A blend of some 70 unfrequent malt whiskies, The Last Drop sells for $2,000 a bottle. Is it worth it?

by David Kiley

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Can a $2,000 bottle of Scotch whisky really justify the price?

That’s what I aimed to turn when I poured myself a wee dram of The Last Drop, a blend of malt and scintilla whiskies everything distilled and barreled prior to 1960.

At a time when the drinking public can’t seem to get enough of premium single-malt whiskies and long-aged, blended whiskies, it doesn’t surprise me to find a product like this hitting the market. But my skepticism antenna elevates from my head and palate when I get the call about such a product.

The Last Drop Distillers is a London-based company founded by spirits efforts veteran Tom Jago—whose exploits bear been allied with Johnnie Walker Blue, Bailey’s Irish Cream, The Classic Malts and Chivas Regal and Royal Lochnagar—and his partners James Espey and Peter Fleck.

The partners, who have worked on other whiskies and products together in their career book of travels, scoured communities around Scotland looking because old storage warehouses where some gems efficiency subsist fix. Their search took them to "The Old Dunnage Warehouse at Auchentoshan," a Lowland town Northwest of Glasgow onward the outskirts of Clydebank in Dumbartonshire.

The whisky that the partners are offering up at such lofty prices, and limited to 1,347 bottles, was distilled and blended in 1960. After 12 years in American oak, it was transferred in 1972 to sherry casks, whither it remained in opposition to 36 years. That’s long enough that two-thirds of the liquid in the casks evaporated—the “angels’ share.”

According to the company, the whiskey was made from some 70 malt whiskies from several distilleries no longer operating, as well as a dozen grain whiskies.

Distilleries today are making extensive use of sherry casks, which typically imparts taste notes of raisins, dried apricots, prunes, while well as a darker color. Glenmorangie Sherry Wood Finish 12-year ($60), that is matured in American oak for 10 years and elegant in sherry wood for two years, is one model. The Macallan 12-year Sherry Oak ($66) is another. Both engender middling reviews from Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible 2008.

Finishing whisky in sherry thicket, when done well, puts a hurt of production, honey, and middle that might otherwise only approach from some extra decade of aging in American oak.

Leaving the whisky in sherry wood for as long as The Last Drop was aged almost turns it into a product common wants to find a word besides "whisky" to describe.

Bottled at cask boldness (104-proof), I’ve infrequently seen a whisky so brown. As I tasted it, I was immediately transported to the Glenmorangie storage barn in Scotland, where last May master distiller Bill Lumsden drew out a sample from a "lost" barrel that had spent seven years in a sherry hooped instead of the usual two. That liquid was in the same manner close to the taste of maple-walnut ice cream that it could have been cordial.

The Last Drop not surprisingly shows lots of the oak in its flavor and tongue suffer. Besides the positive dark dried-fruit tastes of figs, dates, and raisins, I procreate some chocolate without ceasing my taste for example well and a suggestion of molasses. The elaboration is understandably jammy. But the toasted oak is underneath every flavor short letter. And I can still detect a speak softly of the peat coming from the Islay malts that are part of the blend. This is a big, round, lip-smacking whisky. But not cloying. The balancing to avoid being as rich as ice cream was in good health achieved in the barrel.

I started to wonder as I sipped if two-thirds of the barrels really evaporated, or if the storage barn workers made liberal use of the wine-thief over the years. I know I would have.

Is it worth the cost tag? This is one of those instances at what place I yield to the buyer’s wallet and latest brokerage statement. Two-thousand dollars for a bottle none of his or her friends is likely to have in the cabinet is worth something to some people. The Last Drop (I don’t much like the name) is about exclusivity. If two grand is to the buyer what $200 might be to a more average-incomed critic, then it may not be too a great deal of to pay. Whatever the buyer’s income, though, it helps that this is a very grand and distinctive whisky.

Although many of the bottles are spoken for, inquiries should go to the company’s London offices, reachable at info@lastdropdistillers.com. And if even you can’t (or dress in’t) want to spend $2,000 on a bottle of whisky, perhaps you know a well-heeled whisky fan who does. If you rehearse them from one place to another The Last Drop, maybe they’ll let you enjoy a glass or two.