A Word About Reviews
I like reviews. Everyone likes them. They are good and handy. I never buy anything without very good research. That is one of the reasons why I like this particular time in history. Three decades back I wouldn’t be able to do it. Whatever comes to my mind is easy to find on the net. You read the review, and potentially, you are saved from buying crap. Well, it’s a theory. The Internet is a vast dumping place. Everyone can write, and everyone reads. Plus, believe me, everyone has an opinion on absolutely everything. Isn’t this world amazing?
Whisky is no exemption. There are so many sites about it. Tonnes of reviews. They are useful, but only if you like to read that kind of stuff. I know I like it. It’s very funny indeed, but if you peel off all the jargon and pompousness, it gives you an idea of what to expect in that one particular bottle you want to buy. I read, and I buy. Even if the review is not very optimistic. If I see something new, I want to try it myself and what the reviewer thinks comes as a second.
Let’s talk about all those descriptions. They play a big part in the world of whisky. You see them on the bottles and on the boxes. They sound really nice and are well thought through. There is also a different variety of them, and they are funny in so many ways. The language used is odd, but when you realise they are all serious, it gets even more fun.
“Visceral. Sweet peat, tar, hessian, germoline and malty grist.”
Personally, I can’t smell even half of what they describe. I don’t have the nose of a Master Blender, but this is another story. Do I believe in what they say?
Reviews are helpful if you are trying to buy a hair dryer or headphones. Buying whisky is a more delicate operation, and as far as one particular study can give you a hint, you should always be cautious and a little sceptical. It’s precisely the same when people are trying to review food.
For me, the review is more about product features. You can genuinely describe a hair spray, electric toothbrush or frying pan. You can tell others how it works, how durable it is and what it’s made of. A knife is sharp or not, the fabric is thin and discoloured, and toys can be made from cheap plastic, which doesn't last long. Whisky could be in a very nasty-looking bottle with a loose cork, labels peeling off and a box made of thin, rough cardboard. I agree with all of these.
How do you describe the taste though?
How to tell others something tastes like cheap crap or smells like a divine breeze? What is a heavenly breeze after all? Taste and smell are very individual, and individuals differ. When I mention things like this, I always think about Chef Gordon Ramsay (one of my favourites, for many reasons and the guy I really like; send my love through the air right now). Sure, when he says something is shit, sometimes it is shit, really. He can say words like underseasoned, over seasoned, bland, too salty and many others. Chef Ramsay can also moan about texture which, by the way, is meant to be this or that only because some people set the standards in some particular way. Don’t you forget please - Chef Ramsay is different from you and me. He may not like something you like but does it make that thing less tasty for you? I'm not a big fan of kiwi, and I don’t like dark (made with blood) brawn. Many people don’t like blood pudding and others find fried pig’s brain a delicacy. I cook a lot, really, and I like to experiment with new recipes, it doesn't matter from TV, books, or the internet. Thank you, Jamie Oliver and Rick Stain, thank you, Gordon Ramsay and Marco Pierre White, thank you for all the inspiration and all the good recipes. I tried many. Some of them were brilliant, some average and some other dishes were simply not edible. For me, of course, but does it make them bad? I am pretty sure they are magical for many. The point is the whisky review describing taste or smell simply needs to be inaccurate, just by definition.
When I started to drink my whisky in this very lovely and pompous way, I was a little devastated by all reviews and even descriptions on the bottles or boxes. I couldn’t taste and smell all of those magnificent combinations of flavours. After a while, I stopped worrying. It didn’t make sense to be upset about something like this. I like what I like, and I am what I am. I can’t change it. It is possible to educate oneself on something, but it won’t be possible to change how the person smells or tastes things. Sensations like these are purely individual, and every one of us has a right to smell what they smell and taste what they taste and never be ashamed because of it.
Now seriously. My favourite sites are Masters of Malt and Malt. There are many others.
Read them. Expand your knowledge. Absorb it. Have fun. These are the three main parts of the whole whisky thing.
Fun, Pleasure and Satisfaction.
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