I. Distractions In 1987, when I was 18 and a dollar was worth more than twice as much as it is today, I started reading magazines: M, Esquire, GQ. Nearby, in our somewhat cultured Texas town, a new bookstore opened in a cavernous space that had formerly housed the shag-carpeted roller skating rink of our childhood. Through the front windows, which had before been darkly tinted to give the place an alluring den-of-prepubescent-iniquity vibe, now streamed bright, clean light, showcasing a look and layout that would become the interior design gestalt of today’s national-chain, big-box book superstore. The rows upon rows of open, dustless shelving bearing a veritable warehouse of volumes; the ceiling hung with its industrial innards on display; the enfilade of check-out cubicles; and the wall – the great wall – that displayed a preposterous-to-behold assortment of glossies, quarterlies, journals, newsweeklies, fanzines, tabloids, almanacs, and all other flora and fauna of magazines arrayed upon a rack perhaps 50 feet long.  I went in there to look for a book. I liked books, and, one day, I was sure I wanted to write one. But I got distracted and bought a magazine instead – that August’s issue of GQ, which still stands out in my mind as a thing of formative significance. At that time, the zeitgeist was defined by a Walkman-wearing version of the American Renaissance Man – the highly-ambitious, status-obsessed, money-motivated, health-nut known as a Yuppie. No magazine positioned itself more authoritatively in defining this new sociological creature’s lifestyle than GQ, and it did it with whiter teeth, snappier suspenders, better accessories, bigger polka dots and more caffeine in the ink of its display copy.  I remember that issue less for the photos by Richard Avedon or Steven Meisel, the words of Martin Amis or Frederick Exley, than for this: Erzeugerabfüllung. It was one of the longest, strangest strings of letters from the Roman alphabet I had ever seen. Neither did it seem designed to come out of someone’s mouth. But there it was in Alan Richman’s Wine & Spirits column, accompanied by a lovely still-life photograph of his topic: two bottles of Riesling Kabinetts on a white, sun-dappled tablecloth. Richman’s main point – made almost 35 years ago – still holds true: estate-bottled, table-quality German wines remain some of the least expensive, most delicious wines in the world, chiefly because – then as now – the labels, as he wrote, “cannot be understood by anyone who is not a part-time oenophile, linguist and cartographer”. One US dollar in Richman’s pocket, as I have already said, bought what roughly two-dollars-and-fifty-cents does today; what he was on the hunt for was a good dry white in a range that would now cost somewhere between 12 and 30 bucks, and he easily accomplished that by finding a dealer in New York City who carried a good selection of wines from the Mosel and Rheingau. At the time, I didn’t know the meaning or significance of any of this, but it staked a claim in my brain. The only wine I had ever tasted was the one served at our Episcopal church during Eucharist on Sundays. The flavour it had was of a strange, super-concentrated jam that somehow warmed your upper body. Even as a young kid, I liked it. But the adjectives these German bottles were squeezing out of Richman – “citrus-like”, “honeyed”, “tart-sweet” – weren’t close to describing what was in that chalice, even if you believed in transubstantiation. Was it because Richman’s wine was white, and the parish’s was red? Perhaps, but both colours of grape juice bottled by Welch’s tasted pretty much the same to me. No, I sensed there was something – a lot – I had to learn, and, along with the romance and beauty of the labels, and the contextual air of well-bred taste and cultural with-it-ness featured on the other pages, this, I feel sure, was the decisive moment, the true origin point, when I came to believe that among the many extraordinary things that make life worth living, not just words but wine reigns at the top.  I warned you about distractions, didn’t I? Because that would be my excuse for now informing you, as a quite apropos footnote, that, yes, there was something unusual about our church’s Communion wine. It was, as I have confirmed with the church, actually port (Taylor’s Tawny, to be more accurate), cut, according to tradition, with water. There is a good and fascinating reason for this. In 1701, when the War of the Spanish Succession kicked off, France also became an enemy of England, and its wines, as a result, were no longer made available for import. The Anglican Church searched for and found a replacement, the fortified wines of its new ally, Portugal, and port continues to be an acceptable option to pair with the Host.  II. Distillations A satisfying story, not unlike a satisfying life, is one that surprises you with the mystery of its unfolding. A thing pulls in a certain direction long enough to reach the proximity of something else which then turns toward a new destination. I had actually gone into that bookstore, as I said, to look at books. But I came out, even though I didn’t yet know it, with a different compass point. Within a few years, shortly after graduating from college, in 1992, I got hired by The New Yorker, where I stayed for almost nine years. I then met my future wife, who wisely laughed at the thought we might be able to survive in New York City on my meagre salary, so I went to Vogue, and soon after became the founding editor of Men’s Vogue. After 23 issues, and four years, the financial crisis laid an axe to many magazines, including that one. Eventually, I took on the editorship of Town & Country. Then, finally, in 2016, I moved up to Esquire, the magazine, as it happens, that didn’t offer me a job when The New Yorker did, and became that storied magazine’s editor in chief, until – well, you best read about that in The New York Times.  