"I'll fake it through the day with some help from Johnnie Walker Red"

My first experience with Scotch – a dreadful one – is one that is both well-documented on Epinions already, and also sorely imprinted in my own mind. And it involved, in fact, the very spirit that I am now taking a second look at – Johnnie Walker's Red Label, the “Special Old Highland.” Long story short, after eying my roommate sipping this brown liquid gingerly from a tumbler, I inquired as to what it was. When, after some prodding, he began to explain some of the aspects of the world of Scotch, I became intrigued, and demanded a sample. He obliged, and that sample will likely haunt my memory for as long as I live. Eschewing the small nosings and smaller sips that a fine drink like Scotch requires, I took a big whiff (which, as I recoiled in terror, should have provided a hint), and a bigger gulp. The result – a mix-mash of rubbing alcohol, petrol, and burnt plastic – nearly compelled me to swear off Scotch for the rest of my life. It wasn't until one year later, in fact, that I was finally compelled to try this roommate's other bottle, the – much better, though still middle-of-the-road – Glenlivet 12 Year Old. Luckily, the Glenlivet erased almost all my ill will toward Scotch, and with that I began my own journey. But I undertook that journey with the knowledge that I would never sully my lips with the disastrous poison-liquid that is Johnnie Walker Red Label (as an addendum, if you need further evidence of the extensive animosity that exists for the Red Label in some circles, you need only know that my roommate took nearly a year to finish that single bottle of Red Label, and did so only with the help of prior alcohol consumption and extensive amounts of crushed ice – he too, as far as I know, as sworn off the Red Beast).

So what, then, am I doing here – because presumably, the fact that I am reviewing Johnnie Walker Red Label suggests that not only did I sample it again, but I likely actually bought it. And yes, it's true. But I did so for a few reasons – and with a few conditions - that I feel make the purchase somewhat justifiable. Firstly, it's worth noting that I only bought a 200ml (approximately 6.5-7oz.) bottle, rather than taking the risk on a full-sized bottle of the stuff, which runs to about $28.25 Cdn. for 750ml/26oz. (making it, for comparison's sake, roughly equivalent in price to Jack Daniel's, Crown Royal, and a fairly wide assortment of other whiskies). And, further, I made this purchase simply because when I enter a liquor store, I simply, compulsively have to try something new. In this case, it is not something strictly new that I am trying, but something that I abhorred three years ago. And I suppose, the biggest reason, is that I really want to answer the two questions I found myself asking in the back of my mind – “is it really that bad?” and “how have my tastes progressed?” The answer to the latter is irrelevant here, but the answer to the former, for the record, is no – though it's really not much better.

Johnnie Walker and the striding man logo, of course, need absolutely no introduction, for John Walker & Sons is without a doubt the biggest producer and distributor of Scotch whisky (single malt or blended) in the world, pushing some 120 million bottles of product a year to over 200 countries. The majority of this product is the company's bottom-end – and the current object of our attention - Red Label offering. Johnnie Walker has a long, storied history as a company that is perhaps as rich as the majority of single malt Scotch producers that are currently operating in Scotland. Beginning life as Walker's Kilmarnock Whisky, when John himself began selling whisky in his grocery store in 1820. When he died in 1857, his son Alexander carried on the firm (which had by then moved into wholesale trading), but with far more of a focus on the whisky. By the time Alex passed the brand onto his own son Alexander II, whisky sales had ballooned from 8% of the firm's profit (under the eye of John) to between 90 and 95% - a figure that included blended Scotch, which Alexander began offering in 1865 after the repeal of a law that had previously made blending malt and grain whisky illegal.

It was not Johnnie himself, then, who made his whisky a household name, but his son and grandsons, who expanded the brand's line-up of whisky, and introduced the helpful colour names to distinguish the grade of each of the walker brands (although Johnnie Walker Swing, introduced in the 1930s and only available from duty-free stores, is a bit of a curiosity as the only Walker brand without a colour designation). Aside from Swing, the company offers five whiskies that range considerably in both price and quality – the young Red Label, the 12 year old Black Label, the 15 year old Green Label Pure Malt, the 18 year old Gold Label, and the “very old” (containing whiskies as old as 60+ years, though the company keeps these figures quiet because of the constant tweaking that limited quantities of stock have made necessary) Blue Label, often recognized as the Holy Grail of Scotch whiskies. The latter two are fairly recent introductions to the Walker line-up, based on the tasting notes of Alexander Walker II.

