A friend put me onto Ricky Gervais’ brilliant series, ‘After Life’. Funny but rather depressing. If you are not familiar, he plays a bloke who has lost the love of his life and just wants it all to end it all and has become the world’s rudest man. There are times you just go, ‘well, I know how he feels’. 

But I suspect that unless you are someone who genuinely suffers from depression, then you don’t. I've been fortunate in that, despite being told far too many times by ‘mates’ that I really have a lot to be depressed about, I have only ever suffered very brief bouts. If you have not, then you are seriously fortunate. It is an insidious, horrendous thing. While I have been fortunate, I have seen first hand – as I am sure many of us have – just how awful it can be. A close friend suffered for many years and it simply destroys lives. Incredibly frustrating in that nothing you can do seems to help. I suspect that there are very few of us who have not been affected by the loss of friends or family, induced by depression. A very good mate of mine, would have done anything for his kids (and did), lost a son last week. Gutting beyond comprehension. No warning.

I often think of a couple of friends now gone. And we often talk about them with other friends. None of us had a clue it was likely. Is that our fault? Don’t know. One girl – this is from many years ago – had the world at her feet. Loved by everybody, not a bad word ever spoken about her, brilliant, incredibly successful at her job – the youngest ever to achieve what she did anywhere in the world – jaw-droppingly stunning, and just an incredibly decent person. If I'd been asked to name 10,000 people likely, she would never been considered for an instant. Tragedy.

Okay, this took a dark turn when in fact my intention was the very opposite. Today is a glorious day. Still on the hunt for permanent digs – such a pain in the proverbial – but meanwhile, down here at Hastings Point. Early morning walk on the beach with the pelicans and sea-eagles (wonderful when the netters are not there trying to pillage the ocean, bitching about only getting a couple of hundred fish in their nets – given that there are 8 to 10 of them, plus 6 or 7 vehicles plus boats and gear and so on, and they get about 12c a kilo for mullet, one does understand why they are bitching and one wonders why they even bother).

The humpbacks are making their northern migration and every now and again, one leaps for joy (or possibly to avoid orcas, but we are all positive now). Watching something the size of a bus hurl itself from the water is truly inspiring. They’ll all be up around Fraser Island in time for the annual fishing trip in a few months and again, watching these amazing creatures leaping and playing is more than enough reason to be glad to be alive. Toss in, not a cloud in this hemisphere and the ocean is literally sparkling like some giant diamond chandelier has come crashing down from the heavens. 

Back home, I have the George Harrison ‘What is Life’ song on loop (put it up on the forum recently – what a brilliant song, even after two hours of it), made a good coffee and preparing curried tripe in lemon and garlic and coconut cream (my nephew was thinking of coming down for a fish – told him, now he is thinking of not coming down. Rude). It is one of those mornings for, as they say in the classics, dancing like no one is watching. Though dancing with the large kitchen knife definitely not wise – don’t ask. I will confess that I was grateful no one was videoing or watching, but it is a day where one cannot stop smiling (you can see that I really didn’t intend to take such a dark path to get here).

Note to self and apropos of absolutely nothing at all, a weird thought just popped into my head (it really is one of those days). If I ever write a book, I am going to call it ‘The Divinity of the Dancing Wombats’. I have no idea why (don’t steal it). I doubt that there will be either dancing or wombats in it but there you go. And I am going to try and insert the phrase ‘the divinity of the dancing wombats’ into as many things as I can. Which I have now done here. No idea why. Just seems the thing to do. Despite what must seem like compelling evidence to the contrary, I have not been drinking today. Not yet.

So time to catch up on a Kenfessions.

The most recent (I have a pile yea high to do but why start at the beginning). A Cohiba Espléndido. Lord knows where it came from but as it looks as though it might have fed to one of those dancing wombats and then reappeared – although apparently wombats have square poops, seriously. I am suspecting Rob has given it to me for a Kenfessions. Not that I am not grateful. Honestly, I reckon if a scrounging rat found this in the sewer, it would turn its nose up and walk away despairing at the quality of rubbish it is forced to endure. As I was firing it up during our annual State of Origin clash between the evil NSW wannabees (think Imperial Storm Troopers in footy shorts) and the forces for good and niceness in our brave Queensland underdog Maroons (underdogs, despite regularly giving the bad guys – can we call them black hats these days? – the thrashing they so richly deserve), and the forces of good and niceness were copping an almighty thumping, it was going to take one hell of a good cigar to make this day come back from the brink. All I could think, so was this is what it is like to be a blues fan and cop such a beating. Had I known, I may have even been nicer to them over the years (probably not).

But back to the cigar. Did I mention, not that I am not grateful?

