The Elusive Bunnahabhain

As any of my loyal readers knows, I’ve always been a fan of the Islay malts. It was a glass of Lagavulin that first hooked me. Before I had reached the bottom of that very first drink, I was completely taken with the pleasures of malt whisky. And returning to Rochester, at a time when Lagavulin was simply unavailable, I purchased a bottle of Caol Ila 18. After that, there was no turning back.

Over time, I’ve also enjoyed Ardbeg, the peatiest of all malts, and Bruichladdich, more notable for its malt flavor than its smoky character. And I will confess that I don’t really care for Bowmore or Laphroaig, both of which are too briny for me, too much iodine. But throughout this time, I have rarely had the chance to taste Bunnahabhain, which is not at all surprising, as Jackson calls it the most elusive of all the Islay whiskies. Elusive because it’s uncommon; elusive because the distillery is apparently the least accessible; and elusive because it’s hard to describe the flavor of this most unusual malt. On a couple occasions in Boston, I had a chance to try the 12, once at Rendezvous where they stock a private bottling, and once at City Bar, in the Lenox Hotel. There is an obscure flavor lurking deep in the Bunnahabhain. The peat flavor is very mild; Jackson describes it as the most delicate of the Islay malts. But despite its delicate flavor, there is something in there, like a spice one can’t quite identify in a flavorful dish.

Recently, when G-Man and I went to Keens, we tried the 18. According to Jackson, the distillery had sporadic production in the years before its recent change of ownership, and so perhaps there wasn’t enough stock to bottle an 18 until recently. There’s no mention of this particular bottling in the 5th edition of his guide to single malts. And Keens was the first place I’d ever seen this whisky. But then, in a stroke of good fortune, when G-Man told me he was stopping at the New Hampshire store on his way to Maine, I checked their price list on-line, and there it was -- Bunnahabhain 18. So in a second, and even more fortunate stroke of good fortune, G-Man bought a bottle for me and then carried it all the way from New Hampshire to New Jersey, and then up to the Cuse, where he hand delivered it to me this past weekend.

Everything about this malt is different. The black glass bottle has this unusual shape, and so before you even pour the whisky, you get a sense you’re about to drink something unlike other malts. The nose is distinctive, but I’m no good at describing smells. Is it cloves and hickory wood? Is it leather and peat? Is it mustard and ketchup? I have no idea, except to say that it smells like no other malt. The peat flavor is subtle, and as Jackson says, delicate. That elusive and unidentifiable spice is still deep inside the malt, but the whisky is smoother, and the edges rounder, and the flavor much fuller than the 12. Some malts are unique; they can’t be mistaken for anything else. Think of Talisker, or Rosebank. And Bunnahabhain is like that. The trick here is to make the whisky last, because if I’m not going to find it in Rochester, I’ll have to wait another year until G-Man returns to Maine .That’s not going to be easy. Maybe I’ll try to hide the bottle from myself – put it in the basement somewhere and do my best to forget about it. At least until that night when we’re looking for something special to drink, and I remember that I have an open bottle of Bunnahabhain 18 in the house. If I can only find it.