When I was invited to take part in the Cork Whiskey Society’s panel discussion on the proposed changes to the definition of pot still Irish whiskey, my first thought was surprisingly simple: what do I actually think about this? Not about being invited to discuss the topic, but about the proposed changes to the Technical File itself.
The fact that I had to ask myself the question was telling.
The definition of pot still Irish whiskey has been a cornerstone of discussion within the craft distilling industry for as long as I have been part of it, and for some time before that. The limitations of the Technical File, the historical evidence for broader mash bills and the campaign to have those mash bills recognised have become something of a rallying cry. If you worked in Irish whiskey, particularly within the craft end of the industry, you were expected to understand that the definition was too narrow and that changing it was important.
I had broadly accepted that position for years. Initially, my adoption of it was partly a case of not knowing enough to think otherwise. There was also an eagerness to go along with the cool kids and avoid appearing to be outside the inner circle.
It was only when I was invited to discuss the subject publicly that I had to examine whether I still believed it and, more importantly, what exactly I believed changing the definition would achieve.
In preparing for the panel, I arrived at two conclusions.
The first was that I support broadening the definition. If the purpose of the Technical File is partly to recognise and protect the historical tradition of Irish whiskey, then the definition of pot still should reflect what Irish distillers historically made. The surviving evidence demonstrates that the tradition encompassed a much broader range of grains and proportions than the present specification allows. As an exercise in historical accuracy, recognition and experimentation, the case for reform is persuasive.
My second conclusion was that whether the definition is broadened or remains exactly as it is will be largely inconsequential to the commercial future of Irish whiskey.
Those positions are not contradictory. One concerns whether the definition is historically honest. The other concerns whether changing it will persuade anybody to buy more whiskey.
Preparing to Rival Single Malt
When I first began working in the industry at Dingle Distillery, I was introduced to single pot still whiskey as both a production method and an idea. At the time, it seemed clear that single pot still was preparing to give single malt a run for its money.
The logic was compelling. Scotland had single malt, a distinctive category with global recognition, strong provenance and enormous premium potential. Ireland had single pot still, a style of whiskey unique to Ireland, rooted in our distilling history and capable of producing outstanding spirit.
Redbreast had already demonstrated the quality and commercial possibilities. If the emerging distilleries could reclaim the broader historical tradition, surely single pot still could become the product that distinguished Irish whiskey internationally.
Like many people entering the industry, I found that argument persuasive. I did not yet know enough to question it.
I accepted the idea that broader historical mash bills would naturally produce more interesting whiskey. I accepted that the current definition, with its prescribed proportions of malted and unmalted barley and its limited allowance for other cereals, represented a constrained and somewhat boring interpretation of the category.
Somewhere in Irish whiskey’s past, we were told, there was a richer and more diverse version of pot still waiting to be rediscovered.
Historical recipes containing oats, rye, wheat and other grains appeared to offer almost unlimited possibilities. Once the Technical File changed, distillers would be free to recover those possibilities. A new generation of pot still whiskeys would emerge, consumers would embrace them and the category would finally fulfil its potential.
It seemed almost inevitable.
The Cork Whiskey Society discussion helped crystallise how far my thinking had moved since then.
During the panel, one of my fellow panellists pointed to the research undertaken by Dr Fionnán O’Connor. That research has demonstrated beyond any reasonable doubt that broader historical mash bills existed and formed part of the Irish distilling tradition.
I do not disagree with that. The historical case has been made.
What I questioned was the leap from historical evidence to market demand.
Proving that Irish distillers once used a broader variety of grains demonstrates that the current definition does not adequately represent the historical category. It supports the argument for changing the Technical File. It does not prove that this is what the market wants.
Those are entirely separate propositions.
The existence of a historical mash bill tells us that somebody once made it. It does not tell us why they made it, whether it represented a deliberate pursuit of flavour or a response to the economics and agricultural conditions of the time, whether it could be produced efficiently today, or whether a modern consumer would choose to buy it.
Most importantly, it does not prove that changing the Technical File will create demand where demand does not currently exist.
A Niche Within a Niche Within a Niche
This distinction can be difficult to see from inside the craft distilling industry because craft Irish whiskey is a niche within a niche within a niche.
We spend much of our time speaking to other producers, enthusiasts, whiskey societies, specialist retailers, importers and distributors. These are people who care about unusual mash bills, production details, heritage and points of distinction. Their interest is genuine, but it is not necessarily representative of the person who eventually stands in front of a shelf and decides which bottle to buy.
Importers and distributors have good reasons to be interested in what makes a small producer different from the larger companies. They already have access to established Irish whiskey brands. If they are considering another one, they naturally want a distinctive story, whether that involves unusual grains, a revived recipe, local provenance or a production method that cannot be found elsewhere in their portfolio.
That interest can create a powerful signal. A producer repeatedly hears that difference is valuable, that heritage is attractive and that the market wants new stories. Eventually, it becomes easy to interpret this as evidence of consumer demand.
But an importer wanting an interesting proposition is not the same as a consumer wanting the product.
A compelling pitch may get a bottle into a catalogue, into a meeting or even onto a shelf. It does not necessarily get that bottle off the shelf. The things that interest an importer looking for a point of difference are not always the things that persuade an ordinary consumer to spend their money.
Within the craft industry, we are sometimes guilty of assuming that our own narrow interests are representative of the wider market. We mistake the enthusiasm of the initiated for the appetite of the public.
The same thing happens when producers speak to one another. We naturally enjoy talking about production. We are interested in different grains, fermentation, still design, cut points and cask policy. These are important subjects, but our fascination with them can create a distorted sense of their commercial importance.