As far as distractions go, magazines were a good one. They made me who I am, gave me a tremendously worldly education, honed my taste, introduced me to all manner of accomplished people, required me to build quite a wardrobe, and paid me pretty well to do all of this, often with a glass of wine not far out of the picture. There was really no other way I would have ever got to taste all the bottles I have (a lot of the big names people whisper about from Burgundy and Bordeaux, Champagne and also Piedmont, Tuscany and Napa). I built a modest cave à vin of my own by buying the Smith Haut Lafittes of the world way before hedge-fund hoi polloi ran up the prices, and by having access to rare offerings, like 12 bottles of Fiorano, the legendary white wine Alberico Boncompagni Ludovisi, prince of Venosa, made before ripping out all his vines. I smelled the musty perfume of Margaux in the cellar as I watched the workers rack the wine by candlelight. I lured Jay McInerney away from the Wall Street Journal to become my wine columnist; and I once stood in Bordeaux’s town square, tight on 2002 Pétrus, trying with great focus to commune with the statue of Michel de Montaigne while my French friend, a true oenophile, extolled the majesty of the Big Mac’s special sauce.  As the editor of a magazine, curiosity is your profession, even to the point of distraction. Editors – writers, too – are prone to it. It’s a hazard of the gift, and having a jumble of ideas, if you’re any good, is key to making a magazine of any real intellectual or creative daring. Now as a husband and father of three, working from home and trying to be ‘present’, and a still youngish former editor and occasional micro-influencer trying to stave off the solitude to fathom and plot the next phase of a fruitful future, this skill of mine, the strength of which became even more magnified over two decades, is something of a family project.  The way I most often hear the word ‘distraction’ now, for instance, is when it’s being hurled at me in verb form by my wife or daughters accusing me of being more of a phone-enslaved screen vegetable than they are. (I respectfully disagree.) But it’s a sore point for two reasons. One, what I did as an editor is, in a nutshell, now what a smartphone essentially does. Not very imaginatively, of course, and not with taste or charm or originality, but with a bloody, money-grubbing ruthlessness that stalks every step of our digital peregrinations and doesn’t give a twist if the algorithms that are its brain make us its slave by retrofitting our attention spans for kindergarten.  The smartphone – not the former me or any of my fellow kind still in the media biz – is now the true croupier of culture, dealing out a targeted shuffle of Pavlovian temptations to the point of daily mental exhaustion. And, though this thing is in many ways my personal nemesis, I am, against every fibre of my being, too often its obedient servant. Aiming not to live according to the famous line by T.S. Eliot – “distracted from distraction by distraction” – I recently decided to at least take a serious inventory of my favourite ones, both those of the pre-digital sort (tennis, The Walking Dead, checking the mailbox, my sock collection) and those of the post-digital sort (the any and everything I do because my phone wants me to). Then I caught myself watching tennis on my phone and realised this might be harder than I thought. It’s enough to drive a person to drink, thank god! With that in mind, I like to keep a special something for the occasion around, in this case – what else? – two bottles of Riesling Kabinett, for it had struck me as more than a little weird that I’ve probably tasted fewer than a handful of German wines in my entire life. Part of the reason is that those I had were bad, and, like a lot of other simpletons about this great wine region of the world, I’d come to think of Riesling as a cloying elixir equal parts green Jolly Rancher, apple cider vinegar, and hairspray. This, I knew, was wrong, not true and, in terms of wine equity and inclusion, on the wrong side of history. But, if you happen to live in a place like I do – a bourgie swathe of Connecticut bordering New York City where the shops cater heavily to Cali-Fran-Taly banker’s tastes – it might take you a few stops to find what Richman recommended, an erzeugerabfüllung (estate-bottled) Kabinett (wine made from grapes with a minimum must weight/sugar content) Riesling, and when you do it will probably be coated in a fine sift of years-old dust. I bought a green (Mosel) bottle for US$16 and a brown (Rhine) bottle for US$20, both handsomely labelled. I opened them a few minutes ago and took several investigative swigs. The words bright, invigorating and snappy came to mind. One is indeed sweeter, and, though not my usual jam, it is tamped by a pleasing peachy tartness, and the classic overtone of honey isn’t making my palate feel doused with syrup. The other example is, as Richman said so long ago, a very finely layered creature with mineral clarity and an echo of baked bread, something a gluten-free person like me finds particularly appealing. A rather obvious thought: why haven’t I been buying this instead of throwing a ton of endless money at affordably bad white Burgundy, which is mostly a product aimed at fulfilling a desired outcome, like White Claw hard seltzer? III. Words But