And here at Kenfessions, we are very much ‘book cover’. And just as well. I reckon there is a fair percentage of you guys who would have taken one look at this bedraggled thing and put it in the box marked, ‘for the mother-in-law’. And what a mistake that would have been. Whacko. What a full-on, glorious joy this turned out to be. Who would have guessed? Ratty it might have been; ravishing it was.

Very firm draw, which I must admit did not indicate a change in opinion, thanks to the appearance, which was forecast. Wait for it….

Took a moment but then the thing just exploded with glorious honey notes. This evolved, though they never fully disappeared and nor would you want them to, into a seductive creaminess. Which also went the distance. Some roasted nuts here and there. Towards the end, a hint of dried apricot. A wonderfully complex cigar, at all times in balance. For me, 96-97. No sign of it nearing the end of its life. But why wouldn’t you want to smoke this today? What a stunner. What origin? This was exactly what you want/hope/pray/beg for your Espléndido to be. This is why they are considered one of Cuba’s great cigars.

To match, I went with the last of the bottle so kindly sent to me by our friend Chris (Chanceschmerr), the Alberta Premium Cask Strength Rye. Chris reminded me we had the standard on my balcony (it might even appear in a vid) when he was out here. Anyway, if I may start by saying that I think it is a cracking spirit for a good cigar. It won best whisky in the world, though has not been free of controversy, so you’d hope it was good (I did have a bottle of the 16-Year-Old Lagavulin as necessary back-up). I covered this Rye for Quill and Pad so if I may plagiarise myself…

Many years ago, in what now feels like another life, I was doing the backpacker thing and was in the middle of nowhere in Canada – I was being passed along by a series of very kind friends as I'd “enjoyed” a burst appendix, peritonitis and gangrene, none of which I'd recommend as travelling companions. Had it happened a year earlier when I was in the middle of nowhere in Africa, someone else would be writing Kenfessions, though one assumes it would have a different name.

Anyway, a friend took me off to Edmonton for a visit, which I believe at the time had the world’s largest shopping mall. Included was a giant indoor pond, which, if memory serves, had two working submarines. I remember this because my friend was very proud of the fact that this was apparently twice as many as the Canadian navy had. No idea if that was true but I always remembered it.

Chris kept raving about Canadian whisky, during his visit, and promised to send me a bottle. Always nice when someone is proud of their homeland, but I was thinking that this might be a bit like someone being proud of the Ethiopian wine industry. Not for the first time, I soon discovered I had lots to learn.

That is, of course, a little gentle teasing for our Canadian brethren – they have a thriving spirits industry, though we rarely see much other than the big players down under, Canadian Club being an obvious example. The lack of wider representation is a little surprising as there are apparently nearly 300 distilleries in Canada now, especially in a market where bourbon has made such inroads.

Anyway, a bottle turned up – it took about three months in transit so I am hoping that if they ever go to war, Canada’s navy can move a bit faster.

It turned up surrounded by several packets of what we would call Cheezels. I think Chris thought this might throw customs off the scent. Given that it was a gift, which I believe he is entitled to send, it seemed overkill. And they definitely are not a good match for any whisky. The whisky, as mentioned, was the Alberta Premium Cask Strength Rye.

I knew I had to take this seriously when word arrived that this Rye was dubbed Best Whisky in the World in the 2021 Jim Murray Whisky Bible, which is a very big deal. It was judged against 1,252 other whiskies and came out on top.

It turned out to be an even bigger deal when what might be termed controversy erupted in relation to Mr. Murray and his award. Seems he may have offended some with his descriptions, being less politically correct than some would wish. Indeed, downright sexist.

In the article calling him out, the author announced that she was proud to be woke (which, of course, these days is more than enough to divide a room no matter what the topic). It further seems that Mr. Murray was not in the least bit interested in soothing things with the woke crowd and let them know. This did not go down well, and I believe that the Alberta Distillery now avoids mention of what is a truly fine achievement.

Seems a shame (which is in no way intended to condone whatever Mr. Murray said). There has been considerable support throughout the industry for the comments drawing a line in the sand against sexist language in reviews. Rightly so.

And then it turns out that few whiskies have divided fans like this one. Some rave about it; others were distinctly unimpressed. That happens, but rarely so divisively as with a whisky that does so well. This rye comes in at a hefty 65.1 percent ABV. The second release was marginally higher (cask-strength whiskies obviously vary) at 66 percent.

A brief refresher on what exactly rye is, although I have no doubt that many members have far deeper knowledge than myself. Feel free to add thoughts and corrections in the comments.

Rye can be American or Canadian and just so things are not simple, because we would never want that, they have very different rules. American rye, similar to bourbon, has to be distilled from at least 51 percent rye grain. Canadian rye does not need to have so much as a grain of rye in it (this one from Alberta is one of the few that is 100 percent rye).

So why call it rye? Historically, Canadian whisky was largely made from rye.

