Photo courtesy beseaphoto.com
Whisky lovers rejoice—the flourishing distilling scene of this Canadian province offers great variety and quality with unique local identity.
WORDS Stephen Beaumont
The land area of Scotland is roughly 30,000 square miles, slightly under one-tenth the size of the Canadian province of British Columbia. Scotland has about 11,600 miles of coastline, when its many islands are included, whereas B.C. claims around 16,000 miles, including its islands. And Scotland boasts a population of just under five and a half million, a shade more than British Columbia’s five million.
Rather famously, of course, Scotland is also home to over 140 distilleries, while British Columbia has…80?
Remarkably enough, it’s true! Quickly and quietly, over the past decade or so B.C. has built its craft distilling industry into one of the largest in North America, with more distilleries than Florida, Colorado or Washington. In fact, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, British Columbia holds more distilleries within its borders than do all but four states, each of which, save for Kentucky, has a population several times that of Canada’s westernmost province.
Beyond this distillery largesse, however, there is something else about the B.C. spirits industry worthy of note, that which begets the comparison to Scotland. It is, of course, single-malt whisky.
While British Columbia’s craft distilleries were not the first in Canada to embrace single-malt whisky production—that would be Nova Scotia’s Glen Breton, North America’s first modern single-malt whisky distillery, which finally released its debut whisky in 2000 and is still going strong today—they are certainly the most fervent. In fact, it seems hardly a month goes by these days without the news of yet another B.C. malt hitting the market, and with a minimum of 13 distilleries commercially producing some quantity of single malt today, the province’s distillers are about three times as prolific as are those of the United States, based on per capita malt whisky production.
Devine Distillery-grown Khorasan wheat / Courtesy Devine Distillery
While the character of B.C. single malts is unabashedly diverse, there is something that lines them all up as uniquely British Columbian.
More impressive than quantity or enthusiasm, though, is the nature of the single malts being produced. For much as is the case in Scotland, while the character of B.C. single malts is unabashedly diverse, there is something that lines them all up as uniquely British Columbian. Call it, if you will, a sort of provincial terroir.
“I absolutely believe in Island terroir,” says Kevin Titcomb of Devine Distillery, in reference to the five distilleries producing single malt on Vancouver Island. “We have a nearby farmer with a maltings, so it’s all very local, and we set out from the start to capture the terroir of where we are.”
Slightly up-island in Duncan, Brennan Colebank of the Stillhead Distillery voices his agreement.
“From my experience, I’d say that the local malt is in some ways inferior to that of the big malt-producing companies,” he says, “But for me that’s almost incidental, since what we use really speaks to our place.”
Tyler Dyck of Okanagan Spirits / Courtesy Okanagan Spirits
“There is a lot of focus today on heritage grains, which tend to be grown by small-plot farmers. This means a less homogenized crop and less reliance on Big Agra, who want to tell you how to grow it, what fertilizers to use, and so on.”
This grain-driven terroir continues on the mainland and in the B.C. interior, largely because most distilleries adhere to the regulations governing the BC Craft designation (see page 57), which mandates the use of British Columbia-grown ingredients. It’s a program that not only promotes B.C. barley, but also gives the distilleries a sense of stewardship over the land.
Distiller after distiller in British Columbia speaks of the partnerships they have built with local farmers, which enables them to monitor the quality of the barley as it grows, rather than having to wait until after harvest, and encourage the planting of alternate varieties of grain.
“There is a lot of focus today on heritage grains, which tend to be grown by small-plot farmers,” says Tyler Dyck of Okanagan Spirits. “This means a less homogenized crop and less reliance on Big Agra, who want to tell you how to grow it, what fertilizers to use, and so on. Small crop farmers can afford to be more flexible and work with distilleries on specific projects.”
Locally grown and malted barley being loaded into the silo / Courtesy Devine Distillery
As with any sort of whisky, the grains used are only half the story, with the balance dictated by where and how the spirit is aged. Here, too, B.C. emulates Scotland to a large degree.
