What better day to launch my new website than International Whisky Day!

I remember not that long ago when the interwebs were abuzz with talk of adding salt to your coffee as an alternative to sugar. At the time, I thought it was some of the biggest wank I had ever heard…But I tried it anyway.

The theory behind this seemingly counterproductive practice is that sodium chloride (or common table salt) acts as a flavour enhancer when added to our food; it makes everything taste better, in moderation.

Humans have been aware of the amazing properties of salt for thousands of years, using it not only to enhance flavours but also for food preservation and to hide the taste of spoiling. Adding salt enhances (or changes) our sensory perception of flavour. In low concentrations, it can suppress bitterness and enhance other tastes. Salt is added to all manner of dishes (both savoury and sweet) often with a noticeable enhancement of flavour, salted caramel anyone?

Perhaps surprisingly, if you add a small pinch of salt to black coffee, it reduces the bitterness in a similar way to how sugar masks bitterness by increasing sweetness…but without the calories. Add too much salt however and it overpowers everything else, making the coffee taste unsurprisingly salty which is undesirable, to say the least.

Alcohol and salt is not a new combination; who hasn’t had tequila and salt shots? Adding salt to cocktails isn’t new either. Some common cocktails are traditionally served in a salt-rimmed glass or even served with salt or a saline solution already mixed in.

I thought it would be neat (see what I did there?) to add salt to single malt whisky and see if it enhanced or at the very least, changed the flavour. I’m all for new whisky experiences here at Whisky Dad and I’m a firm believer that you should enjoy your whisky, however you damn please; neat, with water, on ice, with a mixer or even a pinch of salt. To hell with what anyone else thinks. Just the thought of adding salt to a $250 single malt, is enough to cause any whisky snob to shit the bed.

So with that in mind, let’s begin.

I’m going to start with three identical pours of Bruichladdich PC12 ‘Oileanach Furachail’ single malt Scotch whisky and add salt to the second and third glass. I don’t own a set of scales able to measure down to the milligram so I used my own measurement of a poofteenth of dry salt for the first glass; not just any salt, but fancy Maldon sea salt flakes. You can see in the picture what a poofteenth of fancy salt looks like in practice. 

A 'poofteenth' of fancy salt

For the third glass, rather than sprinkle dry salt crystals into the liquid, I prepared a 3% saline solution (3g of salt to 97ml of distilled water, roughly as salty as sea water). I did this so I could add it to the whisky gradually, one drop at a time. Obviously, this will add a tiny bit of water to the whisky which on its own has an effect on alcohol concentration, aroma and flavour, but it ensures that the salt is fully dissolved before being added to the whisky.

This is what I thought of Bruichladdich PC12, neat.

Aroma: Bottled at 58.7% ABV, you can smell the alcohol quite prominently but there is plenty of peat smoke to go with it. Once you get past the alcohol and smoke, there is a pleasantly rich and sweet aroma of alcohol soaked sultanas and citrus fruit notes.

Flavour: Bitter smoke dominates the palate initially before sweet fruits and prickly spices become more noticeable as the whisky warms in the mouth. The high ABV leaves the mouthfeel more prickly than smooth on the palate.

Finish: Long bitter smoke finish leaving a slight warming in the chest. Lingering aftertaste of smoke that stays in the mouth long after the drink is finished.

Aroma: Perhaps unsurprisingly, it smells very similar to how it did without salt. Can I tell the two drams apart from smell alone? I’m not sure I can. I swapped backwards and forwards between the two, concluding I could not discern any noticeable difference in the aroma, although my wife said she could; but I didn't tell her they were the same whisky, so she may be full of shit.

Flavour: Now this is different. I’m looking for the salt, so I pick it up on the tongue almost instantly, but it soon disappears as my taste develops. After that initial salty pop, the whisky tastes noticeably less bitter with a different mouthfeel. The liquid feels slipperier on the tongue. The spicy prickle is reduced somewhat; the whisky tastes smoother but not subdued in flavour. I think the difference in the mouthfeel is more noticeable than any change in the balance of flavours.

Finish: Nowhere near as bitter as before, but the spicy prickle comes back with a vengeance in the finish with some flavour of roasted nuts that I didn't pick up before.

And finally adding 3% saline solution one drop at a time.

Note: Although this was a more effective way to add salt to the whisky, it was not ideal. As well as introducing additional water, the concentration also changed continually as I took sips and continued to add the saline solution. At one point I stopped, repoured a fresh 30ml dram and added approximately 1ml of saline solution - less water than I would generally add to whisky but I felt if I added much more it would be too salty.

