It’s Millie Milliken here, reporting for duty, and this week I’m writing a love letter to a certain type of distillery that makes my dark heart sing: dirty distilleries.
I’m not talking about distilleries that fail rigorous health and safety measures, but those with sticky fiber-strewn floors, cobweb-covered casks, and black Baudoinia-speckled walls.
Perhaps it’s the goth in me – as well as the antique center scavenger, old book sniffer, and vintage clothes thrifter. Or maybe I’ve just seen too many (undeniably beautiful) glinting stills, mirror-like washbacks, and stage-set warehouses.
Whatever the reason, I increasingly yearn for the dusty dankness of a dirty distillery. The ones that don’t seem to have my compatriots scrabbling as quickly for the cameras around their necks – but to me are far more beguiling. Those that tell a story of time, nurture, and the encroaching of life; that make you remember that distilleries are living, breathing beasts.
And – beyond the aesthetics – where you find grot, grime, and grunge, you often find some of the most delicious spirits in the world.
My first encounter with such a distillery was in Jamaica. Driving along the northeast coast past James Bond beach, coconut stands, and roadside bars, I arrived at Long Pond Distillery, originally founded in 1753. Having become more accustomed to the gleaming surfaces of contemporary Scotch whisky distilleries, walking past sludgy cane acid tanks and tarnished, battered stills was a stark, but not unwelcome, departure.
Arriving at the fermentation shed, the fervor of chemical reactions is as audible and visible as it is olfactory. Inside, you find 12 10,000L fermentation vats, cane vinegar (which turbo-charges the environment for ultimate fermentation), dunder (leftover stillage from previous distillations, which boosts funky flavors), muck (more on that later), and the all-important molasses are undergoing a special kind of alchemy.
I can only describe the fizzing contents as being what I imagine the surface of the moon might look like, with crusty craters and black spores that create a grotesquely beautiful dapple effect. It also absolutely hums of sweet and sour notes, tropical fruits like banana and pineapple and a brine character. It all lingers in the hot air.
Another Jamaican rum setting that had an other-worldly effect on me was the home of Hampden Estate Rum, where I discovered what felt like a forgotten Jurassic World of a distillery in Trelawny Parish. Part distillery, part abandoned sugar factory, the stark juxtaposition of lush tropical greenery and crumbling brutal infrastructure is a sight to behold.
But it’s the muckpit building where the magic happens (so sensitively so, that phones and cameras are prohibited). Pits are filled with decaying flora and fauna, old fermentation slop, and whatever else (minus animals) can compost. When added to the fermentation process, this gives the resulting rum not only a sense of place, but its high-ester character that makes it so identifiably Jamaican. Being inside is an assault on the senses. Once you get used to the smell, you’ll immediately want to take a shower.
Splatters, squelches, and scurrying
Having developed a soft spot for these dirtier types of distilleries, I’ve begun noticing the less polished sides of these production behemoths. On a research trip to Mexico for my recently published tequila book, I took great pleasure in squelching over the agave fiber-strewn floors of El Pandillo, Los Alambiques, and El Tequileno distilleries.
There is also something wonderfully Tim Burton-esque about watching a mechanical roller mill in messy action, too. Seeing (and smelling) the splatter of cooked agave piñas on the walls of brick ovens is another reminder of the characterful raw material that this oft-misunderstood spirit is made of.
Rather surprisingly, the emo in me was stoked in the region of none other than Cognac, where you won’t get far before seeing the tell-tale signs of aging grape brandy: warehouses splurged with black Baudoinia fungi.
My favorite house to visit so far must be Cognac Frapin in the Grande Champagne region, where, on its 240-hectare estate, Limousin oak casks sleep quietly in century-old outbuildings. Well, perhaps not so quietly as I discovered, as thick and dusty cobwebs ballooned and wafted inside the inky walls of the warehouses and between the barrels (their weavers thankfully out of sight), while distant scuttling gave away the mice that meander among them too. Ropes on some of the barrels have splintered and been rigged into witchy, finger-esque claws – and, thankfully, left as such.
More recently, and I’ve turned my attention to Scotch distilleries with a touch of the dour about them. The neo-classical, listed Tormore distillery in Speyside, while also being one of the most beautiful distilleries I’ve ever seen (it has still-shaped topiary, come on), was still exhibiting the rusty signs of its recent fallow years in its outbuildings – I hope new owners Elixir Distillers keep some of this character.
Meanwhile, a cancelled flight to Islay meant I had an afternoon in Glasgow to visit Deanston distillery, which is housed in a former cotton mill. A steamy open mash tun, muck and dunder-esque pit, high mottled-ceiling stone warehousing, and some probably (definitely) haunted spaces yet to be renovated all add to the allure of its waxy single malt.
It’s probably too late, but at this stage, I’d like to apologize to the distilleries that go to extraordinary lengths to preserve their sparkly status. Thoroughly cleaned stills, ultra-safe and hygienic working environments, and picture-perfect spaces offer a different interpretation of beauty.
But sometimes, it’s refreshing to dip your glass in the muck. In the words of Scottish-born American naturalist John Muir: “Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”
Two to Try
Hampden Estate 1753 | 46% ABV | $86
The perfect introduction to Jamaican rum, Hampden Estate 1753 is made using local spring water, wild yeast fermentation, and no added sugar. It’s as authentic an expression of Jamaican rum as exists. It’s unapologetically high-ester and funky, and bursting with banana and pineapple, a style built on almost three centuries of rum production. Outrageously well-priced for the quality, the 1753 works as well neat as it does in cocktails.
Frapin VSOP Grande Champagne Cognac | 40% ABV | $71
It astounds me how little you have to spend to buy a bottle of amazing cognac. Frapin’s VSOP Grande Champagne Cognac is the perfect example. This cognac is drawn entirely from Ugni Blanc grapes grown on the chalk-heavy slopes of Frapin’s 240-hectare estate. It’s then distilled on the lees and aged around six years in French Limousin oak, but this VSOP is much more about terroir than age. You’ll find an abundance of orange peel and dried vine flowers on the nose, orchard fruit, oak spice, and cinnamon on the palate.
