As we contemplate the light-amber liquid in our long-stemmed tasting glasses, Shinji Fukuyo uses a surprising word to describe the delicate flavours in his latest creation: antique. Fukuyo is the chief blender for House of Suntory, the esteemed Japanese whisky producer perhaps best known to non-aficionados as the brand that brought Bill Murray to Tokyo as its pitchman in the 2003 movie Lost in Translation. Here in an elegant hotel dining room in midtown Manhattan, it is very much Suntory time again. And my lucky fellow tasters and I are about to sample a rare new bottle—with a price tag that’s hard to fathom.
Fukuyo has come to New York to introduce the Hibiki 40-Year, the oldest “expression” ever offered of Suntory’s premium blended-whisky brand. It combines five different whiskies from three separate distilleries. Just 400 bottles of the Hibiki 40-Year are being made available for sale globally at a retail price of SGD47,000 each.
While I inhale the fruity nose—do I detect notes of lychee and apricot?—I’m subconsciously trying to calculate the value of the thimbleful of spirit I’m about to sip. I take a taste. The finish is long, subtle, and warm. Fukuyo compares the Hibiki to golden cups made hundreds of years ago in Buddhist temples. “The gorgeous golden color has gone,” he says, “but it’s still very beautiful, with a very antique flavour.” I buzz with an appreciation of wabi-sabi, the evolution of beauty over time.
A quick confession: I’m no whisky expert. Do I enjoy savouring the occasional glass of good stuff? Sure. But as I glance around the room at others using their trained palates to parse out, say, hints of spice and sandalwood, I feel a little inadequate. Here’s what I can report: The Hibiki 40-Year is delicious. Worth the money? That’s tougher to say.
The SGD47,000 Hibiki is not a market anomaly but rather part of a marketing trend in which whisky makers are releasing very old limited-edition bottles at price points appealing to oligarchs and people who bought bitcoin in 2015. One extreme example: The Macallan recently introduced the Time:Space Collection, which pairs an 84-year-old single malt Scotch with a bottle of newer vintage—and retails for an eye-popping USD190,000.
“I think that these bottles are more of a marketing ploy than necessarily an enthusiast’s attraction, because obviously the target market is the ultrarich,” says Tim Fischer, a spirits expert who offers his insights online as the Whisky Influencer. “I’m sure the experience of drinking the whiskies is remarkable, but for the average consumer it’s unattainable. It grabs headlines, though. So it draws eyes to their brand.”
A couple days after tasting the Hibiki, I find myself in a suite on the 41st floor of the Ritz-Carlton NoMad to try another ultra-expensive whisky. In honour of its 200th anniversary, The Glenlivet has produced a 55-year-old single malt Scotch called The Glenlivet Eternal Collection, First Edition. Just 100 bottles would be for sale worldwide at a cost of USD55,000 each.
Our tasting guide is Sandy Hyslop, a voluble Scot who, as the master blender at Chivas Brothers, oversees The Glenlivet. He spent six years planning this expression, ordering special sherry casks for the project and nurturing the whisky carefully. “This word gets used far too much these days, but it was a bespoke process,” says Hyslop. “The sherry cask was bespoke, the testing, everything was hands-on. Myself and the team were all over it every month. We were making sure that we were just nursing it along this journey, because we knew that there was going to be a lot of chat about it being the oldest expression from the distillery. It was going to be a lot of scrutiny, and what we wanted was to make sure that everybody was just completely wowed with the flavour.”
As we sip and savor the 55-year-old, Hyslop’s enthusiasm is infectious. He points out notes of dates, pears, cloves, Seville orange, ginger, and bitter dark chocolate. “It’s sweet, it’s spicy, it’s dancing on the tongue,” he says delightedly. “For something that’s over half a century old, how amazing is that on the palate?”
Indeed, it’s hard to put a price on it.