Aroma: Once again, no discernable change in aroma with five or less drops of saline solution. The smokiness and alcohol fumes reduced with 1ml of water with the fruity aromas a little more noticeable as a result, but I attribute this to the water in the solution rather than the salt.

Flavour: I noticed a slight change in taste after just five drops of saline but not the obvious salty pop as I did with the addition of dry salt crystals; the bitterness began to reduce. The mouthfeel began to change above the five drop mark, developing a slippery oily feel. At the 1ml mark, the whisky was pleasantly balanced and tasted smoother than if neat. The salt was just noticeable at the outset but nowhere near as obvious as with the addition of the dry salt crystals.

Note: I have previously commented that the Bruichladdich PC12 tastes a little flat with the addition of water, but I generally add much more than 1ml of water when tasting a whisky diluted.

So What Did I Think?

But...

But, I wasn’t satisfied to stop there; I had tasted the salt when I was expecting it, so I needed to do a blind test to be sure. Having surmised that both a poofteenth of fancy salt and 1ml of about 3% saline solution had a noticeable and not unpleasant effect on the flavour of the heavily peated cask strength whisky, I asked my trusty assistant (my wife) to prepare another three drams.

This time I would use a very different single malt Scotch, the unpeated and much lighter The Macallan 12 Year Old Double Cask. I poured three identical 30ml glasses of the Macallan and added dry salt to one and 1ml of 3% saline solution to another, keeping one glass additive free. I told my wife which glass was which and out of my sight, she marked the glasses A, B and C in mixed order for identification purposes. Finally, I sampled all three and chose my favourite.

Well, well, so not only did I pick which sample was which in a blind test (not as obvious as you may think) but I also preferred the sample with a pinch of fancy salt dissolved in it. Adding the dry salt crystals was more involved than just sprinkling it in, as it took a little effort to make it dissolve completely in the whisky. The saline solution, on the other hand, contained the extra water which was fine with the cask strength Bruichladdich but to my tastes, noticeably muted the flavour of the 40% ABV Macallan.

Now you can either take my word for it or you can challenge your own whisky prejudices, throw caution to the wind and try it for yourself – you may be pleasantly surprised. Let me know how you go in the comments.

Have you ever wondered where the term ‘alcohol proof’ came from or what ‘100 proof’ means or why 100 proof in the UK is different to 100 proof in the US? Well, wonder no more.

The term ‘alcohol proof’ was first coined in 16th century England and refers to a test to demonstrate the potency of an alcoholic spirit. Historical accounts of the test vary and it quite possibly could have been conducted using a number of methods, all with similar base principles. That said, there are many false truths regarding the origin and intent of this test in circulation and it took some investigating to separate myth and legend from credible facts.

An alcoholic spirit at its most basic is a solution, a mixture primarily of alcohol (ethanol) and water. Alcohol is more volatile than water and alcohol vapour will ignite if exposed to a naked flame. Water will not, so as you increase the ratio of water to alcohol in a spirit, it will eventually reach a point where the spirit will no longer produce enough flammable vapour to ignite.

So, if you want to test the potency of an alcoholic spirit, why not simply try to set it alight? Good question.

Most people will tell you the alcohol proof test was conducted by mixing a small amount of the spirit to be tested, with a quantity of gunpowder before attempting to set it alight; but why use gunpowder at all?

The term ‘keeping your powder dry’ reputedly originated in an account of Oliver Cromwell during his Irish campaign in the mid-17th century, in which he instructed his troops to ‘put your trust in God; but mind to keep your powder dry’. However, the term was no doubt in common use far earlier by soldiers and sailors employing gunpowder-based weapons from at least the 12th century.

Gunpowder is hygroscopic, meaning it tends to absorb water and when damp will not ignite. The reason for this is the main ingredient of gunpowder, potassium nitrate, is soluble in water. Put simply, this means that if exposed to enough water, the potassium nitrate in gunpowder will dissolve, removing it from its delicate arrangement with the carbon and sulphur, making the gunpowder harder or impossible to ignite.

Some commentators claim that high strength spirts were required for naval operations due to their storage in close proximity to the ships gunpowder supplies.

The high alcohol or overproof strength would ensure that if the rum or gin splashed on or mixed with the gunpowder, the powder would still work. This suggestion is complete nonsense.

