Whisky français? Bien sûr!

Whisky français? Bien sûr!
Alex Kraaijeveld

The land of cognac and armagnac may not be the first to come to mind when you think ‘whisky’, but at the time of writing, France has more distilleries making whisky than Ireland! And when I talk about whiskies from France, I don’t mean whiskies distilled in Scotland which are matured for some time on French soil, such as the ‘Michel Couvreur’ or ‘Celtique Connexion’ whiskies, or the few casks of Garnheath grain whisky that were moved to an Alsace cellar when the Moffat distillery closed. For this article, I focus on whiskies which are, or claim to be, distilled and matured in France. As you’ll see, several of them are unique in one way or another!

            Maybe not surprising that one of the first French whiskies, if not the first, emerged in Brittany, France’s Celtic region. In the early 1970s, Distillerie Dikansky, in Antrain, near Mont Saint-Michel, brought on the market a Breton whisky, called “Le Biniou” (a biniou is a Breton musical instrument of the bagpipe family). It seems that “Le Biniou” was a ‘hybrid’ blended whisky: Scotch malt whisky blended with Antrain-distilled grain whisky. Production stopped in 1982/3 and I have not been able to get a sample of this whisky; just a photo of an empty bottle.

            Next on the Breton stage is the name of Jacques Fisselier, and his Breton whiskies “Glenroc” and “Whisky de Bretagne”. The “Glenroc” label proclaims it to be ‘100% pur whisky de grain’ and carries a Rennes address. Does ‘pur whisky de grain’ mean that it is a grain whisky in the Scottish/Irish sense? Or simply that this whisky is made from 100% grain, as any whisky is by definition? Clouds of obscurity also surround the origin of Fisselier’s whiskies. Attempts to get a clear answer, confirming or denying distillation on Breton soil, are always met with silence and it is often assumed that Fisselier’s whiskies are Scotch behind a Breton label. Having tasted “Glenroc”, I’m not so sure. It is a rather sweet whisky with orange in the nose and clear fresh minty-spicy notes in the palate, which strongly suggest to me that the wash contains a good proportion of rye. That would rule out a Scottish whisky as rye is not used anywhere in Scotland. Recently, “Glenroc” has been re-labelled as “Gwenroc”, now with a Chantepie rather than a Rennes address, but the whisky has not changed. “Whisky de Bretagne” is stated on Fisselier’s web-site to be ‘100% grain spirit’ and ‘malt rich’, which would suggest a blended whisky. It is similar to “Glen/Gwenroc”, but lighter and a bit drier, and with additional vanilla in the nose. For now, the provenance of Fisselier’s whiskies, Breton/French-distilled or not, remains a mystery.

The first Breton whisky for which there really is no doubt as to its origin, saw its first distillation in 1994 and its release in 1999. “Armorik” is a single malt whisky, distilled and matured along Celtic lines at the Warenghem distillery in Lannion. It is quite a light whisky, with an unusual savoury nose, reminding me of stock. The palate has some fruitiness (apples?) and the finish is slightly woody and dry.

Warenghem distillery also markets a blended whisky, “Whisky Breton” (“WB” for short). It is a soft and extremely light blend, with hints of cream and vanilla. “Reflets de France” is basically the same whisky (though possibly with just a tad more flavour?), sold by the supermarket chain ‘Carrefour’ under its own label.

Exactly where the grain part of Warenghem’s blended whiskies comes from is not clear. A statement from the distillery regarding the origin of their grain whisky was phrased in such an ambiguous way that it still left open the possibility of the grain whisky coming from Brittany France, or anywhere else for that matter. As we have two ‘Breton’ (grain?) whiskies from an unknown source, could we actually be looking at one source? Could Fisselier’s whiskies and part of “WB” come from the same source or actually be the same whisky? On that hunch, I did my own little blending experiment: I blended “Armorik” and “Glenroc” in a ratio of 25% malt to 75% grain (the malt to grain ratio given for “WB” on the Warenghem web-site) and let it marry for a few weeks. Comparing my experimental blend to “WB” made it quite clear that my hunch was wrong: the two whiskies tasted quite different. My experimental blend had more flavour and body than “WB” and tasted as you would expect the blending of “Armorik” and “Glenroc” to taste.