With miles of coastline, it is easy to see how distilleries like Shelter Point and Devine manage to coax soft maritime accents out of their whisky, but the B.C. interior is also home to some of the driest and hottest regions in Canada, which accelerates aging and provides its own terroir accent. So just as you get a variety of characters in Scottish malts, from light and delicate to bold and peaty, British Columbia is on course to offer numerous branches of climate-driven, distinctly B.C. single-malt whisky.
Even further still, some distillers, like Graeme Macaloney of Macaloney’s Island Distillery, are stretching the notion of whisky terroir further by manipulating their grain in various ways. In Macaloney’s case, that means combining locally sourced peat with hand-harvested seaweed in his custom-designed malt smoker, to create a peated malt quite unlike any other.
The most exciting part of the British Columbia single-malt story, of course, is that all of these efforts are still in their infancy, with much further development yet to come. And given the quality of the whiskies already being produced, that future looks very bright, indeed—perhaps even Scotland bright.
DEFINING BC CRAFT
One of the reasons, perhaps the main reason, that British Columbia is home to a such a large number of distilleries is the “BC Craft” designation established by the provincial government in 2013.
This legislation provides beneficial tax breaks for distilleries which produce a maximum of 50,000 liters of spirit per year—roughly 5,555 cases of 750-ml bottles—and employ all-B.C. ingredients, save for small amounts of flavorings, such as citrus peel, that do not grow in the province. Further, all fermentation and distillation must occur on-site, so bulk-purchased neutral-grain spirit is a no-no, and production of ready-to-drink cocktails, aka RTDs, is also off-limits.
As attractive and obviously beneficial as BC Craft is, it also comes with a downside, says Gary Lohin of Central City Brewers + Distillers, a non-BC Craft distillery. To begin with, he says, BC Craft spirits aren’t generally carried in the government-run liquor stores, meaning that “you lose market access if you go into that system.” The other advantage of not adhering to the BC Craft rules is the ability to use malts other than those produced in the province, he continues. “We are making a chocolate malt whisky, for instance, and we wouldn’t be able to do that if we were BC Craft.”
Stills at Shelter Point Distillery / Courtesy Shelter Point Distillery
BC SINGLE MALTS TO TRY
To read more about the individual distilleries and their whiskies, and find expanded tasting notes for these whiskies plus more, please visit beaumontdrinks.com/category-spotlights
Devine Distillery “Glen Saanich” Single Malt Whisky (45% abv)
Designed specifically to reflect the terroir of Vancouver Island, this elegant and restrained, floral and pear-accented whisky is lightly sweet and spicy, with just a hint of salinity on the finish. A stellar late afternoon sipping whisky.
Dubh Glas “Royal Oaks Single Barrel” Single Malt Canadian Whisky (44% abv)
Distilled in the most desert-like spot in the Okanagan Valley, this young, very small batch whisky offers dry spiciness and wildflower in its aroma, showing maturity well beyond its age, and a younger, more floral sweetness on the palate. Youthfully exuberant, deeply enjoyable.
Fermentorium “Small Talk” Whisky 2021 Blend (41% abv)
Made with barley malted on the premises in Phillips Brewing’s custom-designed maltings, this blend of separately aged malts is a sweet, fruity whisky that grows slightly grassy and woody on the finish. Very well balanced and boding well for the future of the distillery.
Lohin McKinnon “Chocolate Malt” Single Malt Whisky (43% abv)
With 15 percent of its grain bill made up of chocolate malt, usually reserved for the brewing of stout, this has a nose of chocolate and toasted cereal, and a lovely, chocolaty dryness in the body. Mature well beyond its six years and a solid after-dinner sipper.
Macaloney’s “Siol Dugall” Canadian Island Peated Single Malt Whisky (46% abv)
Made with peated malt smoked in-house, this has a gently smoky and softly maritime aroma and more fully smoked, citrusy and toffee flavors with a very dry, lingering peat finish. An any day, everyday sort of malt.
