As stocks of old Scotch whisky dry up and are replaced by wee young ones, it’s no surprise that the single malt industry has slowly begun to turn away from age statements in favor of evocative names… ones with no numbers to be found on the label.
Talisker Storm is one of the most visible of these, a new blend of mystery whiskys (all from Talisker, the only distillery on the Scottish Isle of Skye, mind you) that promises all the classic character of Talisker without having to deal with the requirement that its spirits sit in cask for at least a decade (formerly its youngest spirit on the market).
Talisker explains: “Each whisky in Talisker Storm has matured in oak casks for a minimum of three years and, once matured, is blended together to deliver the final product. By removing the age restrictions for Talisker Storm, the Master Blender has full access to the distillery’s exceptional whiskies, providing greater flexibility to introduce a range of flavors to the final product based on the maturity, rather than age.”
It certainly sounds nice and honorable, but purists aren’t overwhelmingly thrilled about the switch. The thing about age statements is that they provide at least a little bit of proof of what you’re paying for. There’s no confusion when the bottle says “10 Years Old.” With a non-statemented whisky you could be getting 95% three-year-old mixed in with a few casks of 25-year-old whisky to give it some oomph. Or not. Who knows, right? (Indeed, Talisker says the spirits in Storm are between 3 and 25 years old…)
Trusting the distiller ultimately comes down to how the stuff acquits itself on the tongue, and on that front Talisker Storm is hit and miss.
Clearly young from the get-go, Storm is a modest and restrained expression of Talisker, yet it isn’t without some charm. The nose offers modest peat with lots of apple fruit behind it, barbecue smoke all the way. The palate is fruitier than I expected, with orange over apple notes, but with the mild peat coming along to supplant the fruit in the finish. It’s also got a bit of smoldering tobacco character to it, the finale ending up a touch acrid. And like that, it’s gone. No long, brooding finish, no suddenly sweet surprises. It certainly doesn’t taste like a Storm, but Talisker Squall just doesn’t have the same ring, I guess.
Talisker Storm is a fine little product, but positioning it as a premium single malt — it’s more expensive than Talisker 10 Year Old, which is $48 or so — seems a little hubristic. I’d happily sip on this at a party, but would I pay $15 for a shot?