Highland Park Releases at 50-Year-Old Scotch

The above item is a bottle of Highland Park's newly released 50-year-old single malt whiskey. Or, rather, a facsimile. The bottle is real, but the contents, I was told, are simply some nameless brown liquid. You can't leave a $17,500 bottle sitting around where the greedy and drunk might get at it, particularly since there are only five of these babies in the U.S. (all nearly spoken for) and 275 in the world.

However, there was a bottle open somewhere at Jean-Georges on a recent Tuesday, because all present at the tasting event were treated to a thimbleful. How does a 50YO Highland Park come to be? Well, it's one of those stories that you hear more and more often these days. The folks at the Orkney Islands distillery thought they didn't have any barrels sitting around going back further than 1964. But, lo and behold, then they found some dated 1960. Some were no good, but some were great, so into a bottle they went—a bottle placed inside a custom-made, sterling silver holder designed by a Scottish-born, New York-based jewelry maker named Maeve Gillies (She was there, and a tall, fetching and youthful lass she was.) Highland Park will be rolling these out slowly. Future 50YO's will be made from the 1964 barrels mentioned above.

Before we nipped at the 50YO, we tasted through the rest of the Highland Park line. (No great burden). The 18YO, 25YO, 30YO and 40YO. Highland Park uses American oak barrels that have been filled with Sherry barrels, lending the Scotch a sweetness that contrasts nicely with the smokiness of the Orkney peat. The 25YO is casked half in first-fill Sherry barrels and half in refill Sherry casks. The 30YO and 40YO, meanwhile, come from 100% refill casks.

Given this information—and the facts that the recipe for the Scotch is not different in the various expressions, and the whiskey is aged in the same regions (20% of the casks on the islands, the rest on the mainland)—it was remarkable, and somewhat confounding, how different the 30YO and 40YO were from each other. Both boasting basically the same alcohol content, the younger scotch was sweet and savory, with strong notes of vanilla, caramel and citrus. The 40YO, meanwhile, was markedly smokier and spicier. Caramel and vanilla, yes, but lots of wood and volatility. Both excellent, but very different.

So, the 50YO. Well, again, here we had basically the same whiskey—though it was transferred from the first-fill casks in which it was found to spend its final months in refill casks. But it was quite apart from the previous expressions. It had a beautiful, deep amber color. The toffee nose was very candied, and, on the palate, it was closer to brandy than Scotch—silky, elegant, mellow, wine-like, with plenty of candy,  raisins, spice, vanilla, coffee and caramel, and a clove and iodine finish.

Would I buy it? Silly question. Journalists don't have that kind of money. (I wonder how much of the price is for the silver casing.) Besides, they're all taken anyway. I'll be just fine with my bottle of 18YO.

Old Enough to Take Care of Themselves

Teeny tiny bottles are coming through the mail lately. About the dimensions of a travel-size bottle of mouthwash. And they're not even full!

Single malt scotches are getting older, and pricier. In the past couple months, I've had the opportunity to sample Glenlivet XXV, the revered distiller's new 25-year-old scotch, and Highland Park's new 40-year-old tipple. Together they're 65: retirement age. Hey, I could retire on this stuff.

The Glenlivet XXV was officially launched on a boat ride around New York Harbor last August. The idea was to see all four of Olafur Eliasson's waterfall sculptures, but a stormy evening prevented the gathered company from seeing even one. But no one was complaining, what with cigars and four different Glenlivet scotches hand. The distiller's idea was to have the invitees work their way up to the big boy, first offering glasses of the 18-year-old, the 21-year-old and the Nadurra. All very nice, and accompanied with napkins featuring tasting notes, to make sure we didn't have to think too much.

The XXV is drawn from hand-selected vintage (in this case 1980) finished in first-fill Sherry casks for at least two years. It's being packaged an almost ridiculously opulent wooden box and goes for a cool $350 for 750 ml.

If there was a boat ride or private plane or pool party for the Highland Park, I didn't manage to get there. The Orkney Islands single malt also opted for Sherry casks to finish its new scotch. But its casks were previously filled. They also go for a fancy wooden box. And the price is—wait for it—$2,000. (Understand the miniature bottles now?)

Needless to say, both of these single malts are excellent. If they weren't, the prices would be a positive scandal requiring police intervention. But the Highland Park is out-and-out superlative, while the Glenlivet makes me suspicious, as it I've just been played.

The Glenlivet XXV is a smooth customer. The nose is rich. Caramel, toffee, pear, chocolate-covered orange rind, heather and other sweet notes. In the mouth, it's silky, with smoke, tobacco, chocolate, caramel. It's liquid candy, basically, so seductive you could cruise through the 750 ml without pausing. It's like suddenly getting a kiss from a gorgeous woman completely out of your league; it's great and you're amazed at your luck, but wait, where's my wallet? I would welcome a little more conflict. But it's hard to deny that it's amazingly tasty stuff. And sure to be popular.

The Highland Park, meanwhile, doesn't worry my conscience. It challenges. It asks something of you and rewards you for your work. The nose is spicy, with iodine, pipe tobacco, intense peatiness, wild herbs and flowers and sea brine, as well as subtle fruit notes. On the palate, I found cinnamon, thyme, sage, toast, vegetal strains, with a spicy finish and edge to spare. Such stuff! And what a finish. Now, to find that two grand I left somewhere around here.