Just A Little Bit: The Secret, Hidden Additives of Spirits

Davin de Kergommeaux

It’s been a long and flavourful journey for this whisky lover. Here I am

in New Orleans, a dedicated Scotch single malt whisky guy telling

you about little-known ingredients in rum and whisky and eventually,

waxing almost rhapsodic about manually enhancing some of those

ingredients.

In 1998 I was one of five single malt whisky fanatics who founded a

group called the Malt Maniacs. In 1999, when our website came on

line there were no blogs – whisky or otherwise – and the web was

just waking up to whisky. So, we had a lot of influence and as a

group, and as individuals, became almost messianic about single

malt Scotch and all the things that made it an authentic spirit. All its

flavours came strictly from the ingredients and the processes used to

make it.

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Then something strange happened. A Japanese whisky that we

tasted simply blew the best Scotches out of the water. A door to the

outside – beyond single malt Scotch – was opened and we emerged

from our single-malt-lovers’ Plato’s cave. There was more than

single malt out there to tantalize our taste buds. And now we knew it.

After our escape from the cave, I headed in the direction of flavour. I

live in Canada. The government controls liquor sales there and

superior Scotch single malts are very difficult to come by – and

expensive. So I supplemented my liquor collection with the more

readily available rums, bourbons, and Canadian whiskies.

But it is difficult to escape entirely from our formative years and I had

been thoroughly inculcated into the cult of the three ingredients –

water, grain, and yeast. At that time, the concept of the barrel

contributing flavour barely occurred to anyone. The marketers said

three ingredients and we willingly drank their koolaid. Naturally, I

gravitated to rum and non-Scotch whiskies because they too seemed

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to be “authentic” products. Only natural ingredients and processes

were used in their making, and their flavours were shaped by nature.

I am probably best known – by those who even know me, that is – for

my writings about Canadian whisky. But whenever I can, I still enjoy

my Scotch and I seek out all kinds of other drinks as well. Because,

somewhere along the way I have emerged from a second, larger

cave – Plato’s was a cave within a cave if you will – and now seek

spirits not because they are so-called authentic, but because they are

flavourful – full of flavour. What I value most in a drink these days, is

the dance it does on my tongue and I no longer care how the flavours

and sensations that make the steps of that dance, got there.

These SED Talks will end later this afternoon at 4:30 with a

presentation about simple cocktails given by Dave Broom. Dave is a

leading tastemaker and the pre-eminent whisky writer of our time.

He’s a guru of single malt Scotch and rum, and with his new book

Whisky: The Manual the most significant spokesperson for the new

leading edge of spirits aficionados: Those who seek flavour: Those

who enjoy spirits because of how they taste and not simply because

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they were made according to the rules and regulations of a defined

and oft-times restrictive process.

And let’s not forget where these rules and regulations that some

whisky bloggers seem to revere these days, came from. They were

made up by politicians, not whisky makers. And the reasons most of

these rules and regulations were put in place were to maximize tax

revenues and to secure votes, NOT to make better or more authentic

whisky.

So let me talk about enhancing flavour in barrel-aged spirits, and

before you throw rotten tomatoes (or Bloody Marys – it’s been a long

week of imbibing) let Dave tell you eloquently this afternoon, what I

will stumble through this morning. And I’m not suggesting that you

pelt Dave, only that you don’t pelt me.

And one caveat – I have an undergraduate degree in biology – my

specialty was barley genetics, and a masters in biology – my

specialty was corn breeding. So, long, long ago I followed several

courses in organic chemistry and biochemistry. But I am not a

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chemist, not by any stretch of the imagination, and will make no

attempt to illustrate this talk with molecular or chemical structures.

Sometimes the flavour of barrel-aged rum and whisky is so

wonderfully rich that we forget that these spirits are almost entirely

made up of water and alcohol – two relatively flavourless substances.