don’t let me get distracted, again. A writer really has to be careful about such things. Just think about it. Unlike, say, a painter or musician or actor or photographer, the process of writing requires zero physical exertion, no chance to score an endorphin release while sitting staring anxiously at a blank page. Of the many things in life that vie against the counter intuitive impulse to be glued to a desk, Cyril Connolly, in Enemies of Promise, his classic study of the things that distracted him (and others) from becoming a great writer, names the temptations but does not say much about why they’re so deeply tempting to someone who would otherwise be sitting alone in an empty room. Praise, money, fame, social prominence, affairs and journalism are the most common boltholes, according to Connolly, who, as a famously late sleeper that married three times, might have also added the bliss of unconsciousness and excessive alimony. In 1938, the year the book was published, he would never have imagined how hard the task might get without a cigarette. Smoking is a death wish, I know, but when you want to off yourself for still having a hundred pages to go, being able to snap open a nice lighter, flick some ash, stub a butt and inhale some lungfuls of focus-enhancing nicotine must have been kind of helpful. Connolly also doesn’t have much to say about drink except that artists who drink to excess do so “out of the consciousness of wasted ability”. According to that, the 20th century’s most famous literary alcoholics – Dorothy Parker, Truman Capote, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Styron, Elizabeth Bishop, James Joyce, Raymond Chandler, William Faulkner – might have left behind even greater treasures than they did. Because Ernest Hemingway did almost everything with more gusto than any of his peers, including running up his bar tab, as a drinker he belongs in his own sentence. He is the novelist who most romanced a good drink or nice bottle of wine as one of life’s great pleasures. Who didn’t want to have a vermouth with Jake when reading The Sun Also Rises? (Don’t, it’s gross, at least if you order it at one of those kiosks in Montmartre where the bottles are hung upside down with spring-loaded dispensers.) Or, track down a bottle of Valdepeñas, Hemingway’s favourite variety of Spanish wine. Or, get a drink at the bar named after him at the Ritz, in Paris, and then go somewhere on the Left Bank to order “a dozen portugaises and a half-carafe of the dry white wine”.  In the early work, he is not boastful about drinking so much as he is the possessor of an unusual appetite for a good buzz. He is also, like Connolly, aware of the need to keep writing separate from drinking, and drinking within his control. It is hard to read the first paragraph of A Moveable Feast, in which he describes an “evilly run café where the drunkards of the quarter crowded together and I kept away from it because of the smell of dirty bodies and the sour smell of drunkenness”, except as a kind of terrifying admonition to himself. It is tragic that he didn’t heed his own advice. Late in his life, Hemingway became fond of rum daiquiris at the Floridita, his favourite bar in Havana, which might explain his taste for a prose style that soon became too often cloying self-parody. In one of the most extraordinary drinking sessions ever committed to words, in the roman à clef Across the River and Into the Trees, a 50-year-old Hemingway, who was smitten with a teenage Italian countess from Venice, fictionalises his infatuation with a last muse. In one stretch (that covers an evening-to-dawn crawl from Harry’s Bar, the grill at the Gritti Palace, a gondola and a hotel room), one half or another of the couple imbibes: one scotch whisky and soda; six Montgomery Martinis (15 parts gin; 1 part vermouth), two of which are described in size as ‘super’; a bottle of Capri Bianco; two bottles of Valpolicella; two bottles of Roederer Brut ’42; and two bottles of Perrier-Jouët. That is, I suppose, one extreme, and, clearly, not one to be tried at home.  The other might have been espoused by Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great critic and lexicographer. As a young man, he’d drained “many a bottle of wine” but loved port especially. (Perhaps Johnson, a devout Anglican who was born in 1709, in the midst of England’s 14-year war with Spain, also first encountered port as a boy at the Communion altar.) He describes himself to friend and biographer James Boswell as having been “apt to go to excess in it”, adding that, “therefore, after having been for some time without it, on account of illness, I thought it better not to return to it”.  Boswell, who worried about his own dependence on alcohol, even keeping a journal of his intake in an attempt to enforce moderation, argued for a third way, which some of the Romantics later adopted. Wine, he claimed, “produces truth; in vino veritas”. Hoping to persuade Johnson of his point, Boswell once convinced the critic to come down off the wagon for just one glass of claret, so Johnson “might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation”. Boswell reports what happened after the glass was emptied: “Johnson shook his head, and said, ‘Poor stuff! No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port, for men,’” adding, “‘A man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.’”  That actually reminds me of something I think I forgot to mention about Riesling Kabinetts – they’re also highly admired for their low percentage of alcohol. On that note, I think I’ll have another glass.  This article was originally published in FONDATA, Issue Two.