Another difference is that rye/whisky from Canada must be aged in wooden barrels that do not exceed 700 litres, for a period of at least three years. U.S. blended whiskies do not have this same requirement. They need to be aged in “charred new oak ‘vessels’”, so technically they don’t even have to be barrels. No minimum ageing unless it is for a “straight rye whiskey,” which requires a minimum of two years in barrel.

The product needs to be not less than 40 percent ABV. Of course, all Canadian whiskies must be mashed, distilled, and aged in Canada. Canada also apparently has something called the 9.09 percent rule (one has to imagine that some desk-bound bureaucrat came up with that specific percentage, but sadly the more prosaic reason is one part to ten parts), which allows producers to add “one part non-Canadian whisky for every 10 parts Canadian whisky” as long as the result “possesses the aroma, taste and character generally attributed to Canadian whisky.” Examples of what can be added include fortified wines and foreign whiskies.

Alberta Distillers is part of the Beam Suntory empire. Established in 1946 in Calgary, Alberta, it is one of the very few 100 percent rye grain distilleries still operating in North America. Alberta Distillers developed a specific strain of yeast that specialises in fermenting rye. The water comes from the Canadian Rocky Mountains.

Alberta Distillers’ products do tend to be limited to Canada but obviously some manage to free themselves. Some even probably do so without a serving of Cheezels.

The price for this rye is around the $65 Canadian, but after its success plenty of less-than-scrupulous retailers jacked it up to take advantage of demand. It has been seen as high as $450. For me, very good value at its intended price; don’t bother if elevated too much beyond that. Chris told me that until the Murray award most of it was gathering dust on bottle shop shelves. After the award, it was sold out in Canada within hours.

As I mentioned, this whisky has really divided reviewers and so before we look at it, some of the thoughts.

For the supporters, from Murray (not the offending pieces), “a succulence to the oils, balanced perfectly by ulmo and Manuka honeys ensure for the most chewable Canadian mouthful possibly ever . . . constantly salivating, from the very first nanosecond . . . Truly world-class whisky from possibly the world’s most underrated distillery. How can something be so immense yet equally delicate? For any whisky lover on the planet looking for a huge but nearly perfectly balanced experience, then here you go. And with rye at its most rampantly beautiful, this is something to truly worship.”

Others added, “If you are a fan of cask-strength releases, Alberta Premium hasn’t just created one of the best Canadian whiskies, it’s one the world’s leading drams.” “A joyous experience.” “A must-try and probably a must-buy.” “A goddamn delightful dram that reaches the vaulted heights of Buffalo Trace’s Antique Collection Sazerac and Michter’s 10-Year Rye.”

For the contrary view: “There wasn’t much that impressed me right out of the gate . . . straightforward . . . the finish is uneventful . . . merely serviceable.” “Not an award winner in my opinion.”

And perhaps most scathingly of all, from a highly respected whisky site: “A slightly chemical taste and a burning sensation . . . chemical flavour hangs around in mildly unpleasant form through the finish, which radiates awkwardly around the mouth in an uncomfortably bitter and synthetic fashion . . . threatening to trigger the gag reflex . . . I struggled to finish a one-ounce pour of this, which is a dishonour I generally reserve for the most awful of whiskeys . . . like swallowing bitter medicine or accidentally tasting a household cleaning product,” before giving it an underwhelming 2/10.

So very different opinions on this whisky. One can only report on what one tastes. Personally, I'm a little surprised it ranked so highly with the Murray Bible. I think it is a very fine whisky and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but the very best? As to those denigrating it, one assumes that they are simply reviewing what is in their glass, which is all you can do. Quite why they were so unimpressed, I can’t explain.

For me, this is a whisky that would be enjoyed by fans of Islay malts (of which I am one). And a great match for a rich cigar, like a Partagás D4, though it was perfect with this Esplendido.

A coppery, burnt orange hue. The nose is spicy with honey, a hint of chocolate, dark berries, vanillin notes, and gentle oak. The palate is all richness and complexity. Spices, cinnamon, linger throughout, and a very long finish it is. Some reviewers claimed they could not see any alcoholic heat on the finish – I'd beg to differ. That honey note is what really made it sit so well with the cigar.

There are notes of orange rind, stone fruit, butterscotch and a sort of caramel syrup. Candied apples and a slight citrusy note with a whiff of Christmas pudding. It manages to walk a fine line between offering some elegance while maintaining its boldness, though no one is ever going to think this is subtle.

All up, a really fine whisky. 96 for me. As I said, I'd struggle to give it best in the world, but it is hard to argue with those who saw it that way. Whatever one thinks, leaving aside those who were not happy, this is a great advertisement for what Canada can do with rye. Hopefully, we’ll see a lot more of it.

KBG.