Madlab “Small Batch Quarter Cask #24 Cask Strength” Single Malt Whisky (53.2% abv)
Released only when its barrel is deemed fit for bottling, this three-year-old whisky offers baked apple and nutmeg on the nose and bold fruitiness on the palate. A very pleasant aperitif whisky, no dilution necessary.
Moon Distilling “Antifogmatic Bliss” Single Malt Whisky (42% abv)
Single-cask releases here are typically specialty barrel-finished, so this rum-influenced, chocolaty, raisiny, spicy whisky is a one-and-done. The creativity and style, however, make each new whisky highly anticipated.
Odd Society “Smoke & Oak Rauch Malt” Canadian Single Malt Whisky (46% abv)
One of a series of whiskies made with differently smoked—not peated!—malts, this employs classic German smoked malt to produce an herbal, stone fruit-accented and pleasingly smoky spirit equally suited for sipping before or after a meal.
Okanagan Spirits “Laird of Fintry Fortified Foch Finish” Single Malt Whisky (42% abv)
From B.C.’s single-malt pioneer, this five-year-old, red wine cask-finished whisky offers ripe grape and plum notes on the nose, baked apple, soft brown spice, toasted oak and a hint of dark chocolate on the palate. Lovely, rounded and complex.
Shelter Point “Classic” Single Malt Whisky (46% abv)
From a true farmhouse distillery, which grows over 90 percent of its barley needs, this is a whisky that seems to alternate on the nose between maritime salinity and grain field freshness. On the palate, it is round and rich, with tropical fruit and brown spice. Fully formed and quite delicious.
Stillhead “Cask Strength Single Cask #10” Single Malt Whisky (66.6% abv)
Aged for 5½ years in a heavily charred barrel, when undiluted, this Cowichan Valley whisky sports a deep copper color and offers rich dark chocolate, date and toasted walnut notes, becoming softer and fruitier with the addition of water. Impressively and flavorfully mature.
This article was published in the Winter 2023 issue of Full Pour. Don’t own it? Pick one up today!
In praise of equal-opportunity wine consideration, a look at the brands and distributors daring to embrace all-American wine beyond the expected.
WORDS Kathleen Willcox
It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that California has more than 4,200 wineries. But it might surprise you to learn that Missouri has more than 100 and Alaska has four.
In latte form, the frothy, jade-hued sips are every social-media influencer’s favorite alternative to morning coffee. Matcha is that eyepopping burst of green in everything from Kit Kats and wellness smoothies to face masks and martinis. It’s a superfood that may prevent cancer and reduce stress all the while improving skin tone and boosting metabolism too.
Indeed, far more than its utility as a beverage, matcha has a multifaceted appeal with a broad range of American consumers. And more than just a passing trend, the green tea’s sales in the U.S. surpassed $10 billion in the past 25 years.
As a Japanese American, I feel a bit of pride for this hometown kid’s success. Who could have predicted that in a single generation, matcha would become a household term in America?
But to be honest, America’s frenzy for everything and anything matcha feels a bit peculiar too. Americans adore the stuff, but few have any awareness of its deeper historical, cultural and spiritual significance.
Matcha is the finely ground powder of leaves from the Camellia sinensis plant. It’s the same plant that produces most caffeinated tea leaves. Uniquely, however, matcha is made from plants cultivated largely in the shade to boost the development of chlorophyll and amino acids that give the drink its distinct deep-green hue, characteristic sweetness and richness.
And unlike teas brewed by steeping whole leaves in water, matcha is made from whole leaves ground into a chalky powder and whisked into hot water. The tea is lustrous and creamy, with a pleasantly grassy tone and subtle bitterness. In contrast to the electric rush and jitters of coffee, matcha can offer the clarity and focus of caffeine with an anchoring sense of calm, often attributed to the high amounts of L-theanine in the leaves.
