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Only three hundred forty-eight bottles of The Last Drop's 1960 Blended Scotch Whisky were imported to the United States, and Bostonist recently had the pleasure of tasting a few stray drops. The "1960" refers to the youngest of the whiskies in an extremely (and deliberately) rare bottling that James Espey described as "pre-bling, non-bling." Consciously out of our depth, Bostonist brought along drinking-and-interviewing companion J.D. McLawschoolpants to confirm that it is tasty.
It is surprisingly brown in color. Almost a dull, flat brown. Most whiskies are sort of a bright, sparkling amber; we had never seen a whisky that was just brown. A seasick honey maple color shows at the edges of the glass. The nose has the typical mild scotch notes: caramel, grassiness, and a distinct oakiness. Even with the tiny sips we had, it was clear it had a nice, full body. The legs were incredibly viscous on the glass, and the mouthfeel was both mild and rich—with a sort of grainy, woody texture, like you were chewing on the staves that held this brew for over forty years. Fresh wood flavors were strong, with faint touches of peaty smoke. Alcohol heat was present, mild, but strong enough to notice, and gave The Last Drop a nice, long finish with end notes of chocolate and dried berry fruit.
Should one ever consider putting the stuff in a cocktail?
"You do what you like," James Espey replied. "I say never.
"This is a religious ceremony."
Espey, the youngest of The Last Drop's three founders (66, 81, and 83 respective years of age), was on hand at Eastern Standard to dispense samples by the thimbleful, and to charm by the bucketful. We were regaled with stories of his career in creating famous boozes for multinationals—he was responsible for Bailey's, Malibu Rum, and Johnny Walker Blue, and he got fired(!) over Chivas 18. But after all these massive brands, Espey has teamed up with fellow liquor industry veterans Tom Jago and Peter Fleck for the sole purpose of finding and bottling the inherently un-mass-produceable.
In this case, it's whisky that had been hanging out in sherry casks for 36 years (hence the aforementioned brownness) in a warehouse at Auchentoshan. Thirty-six years! (Espey believes that it was originally intended to be a 12-year.) Six of the malts came from distilleries that are now defunct. It's sold in a handsome, concise, anti-bling box—none of Bowmore 1955's crystal decanters or Johnny Walker Blue's encyclopedia slipcases.
(The Last Drop's next project will be some other spirit, limited to 200 bottles, "brown," and "it will coincide with my wife's birthday.")
So, is the whisky delicious? Yes. Is it rare? Oh yes. Is it worth $2000? It depends. If you're just some high-roller trying to show off with your fancy tastes, probably not. The product was not designed for you in mind. If you like your whisky to have a story, and—dare we say—even romance, and if you enjoy the idea of having something that is making its last appearance on this planet ever again—this whisky might be for you. Taking its obscurity and scarcity into account, it's probably a bargain.
These guys mosied around Scotland just digging through warehouses and tasting stuff until they found what that rare thing they were looking for. "Gobsmacked" was the term Espey used. For the scotch drinker who appreciates a good story—and James Espey knows how to tell a damn good story—this tipple would probably be worth it. For everyone else: sometimes it's just nice to hear a good story.
J.D. McLawschoolpants (soon to be McLawyerpants) contributed (heavily, like his drinking) to this post.
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