The Tippling Point | An ocean-aged 'Irish' whiskey that is also an ode to the past

(Representational image) On board the Dolphin, the spirit sloshing inside leeches more wood from the cask, resulting in more caramelization. Which means more sweetness. The salt from the air also plays its part in making the whiskey viscous.

It was always an aching sight for Carl O’Grady who had spent much of his childhood in Dolphin, the boat which now lay buried in the mud off a pier in Belmullet, Ireland. It was the boat that started ferrying people from Clare island and back in the 1960s. It was the lifeline that connected them to the mainstream world. It was the boat that transported materials with which they built their homes block by block, dream by dream. Alas, all that peered out of the muddy water now was a few inches from the old boat's cab.

Could the past be salvaged? But for what?

Carl O'Grady sought the help of a legendary boatbuilder John O’Malley from across the bay in Corraun. Together they settled down to bring the old glory on water back to the surface. After two years of intense work, in 2015, the 36-foot wooden-hulled vessel once again bobbed pensively off the shore of the island. “It was a great day getting her back,” O’Grady said.

What next, the question arose once again. Would it again ferry people across?

Carl O’Grady had other plans.

Ireland was already a happening place for whiskey enthusiasts. So why not peg a new brand against its rolling waters off the coasts? Why not tap the energy from the frequent storms that lash across the island? There are successful examples before O’Grady. Linie Aquavit, the Norwegian liquor, traverses across the world in ships, crossing the equator two times, acquiring a new taste only the sea can lend. Jefferson Ocean Aged Bourbon is another instance.

So he put a single passenger in the boat he had painfully rebuilt with his friend - a cask. Its contents? Single malt spirit of Connacht Whiskey Company from the mainland. It should mature in the boat for three years and abracadabra! What comes out would be a new spirit that has nothing to do with the original Connacht whiskey, taste-wise! How does that happen!

O'Grady claims that he does nothing, but let nature take it course. "It's effectively like a washing machine." The liquid inside gets agitated by regular tides that bring in sea water and also frequent storms. The spirit sloshing inside leeches more wood from the cask, resulting in more caramelization. Which means more sweetness. The salt from the air also plays its part in making the whiskey viscous.

The only hitch is that O'Grady cannot call it Irish whiskey, since the boat is not taken as a bonded warehouse, a requirement for Ireland’s whiskey geographical indication (GI). But who wants the land when the sea has more to offer!

When the first cask was brought to the shore, it had survived 20 storms. His whiskey became a hit; his stormy idea named Clare Island Spirit was here to stay afloat.