Many years ago, when Vijay Mallya was still the “King of Good Times”, his United Spirits embarked on a whisky experiment. Rice from Punjab was dispatched to a distillery in Goa, where the grains were polished, steamed and mashed into unsavoury sludge. Yeast and mould were added, and the sludge was thinned out, poured into casks and put away to ferment.
And then trouble brewed. Mallya went broke and was forced to sell off United Spirits to the British giant Diageo. By the time the new management discovered the rice-alcohol casks, three years had passed.
Diageo owned such labels as Johnnie Walker and Buchanan’s, so it had no need for a Goan craft whisky. But it stuck with the experiment. The alcohol was allowed to mature in ex-bourbon casks (discarded barrels which were used to mature American bourbon, a highly sought-after commodity in the whisky industry), and its master blender flavoured and ‘finished’ it. The spirit was then distilled into 2,000 bottles and labelled the Epitome Reserve―“India’s first artisanal, small-batch, craft whisky”. The bottles flew off the shelves in no time.
The year was 2021―a special one for Indian whisky. It was the same year that Mithuna by Paul John (from the Goa-based Paul John Distilleries) was rated as the world’s third finest whisky by Jim Murray, the formidable critic who publishes the annual Whisky Bible. Murray said Mithuna was “the feeling after you have just made love”.
For India, the high praise came as sweet revenge. A European Union trade official had, in 2003, disdainfully dismissed India’s demand for greater market access for its whisky, saying India should first label its whisky as rum to sell it in Europe. A comparison between Indian whisky and rum was fit for a “nice academic session”, said the official.
The European tongue-lashing certainly did Indian whisky a world of good. The molasses-based raw spirit that is coloured and flavoured into whisky still remains hugely popular (because of which India is the world’s biggest whisky market by volume), but a number of distilleries are now making whiskies that are not mere intoxicants.
The most visible evidence of this big shift is the several well-received single malts that Indian companies have released globally in recent years. A much less visible evidence―the whisky appreciation groups that are mushrooming in big cities. The biggest of them―the Single Malt Amateur Club in Bengaluru, the Dram Club in Mumbai, and the Calcutta Malt and Spirits Club―each have thousands of members, mostly millennials and young professionals who want to not just appreciate their drink, but also educate themselves on the rich history behind whisky labels. The trend has had a casualty―whisky’s reputation as an old man’s drink.
Hemanth Rao, founder of the Single Malt Amateur Club, says the club’s philosophy is in its name―the ‘amateur’ tag signifies that not everyone needs to become a pro in the arcana of whisky-making to enjoy a dram.
“As a club, there is one thing that we stick to very strongly: we let the enthusiasts make their own discoveries about whisky,” says Hemanth, an IT professional who founded the club in 2011. “We don’t usually prescribe ways to enjoy whisky. Instead, we try to give indicators, or rather set guardrails, saying that, ‘Okay, if you try these steps, you probably might be able to get more from your whisky than you usually would.’”
The clubs have been infusing new life into the old-world whisky culture. Events such as blind tastings, masterclasses, distillery tours, and pre-release access to exclusive single malts have brought a sense of snazziness to the whisky scene. More enthusiasts means more innovative malts and blends.
Last year, for instance, Diageo brought out the Godawan, an artisanal single malt named after the Great Indian bustard. Made in Rajasthan, the malt was fermented from six-row barley, which requires less water than the traditional two-row barley that goes into a Scotch. Apparently, because the angel’s share―the amount of alcohol lost to evaporation―is much higher in India, the result is a whisky whose flavour is stunningly more complex and deeper than a product from a Scottish glen.
Structural factors, too, are aiding the evolution of Indian whisky. With wheat becoming cheaper and molasses increasingly being used to produce ethanol that goes into fuel, distilleries are switching to grain-based alcohol. Also, during the pandemic, the government created a lucrative market for Indian single malts when it banned military stores from buying imported spirits. Liberal liquor policies in states have also resulted in top-end brands becoming more accessible to connoisseurs. The result: early this year, India toppled France to become the UK’s largest scotch whisky market by volume, even as a number of Indian labels like Amrut, Rampur and Paul John find increasing acceptance abroad.
Further shaking up things is the expanding influence of whisky clubs, which are not just chipping away at the culture of snobbery associated with whisky, but also charting new ways for amateurs to fearlessly share their whisky experiences.
Gone are the days when you could not add soda to single malt without inviting frowns. Experiments are the epitome of the new whisky scene―because what ultimately matters is the pleasure one derives from the drink.
“Consider the tasting notes of most of the whiskies, especially Scotch whiskies,” says Rao. “People talk about Christmas cake, shortbread, heather, etc―all of which are not native flavours for Indians. So the first tasting lesson that we tell enthusiasts? ‘Okay, if you smell diesel in the whisky, please say that you smell diesel in the whisky. Do not try to curb that intuition.’ Not everyone wants to be a geek; we just help people get the most out of their whisky.”