Jay Fielden, former editor of Men’s Vogue, Town & Country and Esquire, recalls how a magazine column on wine, read in a Texas bookstore, shifted his ambitions beyond journalism and set him on the path to becoming a writer of books.

Former Esquire editor-in-chief Jay Fielden reflects on magazines, writing, Riesling Kabinett and the distractions that shaped a life in words and wine.

Jay Fielden on Wine, Words and Distraction

How one became another  

For the last half-century, The Dalmore have been masters of their craft and created a luxury icon that has transcended spirits. The 12-pointed stag that graces every bottle of the Highland single malt is instantly recognisable and synonymous with quality.  But just how did this Scotch whisky distillery rise through the ranks and create a lasting legacy? How has The Dalmore become a luxury icon? The Dalmore has a long and enviable history dating back to 1839, filled with stories of valour, craftsmanship and larger-than-life characters. The single malt’s rich, chocolate, orange and subtle spice character is largely thanks to the distillery’s enviable partnership with famed Sherry bodega González Byass. This century-old relationship has ensured the distiller has maintained a steady supply of the finest Sherry casks at times when most Scotch producers were forced to mature their spirit in cheaper alternatives.   For more than 50 years, these casks have been presided over by one of the most famous faces (and noses) in Scotch whisky, Master Blender, Richard Paterson OBE. The statesman-like savant has pioneered cask maturation and produced rich, characterful whiskies that have commanded hundreds of thousands of pounds at auction. Among the many records to its name, The Dalmore was the first distiller to break the £100,000 mark for a single bottle in 2010 with its 64-year-old. In the years that have followed, The Dalmore has broken its own records numerous times.  The history of The Dalmore  The Dalmore distillery was founded by entrepreneur Sir Alexander Matheson in 1839. Matheson sold the distillery, located on the shores of the Cromarty Firth north of Inverness, to the three Mackenzie brothers in the late 1800s. The distillery stayed under family ownership for almost 100 years until it was bought by Glasgow-based Whyte & Mackay in 1960.   Whyte & Mackay quickly increased capacity from six stills to eight, and ceased malting barley on site on the 1980s.  Between 1990 and 2014, Whyte & Mackay pin balled between owners until Philippines-based brandy producer Emperador bought it for £430 million. Throughout the many changes in ownership, Master Blender Richard Paterson OBE has remained a constant.  Another constant is the iconic 12-pointed stag that adorns every bottle of Dalmore. This honour was bestowed upon the Mackenzie clan after Chief Coin of Kintail saved King Alexander III from certain death when a Highland stag charged at him.   The Dalmore – Gaelic for “large field” – has largely remained open throughout its history, only closing for a brief period during the First World War, when the Royal Navy took refuge on the grounds. When they moved on, the buildings required considerable work to repair damage from an explosion. Then-owner Mackenzie successfully took the Royal Navy to court to get compensation for the damage.  Before 2002, The Dalmore almost solely contributed to Whyte & Mackay blended malts and was not widely available beyond a 12 Year Old. Whyte & Mackay gradually started to increase the single malt range and within a few short years were shattering record prices at auction.   In 2022, plans were announced to expand the distillery and visitor centre. These included the demolition of a building that once held the distillery’s malting boxes to make way for a new production area. The Dalmore plans to install exact replicas of the existing eight wooden wash backs and four pairs of Loch Lomond stills. Once it is operational, circa 2024, the existing distillery will be closed and renovated. Rumour has it that this site will also be turned into a production facility bringing the Highland distiller’s annual capacity to nine million litres– such is the demand for Dalmore and single malt Scotch whisky more widely.  Richard Paterson OBE  It’s impossible to talk about The Dalmore without talking about their Master Blender of 50-plus years, Richard “the Nose” Paterson OBE. Over five decades, Paterson has built the global reputation of the single malt with his pioneering cask programme, unwavering quality ethos and million-pound nose. Paterson’s high-spirited presentations around the globe are legendary. It’s no exaggeration to say he hassingle-handedly converted hundreds and thousands of single malt disciples during his tenure for the distillery. But Paterson is far more than just a showman, his nose was at one point reportedly insured for £1.6 million – such are his olfactory talents and invaluable master blending skills.    