Debunking the myths started by whisky snobs.

By Jamie Shapiro.

I was in a hotel bar the other day. (Being a freelance journalist, I find myself in these a lot.) And I had hit a block in an article I was writing. I needed a drink. Nothing heavy. Nothing big. But something strong. I needed a whisky.

I looked at the menu.

Jack Daniels, double. £7

Bells, double. £7.80

Glenmorangie, eighteen-year-old, double. £20.

I went with the Jack Daniels.

Ah, it was good. I started to not worry so much about the deadline I had set myself. It was way ahead. ‘Maybe I’ll get another,’ I thought.

One more double.

Ahh, I began to no longer worry about meeting my deadline at all. ‘One more!’ I decided.

No! This time I will try the Glenmorangie.

Same glass, same number of ice cubes, same quantity, almost triple the price.

It tasted exactly the same.

Suddenly I stopped caring all together about the article I was writing. And not because I was getting intoxicated, but because I realised there was a far more pressing situation that people needed to know about than the ‘problems with dating apps.’

People needed to know that every whisky tasted the same.

Okay, I admit, this isn’t exactly how this article came about, although I was in that hotel bar, and I did buy those three whiskies. The real reason this article came about is because before I became a journalist I was working for a whisky company. I was only in the warehouse but sometimes I would have to set up something called the ‘whisky show’ in central London.

The whisky show is basically the alcohol equivalent to an art fair, the only difference being that art is actually valuable and requires skill to produce.

See, all whisky is fundamentally made in the same way. You get a load of barley, let it germinate, crush it up, mix it with water, heat it up, capture the gas it releases, cool that gas down so it becomes a liquid, do that last bit a couple more times, stick it in a barrel for three years, and bang, you’ve got yourself some whisky.

Now, it doesn’t matter if you’re buying a £15 bottle of Jack Daniels or a fifteen-thousand-pound bottle of Macallan, they will have both been made in pretty much the same way. The only things that determine the price of a whisky is the brand, the age, and the rarity.

As whisky ages in a barrel some of it evaporates out through the wood. This is called the ‘angel’s share.’ This is why if you ever find yourself walking into the barrel shed at a whisky distillery, it will feel like you have shrunken yourself down and stepped into a bottle. Anyway, every year that the gold stuff is in the barrel more of it evaporates. If it has been in there for fifty years, there is hardly any left, and that is why it is so expensive.

It is the same in every form of economics. The rarer something is, the more expensive it is, antiques, gold, stamps. But these investments are clearly just that. There is clearly no physical value in them, so they are sold as ‘investments’ and their value is an honest reflection of their rarity. And the sellers admit that. And the buyers accept that. And everyone is happy.

However, with something such as whisky, which does have a physical value because it can be drunk, it is easy for sellers to tell buyers porky pies to make even more profit. The key porky pie is that the older the whisky, the better it tastes.

I challenge any normal person, who hasn’t been brainwashed by the whisky industry, to taste the difference between an eight-year-old scotch and an eighteen-year-old scotch. You simply will not be able to. Don’t even waste your money, just take my word for it.

Yet this sales tactic invented by rich whisky company owners has become so ingrained in our first world culture that even those among us who hardly have two pennies to rub together, still want to purchase more expensive whisky. Sometimes it’s out of image. Sometimes it’s out of indulgence. But always its because they have fallen victim to the lie, and they genuinely believe it is worth the money.

I had a conversation with Craig, 42, a warehouse worker at a whisky company. (I will not name the whisky company and I have changed the name of the interviewee for anonymity.)

Jamie. So, how many different whiskies do you sell?

Craig. Around seven thousand.

Jamie. How does the price vary?

Craig. We go from a simple bottle of £15 Jim Beam, right up to the rare whiskies that go for millions of pounds.

Jamie. Do you drink whisky yourself?

Craig. Yeah, I like the occasional tipple. Nothing fancy.

Jamie. Have you ever tried any of the expensive stuff?

Craig. There was one time, when I was helping out at the whisky show, The organisers let me try a few drops of a six-hundred-thousand-pound whisky.

Jamie. And what did you think?

Craig. I told them I preferred my Jack Daniels.

So, casual whisky drinkers, it’s time. It’s time for an uprising. No longer shall we succumb to this legalised scam.

If you are investing in an old and rare whisky then yes, spend the money, but see it for it really is; an investment in something rare, not something of physical value.

But if you are buying a whisky to drink, then please, don’t spend money that you don’t need to. It is money that is going straight into the pockets of already wealthy whisky tycoons and it is money for nothing.

Instead, buy a bottle of Jack Daniels, shove a few ice cubes in it, and spend the money you have saved on a takeaway, or, if you’re anything like me, a second bottle of JD.