A Hidden Malt

Fettercairn Distillery in Laurencekirk takes visitors into a lesser-known chapter of Scotland's spirited past

- by EUAN DUGUID

IT'S a curious thing, memory. Mine shot back to the summer of 2010 - a July evening steeped in soft Highland light and the smell of sweet barley in the air.

That year I was lucky enough to enjoy a rare behind-the-scenes tour of Fettercairn Distillery. Not the polished kind offered to tourists, but a deeper sort of privilege: candlelight casting long shadows across copper and cask, the scent of malt and angel's share hanging like rural incense in the maturation warehouse.

Under the calm stewardship of industry giant David Doig, then distillery manager, we dined across three working corners of the site.

Starters in the maltings. Mains in the stillhouse. And dessert - a slab of dark chocolate richness - served in the cool hush of the warehouse. A dram of Fettercairn Fior accompanied it: bright orange peel, burnt treacle and walnut whip pirouetting on the tongue.

Had a taxi pulled up to the gates, I'd have given the night a perfect ten on Come Dine With Me, though I'd be scratching my head with the prospect of having to return the platinum level hospitality.

Fifteen years on, Fettercairn has uncorked something even more potent than a richt guid meal. A story.