Johnnie Walker Red Label is, as I mentioned, found on the bottom-shelf of the Walker cabinet, though it's history as a brand is superseded only by its Black Label brother. Red Label, introduced in 1906 as 'Special Old Highland,' was, at the time, the middle-shelf Walker, snugly fitting between the (at the time) premium Black Label and the now long-defunct White Label. Since the discontinuation of the White Label during World War I, the Red Label has become the (no pun intended) redheaded stepchild of the Walker family, its esteem falling as its sales have paradoxically skyrocketed. A young blend (age statement unknown), the Red Label is marketed by Johnnie Walker as “the vibrant blend,” it's blend of “up to 35 of the finest aged single malts and grain whiskies” offering “youth and vibrancy.” It's strength, according to Walker's promotional material, consists in its versatility without loss of character. In terms of its constituent elements, however, there's not much to know – at least, not much that's easy to discover. Like with their Black and Green Labels, Talisker (a wonderful, wonderful single malt) is one of the Red Label's core components. The company is tight-lipped on the Red Label's other ingredients, though it's a fair bet that it consists large quotients of (the also smoky) Caol Ila, as well as Walker's own Cardhu. In any case, it's not a mystery that keeps most Scotch lovers up at night.

Once more, it's worth suggesting that, at least aesthetically, it's hard to beat the Walker clan. Their bottles have such a perfect, almost-ubiquitous shape, and the slanted label is not just immediately recognizable, but has long become symbolic of true quality. But what about what's inside the bottle?

Johnnie Walker Red Label pours into my tumbler a considerably lighter shade than almost any whisky – blend, single malt or vatted melt – that I've ever seen, a shade of old gold with faint amber hues. This is obviously the result of the Red Label's unusually young age statement (though promotional material offers no hint as to what this is, it is considerably less than the standard 12 years of the Black Label, perhaps hovering around the 8 year mark, if I was forced to take a wild guess in the dark), and the lack of any finishing. This is, love it or hate it, a very "pure" whisky in that it is almost certainly not the benefactor of port pipes, sherry casks or solera vats; that said, this colour is also worrisome, inspiring the same dread in my heart that I had after my first – and, at the time, I hoped, my last – sample of the stuff. A quick swirl only furthers my concern, as the Red Label offers little, if anything, in the way of legs; thin, flimsy and spotty beads of the Red Label thinly coat the glass for mere seconds before vanishing without a trace. Unlike almost every whisky – be it bourbon, Irish, Canadian or Scotch – that I've sampled before, Red Label's pour and appearance cause me to hesitate before diving in for the first nose.

That hesitation, of course, is entirely justified, as the Red Label offers up little in the way of anything that's remotely appetizing. The most dominant scent is the questionable bouquet of Red Label's young grain whisky content, presenting an almost dizzying burnt plastic, and notes of a backyard distillation, accompanied by the disturbing hint of rubbing alcohol. Grain whisky, given time to mature, can be almost as rich and satisfying as malt whisky, but Red Label features not only too much grain whisky content, but also grain whisky that's far too young to be even remotely palatable. With the other Johnnie Walker blends, there is at least a sense of integration between the malt and the grain that results in some surprisingly pleasant whiskies – but here, it's simply too much, too soon. The good news, however, is that if you can recover from the initial nauseating recoil of rubbing alcohol and immature grain whisky, there is some good to be had here. In other words, the nose is almost – key word almost – salvageable. The grain whisky offers up a further cloying sickly-sweetness that, though it will certainly turn off more experienced Scotch drinkers, will appeal to a fairly broad range of drinkers. Beyond that, there are some indistinct, but fairly pleasant notes. Cinnamon, brown sugar, caramel, and holiday spices all flit in and out of the profile, from nose to nose, and there's a certain earthiness that isn't wholly unappealing. Some dark fruits (raisins, I believe, perhaps prunes) and a faint smokiness round out the profile, but it's ultimately too-little too-late. And it doesn't get any better; many whiskies shift and change as they are exposed to air, their nose evolving over the course over time (anywhere from ten minutes to an hour-plus). Red Label simply gets up and dies. What you get on the first nosing is what you'll get on the last, no matter how long you leave your dram to breathe. In fact, it may even deteriorate – the few-and-far-between pleasant characteristics simply surrendering to the harsh chemical-graininess that ultimately establishes dominance. A few drops of water do help somewhat, bringing out the more pleasant dark caramel character (which, incidentally, is evocative of the nose of a Belgian ale, Leffe Brune), and does help limit some of the more volatile characters, but I imagine that you would absolutely have to drown Johnnie Walker Red Label to remove them entirely (at the cost, conversely, of also losing what makes it – even if only occasionally – nice). But then, according to Johnnie Walker promotional material, the Red Label is intended for use in long drinks, and drowning the liquor is – essentially – exactly what you're doing in mixed drinks.

