June 1, 1495: King James Will Have a Scotch, Good Sir

1495: The Scottish government records it has commissioned Friar Jon Cor to make Scotch whisky — the first mention in print of an elixir which has since brought down many a government, made friends of enemies and enemies of friends, lubricated good, great and bad writing, and … well, suffice it to say a touch would hit the spot right about now, as I stare into this blank page.

Exact references of this momentous occasion are somewhat thin, and the underlying peg for a tech news organization even thinner. But I would say, with some authority, that Scotch and its many delightful cousins are, if not constant companions in this line of work, at least central to the media ecosystem of reward and motivation.

No respectable bar can exist without Scotch — as well as at least a couple of single malts to which ‘twould be blasphemous to add so much as an ice cube. That is so my friend, even though some 90% of the world’s Scotch is of the blended variety, and of that, predominantly examples that should be relegated to the rail.

But I digress. Though, now that I think of it, perhaps a wee dram is in order. To welcome the muse, as it were.

The usually verbose Wikipedia reveals almost nothing about this event, except to quote what was written on that day:

To Friar John Cor, by order of the King, to make aqua vitae VIII bolls of malt.
—Exchequer Rolls 1494–95, Vol x, p. 487.

So many questions remain: We don’t know if the order was actually fulfilled (eight bolls is enough for 1,500 bottles of whisky). But not giving the king his due was not a good career (or life) move. The King of Scots at the time was James IV, known in military history for his disastrous rout by the English at Flodden in 1513.

But it has also been said of James: “[A]s his gallantries were numerous, he had many illegitimate children.” So, to be sure, the man knew a thing or two about partying.

Nor do we know the kind of Scotch whisky Friar Cor whipped up, if even he did, or if it would have pleased our modern palates some 500 years later. “Malt” is a clue — by today’s definitions it might have been a single or a blended malt, as opposed to grain, but was it distilled solely by our fair friar or a whole cadre of monks? And how much was kept in reserve? And exactly how did they build on the ancient traditions in this, the world’s first known scotch distillery, from the original Celtic alchemy of fermentation? Oh, the mysteries …

And there’s that whole aqua vitae business — what of that? Yes, well. Glad you asked. Pour me another, oh, two fingers, and I’ll enlighten you.

Right: “Whisky,” you see, is derived from the Gaelic “uisge beatha” or “usquebaugh,” which means “water (aqua) of life(vitae).” As I sip my single malt this fine eve, I must admit it does indeed feel essential to life — surely as necessary as water at any rate. And as I approach (approach, mind you, and surely have not crossed) that tipping point of glee and indifference, I can understand how “usque” could easily be slurred into “whisky.”

But: Gaelic means Ireland you say? Well, therein lies a tale, too. I wouldn’t say no to a generous pour as I educate you …

Yes, ’tis true all forms of Gaelic are rooted in Middle Irish, but the particular Gaelic relevant to this story is in fact from that branch of Celtic spoken in the Highlands of … Scotland!

So ask me, dear friends, what might Scotch whisky be called in Britain? Here’s a hint: It’s not bourbon.

There are in Scotland currently 42 distilleries —  the only place they can be located and still produce a properly named “Scotch” distillation. So, Jack Daniels is referred to as American whiskey, the way sparkling wine from California can’t be called champagne.

Speaking of the Americas — weren’t we? —  what nation is the greatest importer of Scotch? The United States, of course. And business was never better than in 2009, as we drowned our collective sorrows during the worldwide economic collapse.

OK, this is getting depressing, and it is such a lovely evening. Though I really must be going. Is that rain? Well, maybe a short one to wait it out. I’ll be on my way for sure as soon as I get to the bottom of this Friar Cor business.

Originally published by the author on Wired, June 1, 2010