            The northwestern corner of France is the southern part of the traditional jenever-producing area of Europe, of which the Netherlands and Belgium are its heartland. One of the few remaining French jenever distilleries is Claeyssens, in Wambrechies. Recently, Claeyssens distillery added to its jenever portfolio a single malt whisky, called “Wambrechies”. This 3 y.o. single malt is not just the only single malt whisky distilled in a jenever distillery, its production method is also unique. The first of its two distillations takes place in a column still to a relatively low proof, after which it is distilled for a second time in a pot still. To my knowledge, this is the only whisky with such an unusual distillation method. Unique though it may be, the whisky itself is not very pleasant: thin, with a rather rancid nose, a bitter palate and a dry finish.

            France’s Champagne region is home to a third single malt. The Guillon distillery, established as recently as 1997, is situated near Reims and its single malt came on the market in 2002. “Guillon” is distilled in an eau-de-vie still and is unique in the material used to dry the malt: not peat smoke, like in the Celtic whisky regions, not wood smoke like “St George”, “Slyrs” or “Mackmyra”, but the smoke of beech and oak leaves. The influence of the leaves is very clear: this is the most tannic whisky I've ever tasted, with clear notes of dead wet leaves and strong tea (Lapsang Suchong). The tannins in the nose lead you to expect an astringently dry whisky, but there is some fudge-like sweetness underneath the tannins. Very unusual for sure, and not one that will appeal to a wide variety of whisky drinkers, I feel.

Before we move on to the next whisky, a wee botany lesson first! Around the world, whiskies are distilled from barley, rye, maize, oats, wheat, or a combination of these. All these, and a few other, grains have one thing in common botanically: they are all grasses. Now, according to EU regulations, whisky is a spirit distilled from a fermented mash of cereals. Cereals are grasses, with one exception ….. the one plant species, not related to grasses whatsoever, which is yet considered a cereal, is buckwheat. Buckwheat is related to Japanese knotweed, and is classified as a cereal because its seeds can be ground, made into flour and turned into bread. And a spirit distilled from a fermented mash of buckwheat flour is legally a whisky!

            Enter the Distillerie des Menhirs in Plomelin in Brittany and enter “Eddu”; Eddu is the Breton word for buckwheat (‘blé noir’ in French). The first whisky from the distillery is “Eddu Silver” and the buckwheat used for this expression is partly malted; a 100% malted version (and thus a true single malt whisky) is in the planning. “Eddu Silver” is one the most fruity whiskies I have ever tasted, and the fruitiness is very much of the ‘red berry’ kind: cherries, redcurrants, cranberries.

This overview of French whiskies would not be complete without the mention of a sample of a rather unusual single malt I was sent recently. Don’t go searching the shelves of French off-licences for it, because you won’t find it, now or in the future. This particular French single malt is a home distillate, double-distilled in a tiny 4 liter still from pure malt beer and matured in a 4 liter ex-gewürztraminer cask. As it will not be officially bottled, I’ve dubbed it “Vallée de Turckheim” (it goes under a different name in Malt Madness circles .....), and tasted it as new make and as a 1 y.o. ‘work in progress’. The new make is quite drinkable: light and gentle, with clear notes of honey. After the gentle new make, the 1 y.o. is a bit of a shock to the system. The cask influence is overwhelming: thick, cloying, strong raisins, some tannins and a slightly sour finish. Surely at least partly the effect of maturing a spirit in such a small cask; the dark copper-gold colour after only one year also hints at that.

            Whether France has taken the first steps on the road to becoming a whisky country or whether French whiskies are set to become curiosities (or eventually disappear altogether) is something only time will tell. My personal favourite of what's available at the moment? “Eddu”, without doubt, and I definitely intend to keep a close eye on the distillery and the other buckwheat whiskies it will produce in the near future.

I could not have written this article without the help of several people who provided me with information, samples, feedback and/or photos: Thierry Guillon, Patrick Le Goff, Guy Le Lay, Bernard Le Nail, Gilles Leizour, Bernard Mielcarek, Martine Nouet, Rob Stevens and Serge Valentin – merci beaucoup!

© 2003 Alex Kraaijeveld