The taste though, thankfully, actually isn't as egregiously bad as either I expected or remembered, and for this I am forced to smile, at least a little. The palate of Johnnie Walker Red Label is unaccomplished, and stereotypical, but thankfully also far from the horrid burn and pure petrol taste that I remember from three years ago. It isn't a strong whisky, technically speaking – in fact, it is perhaps the cloying sweetness of the Red Label that saves it from being completely unpalatable, and that is generally a big no-no in the world of Scotch – but it's drinkable (in a 'saddle up to the bar and give me the cheapest Scotch you have' kind of way). An initial alcohol prickle and burn on the tongue (a fairly, and unsurprisingly strong one) is accompanied by the sickly-sweet graininess that may very well be the reason for the brand's popularity; and it thickly and unpleasantly coats the tongue and mouth. After a few seconds, the sweetness thankfully recedes (though the fiery burn asserts itself even more strongly), revealing the taste of the stereotypical Scotch whisky – that is to say, peaty smokiness and brine (thanks to, I assume, Talisker, a whisky that deserves a far better fate than this). Some iodine (again, the Talisker at work) And, really, not much else. Johnnie Walker claims that this is the “classic taste of blended Scotch whisky” - I say that this is focusing on the infamous smokiness of Scotch at the cost of cutting out almost all of the myriads of other flavours that make Scotch whisky such a wonderful drink. That said, like with the nose, there are occasional noteworthy flashes of interesting flavour. Mid-mouth, after the brine and smoke have died down, there are brief tastes of assorted nuts, pine, and dark caramel. However, these are quickly lost amidst the shuffle. The finish is dry and long-lasting, with its fair share of fiery youth, though it does warm the throat and belly adequately, and continues to offer up (once more, let us thank Talisker) pleasant, evocative notes of Island brine and smoke. A few drops of water thankfully tempers the enthusiasm of the Red Label's aggressive burn; unfortunately, it does so at the cost of leaving the Splenda-like sweetness (thanks nchoward for the comparison) of the Red Label virtually unchecked. Additionally, it brings out more of the dark caramel, but once more, at the cost of some of the rich brine and smoke that the Talisker contributes. The finish, however, remains the same – slightly less fiery, but with a surprisingly long aftertaste of smoke, brine, and perhaps even a touch of light grain (sans cloying sweetness). Not bad – but make no mistake, not particularly good, either.

All of that said, Johnnie Walker themselves – as I previously mentioned – doesn't advertise Johnnie Walker Red Label as a premium Scotch to be consumed neat, or even on the rocks. Their suggestion is that it be served over ice in cocktails – mixed with Coca-Cola or ginger ale. I can see how this might improve the Red Label – disguising its glaring weaknesses (sickly sweetness and rubbing alcohol/burnt plastic flavors) while still allowing its dominant strengths (pleasant smokiness and brine) to shine through somewhat. In fact, Red Label and Canada Dry ginger ale is a surprisingly pleasant mixture; not too sweet, not too strong, with just a perfect balance of smokiness, brine, and the crispness of ginger ale. However, the only true way to measure a spirit is to sample it as it is presented in the bottle, and here, Johnnie Walker Red Label offers up nothing better than a world of mediocrity. It's not egregiously bad – certainly not as bad as I remember it from my first sample – but it's also not very good. And not only is the jump in quality from Red to Black significant enough to justify the price difference (approximately $14 Cdn. per 750ml/26oz.), but there are also better blended Scotches available that are significantly cheaper than the Red Label (most notably, Teacher's Highland Cream, which, though it lacks the traditional JW-prestige, is a blend that rivals even the Black Label at a price that's almost $5 Cdn. less than the Red Label).

In any event, writing a review on Johnnie Walker Red Label is a bit of a pointless exercise. It is simply so ubiquitous that virtually everyone has tried it, and virtually everyone has made up their minds about it. That said, my recommendation – whether anyone is really listening or not – is to avoid it; if not like the Plague, then at least like an irritating cold. I will drink it in the future, if I have no other choice, and I'm still willing to explore its potential as a mixer, but for a pure Scotch experience, there's better out there – not just better, either, but cheaper too. Johnnie Walker sells Red Label, like they do their other blends, based on a perception of prestige. With the Red Label, however, that prestige is sorely misguided.

Related Reviews:
Glenfiddich 15 Year Old Solera Reserve
Teacher's Highland Cream Blended Scotch Whisky
Johnnie Walker Green Label 15 Year Old Pure Malt Scotch Whisky
Johnnie Walker Black Label 12 Year Old Blended Scotch Whisky
Glenmorangie 12 Year Old Port Wood Finish Single Malt Scotch Whisky
The Balvenie 12 Year Old DoubleWood Single Malt Scotch Whisky
Crown Royal Canadian Whisky