Athyr Lebanese Single Malt Whisky “Empire” Single Cask
Sometimes as whisky drinkers, we take things for granted. The basic things: whatever we’re drinking must be at least 40% ABV. If it’s called Scotch or Irish Whisk(e)y, it must be at least three years old. If it’s bourbon, it must be at least 51% corn and made in the United States.
Across all styles, regions, and the like that we call “whisk(e)y,” perhaps no input is as universal as this: wood.
Be it barrel, vat, or…well, that’s about it container-wise (I’m still waiting on the Casket Strength from Pat Heist) the distilled grain spirit is aged in wood. Almost always, that wood is oak, and just slightly less often it is American oak.
Plenty have tried to subvert that rule, and to my knowledge each has failed (critically, if not commercially). The purpose is always the same: save time. After all, if you could make bourbon in 12 hours instead of 12 years, that’s that much less in taxes and warehousing that you have to spend.
What if - and go with me here - someone wanted to age whisky in something other than an oak container? Not to circumvent time, but to honor a regional tradition going back thousands of years. And what if the result tasted, looked, smelled, and presented as whisky?
Yes, it’s out-there. Yes, it’s unconventional to the American/Scotch/Irish whiskey scene. And yes - it’s one of the best damn whiskies I’ve had all year.
From Riachi Winery & Distillery, I present Athyr Lebanese Single Malt Whisky. This is truly, utterly unique. The barley is sun-dried in Lebanon, milled and fermented on-site, distilled using a 60-year-old converted Armagnac still, and aged in clay amphoras with Lebanese oak staves sitting in the liquid.
Each part of this contributes its own line to the harmony. The sun-dried barley intensifies the flavor, giving the barley a singular profile totally different from the barley you’re familiar with. The only comparisons I can make in terms of difference is tasting some of the one-of-a-kind Waterford strains they’re growing or a rye that’s been revived after decades of dormancy. That’s the differentiation we’re talking about here.
Next up: the Armagnac gooseneck still. It’s not that different from a pot still in theory, though it lacks an onion/reflex bulb. The bulbs are used to increase proof, often at the expense of flavor. By omitting the reflux, you do the opposite: sacrifice proof for flavor. Since this still is used for every part of the process - multiple stripping runs and a spirit distillation - the flavor concentrates over and over. Plus, for those of us who enjoy Armagnac and haven’t found a way to introduce the masses, this is one way to do it.
Finally, the most important input: the maturation vessel. Oak is used for a good reason: it’s dense, holds liquid for decades, allows just enough oxygen and alcohol transfer for slow oxidation, and it is plentiful, especially across the US. Oak exists in Lebanon, too, but it is protected in the same way Garryana oak is protected: to harvest it, it must have fallen over or otherwise no longer be growing due to natural causes. You can’t cut it down, and only required pruning is allowed.
For their Levant Heights releases, Riachi imports American oak casks for maturation.
Not for Athyr, though. For Athyr, it’s all about the clay amphora.
A millennia-old method for transporting liquids and other goods, the same method from which archaeologists derive the oldest fragments of writing and human agriculture. Clay amphoras, in many ways, mirror how oak works with distillate. It’s porous, but not enough to leak. It allows for just enough air transfer for oxidization and for a consistent angel’s share (around 2% per year at 3,000’ off a 68% barrel entry proof).
It won’t give color - we’ll get to that in a minute - but it does give flavor, a mild, subtle earthiness that adds complexity and depth.
There is oak involved, Lebanese oak at that. It’s culturally significant for Riachi to use indigenous oak: Lebanese and Levant-sourced wood has been lauded for thousands of years as excellent shipbuilding and construction material (seriously, at least as far as the Phoenicians). It also gives its own flavor profile, just as French, American, Mizunara (Japanese), Garryana, and other oaks do around the world. By heavily toasting the wood, Riachi makes more of the oak’s natural flavors and sugars available for the whisky as it seeps into and out of the staves.
The result is an intense, nearly opaque color more akin to well-aged Armagnac and a full assortment of dark sugars - burnt sugar in a pan, caramelized creme brûlée tops, muscovado sugar, dried figs, butterscotch, I could go on. If it’s a dark sugar, fruity or crystallized, it’s here. That sugar, despite its ubiquity, doesn’t necessarily make this sweet (though some will undoubtedly think so); rather it creates a new experience for even the most jaded whisky drinker, one redolent with Fig Newton filling and a full-bodied whisky that drinks significantly below proof.
I’ll dig a little more into this in my next review - the Athyr Cedarwood Finish - so stay tuned for more on the distillation process and other nerdy stuff. This is new territory, folks, and I am excited.
Athyr Lebanese Single Malt Whisky “Empire” Single Cask: Specs
Classification: Lebanese Whisky
Origin: Riachi Winery & Distillery
Mashbill: 100% Malted Barley
Proof: 110 (55% ABV)
Age: 6 Years Old
Location: Lebanon
Athyr Lebanese Single Malt Whisky “Empire” Single Cask Price: $120
Athyr Lebanese Single Malt Whisky “Empire” Single Cask: Tasting Notes
Eye: Amber maple syrup with a figgy tint. Thin arcing rims and thin, regular legs.
Nose: Intense butterscotch and vanilla, the sauce on a sticky toffee pudding. Dates and figs abound, especially figs, both fresh and dried. Mild proof on the nose with an unfamiliar perfumed oak unlike anything I’ve had before. The fig grows into a dessert wine and root beer sweetness with a touch of herbaceous honey.
Palate: An earthy quality from the amphoras join the figs and deep, dark oak sugars. Baking spice on the back palate, vanilla custard thick and heavily speckled with seeds. Mouthfeel is baking spice-heavy, medium-to-full bodied without being too coating or syrupy. The dried and fresh figs are the star, with a Cola-esque sauce starting to burn as it reduces in the pan.
Finish: Long. Fig Newtons soaked in a vanilla bean root beer float. Oak comes to the fore for a second before settling into the dark sea of Cola and stewed fruits.
Overall: Exceptional and different. The aging vessel alone gives a never-before-experienced earthy quality, the air-dried barley another, and a final one from the Lebanese oak itself. Truly unique and a must-try.
Final Rating: 8.5
10 | Insurpassable | Nothing Else Comes Close
9 | Incredible | Extraordinary
8 | Excellent | Exceptional
7 | Great | Well above average
6 | Very Good | Better than average
5 | Good | Good, solid, ordinary
4 | Has promise but needs work
1-3 | Let’s have a conversation
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