What is even more surprising when you talk to flavour chemists is to

learn that the substances that make up the flavour and aroma of our

favourite drinks, and even foods, account for less that 1% of their

molecular weight. In fact some of the chemicals most crucial in

determining key flavours may account for as little as 0.05%. And

minute changes in the percentage of these chemicals can have

profound effects on how a beverage tastes.

As old-time whisky makers retire and begin to tell their tales, it is

becoming better known that before 1990, virtually all Scotch sherry

malts – those aged in sherry or other wine casks – were flavoured

with paxarette. One ex-cooper told me candidly that at his hugely

successful Scotch malt distillery they added a pint of paxarette to

every cask, rolled it around and then pressurized it to about 40psi so

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the pax would soak into the wood. Any residue was somewhat half-

heartedly drained off before the cask was filled with new spirit.

They called it cask conditioning but its only purpose was to add

flavour to the whisky. Paxarette, for those not familiar with it is a

concentrate made from sherry – primarily Pedro Ximinez based

sherries. It is ultra sweet, sticky and heavy in fruit flavours.

Now a pint of pax in a whole barrel of whisky doesn’t seem like a lot

of flavouring. However, I had the very good fortune this spring to

spend a day with master blender, Dr. Don Livermore, in the lab at

Corby distillery. Under his direction, I made my own blend and I must

say that I was pretty pleased with it. Then he suggested adding a bit

of pax. When I added enough to make up 0.5% of the volume the

flavour of the whisky had grown to gigantic proportions and it

somehow tasted older – much older. The dried dark fruits, tobaccos,

coffee notes of old whisky simply burst onto my palate in a most

harmonious and balanced symphony. And best of all, all the raw

whisky notes were still there playing bass, cello, and first violin.

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Suddenly I understood the secret of the great sherry malts I so loved:

Paxarette.

We hear a lot about flavoured rums and whiskies these days.

Flavoured rum makes up over 1/3 of all the rum sold, and flavoured

whisky is the fastest growing whisky segment by a long shot. There

are naysayers, many of them, who feel added flavour is not authentic

and bad for the category. They point to the current slide in the

popularity of flavoured vodka and predict the same will happen to

whisky, taking the whole category with it. Rum drinkers, thankfully,

are a little more open minded.

But vodka is by definition a flavourless drink. It is, put bluntly, an

alcohol donor for mixed drinks, because alcohol alone enhances our

enjoyment of flavour. However, barrel-aged rum and whisky are

already rich in flavour. They are more than alcohol donors; they carry

the very flavours so many aficionados and mixologists seek.

Although the elements that contribute those flavours can be detected

in very small amounts, virtually all aromatic compounds have flavour

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thresholds – concentrations below which we simply cannot taste

them. Sometimes, some of the most potentially flavourful elements

are present at concentrations below this threshold. They are in the

liquor but we just can’t quite taste them. What would happen if we

manually gave them a boost?

As we read the literature on flavours, we quickly learn that each

chemical has its characteristic aroma and flavour and that no two

chemicals have exactly the same flavour or aroma. So it is easy to

draw the conclusion that each flavour or aroma is produced by a

different chemical. But nature can never be that simple.

In reality our brains have learned to identify certain combinations of

many chemicals as individual flavours. There is not a single chemical

that smells like oranges, or bananas, or bacon, or maple syrup.

Some come close but none are dead on. Rather, it is a specific

combination of many individual chemicals that causes our brain to

register orange or banana or maple syrup.

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And our brains can almost always tell the real flavours from those

made in a lab. It’s similar to how we can tell, when we walk past a

bar if the music is live. No matter how good the sound system, we

know instantly when they’re playing recorded music and when they’ve

hired live musicians. “Real” flavours have an ambiance just as real

music does. Oh, oh, here I go on authenticity again. Didn’t we

discard that in the beginning? Well, yes and no.