Paterson started his whisky education at the tender age of eight when his father started teaching him how to nose spirits at their family specialist blending, bottling and brokerage company. At just 26 years old, the young Glaswegian landed the top whisky job of Master Blender at Whyte & Mackay – becoming the third generation in his family to hold this enviable title.   In 2020, at the age of 71, Paterson marked his 50th anniversary in the whisky industry. The same year, Paterson embarked on a world tour celebrating his tenure, promoting The Paterson Collection, which later sold for £1 million. Soon after, the Master Blender appointed former Compass Box Whisky Maker Gregg Glass as his successor and announced that he would be stepping back from day-to-day duties at Whyte & Mackay to focus on Dalmore.   The Dalmore distillery character   Arguably, the two biggest influences on The Dalmore’s iconic taste profile are the stills and the time spent in Sherry and wine casks.   For over a century, the Highland distillery has maintained a close relationship with famed Sherry bodega González Byass. This partnership has enabled The Dalmore to mature its new-make whisky in the finest Sherry casks when few others could afford to.    Typically, The Dalmore’s new-make spirit slumbers in ex-Bourbon casks for its initial maturation period before it is transferred into a Sherry or wine cask. Secondary maturation at The Dalmore is often longer than the industry average to ensure as much of the desired characteristics are imparted as possible.  For some of the distiller’s most coveted whiskies, The Dalmore has matured its whisky in butts that have previously held Matusalem Oloroso Sherry from González Byass – this is a type of award-winning Oloroso that has been aged for a minimum of 30 years, sweetened with approximately 25% Pedro Ximénez. The Dalmore continually pushes the envelope when it comes to secondary maturation, finishing its single malts in wine casks multiple times and even experimenting with casks that have previously held tequila, Calvados and Cognac. Dalmore’s coveted King Alexander III bottling was finished in a total of six different cask types: Port, Madeira, Marsala, Cabernet Sauvignon, Bourbon and Matusalem Oloroso Sherry.   The Dalmore’s new-make spirit is perfect for long maturation periods. Every stage of the production process is centred around quality – from the water source to the barley, to the production equipment, Dalmore insists on using the best materials possible.  Loch Morie, located 11 miles from the distillery, is The Dalmore’s pure water source that flows from the River Alness to its mouth just below Alness. The river runs close by the distillery and is notable for its typically Highland characteristics.  The Dalmore also sources its high-quality golden barley locally from the rich coastal soils of Ross and Cromarty.   Fermentation times at The Dalmore are slightly longer than the industry average at 50 hours. The current distillery set-up at The Dalmore is one of the most complicated in whisky production. The unique size and shape of the Loch Lomond stills enable the team to replicate the effect of shorter and longer still necks to increase or decrease the level of alcohol vapours that condense and return to the still for re-distillation, commonly referred to as reflux.   The Dalmore’s wash stills are unusual in that they have flat tops, which maximises reflux and copper contact. The Dalmore believes these two factors produce a more desirable malty, fruity and northern Highland spirit style with a robust body that is perfect for extended maturation. The spirit stills are also atypical because of their unique cooling jackets, which are the oldest pieces of equipment on site as they date back to 1874. The oldest stills at The Dalmore were installed at this time and the younger ones joined them in 1966. Currently, The Dalmore has four pairs of stills but this number is rumoured to be increasing in the next few years.   Despite its impressive output of circa 4.2 million litres annually, approximately only 5% of the distillery’s production is bottled as single malt. The vast majority of the whisky produced at the distillery is destined for Whyte & Mackay blends.   Dalmore single malts   The Dalmore’s core range, The Principal Collection, has expanded over the years and now includes a selection of age statement (12-, 15-, 18-, 21-year-old) and non-age statement (Port Wood Reserve, Sherry Cask Select, Cigar Malt Reserve, King Alexander III) whiskies. Dalmore also releases a smattering of highly anticipated and keenly sought-after distillery exclusives.   