The Port Ellen 9th Release

Nine lives?


Right. A confession or two.

1. I opened the Port Ellen the night that Liverpool FC appointed Kenny Dalglish back as manager. It seemed to be the right thing to do to celebrate. 

2. More seriously, this evening I've poured the final drops from the bottle into a glass, so this is a one-off testing. It is perhaps appropriate that the bottle is finished at the closure of Kenny's pre-season preparations for his first full season back: the future is not necessarily the past. 



I think I'll start with those first impressions, back when I started the bottle: I didn't see what was special about it. This is obviously a problem for a £230 bottle of whisky.

The price for the 9th release was, quite frankly, outrageous: there's been a 10th since then and I've refused to buy it - and in reality the only reason I bought the 9th was because I knew that if I didn't do so, it would sell out inside half an hour and the chance would be lost forever. Besides, the 5th release was quite, quite fabulous.

The 8th wasn't at all bad either. 


So, what have we with the 9th?

The Port Ellen distillery closed a while back and has since been flattened. The remaining spirit is being slowly dribbled out by the owners, generally once a year and at a worryingly increasing cost. 

The 9th release was distilled in 1979 and bottled in 2009 as a 30 year old. The release comprised 5916 bottles, so perhaps a couple of dozen barrels depending on what they've used. 

It's bottled at cask strength, a mighty 57.7% - this requires a bit of watering down to enable it to be tasted properly, otherwise it's got the essence of an entire Christmas pudding, whilst it's aflame and covered in holly. 


With it tamed down a bit with water, however...

On the nose, perhaps floral, perhaps a bit oily and even a little bit medicinal. Oak, perhaps, but peat is curious by its relative absence. Curious for its lack of complexity, yes - but more so for its lack of oomph.

The taste is not dissimilar, in that it lacks a defining feature. There's a mix of a spicy, floral base, oily notes and the merest hint of smoke. 

The finish is more interesting: there's a sudden explosion of warmth and then a second burst which finally delivers the smoke that's been veiled until now. And then: gone, like mist burnt away by the morning sun - but not without a blast of spirit that almost parches.

There's a bit more of the feistiness that one expects from Islay in the finish, yet it's got a little too much of the element that causes cheek-sucking. It's good, but there's a slight tartness that's not compensated by warmth or a peaty hug. 


At this juncture, I'm duty-bound to say that this is a classic and something that must be enjoyed if you want to be a proper whisky drinker: well, in my opinion, it's not. Without wishing to be too harsh, something like the standard Ardbeg 10 has this one wrapped up well before half-time 

Yes, it's special. But it's special because it's one of the last Ardbegs, a relic of an era gone; something that harks back to an age before the upstarts at Bruichladdich used their webcams to promote weird bottlings.

This is, perhaps most worryingly, proof that marketing can overcome the more fundamental assessment of whether something is good. The simple fact that this is one of a small batch from the final couple of years of production shouldn't detract from the truth that this is not special enough on its own merits to justify the price.

It's a sad conclusion for me, because the 5th release truly was a fabulous bottling, something that I'll remember for many, many years. But try as I might, I can't bring myself to love this 9th release. Perhaps it's like meeting a beautiful movie star when she's been moved to the retirement home: so much promise, but ultimately disappointment.

Rest in peace, Port Ellen.