Distilling has become about efficiency, computerisation, high-density fermentation. The quicker the process, the cheaper the product.
Our distillery does not produce whisky for blends, everything is retained for our Bruichladdich single malt. We have the time, space and the philosophy to run our charismatic old Victorian equipment in our own idiosyncratic way. This is no sci-fi, Blade Runner set up bristling with steel, pipes and motors, and lit by the glow of computer screens. The simplicity of the Spartan layout is the proof of a beautifully simple philosophy. Less is more.
We have the time, space and the philosophy to run our charismatic old Victorian equipment in our own idiosyncratic way
It starts with the maceration of barley in hot water to extract the sugars, in our open-topped, cast-iron mash tun. This venerable tank was built in 1881; it groans, squeaks and clanks in an unashamedly lugubrious fashion; this is the natural, ancient method that simply cannot be hurried. We could use a bright, shiny, steel, spaceship-like extractive mash tun to speed things up, but we prefer the ponderous, delicate, more natural way that the sweet, viscous ‘wort’ percolates away by gravity alone to be fermented.
The distillery was built on a gentle slope to take advantage of gravity. Any delicate pre-fermented wort needs to be handled gently, the minimum artificial manipulation the better.
It is here that a single malt whisky becomes the most flavour complex spirit known to man
Fermentation is the visually unimpressive part of making whisky. But it is the most important - and mysterious - of all: sugars, dissolved from malted barley grist into Islay water, are consumed by yeast giving birth to over 100 different flavour compounds. It is here that a single malt whisky becomes the most flavour complex spirit known to man.
Many of the spirit’s complex flavours are created during fermentation, consequently, like winemakers, we believe the slower and more gentle, the purer and better - as long as nature decides, for we are in no hurry; what’s a few extra days out of 15 years? It is these flavours, supplemented by flavours from the oak casks, which will be developed by micro-oxygenation during the long years of maturation.
Stainless steel vats are of course cheaper to buy, easier to clean and simpler to maintain than wooden ones. But this efficiency was rejected by the great wineries of the world who have returned to wood because of its thermal qualities: fermentation generates heat, and by absorbing and redistributing it, the fermentation can be naturally extended to achieve extra purity and flavour. The ancient wood pores retain yeast traces that influence the added cultures, providing a calm, smooth, gentle simmer as they go about their bespoke business.
It is in the still house, where the “weight” of the spirit is created, and there that we have our experienced stillmen: there is no formula, no software that decides the all-important middle cut. In our view there are simply too many variables and idiosyncrasies to defer the art of distillation to a microchip. The stillman’s knowledge, acquired over decades, of each still’s peculiar ways allows the distillation to be finely balanced, like a surfer riding the crest of a wave, with the heat sensitively controlled to slow the spirit run to a gentle gurgle, a trickle distillation.
We have the time, the inclination, and the stubbornness, to be totally uncompromising.