Whiskey - or, to be unpatriotic but precise, whisky - once saved my life. Years ago in the Highlands of Scotland, research for a feature on remote castles one perishing, damp December would have led to certain death had it not been for the thermal properties of frequent wee drams. Despite this promising start, I hardly ever drank whiskey, with or without an `e', again. Until the week before last, that is, when a chance to visit Midleton Distillery and taste Irish in all its best-known forms came out of the blue. For a mature drinker with a virgin whiskey palate, it was a scary prospect. What if I couldn't stomach any of the stuff? Or what if all the subtleties of the various styles wafted straight out of the glass and above my head? I declared my interests at the outset: wine, wine, wine. "Splendid!" said John Ryan, our ebullient guide. "We're finding that wine is a common way into whiskey for more and more people. Wine trains the palate, you see. Whiskey appeals mainly to the over-30s, many of whom will have been drinking wine for a while."
Oh really? Well, maybe. All I can say is that two tastings blew away my anti-whiskey prejudices with the same sort of force as that experienced when an old pot still in Midleton exploded in 1947, sending the distiller flying through the air stark naked save for his collar, tie and boots. In their place is what looks dangerously like the beginning of a new passion - along with a few rudimentary facts.
First, the essential differences between Irish and Scotch. If, like me, you are a neophyte whiskey drinker, a distillery tour is the way to bring these vividly to life. In the old Midleton Distillery which has been so splendidly restored to create the Jameson Heritage Centre, you will learn that, whereas Scotch is made purely from malted barley, Irish whiskey is generally made from a mixture of malted and unmalted, giving it a noticeably lighter character. You will see that the malt here is dried in a closed kiln, while in Scotland it is exposed to peat smoke, imparting a distinctively smoky tang.
And alongside the largest potstill in the world you can inspect the two others crucial to our traditional system. Irish is triple-distilled for extra purity and smoothness, while Scotch goes through the distillation process twice. "Scotch depends more on blending skill; Irish more on distilling skill," John Ryan explained. "The art of the distiller is to separate and retain all the good alcohols and discard the bad ones - the ones that cause hangovers."
Certainly, in the tasting which all visitors to the three distilleries listed below are invited to enjoy, marked differences between an unidentified Irish, Scotch and bourbon leap out. To me the Scotch seemed too pungently smoky, the Irish tasty but restrained, the Bourbon sickly sweet yet raw. "I see Americans sitting in this tasting room with tears streaming down their faces, realising how many years they've wasted drinking the wrong thing," said our guide, only half joking.
But maybe part of Irish whiskey's seductive aspect lies in its history. Although claims of a golden age initiated by early monks are a little hard to swallow, pride is probably part of the warm glow that comes from this native intoxicant of ours, relished by strong characters from Elizabeth I and Peter the Great ("of all wines, the Irish spirit is the best") right through to Michael Collins. Uisce beatha, the water of life, seeps through more layers of our past than any other drink. Its story is the poignant sort we relish. The 150 distilleries which flourished in Ireland in the 1850s were reduced to a mere five by the 1960s. Many of the old names had vanished in the 1920s, killed off by the economic war which closed off the vast British Commonwealth market and by Prohibition, halting exports to the United States.
It was interesting to learn that when Joseph Kennedy, JFK's spirit-importing father, wrote to Jamesons and Powers to place a substantial order, believing that Prohibition would soon end, both refused to comply. He turned, instead, to Scottish distilleries who were poised, ready to help. America embraced Scotch instead of Irish on a massive scale. Gradually, the whiskey industry in Ireland slid into a crisis from which it has only recently emerged. The banding together of the survivors into Irish Distillers facilitated a giant leap forward in technology, with workers leaving the old Midleton Distillery one July evening in 1975 to step into a fastidiously planned, high-tech, new plant, right behind it, the next day. The takeover of Irish Distillers Group by Pernod-Ricard in 1989 gave international marketing a badly needed boost and healthy competition has arrived in the past few years from Cooley Distillery in Co Louth. Irish whiskey has been saved, in other words. After years in the doldrums, sales are climbing - slowly at home, dramatically abroad.
I had imagined that whiskey was simpler to make than wine and easier to unravel. IDG's master distiller, Barry Crockett, soon corrected that naivety in a scientifically challenging exposition of the variables - five types of pot still whiskey and three grain whiskeys to play with, then differing periods of maturation in used bourbon, sherry, port or even madeira barrels. Whiskey can't be called whiskey at all until it's at least three years old. In practice it's generally a couple of years older.
For the wine lover, whiskey tasting calls for a new technique. The nose works harder than the palate, slowly sniffing and finally sipping a small sample which is served the way purists like it, with just a drop of water "to liberate the flavours". It also calls for a seriously expanded vocabulary. Faced with a dozen glasses to pronounce on, I found myself struggling to invent 25 ways of saying toasty, nutty and malty. Whether the tasting wheel of the Scotch Malt Whisky Society, which includes descriptions like stale fish, sweaty, rubbery, coal-gassy and nose-drying, is relevant to Irish whiskey I can't yet say but with over 80 brands still to try, it will be fun finding out.
Hops for joy
Powers Gold Label (very widely available, usually £13.49). Of the three big brands, Jameson seemed to me too soft and sweet and Paddy too light compared to tasty, toasty Powers. Special features: a high proportion of pot-still whiskey, in which there's a high proportion of unmalted barley. It has been the best-selling brand in Ireland since bottling began in 1894. See Bottle of the Week. Bushmills Black Bush (very widely available, usually £16.39). "Smooth, rich and elegant," I scribbled for this famous Northerner - a blend of malt whiskey distilled at Bushmills and grain whiskies distilled at Midleton. A high percentage is matured in sherry butts, discernible from the flavour. Redbreast (good off-licences, usually £19.49). My first taste ever of this pure pot still whiskey and I loved it. Terrific malty aromas and vigorous, peppery flavours lead into a prolonged and quite dry finish. Lovely stuff. Jameson 1780 (widely available, usually £19.99) A more recent addition to the Jameson stable made, like Redbreast, from whiskies at least 12 years old but intriguingly different in style. Mainly matured in oloroso sherry casks, it's nuttier, creamier, with a touch of sultana sweetness. Try it neat, after dinner. Midleton Very Rare 1996 (limited availability in specialist off-licences, usually £65£70). The ultimate treat: an assemblage of the very finest distillates, separately aged in top quality bourbon barrels, some for up to 20 years. A very refined nose, the fusion of intense, complex flavours which slowly evolve into a lingering, velvety finish. It could become your most expensive habit.
Spirit level To soak up the spirit, go to:
Jameson Heritage Centre, Midleton, Co Cork. Tel 021631821. Open all year 9 a.m. - 5 p.m., tours daily . Admission £3.50, tasting included.
Old Jameson Distillery, Smithfield Village, Bow Street, Dublin 7. Tel 01-8072355. Open all year 9.30 a.m.-6 p.m. Admission £3.50, tasting included.
Old Bushmills Distillery, Bushmills, Co Antrim. Tel 080 12657 31521. Open Monday-Friday November to Easter, then daily, 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Admission £3, tasting included.
Dipping in . . . What to read for enlightenment:
Classic Irish Whiskey by Jim Murray (Prion Books, £12.99) is an absorbing handbook by the most highly respected whiskey writer in the spirit world.