Hey! Remember that fantasy show that captivated us for about eight years? That one we structured our lives around to watch on Sunday night? The one we consumed (along with good drinks) via watch parties with friends?
And hey! Remember how it ended so utterly fucking stupidly? How we were equal parts angry about the character assassinations and forced plot twists as we were dumbstruck with how laughable it all was as a whole in that last season? And hey! Do you remember how in the month after it ended, it was like being released from some strange kind of mass hypnosis, and humanity went on with life as it had existed before Game of Thrones?
“The JW ‘White Walker’ goes best with a splash of water, which really brings out a smoky butterscotch flavor that’s unexpectedly good for the price.”
In the spirit of looking backwards on that cultural phenomenon, I'll say this: Poor Diageo. Poor, poor Diageo. It seems silly to pity one of the biggest liquor conglomerates on the planet, but my god did they get the shaft through no fault of their own. Consider the following:
POINT ONE: Game of Thrones and drinking culture went together like ham and eggs. Cercei and Tyrion are constantly boozing it up throughout the show. One of Tyrion's most meme-worthy lines was when he said, “That’s what I do: I drink and I know things.” And the same kinds of nerds that dig into GoT lore are exactly the same kinds of dudes and dudettes who are likely to “collect the whole set” of whiskies and learn about the 100+ year old history of the distilleries themselves.
POINT TWO: the GoT whiskies were a very well-considered range. Diageo ended up releasing (to my best count) twelve different single malts and blended scotches—some of which were from distilleries that had never had an official bottling within the United States! (For example, the “house Baratheon” scotch was really the only way I was able to taste Royal Lochnagar... a story for another day. This wasn’t some lazy rebrand of existing product.
So imagine all of the effort spent to formulate and blend the twelve whiskies and to work in tandem with HBO to get the branding just right for drinkers and collectors alike. And again, imagine watching all of these products drop AT THE EXACT TIME THE SERIES GRINDS TO A SCREECHING HALT.
By anyone's most charitable recollection, the entire GoT whiskey line hit store shelves about two years too late. It anticipated a “Season 5” level of demand, oblivious of a future where the series finale would have the effect of a a turd thrown into a swimming pool. When I think of trying to get people hyped on the brand right now, I can’t help but think of a certain Simpsons moment.
Here's where I'm going with all of this: Diageo made so much of this whiskey that the huge amount of stock remaining is currently being offloaded at fire sale prices. “Retail” on release was $35 for the White Walker, the subject of today's review. Suffice it to say they're not getting anywhere near that in the present market.
Enough context. What do you get for $20 bucks? Well, no getting around the main drawback: sophisticates will detect a high amount of grain content in the blend. The good news is that it’s sufficiently buttery and has been aged a fair amount. It’s not a bottom-shelf kind of grain taste. A bit of peat sneaks in, but it's fairly restrained.
From my memory of the pricier bottle, the White Walker whisky is actually a pretty close facsimile to the Johnnie Walker 18, which normally sells for about $60 to $70. The 18 has a little more smoke whereas the White Walker has a lot more bite from the grain whisky in the finish. A fair trade for the price differential.
For that reason, you’d be well advised to pour this over ice. The “purists” can pound sand. This is a mass-market, not particularly rare or nuanced kind of whiskey that is absolutely pleasant when consumed cold on a hot summer evening. If there's one product where the whole “you should be slapped for adding ice to a fine scotch” posturing doesn't hold true, it's this.
In fact, dilution clarifies the best tastes of the White Walker into a remarkably cohesive “smoky butterscotch” combination that's worth experiencing. The marketing gimmickry suggests putting this in the freezer to chill the whisky and watch something happen to the zombie on the bottle—a macabre alternative to the Coors Lite can, where instead of the rocky mountains of Colorado you see some dude’s ghoulish, snarling face. That’s undeniably neat, but if you actually want to drink it, I’m telling you now that the White Walker goes better with a splash of water. Pour it at room temperature over ice to get the chill and the dilution in tandem.
I still think that Dewar's 12 is still the bottle to beat if you want the best blended scotch for the price. However, even my Dewar's 12 loving sister was ready for a change of pace and she quite liked the White Walker. For now: if you see it, buy it. This latest bottle marks my third.
Eventually the supply will run out. On that day the memories of the whisky I was able to get for cheap will be way better than my memories of the last season of the show.
