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 THE aroma of burning peat wafts across the table.
The peat smoke reminds me of a pub on some lost Sunday somewhere in Wales.
Peat does not have a big profile in Tasmania, although I suspect it's kept the heat up to families who have made their homes in the state's high country. The bushwalkers' friend, Deny King, burned peat sometimes at Melaleuca to stave off South-West chills.
The partially carbonised vegetable matter is, however, a central part of the story behind the first small-scale distilling licence granted in Australia for more than 150 years.
The idea of Tasmanian whisky came to surveyor Bill Lark a quarter-century ago on a fishing trip to Lake Sorell with his father-in-law, Max Stewart.
The two men stopped at Bothwell to cook a trout and sipped a single malt whisky.
Influenced by his highland surroundings, Mr Lark recalls wondering why no one was making malt whisky in Tasmania and, from that seed of an idea, Lark Distillery was born.
It took a marvellous set of circumstances to move the idea from concept to liquid asset. A retired employee of the Glenfarclas Distillery was found in Hobart; federal customs minister Barry Jones set about updating the law to allow small-scale distilling; the Larks set up a still in their Kingston home. By the mid-1990s they had a licence, whisky ageing in barrels but little cash flow.
The Larks tried to find a distillate they could make and sell quickly.
Mr Lark's wife Lyn experimented with native pepperberry and in late 1996 the first bottles of Tasmanian Bush Liqueur were ready for sale.
The distillery was shifted out of Kingston to Richmond, back to Hobart and to its current location near Richmond. From a four-litre pot bought at an antique auction, the operation now uses an 1800-litre copper still and produces up to 16 100-litre barrels a month.
In the early years, Mr Lark worked out a way to flavour his barley with peat smoke. The mining permit for his peat licence in the Central Highlands listed ``shovel'' as the only piece of equipment.
I'm hearing the Lark story from Mark Nicholson, an eloquent former English literature teacher who is now hosting four-day whisky-making tours for the company. The company also does one-day and two-day tours and cellar-door visits in Hobart.
It's late afternoon and the atmosphere at the Lark Cellar Door and Whisky Bar on Hobart's waterfront, is convivial.
Mr Nicholson punctuates his story by charring a tuft of peat, and the aroma is somehow more fitting than the cigar smell so often associated with celebrations of single-malt whisky.
He explains the logic behind the four strengths _ or expressions _ of single malt made at Lark and we sample a dram or two. They range from 40 per cent alcohol to the cask-strength 58 per cent.
The company can't meet worldwide demand for its single malt and much of that demand is coming from Europe. Mr Nicholson says the French now consume 12 times as much single-malt whisky as cognac.
Lark's Centenary Release won the ``best other single malt whisky'' at the prestigious World Whiskies Awards last year. Later this year Mr Lark will consult to the fledgling Kingsbarns Distillery, a Scottish operation with strong Tasmanian connections.
There was a 153-year gap between the issuing of small-scale distilling licences. Now six have popped up around Tasmania.
Mr Nicholson's eyes sparkle as he points out that the only single-malt distillery in the north of Tasmania is Hellyers Road in Burnie and challenges the denizens of Launceston to join Tasmania's whisky-making community.
On a slightly more serious note, he poses another question, comparing the nascent stage of local whisky to the slow acceptance of local wine on the island state.
``How many years will it take to put Tasmanian whisky on to our restaurant lists?''
NEXT WEEK: The healing powers of Harmony Hill
Leg 5 |