"Culture is not static. It’s meant to adapt and evolve as it spreads to different places and people."
For most Japanese, matcha is fundamentally more than just tea, explains Yoshitsugu Nagano, a master of the Ueda Soko School, practitioners of traditional samurai tea rituals that date back 400 years. Surprisingly to most Americans, matcha is rarely whisked up casually and served at home in Japan.
“It’s not something you’d drink when you’re thirsty, or something you’d sip with friends over a bustling conversation,” says Nagano.
Rather, matcha is the cornerstone of one of Japan’s most historic cultural practices: the ceremonial preparation and presentation of tea known as chanoyu or sado.
MATCHA ORIGINS
Matcha originated more than 1,000 years ago in China as a part of ritual tea ceremonies practiced by Chan Buddhist priests. It arrived in Japan alongside Zen Buddhism, which was adopted from Chan Buddhism, in the 12th century and later proliferated in Japanese monasteries.
The tea was incorporated into the practice of Zen Buddhism in part because of its medicinal properties. Zen meditation requires intense physical and mental focus over extended lengths of time.
“Matcha was a fortifying drink that helped monks to concentrate and recover—a function not dissimilar to modern-day energy drinks or supplements,” says Nagano.
By the 16th century, chanoyu had also become ritual practice among Japan’s warrior class, or samurai, the modern-day equivalent of soldiers. Nagano explains that in times of war and amid the constant threat of mortality, samurai found salvation in the mindfulness and meditation of matcha.
Generations later, while matcha and chanoyu spread among ordinary citizens, matcha is still regarded by most Japanese as a component of a highly rarified practice. Chanoyu is a revered tradition still taught by ancient houses tracing their lineage to Japan’s founding tea masters. It’s an artform that often requires years, if not decades, to master.
There’s an “inherited sense that matcha is something elevated and distinct from other teas—sacred even,” Nagano explains.
Matcha is still regarded by most Japanese as a component of a highly rarified practice.
CULTURAL SHIFT
In America, glimmers of matcha’s spiritual and meditative history—generic references to nameless monks and tea masters, or buzzwords like enlightenment and Zen—tend to pepper the lexicon of contemporary matcha marketing. Kourtney Kardashian, whose passion for matcha lattes is broadcasted regularly to millions of Americans, sells “Purity Powder” for “spiritual balance” and a “higher state of consciousness” via Poosh, her popular e-commerce site.
All of this adds an attractive haze of exoticism to matcha that feels authentic enough to many American consumers without burdening them with the weight of the tea’s historical and spiritual significance.
Matcha in America tends to “exist in this bubble of health and wellness,” suggests Zach Mangan, the CEO and cofounder of Kettl, a Brooklyn-based importer of Japanese teas. It’s caught on as an alternative for people who don’t drink coffee, and in turn, spawned an entirely new culture of Instagrammable morning-matcha smoothies, overnight-matcha oatmeal, gummy supplements and their ilk.
Like many Asian Americans, I feel inordinately protective about things that I fundamentally associate with my cultural heritage. And it’s often difficult to navigate America’s unbridled enthusiasm for everything matcha without feeling some level of distrust and unease.
But Tomoko Honda, head of global operations for Ippodo Tea, a Japanese company founded in 1717 in Kyoto, sees things in a very different, overwhelmingly positive light.
How Americans enjoy their matcha is often surprising from a Japanese perspective, she says—the gobs of honey or maple syrup sweeteners, the endlessly customizable range of plant-based milks and fruity add-ins, or those hand-held electric whisks used in American cafes, for example.
Personally, “if Americans would learn to enjoy matcha straight, I would be happier,” she says cheerily, but fundamentally, she’s “very glad that Americans are inventing their own unique ways to enjoy matcha.”
Afterall, “matcha was born in China,” she reminds me. “As Japanese, we can’t really claim that it’s ours.”
