How do we make ‘whisky terroir’ more accessible?

The term “terroir” encompasses environmental factors that affect a crop’s characteristics, such as soil, topography and climate. It’s used frequently in relation to wines but has in the past decade or so been adopted by producers of spirits too, led by figures such as wine merchant-turned-whisky maker Mark Reynier of Bruichladdich and Waterford.

Logically, it follows. Spirits start with an organic raw material — for example wheat, corn, or agave — that will also be subject to influential environmental conditions. Production regulations including those for bourbon and single malt Scotch prohibit the distillation of new-make spirit past an ABV threshold that would make it “neutral” (which typically happens once you’re north of 95% ABV). This would suggest that the characteristics of a whisky’s raw materials are a crucial part of its essence.

However, conversations about whisky’s flavours are still dominated by casks — the wood species, toast or char level, size, previous contents. In a way it’s forgivable, as an estimated 50–80% of a whisky’s flavour comes from its cask, but that leaves us with a significant proportion being underrepresented.

The concept of terroir, and a broader celebration of provenance, are playing a big part in shifting this debate. For a start, it gives more airtime to growers — an important element of the whisky-making process that the commodity market can squash out of the picture. It has helped countries with nascent whisky industries, for example Finland or Italy, to start building a national identity for their spirits. It is also giving a boost to distilleries that release younger or non-age-statement whiskies, opening the door to a conversation with drinkers about the other facets of a spirit’s personality besides age.

One of the criticisms levelled at this movement in whisky is how noticeable a contribution the raw ingredients and environmental factors make to the finished product.

While new-make spirit is not typically neutral, distillation is a highly selective process and debate rages over how many grain-derived congeners (or aromatic compounds) survive it. But some do — they include hexanal, which typically gives green and grassy aromas, and furan, which can contribute sweet and nutty notes. And, thanks to the precision possible with modern distilling equipment, distillers can select their desired congeners with greater accuracy than ever to hone flavour profiles (I’m looking at your 10-part spirit safe, Port Ellen).

The number of distilleries experimenting with non-traditional or non-commodity grain varieties indicates they must make some discernable difference. These could be heritage crops sourced from or grown by independent farmers, such as the revival of Rosen rye in America’s Midwest (championed by Stoll & Wolfe in Pennsylvania), the bloody butcher corn bourbons of Widow Jane, Jeptha Creed and others, or the Scottish distilleries including Bruichladdich, Arran and North Uist that have distilled with bere barley.

A (controversial) solution to make the debate around terroir more accessible is to stop using the word “terroir”. It’s an overly specific and often-misunderstood term to describe a fundamentally simple concept: that the flavour of a whisky is shaped by the place it’s from. Now isn’t that a more marketable soundbite?

Numerous Scotch whiskies play this card, for example Kilchoman’s 100% Islay releases, Arbikie’s Highland Rye 1794, or Lochlea’s flagship Our Barley single malt. US-based Balcones Distilling has embraced its Texan roots since first firing up its stills in 2009, championing local grain varietals and leaning into the pronounced effects of the state’s climate on maturation. Veteran Tasmanian distillery Hellyers Road talks relentlessly about the provenance of its single malts, which were the first whiskies authorised to sport a Brand Tasmania mark. New distillers in south-east Asia are harnessing this locality narrative as well — think Ki One from Three Societies in South Korea or the Prakaan single malts from Thailand that launched internationally earlier this year.

To engage people in the significance of a whisky’s birthplace, distillers must both demonstrate its effects in their spirits and communicate them with clarity and passion.

P.S.

On the topic of provenance, I’d like to put in a word for distilleries that are exploring sources of smoke besides peat. In Denmark, we have Fary Lochan using nettles and Stauning throwing heather into its kilns. Belgrove in Tasmania and Eimverk in Iceland are using sheep dung. Branch Point in Oregon (an advocate for grain flavours) has used malt smoked with beechwood and cherry wood. In addition to the flavour benefits, it’s also a canny response to concerns over the long-term sustainability of peat use in whisky.