Some of the most collectable Dalmore bottlings   The Paterson Collection – The Paterson Collection is arguably the pinnacle of the modern era of whisky-making at The Dalmore and showcases esteemed Master Blender Richard Paterson’s lifetime’s work. The collection, launched to mark his 50th anniversary in the industry, comprises 12 remarkable single malts drawn from the Highland distiller’s impressive library, the oldest of which dates back to 1926. Four years after launch, The Dalmore Paterson Collection sold for £1 million.  Dalmore 62 Year Old – For a time, the Dalmore 62 Year Old held the title of the most expensive single malt ever sold.Only one dozen 62-year-old Dalmore single malts were released in 2002. The vatting of four casks filled in 1898, 1876, 1926 and 1939 fetched almost double its pre-sale estimate of £40,000-50,000 in 2017 and has only become more desirable since.   Dalmore 64 Trinitas – The Dalmore 64 Trinitas is one of the most special single malts ever bottled. After the unprecedented demand for the Dalmore 62, the distiller returned to its archive and unearthed something exceptional. The last remaining liquid from the blend which makes up the 62-year-old (from 1868, 1878, 1926 and 1939 vintages) was blended with liquid from the 1940s and left to slumber in a bespoke nine-litre cask seasoned with ultra-aged Dalmore and very old Matusalem Oloroso and a Pedro Ximénez from González Byass. Only three bottles of the Dalmore 64 Trinitas were ever released. Two sold for £100,000 in 2010 and the third sold for £120,000 in 2011.  Dalmore Constellation Collection – The Dalmore Constellation Collection isa highly collectable 21-bottle set of single-cask vintage whiskies spanning 1964 to 1992. Available individually, the younger vintages’ starting prices are £2,000; the entire collection carries an estimate of $275,000. It’s rare for a full set to become available but it has happened to much furore.   Dalmore Quintessence – The Dalmore Quintessence is one of the special single malts released to commemorate Master Blender Richard Paterson’s 50th anniversary in the whisky industry. After an initial maturation period in American oak, Dalmore Quintessence was finished in five different red wine casks (Zinfandel, Pinot Noir, Syrah, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon) for five years before being married together – at the time, this was an industry first. The name Quintessence was chosen because it means fifth element.   Dalmore L’Anima – Dalmore is no stranger to collaborating with industry legends. The Dalmore L’Anima is the result of a partnership between Richard Paterson OBE and Michelin-starred chef Massimo Bottura. The rare, 49-year-old single malt is a marriage of three rare casks which previously housed Graham’s vintage Port pipes, 40-year-old González Byass Pedro Ximénez and small-batch Bourbon barrels. The single bottle of L’Anima– which means “soul” in Italian – sold for £108,900 at an online charity auction in early 2019.  Dalmore Decades – The Dalmore Decades are multiple-bottle collections of some of the oldest whiskies ever released by the Highland distillery.   Twenty-five sets of four bottlings from 1979, 1980, 1995 and 2000 form the Dalmore No 4 Collection, which carries a recommended sale price of £100,000.   Only 15 sets exist of the Dalmore No 5 Collection, which includes expressions from 1967, 1979, 1980, 1995 and 2000 – this comes with a recommended price of £200,000.  Dalmore No 6 is currently the most expensive collection in the Dalmore Decades series. The six-bottle set with vintages from 1951, 1967, 1979, 1980, 1995 and 2000 sold for $US1.1 million.   The Luminary Series – The Dalmore Luminary Series is a collaboration between four individuals who are at the top of their respective field: Richard Paterson, world-renowned architect Kengo Kuma, Gregg Glass and Maurizio Mucciola.  The first release in the duo is The Rare, an extremely limited 48-year-old single malt; the second is the more accessible 15-year-old expression, The Collectible.   The Luminary Series, introduced in 2022, is the first time The Dalmore has released two special liquids at stratospherically different price points (circa $100,000 for The Rare and $245 for The Collectible). A mere three decanters of The Rare exist which was created by Paterson and Kuma. The Collectible which was finished in ex-Amarone casks and Kintsugi casks – built from staves of mizunara and Scottish oak from The Dalmore estate – is the brain chid of Paterson and Kuma protégés, Gregg Glass and Maurizio Mucciola.  Browse The Dalmore whiskies and all whisky listings 

The Dalmore is one of the most revered Scotch whisky distillers in the world, famed for producing some of the most expensive single malt whiskies ever sold. But what is it that makes this Highland producer such a collectors’ darling? 