Despite matcha’s cultural significance, it’s also inherently a commodity meant to be marketed and consumed. In the same way that Honda doesn’t always think about coffee’s origins, history or cultural context while drinking coffee, she explains, “I don’t think it’s necessary for Americans to think about Japan whenever they drink matcha.”
Despite matcha’s cultural significance, it’s also inherently a commodity meant to be marketed and consumed.
Nagano, too, expresses excitement for the evolution of a unique matcha culture in the United States, regardless of whatever new and unexpected form it takes.
“Culture is not static,” he says. “It’s meant to adapt and evolve as it spreads to different places and people.”
He adds that not only did Japan adopt matcha from China, but the Japanese fundamentally changed the culture of matcha, incorporated it into a uniquely Japanese style of tea ceremonies and, in recent generations, popularized matcha as flavorings for ice creams, lattes and Kit Kats. Americans whizzing matcha into caramel macchiatos or matcha steak rubs is hardly any different.
“The Japanese don’t have the right to tell people in other countries, ‘no, you’re doing it wrong,’ ” says Nagano. Moreover, if we want the Japanese way of enjoying matcha to be protected, it’s our job as Japanese to do that—the responsibility isn’t on anyone else, he suggests.
MOVING FORWARD, WITH TRADITION
Indeed, the preservation of Japan’s traditional matcha culture is a critical challenge for teaists today. Chanoyu is venerated in Japan, but in modern times, it’s a practice estimated to be enjoyed by less than one percent of Japan’s population. Disproportionately elderly as a demographic, the number of practitioners has dwindled down to a third of what was claimed just thirty years ago.
Many teaists feel that restricting access to the culture of matcha or insisting on notions of ownership or authenticity are only likely to endanger its survival.
“A century or two from now, no one knows if Japan will still be central to the culture of matcha, or whether chanoyu will even survive,” says Nagano.
The explosive popularity of matcha in America gives Nagano hope that tenets of chanoyu may thrive outside of Japan, even if they evolve into something completely different. Nagano relocated from Japan to New York City in 2019 specifically to expand the warrior tradition of chanoyu in America.
“New Yorkers may not confront their mortality each day like the samurai, but it’s clear that the amount of pressure and stress they endure is enormous,” he says. Elements of chanoyu, he thinks, may not only resonate with American matcha enthusiasts, but provide much needed healing—even salvation—to Americans too.
“If Americans would learn to enjoy matcha straight, I would be happier… [but am] very glad that Americans are inventing their own unique ways to enjoy matcha.”
Thus far, Nagano has found Americans to be strikingly open and curious in their exploration of matcha. He notes that Americans might try the green tea for the first time at Starbucks or hear about it on social media, but they don’t hesitate to buy their own matcha bowl and whisk on Amazon and then teach themselves to make matcha at home by looking up a video on YouTube.
“This kind of natural progression doesn’t occur as easily in Japan because matcha is still perceived as such a significant or formal, even intimidating, thing,” says Nagano.
The establishment of exceptionally quality-focused American matcha purveyors like Kettl also point to a new growth stage for matcha in America. Kettl, established in 2016 by Mangan and his wife Minami, focuses on the direct import of a wide range of small-production teas from throughout Japan—the kind of matcha, sencha, hojicha and the like that rarely found their way outside the Japanese market before.
The brand’s marketing is refreshingly void of hollow references to monks or generic health and wellness hype. Instead, it’s focused squarely on educating matcha consumers about the diverse origins and production methods of tea, as well as the farmers and purveyors it sources from.
Overall, the culture of matcha in America, along with its marketplace, is still so nascent, suggests Mangan.
“People may start at these sensationalized places—the Kardashians or whatever,” he says. “They may start with a very low-grade matcha from Amazon or something they tried in a café. But what’s unique about this marketplace is that as people gain more experience and the opportunity to taste better product, they tend to stick with that. Not every matcha drinker will necessarily end up as our customer, but the Kardashian door is a huge door and you’d be surprised how quickly people can go from the Kardashian level to being a Kettl customer.”