While this edition of Ballantine’s Finest may contain some young whisky from the handful of years in the late 1940s during which production returned, it likely contains a not insignificant amount of early 1930s whisky. Even in the post-War 1940s, production was erratic, and it was not until 1953, after this was bottled, that restrictions on production were finally lifted— hunger and famine stalked the continent in the wake of war so that excess grain for whisky production was hard to come by. Production had been much higher in the 1930s, at least until the specter of war and the risk of an impending whisky loch led to a drastic winding down.

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Whisky: Ballantine’s Finest (c. 1952)

Country/Region: Scotland/Blend

ABV: 43%

Cask: Oak

Age: N/A 

Notes: Cigarette smoke and wallpaper glue, the aroma was musty and a touch sour at times. Pewter and silver polish appeared as if I were tending to a table of fine antique dining utensils and plates. Old lacquered woods and wool lingered in a musty closet with old cigar box and a touch of mothballs. Rust, melted plastic, and charred mesquite wood ran into pickling brine and the sweet-sour notes of wort and fermentation. Light-bodied on the palate, the flavors were tamer, though still dominated by musty wooden antiques and metallic dining utensils. Plenty of silver polish and wallpaper glue appeared, but with a stronger vein of charred wood, sooty chimney places, and cigar smoke. Wort, yeast, and bread dough set to rise all appeared, now with an element engine grease and petrol. The finish was surprising long with a touch of sour fermentation, charred wood, and cigar smoke.

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Score: 7-8 (86)

Mental Image: “Wort, Worms, & Washbacks; Memories from the Stillhouse”

Conclusion: The musty and unusual flavors of this whisky reminded me of the memoire John McDougall left with the help of Gavin Smith. McDougall was a distiller in the generation that came of age in post-war Scotland. While he neither ran the stills until about a decade after this whisky was bottled, nor worked for the same company, his descriptions of the wild industry, with one foot firmly planted in the past and another tripping into the future, felt apt when enjoying this dram.

It is hard to judge a whisky like this— I wouldn’t necessarily want to drink it that often (unlike say an even older White Horse I loved), but the experience was loads of fun. If the score is a measure of my enthusiasm to try this again, maybe I over-scored it, but the romance of the bottle, which sat in glass for over a half century before it was opened, and the unusual nature of the flavor profile made this an experience to remember.  Also one I shared with as many as I could.