In 2012, Glenfiddich Master Blender, Brian Kinsman created a

new Canadian whisky. William Grant and Sons owns Glenfiddich.

They also own Canada’s Gibson’s whiskies. I’ve not had an

opportunity to discuss this directly with Kinsman, but here is what his

people in Canada have told me. Kinsman was tasked with creating a

new whisky to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Canadian

professional football. His idea? Simple. Add a little bit of Canadian

maple syrup to Gibson’s 12 year old.

Canadian whisky is well known for its maple syrup-like flavours. They

are not there all the time but when they are, although sweet, they are

somehow crisp and clean and never cloying. One of the key

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contributors to the flavour of maple syrup is a simple lactone called

sotolon. Since maple syrup is made from only one ingredient –

maple sap – this sotolon clearly comes straight from the maple tree.

We sometimes hear whisky people talking vaguely about oak

lactones as flavour components. Well one of the most versatile of

these lactones is sotolon. It’s not just found in maple, but in oak,

curry, cane syrup, fenugreek seeds, and a host of other plants and

spices. Sotolon is particularly influential in the flavour of dark spirits

that have been aged in used barrels – those with the primary vanillas

and caramels reduced by previous useage.

There are two forms of sotolon – versions that are identical but for the

way the molecule twists. Enantiomers they are called. The left-

twisting S or sinister sotolon tastes somewhat like walnuts, and is rich

in caramels. The threshold of taste for S-sotolon is a mere 0.8 parts

per billion. The right twisting version, called R or recto sotolon tastes

sort of like walnuts and has a rancio-like quality. Rancio is a flavour

or quality that our brain interprets as age. The threshold of taste for

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R-sotolon is more than 100 times greater than s sotolon - 89 parts per

billion.

In nature, both enantiomers occur in equal amounts so the

concentration of S-sotolon must greatly exceed its threshold of taste

before R-sotolon has any effect at all on flavour. Sotolons also

contribute tobacco flavours, coffees, nuttiness, rich fruitiness, dried

dark fruits and similar indicators of long-aged spirits. Coincidentally,

sotolon is also present in paxarette and is a key flavoring element in

maple syrup. R-sotolon slowly accumulates as a product of

oxidation, as spirits age and eventually becomes one of the

chemicals that make long-aged rums and whiskies taste fully mature.

Unlike in some current maple whiskies on the market, the maple

syrup that Kinsman added to his Gibson’s special edition did not

assert itself. In fact, had we not been told we would never have

suspected that it was present. Kinsman found that he could not

simply add maple syrup to Gibson’s 12 year old. The whisky was

already too flavourful, too balanced, and too mature.

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Instead he made up a new blend containing significant quantities of

much younger whisky. Could it be that the maple syrup he added,

although not overtly detectable, raised the concentration of R-sotolon

above 89 parts per billion – it’s threshold of taste – to give us the rich,

flavourful crisply woody, and ever-so authentic tasting Gibson’s Grey

Cup Centennial whisky?

I have to admit that I support those who rebuff the use of

flavouring in dark spirits for its own sake – those drinks where the

flavour takes over the spirit. Still, I encourage you, as mixologists to

experiment with adding just the tiniest smidgen of real rum and

whisky flavours – citrus zest, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, maple syrup

to your cocktails, not to cover the flavour of the spirit but to draw out

the hidden subtleties of barrel-aged rum or whisky. Don’t add so

much that you can detect it overtly, but experiment with just tiny

amounts, tasting how they pull out the intrinsic rum and whisky notes.

And for those who cling to the creed of authenticity, think twice about

that dance the spirit does on your tongue before you snub flavour-

enhanced rums and whiskies. No, you’ll not find me sipping a

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marshmallow-peanut butter vodka martini any time soon. But add a

few toasted fenugreek seeds – a powerful source of sotolon – to your

latest dark spirits cocktail and you may find me ordering a second . .

. and a third, and eventually you may have to call my wife to take me

home.

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