A Passion for Single Malts
Fans collect bottles for the taste of the whisky and the thrill of finding a
rarity at a good price.
By Elin McCoy
Bloomberg Markets April 2008
In a sleek, modern apartment high above the Hudson River near Wall Street,
David Stewart, a partner in investment consulting firm Tax Relief Investments
Inc., is showing me rarities from his 400-bottle collection of single-malt
Scotch whiskies. "The scent is nostalgia in a bottle for me," he says as we put
our noses into small, curved glasses filled with a 21-year-old Springbank that
is worth almost $600 a bottle. "It's a leather chair in a library with books,
maps and a roaring fire--the whole deal."
I inhale the heady mix of butterscotch, flowers and, especially, coconut,
which, Stewart says, is the signature aroma of the highly collectible whiskies
from this family-owned cult distillery in western Scotland. He first sampled a
Springbank in college and has been a fan ever since. His Shih Tzu, Lucy, seems
less keen; she barks and backs away at the smell.
Stewart, 36, hasn't gone as far as some passionate collectors. He's wearing
pinstriped pants, a white Ted Baker shirt and designer glasses, not a kilt.
Single malts are whiskies from only one distillery, in contrast to blends like
Johnnie Walker, which contain whiskies from at least two and as many as 40.
Scotland's 90 working distilleries create hundreds of limited editions, some in
lots as small as 100 bottles, that quickly disappear at prices ranging from $75
to $12,000. From Manhattan to Milan, to Shanghai, a fast-growing group of
enthusiasts like Stewart are in hot pursuit of them. Among them are Umberto
Angeloni, former chief executive officer of Italian fashion house Brioni Roman
Style SpA, and Nano Materials International Corp. CEO Susumu Katagiri.
Stewart stashes most of his collection, which includes in-demand bottles from
various distilleries, in two big closets next to his home office. Some prizes,
though, are neatly arranged on two bookcases next to the dining table where
we're sitting. Unlike wine, single malts--which consist of malted barley, water
and yeast--are stored upright and don't age further after they're bottled. And
once they're opened, they don't fade for a year.
To show me what makes one limited release from a distillery different from its
other offerings, Stewart pulls out a dozen Springbanks. The 1966 Local Barley
Cask is from a single barrel whose contents were distilled that year.
Generally, only exceptional single casks are bottled separately. Since each one
is unique, the whisky from it has a very distinctive taste. Still, quality can
vary; it's best to sample before buying. The higher price a single-cask
bottling commands reflects both rarity and reputation.
The 30-year-old in the dumpy bottle contains whiskies from several barrels, the
youngest of which is three decades old. Time in cask adds complexity and notes
of vanilla, and an older age means a higher price. Among five 12-year-olds,
Stewart's favorite is the 100 proof, which wasn't diluted with water at
bottling, as most single malts are.
All are now worth much more than Stewart paid for them, but he's not an
investor. "I think of collecting as deferred consumption," he says with a
smile. "Finding a rare whisky is the first thrill." He scours the Internet,
frequently ordering hard-to-find bottles from U.K. specialist shops.
Further uptown, I share a dram with another collector, Peter Silver, a dentist
whose patients include jazz great Wynton Marsalis. "When it comes to scents and
flavors, single malts are the most-fascinating liquids in the world," Silver
says. "I was hooked with my first taste of an 18-year-old Macallan."
Silver, 50, is now pretty hard-core. Last year, he tasted more than 1,200
single malts, and he'd just returned from a grand annual private tasting in Las
Vegas called Ardbeggeddon, after the popular, peaty Islay malt Ardbeg. Silver,
a trumpet player himself, is also a member of the international collector group
Malt Maniacs, whose useful Web site is crammed with personal tasting reports
and insider information on counterfeits and frauds, which are on the increase
as prices climb. "There's plenty of fake Macallan around," he warns.
An impressive, custom-built, glass-doored, floor-to-ceiling cupboard Silver
calls his "malt vault" holds most of his 750 bottles and sets of whisky
glasses. Like many collectors, Silver originally wanted a bottle from every
distillery and headed to Scotland with a long list. He rapidly realized some
bottlings weren't all that good. Now he buys only what he loves. I spot Brora,
Talisker, Ardbeg and Springbank and several Glenmorangie bottlings "finished"
in wine casks. "Older isn't necessarily better," he says. A whisky that spends
60 years in a wooden cask is liable to taste just like wood.
Stewart and Silver began collecting in the 1990s when prices were much lower
than they are now, and both bemoan where they're headed. Stewart paid $140 for
the Springbank Local Barley 1966, for example, and it's now worth at least
$1,000.
"We're in a boom time," says John Hansell, publisher of Malt Advocate magazine,
whose 1,300 bottles take up an entire room in his home. "Supplies are getting
low because a distillery can't just make more whisky in a day. I see the boom
continuing for a decade."
Take legendary collectible Black Bowmore 1964. The Islay distillery first
released 2,000 bottles at $100 each in 1993, with two further offerings in '94
and '95. In December, at Christie's first spirits auction in New York since
before Prohibition, a three-bottle lot went for $18,000. A new release of Black
Bowmore debuts in New York this spring at $4,500.
Neither Stewart nor Silver frequents auctions. Instead, both of them regularly
prowl out-of-the-way liquor shops in hopes of finding dusty bottles still
bearing their original price tags. "My heart leaps when I find something time
forgot," Silver says. "But that's getting harder and harder. The place to
hunt now is Japan."
Columnist Elin McCoy is based in New York.emcwine@aol.com
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