Error in Terroir

"What region of the earth is not full of our calamities?" - Virgil

One of the most interesting aspects of learning about alcoholic beverages from around the world is the extent to which they reflect the cultural heritage and traditions of the people in the regions where they were developed. This is readily apparent in the ingredients used to create these drinks, represented in the use of indigenous flora, including fruit and vegetables: Agave used to create Tequila in Mexico, sugarcane used to make rum in the Caribbean, etc. The cultural aspect also becomes apparent in ceremonies (practices or etiquette) surrounding these drinks. This could include everything from drinking whisky from a quaich to the traditional lemon wedges and salt with Tequila shots. A Canadian-made television series called “The Thirsty Traveler” explores these associations for many well-known drinks and is highly recommended for anyone interested in the historical and cultural context of their liquor. If any readers out there are pursuing sociology or anthropology degrees, this would be a great thesis topic!

As important as the plants which constitute the main ingredients in the production of a particular liquors are, so too are the conditions under which they are grown. Growth conditions will alter the metabolism and therefore result in biochemical changes in the plants, particularly in the carbohydrate (sugar and starch) profiles. Connoisseurs are often able to identify the region which produced a given brand of liquor, based on distinctive elements in the taste. This "geographical" aspect of taste is most often associated with wine, and is referred to in the industry with the French word terroir. If you think about the limited range of growth conditions necessary to produce wine grapes (temperature, quantity of water) it is understandable how much emphasis could be placed on wine regions and the growth conditions of grapes within those regions. How subtle changes in these conditions result in significant changes in aroma and flavour is what makes wine production as much an art as a science.

In the whisky world, terroir has also traditionally been trumpeted as critically important. Most malts advertise exactly where they are being produced, as this provides them with some notoriety or links to particular areas traditionally associated with good whisky, such as the Scottish Highlands. But what is it that sets these regions apart when it comes to producing whisky?

To understand regional distinction in the whisky world, we need to look at the important elements required to make (for example) malt whisky: Barley and water. Instead of grapes, it is the growth and type of barley as well as the availability of fresh, clean water. The speyside region of Scotland is a canonical example of prime conditions for whisky making: Water feeding from various sources into the river Spey is softened as it flows over granite beds, moderate temperatures suited to the growth of barley, and lots of little hills and valleys to hide illicit stills in! These prime conditions help explain why even to this day there is such a cluster of distilleries in this region – more than half of Scotland’s distilleries are considered “speyside”. The speyside “style” is represented by medium-bodied, complex whiskies with lots of malty, bread-like flavours. Many have honey, fruity and flowery notes as well. Prime examples are The Balvenie, Glenfiddich, Cragganmore, and Longmorn.

The peatiness and smokiness of various whiskies can be the result of flavours within the water source (which may be flowing through peat bogs), but they are more strongly associated with methods used to dry the germinated barley. Traditionally, huge ovens called “kilns” are used to generate heat and smoke for drying the barley prior to it being crushed into the powdery grist necessary for fermentation. On Islay, as there are not many trees on the island, blocks of peat were cut from the earth to use as a cheap fuel to fire the kilns instead of wood, charcoal or oil. The smoke generated from these kilns not only dried the barley but infused it with some of the flavours and aromas we associate with Islay malts. Some examples being Ardbeg, Laphroiag, Lagavulin, and Caol Ila.

I’ve offered two examples of “regional” characteristics of some Scotch malt whiskies. Other regions will be discussed in future posts, but the important point here is to realize that there are exceptions to these regional characteristics; ergo you can’t judge a particular malt simply by its country or region of origin. Bunnahabhain is a delicate, fruity Islay malt which goes its own way and doesn’t try to keep up with the Jones’ -- its peaty, smoky neighbours.

Are these regional distinctions still relevant today? Barley can be grown in different places and shipped to anywhere in Scotland. Likewise, the maltings (of the barley) can now be made to order with different levels of peatiness and smokiness, then shipped to any distillery in Scotland. Many scotches are not bottled at the distillery, but elsewhere and therefore use different water sources. For these and other reasons, many single malt whisky experts say that regional distinctions have no real merit anymore. In our modern globalized society, tequila could conceivably be produced in any country of the world capable of importing agave grown in Mexico and simulating the "conditions" of Mexican distilleries indoors. Should it still be called tequila?

Rules and legislation regarding the production and labeling of liquors help to maintain a certain distinction. Champagne, Cognac and Scotch whisky are all great examples of brand control with an emphasis on region. Check Wikipedia for the regulations regarding production of Bourbon. It serves as an example of more strict legislation on not simply the region (in this case the United States), but also the production process. The upside of more stringent regulations is that is promotes a more uniform and sometimes more regionally distinctive product. What’s the downside? You guessed it: More uniform product. The industry has a fine line to tread between advertising itself using regional distinctions based on and protected by regulations, while still allowing distillers room to explore and innovate with new products.

I’m not prepared to throw out regional distinctions altogether, because I think that they offer some rough guidelines and also add some cultural flavour to whisky. The danger lies in passing judgement on the style of a drink simply because of the region it comes from. Exceptions to these “rules” or trends in style are often exceptionally good. This makes it worthwhile to learn about the distilleries and their craft, how the whisky is made and their approach to balancing tradition with more modern production methods.

I often think about the origins of any particular dram I’m enjoying at the time; imagining the people and their environment coalescing in production of the whisky. This inevitable infusion of cultural influence makes the drink (and the work put into making it) that much easier to appreciate.