Exploring how The Dalmore has become one of the most collectable names in Scotch famed for producing some of the most expensive single malt whiskies ever sold

Investigating the single malt icon, The Dalmore

Everything you need to know about The Dalmore

The history of Piedmont as a fine wine region and the establishment of Nebbiolo as a single-varietal wine predates the unification of Italy. Yet the region’s rise to international fame as Italy’s finest wine was intrinsically linked to the political role that the Piedmont Kingdom played in the unification of Italy. Nebbiolo as Italy’s first single-varietal wine The decision to move away from the generic field blends more typical of wine production in Italy at the time, to a single varietal Nebbiolo, was the first step towards Barolo gaining prominence. This decision also came about through aristocratic influence by the Piedmont nobility at the height of its power, prior to the unification of Italy in 1861. In the 1830s the Marchesi de Barolo married a French aristocrat who as part of her entourage brought with her a talented French oenologist, who after experimenting with many French varietals in the region quickly identified the potential of the indigenous Nebbiolo as a potential single varietal superstar! This French oenologist started to produce single-varietal Nebbiolo on the Marchesi de Barolo’s vineyards and it wasn’t long before the wines gained a reputation amongst the aristocratic classes. The King of Piedmont contacted the Marchesi requesting to taste this wine made from just Nebbiolo that everyone was talking about. The King became a huge fan of the wines and it wasn’t long before the Marchesi was sending 365 barrels of Nebbiolo
to the King for him and his courts to enjoy throughout the year. From then on Nebbiolo as a single varietal had begun to secure its place in fine wine history. The establishment of Barolo It wasn’t long before the King purchased his own wine estate in Barolo, which now exists under the ownership of Frescabaldi. The Piedmont kingdom was the conquering force in the unification of Italy along with the help of the French army that finally conquered the Spanish rule of Sicily and southern Italy and eventually Rome leaving just the Vatican and the Pope isolated from the rest of the newly
declared unified state of Italy in 1861. Amazingly there was no diplomatic relationship between the Vatican State and the Italian government until Mussolini reached out to them in 1932. The power of the Piedmont kingdom and its role in the unification of Italy meant that Barolo retained its status with the aristocratic elites of Italy and beyond and became known as the premium wine-producing region of the newly declared country. Its prominence and reputation remained ever since. The Barolo region became renowned throughout the country and Nebbiolo took its crown as the king of Italian wine. Barolo following the unification became more and more established with merchants moving in to seize the opportunity of this prestigious and unique Italian wine. At this time, apart from the noble families (Marchesi Di Barolo, Rinaldi, Bourgogno) all the
rest of the Barolo wines were bottled in Alba under merchant’s labels. Alba, much like Bordeaux, became a thriving merchants hub and the wine began to be exported overseas. Barbaresco: the unfortunate struggling sibling to Barolo History is full of cruel twists and the development of Barbaresco for much of the 19th and 20th centuries was a struggle for survival, unlike their more established neighbour Barolo - with its royal seal of approval. Today Barbaresco is being seen very much as Barolo’s equal but its survival is in no doubt down to two central figures of the region Gaja and the Produttori Di Barbaresco. 
