by Yannis Valavanis

We men always – wrongly, of course – hide a little child inside us, one that inevitably appears in our most personal pursuits and desires. How many times in our lives have we been thrilled by significant achievements in our personal and professional careers – and rightly so – but also by theoretically insignificant moments that simply complete our everyday life? That was a rather scientific way to justify my unrestrained enthusiasm.

But to get to the point and not ramble on, I’ll just blurt it out – feel free to laugh. After more than three years of searching, I discovered a bottle of Kilkerran 12 y.o., bottled in 2021 no less. Mission accomplished. Persistence pays off. I was cheering and applauding myself and so on – as if I had personally handled the distillation and bottling. Now the introduction makes sense: insignificant to some, but very special to me – and I’ll explain why.

Kilkerran is, theoretically, a sibling of Springbank. I won’t confuse you with too many names – I struggled enough sorting them out myself. These are two neighboring distilleries in Campbeltown that once shared the same owner back around 1870. One was sold in 1930 and remained essentially dormant until it returned to its previous ownership in 2000, when Kilkerran production began. So we are talking about siblings – both in reality and in flavor.

An unfiltered product – we mustn’t lose intensity – bottled at 46% ABV, matured in 70% bourbon casks and 30% sherry casks. From the moment you open it and take the first nose, you immediately recognize Campbeltown: salt and smoke together with burnt rubber. If I described it that way to any woman, she’d think I was insane. Fortunately, it’s somewhat gentler than its sibling, thanks to notes of vanilla and lemon emerging somewhere in the background.

“Very, very nice,” as I usually say – with a long finish, courtesy of the lingering smoke and salt that stay with you.

Of course, such a result demands an appropriate companion. Knowing the bottle was arriving, I had thoughtfully prepared a cigar in waiting – to commit the crime properly. A Trinidad Cabildos Edición Limitada 2024. What could I do? I keep seeing Trinidad on the shelves and I gave in. But in this case, perhaps rightly so – being a limited release, with only 10,000 boxes produced and tobaccos aged for two years, I considered it worthy of tasting.

The most encouraging aspect of the pairing was that Trinidad cigars, with their medium strength, are better suited to this particular whisky due to its distinctive intensity – and I wasn’t wrong. A vitola similar to a Grand Corona, 162 mm in length with a 46 ring gauge, and about 90 minutes of smoking time. I comfortably enjoyed three drinks without excess.

The classic Cuban tobacco aromas – cedar with chocolate and coffee – the earthy characteristics always present in the island’s tobaccos, were complemented by sweet and fruity finishes, with emphasis on vanilla and cocoa, perfectly completing the experience.

Once the excitement of acquisition faded, the inevitable moment of assessment arrived. I recommend both products without reservation, rating them 8 out of 10 – based purely on my personal preference for stronger, more intense flavors, not in terms of quality, which is indeed excellent. My taste buds, you see, are accustomed to heavier and more robust categories. This change was welcome and necessary, I would say – to give my palate a rest from intense sensations and to avoid ending up flavorless at the end.