Gunpowder and ammunition was stored on board ships in the ship’s magazine, much like explosive ordnance still is on today’s warships. Any other hazardous materials are segregated from the magazine to minimise the chance of accidents or catastrophic events. All attempts were made to keep gunpowder dry on a ship, ensuring it was only exposed to the elements immediately prior to use. In fact great care was taken to protect the magazine from enemy fire, vermin and stray sparks or embers. It is ludicrous to suggest that a sailor’s grog had to be kept at high strength just in case it spilt on the gunpowder it was supposedly stored with.

I have read many accounts of the origin of alcohol proof, complete with some rather tenuous reasons why things occurred. What was the purpose of this test in the first place?

In the British Empire, distilled spirits, often rum, was used as a form of currency where traditional notes and coins were in short supply. If you were a sailor being paid in rum, you would want to know your payment was to a certain standard and not watered down would you not? If that was the case, then I can understand why a test was developed.

Additionally, if this was the initial purpose of the test it may explain why gunpowder was used rather than just setting the spirt alight? Theatrics. It is a far more satisfying conclusion for a sample to burst into flame and smoke with a bang, rather than to burn silently with a barely visible flame. Perhaps quite a show was made of proving the strength of the rum ration? Or perhaps the test was just a means to part young and impressionable powder monkeys from their rum ration, rather than something conducted routinely on the ship?

The alcohol proof test is commonly agreed to have consisted of mixing an alcoholic spirit with gunpowder and then attempting to ignite it.

If the water content of the spirit was too high, the gunpowder would be left too damp to combust, once the alcohol fumes had burnt off. This was not the most scientific of tests since external factors such as temperature, the ratio of gunpowder to liquid or the time waited after soaking before igniting would affect the results. But if the intent of the test was to make a show, science had little to do with it.

At the end of the 17th century, the British Empire regulated distilling, simultaneously encouraging the distillation of alcohol and imposing a tax on it. 

This relationship between gunpowder and rum probably explains why gunpowder became an intrinsic part of the alcohol proof test, at least within the British Navy. It would also make a convincing story of where the term ‘Navy proof’ comes from when describing a particularly potent alcoholic spirit. Unfortunately, that is also a fallacy. The term ‘Navy proof’ was first used in the early nineties - nineteen nineties - by an astute advertising department for a popular gin brand.

At the end of the 17th century, the British Empire regulated distilling, simultaneously encouraging the distillation of alcohol and imposing a tax on it. The tax was introduced as a way of controlling the production and sale of alcohol, curbing over intoxication, drunken behaviour and crime and last but not least, raising government revenue. Alcohol content was of little concern to the tax man at first, with gin being taxed at a lower rate than strong beer, until the introduction of the disastrous Gin Act 1736 and the more successful Gin Act 1751.

Some suggestions have been made that the alcohol proof test was used for tax collection purposes prior to the 17th century.

I could not find any evidence to support such claims. Although it does present a nice setup and believable reason why the test was invented; who doesn’t want to believe it was concocted by the government of the day so that they could tax the working man at a higher rate? Although it is believed the alcohol proof test originated in the 16th century, it is likely the practice became more common after regulated alcohol taxation was introduced and prior to more scientific means to test alcohol content were developed.

The alcohol proof test was used to determine if the alcohol contained within the tested spirt was above a certain concentration, rather than to gage the exact strength of the spirit. The numeral 100 in the term ‘100 proof’ appears to be an arbitrary figure used to denote the transition point between being under or overproof and was used for no other reason than as an easy way to communicate a greater or lesser alcoholic strength from the standard.

In the UK, the proof system for testing alcohol content was eventually replaced by measuring specific gravity, with a standard being agreed upon in 1816. By comparing the density of an alcoholic spirit with that of distilled water at the same pressure and temperature, is possible to accurately measure a spirit’s alcohol content. A spirit at 100 proof was measured to be approximately 57.1% alcohol by volume or ABV.

In 1824 the French chemist, Joseph-Louis Gay-Lussac proposed a sensible proof scale based on ABV, where pure water was considered ‘0 proof’ and pure alcohol or 100% ABV was considered ‘100 proof’.

In 1848 the United States of America introduced its own alcohol proof system where 100 proof was defined as 50% ABV. Why? I have no idea. Perhaps because larger numbers are more attractive to consumers, so marketing something as 80 proof (40% ABV by the US scale) is more desirable than the same product labelled as 40 proof?

So there you have it, the explosive origin of the alcohol proof system.

Did you learn something from this article or do you think I’m wrong? Please let me know in the comments and I will produce more content like it in the future.
- Whisky Dad