The history of Gaja of Barbaresco The history of Gaja is extraordinary and singular in its rise to fame in the region and is a testament to the foresight of Giovanni Gaja and his son and French wife Clothide Rey. The Gaja family were not nobility but farmers, yet they became the first to bottle their own wine in Barbaresco in 1859. This became possible because the family owned a small tavern in the town which catered for the merchants that passed through Barbaresco as it was an active Port, distributing goods. At the tavern, the Gaja family used to make their wine and serve them from jars at the restaurant. At that time all other growers would sell their grapes to merchants in Alba to make wine.  Buoyed by the income of selling their own wines at their tavern Giovanni Gaja in 1859 then decided to bottle his best barrels in bottle (at this time this was often a blend of vintages). But these became the first Barbarescos ever to be bottled as Barbaresco. The family became further governed by quality when Angelo Gaja and his wife Clothide Rey took over from
his father. Their qualitative approach philosophy in a region that at the time was so underdeveloped is extraordinary. The family’s motto – fair, savoir faire, savoir faire faire et faire saviour (Work, knowledge, motivating others to work and passing on knowledge) has not faltered right up until today.  1958 was an important date for the Gaja family because this was recognised in Barolo as a fantastic vintage and it became the first vintage of Barolo to sell for over a 1,000 lira a bottle. The average price at the time for the best producers (such as Renato Ratti) was closer to 300 lira. This 1,000 lira price tag therefore became a big deal and was the beginning of Barolo
becoming recognised internationally as one of the world’s finest and most expensive wines. Yet despite this high price tag of Barolo, Giovanni Gaja was selling his current Barbaresco release at this time for 1,200 lira! This just showed the Barbaresco from Gaja even in those early days was outpricing the best wines of Barolo. The history of the Produttori del Barberesco The history of Barbaresco outside of the extraordinary success of Gaja was a lot less smooth. Through this period the region remained largely unknown for wine production despite successfully growing Nebbiolo like its neighbour Barolo and being home to the region’s best producer Gaja. However, there is another unique and profound development that took place in Barbaresco that also has shaped the region as one of Italy’s finest wine-producing regions for single varietal Nebbiolo that unlike Barolo did not rely on the aristocratic influence for its rise to fame. If anything, Barbaresco’s rise to fame, including Gaja’s development was the success of the
workers of the land rather than nobility. This came in the form of the socialist collective that started to bottle its own wine in Barbaresco under the Produttori Di Barberesco label.  Speaking with Aldo Vacca, today’s chief winemaker at the co-op it was a man called Dominizio Cavazza who was become known as the Father of Barbaresco. He moved to the region when he got a job working as the Director of the Wine School of Alba in 1890.  He immediately saw the potential of Barbaresco as a fine wine region and whilst he had no land, he knew if he could persuade the small landowners to compile their crops, he could make a fine wine that they could bottle and sell themselves rather than selling their crop to
the Alba merchants. By 1894 he had managed to persuade five farmers and two
landowners to contribute the crop and the cooperative was formed. At this time socialism was taking hold in many parts of Europe enabling small landowners to work together to enable them to manage their own produce without relying on the aristocratic landowners. Prior to the Bolshevik revolution in Russia in 1917, these socialist projects in Western Europe were seen as a very positive social development and was transforming the social structure across the region. Initially Cavazza believed that Barbaresco should be incorporated as part of the Barolo District but as Barolo by this time was already well established, thanks to its aristocratic ties, the Barolo producers had no interest in extending their boundaries. This decision in itself was to have a devastating impact on Barbaresco for the next 50 years. Whilst the cooperative became very successful in the early years, the First World War followed by economic hardship and the rise of fascism in Italy which actively shut down cooperatives in Europe, saw the Produttori cease to exist.  It wasn’t until 1954 that the co-operative project was reborn by the local priest – Don Fiorino, who on moving to the region heard about the early success of Cavazza and wanted to rekindle this success. For the priest the cooperative was essential in the survival of the local community that unlike Barolo was decimated by poverty and hardship through the first half of the 20th century. The 1950s saw the industrial boom in Italian cities which saw huge swathes of the countryside deserted as young men and women flocked to the cities for better wages in the automobile and other industries. To encourage people to stay in Barbaresco, Don Fiorino reopened the cooperative promising any landowners who joined him that they would be given fair and
reliable income if they stayed and worked the land. Dom Fiorino’s foresight was to be commended as ever since it opened the co-op has gone from strength to strength. Similar to Gaja, it is due to a strict qualitative approach that has meant this co-op is today producing arguably the world’s finished wines from a cooperative. These days, thanks to Gaja and Produttori, Barbaresco is producing some of Italy’s finest wines. Explore more Editorial 

We look back at the rise of Barolo and its neighbouring sibling Barbaresco's less fortunate, rocky road to fortune.


The historic rise of Nebbiolo

Maurizio Fiorano

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