The customer does not experience the years of discussion, experimentation and production that went into the bottle. The customer sees a label, a price and perhaps a few familiar words.
That is a very different encounter with the product.
When the Recipe Meets Production
As I progressed through the industry, particularly as I became more involved in production, my view began to change. The further I moved into production, the less inevitable the promised pot still revolution appeared.
My background in brewing had already given me plenty of experience with adjuncts and alternative grains. In brewing, changing the grain bill can have an immediate and obvious effect on the finished beer. Grain affects flavour, texture, colour, fermentation and practically every part of the process.
I do not dispute that different grains can also affect whiskey. Of course they can. What I began to question was the importance being assigned to that effect once it was placed alongside every other variable involved in making mature whiskey.
Mash composition is only one part of a much larger production system. Fermentation regime, yeast, equipment, distillation rate, reflux, cut points, spirit strength, cask type, previous cask contents, warehouse conditions and maturation time all influence what eventually reaches the glass.
By the time spirit has passed through that entire process, it is not obvious to me that increasing the proportion of oats or adding rye will automatically produce something more distinctive, or better, than a well-made whiskey using the existing pot still mash bill.
More importantly, the conversation about historical mash bills often stops at the recipe. Production cannot.
A distiller looking at ten possible mash bills does not merely see ten creative opportunities. They see ten raw material specifications, ten production schedules and ten separate parcels of spirit that will have to be tracked through years of maturation.
Different grains may require different handling, storage and milling arrangements. Every additional grain has to be sourced, received and stored, potentially requiring a separate silo or another workable storage solution. Switching between mash bills creates logistical complications, affects yields and may require changes throughout the production process.
The less efficient a production run becomes, the more expensive the resulting spirit becomes. That may be manageable for an occasional special release. It is a different matter if the product is expected to provide the commercial foundation of a distillery.
Then there is the much larger problem: nobody knows which of those whiskeys consumers will want.
Imagine that a small distillery divides its annual pot still production across ten historical mash bills. Several years later, one of them reaches the market and becomes considerably more popular than the others. The distillery cannot travel back in time and produce more of it. It has already divided its limited production capacity across nine other experiments.
By discovering the product people want, it may simultaneously discover that it does not have enough of that product to build a sustainable brand.
That problem is particularly acute for a small producer. Large businesses can afford experimentation because their core production continues to provide scale and revenue. For a craft distillery, every experimental batch represents production capacity, working capital and years in wood.
Producing ten interesting whiskeys is not the same as building one successful whiskey brand.
Eventually, commercial reality begins to narrow the supposedly unlimited creative possibilities. Distillers make more of what sells. Unsuccessful recipes disappear or become occasional releases. Production consolidates around the mash bill that offers the most attractive combination of flavour, consistency, yield, scalability and consumer demand.
Even with a broader Technical File, therefore, the market may lead producers back towards a relatively narrow range of mash bills.
The fact that a recipe is historically authentic does not make it commercially desirable. History may tell us that something was made. It does not guarantee that it should become a core product today.
What Does Redbreast Actually Prove?
Redbreast is frequently presented as proof of the commercial potential of single pot still whiskey. It is an extraordinary whiskey and an extraordinary brand, but I am no longer convinced that its success proves what we often claim it proves.
Are people buying Redbreast principally because it says “single pot still” on the label? Or are they buying it because it is mature, rich, consistent and extremely well made? Are they buying a production category, or are they buying Redbreast?
I suspect that its age, flavour, quality and reputation are doing far more of the work than its technical classification.
Redbreast also exists within the Irish Distillers portfolio. It benefits from the reputation, route to market, production capability and distribution infrastructure built around Jameson and Midleton. Its success cannot be separated from that environment.
It does not have to establish the credibility of Irish whiskey from nothing in every new market. It travels along roads that have already been built.
Redbreast has exceeded 100,000 cases in annual sales, an impressive achievement for a premium whiskey. Jameson, by comparison, sells roughly ten million cases. That relationship matters. Jameson creates reach, recognition and commercial mass, while Redbreast occupies the premium space above it.
Yet many investments in craft Irish distilling were made by looking at Redbreast and performing a seemingly reasonable calculation. Redbreast sells 100,000 cases. If a new distillery could capture only one per cent of that, the business could work.
The critical mistake was deciding that Redbreast succeeded because it was single pot still, and then making single pot still the central production, marketing and strategic priority of the new business.
The wider structure of Irish Distillers tells us something different.
Midleton is a finely tuned production facility supporting a carefully positioned portfolio of brands. The quantities it produces largely reflect the quantities the market consumes. Jameson is not produced in enormous volume because somebody decided that blended whiskey ought to be the future of the industry. It is produced in enormous volume because that is what people buy. One reason they buy it is that it targets a far larger pool of prospective buyers who can afford it.
Within the portfolio, brands are positioned to meet different demands rather than compete needlessly with one another. Jameson supplies scale, recognition and accessibility. Redbreast occupies a more premium, mature and flavour-led position. The Spot range occupies another space again.
Irish Distillers has no obvious incentive to persuade millions of Jameson drinkers to abandon a successful blend for a more expensive product that is slower and more costly to produce. Pot still whiskey has a role within the portfolio, but that role is determined by the market rather than by an abstract belief that pot still ought to be the dominant category.
Because so much of Irish whiskey production and so many important brands are consolidated at Midleton, its output offers one of the clearest available pictures of how the wider market actually behaves.
The volumes are not the result of wishful thinking. They represent products people are buying.
Following on in part 2
