Imagine a whisky that defies borders—a transcontinental tryst between the wild Highlands of Scotland and the sensual heart of Burgundy. Michel Couvreur’s whiskies are not just distilled; they are nurtured into being, guided by an eccentric genius who saw beyond barley and peat to a higher truth: the art of aging. For Couvreur, whisky wasn’t just spirit; it was a journey of transformation, the alchemical affair between wood and liquid, time and terroir. When he relocated to Burgundy in 1978, he didn’t bring whisky to France; he brought France to whisky, sneaking Scottish spirits into his wine-scented caves like a lover with a mischievous plan.
The Whiskies: A Cast of Characters, Each with a Tale to Tell
To taste Couvreur’s creations is to meet a cast of characters, each dram a unique personality forged in the depths of Burgundy’s earth. Clearach, the young and lively dram, sparkles with the vigor of a fresh idea.
And then there’s Very Sherried, aged 25 years, with depth so profound it’s like opening a dusty tome in a candle-lit library—each sip an invitation to something ancient, sacred. Yet, Overaged, the house patriarch, may be the most intriguing: a 12-year-old single malt with an old soul, wearing notes of seasoned oak and smoldering sherry as one might wear a velvet smoking jacket—subtle, yet commanding. With each bottle, Couvreur offers an expression of patience and precision, a narrative as complex as Burgundy itself.
Balance: Couvreur’s Signature Alchemy
Balance is the mark of a Michel Couvreur whisky, the fingerprint of a master who coaxed harmony from chaos. Casks aren’t just tools here; they’re co-creators, handpicked for their rare histories, from Jura Vin Jaune casks to well-aged amphorae. The blending is delicate and quiet, done entirely by gravity—a touch so light it’s as if the spirits are guided by whispers rather than hands. Here, sherry meets peat, fruit mingles with earth, and smoke hovers like a soft memory. It’s a flavor profile so seamlessly balanced it feels like it could be poured directly into the soul.
Legacy: A Love Letter in Liquid Form
Since Michel Couvreur’s passing in 2013, his family has upheld his vision with reverence. His son-in-law, Cyril Deschamps, and cellar master, Jean-Arnaud Frantzen, now carry forward his motto, Virtute et Opera—“With Virtue and Work” and we will never forgive the immense pleasure we had when we spent an evening with both when they last held court in Sydney.
Every hand-corked, hand-waxed, hand-labeled bottle stands as a testament to Couvreur’s dream, like a love letter aged in oak, sent from Burgundy with heart and intention. His legacy, now bottled and sealed, is a reminder that while whisky may be consumed, its essence—its soul—lives on, unbound by borders, in every artful sip.
Michel Couvreur’s whiskies are like postcards from a parallel universe, where Scotland and Burgundy dance under a candle-lit sky, blending peat, sherry, and vinous finesse with the elegance of a ballerina’s pirouette. These bottles offer a glimpse into Couvreur’s ethereal realm of whisky-making, each expression a lesson in artful patience, weaving stories that linger long after the last sip fades away. Let’s take a dive into some of Couvreur’s finest creations.
Michel Couvreur Hyphen
Imagine Hyphen as a patchwork quilt of flavors, hand-stitched from threads of distant lands—Scotland’s misty highlands and France’s sunlit vineyards. This 2006 vintage, aged in fino sherry and Chenin Blanc casks, then peppered with a hint of peated French malt, comes together like a late-summer garden: ripe fruit hanging heavy, with an autumnal whisper of wood smoke in the air.
On the nose, you’re greeted with rum-soaked raisins and warm, biscuity malt—a familiar comfort, like the aroma of fresh-baked bread on a misty morning. Sweet caramel and just a nudge of mint unravel, like opening a cozy leather-bound book in an old library.
The palate introduces itself with a knowing sweetness, tempered by an oaky crescendo that lands squarely with notes of chocolate and the slightest hint of apple cider. This whisky is a chameleon of textures, each sip transforming and revealing layers of candied fruit, cocoa dust, and whispers of tobacco.
The finish is medium, leathery, and gently laced with grape skins and aromatic tobacco—a perfect encore that leaves the crowd wanting more. Hyphen is like a sultry French chanson sung in an old Scottish bar, where smoke mingles with stories from a world where boundaries blur and flavors dance hand-in-hand.
Michel Couvreur Candid
Michel Couvreur’s Candid is a stroll through an ancient orchard at dawn, where mist clings to the branches, and the scent of sherry-laden oak fills the air.
Aged in the rustic cellars of Burgundy, this whisky wears its buttery, rich character like a luxurious velvet cloak—creamy apple crumble and sun-dried raisins, touched by earthy peat and an inviting whiff of freshly-baked bread. Imagine an unspoken charm, like an elegant guest at a dinner party who commands attention without a single word.
The nose greets you with a cozy blend of mince pie and petrichor, laced with nutmeg—a symphony of scents that takes you to the heart of Burgundy’s harvest festivals.
On the palate, the sherry comes in softly, the sweetness gentle but persistent, balanced by an underlying smokiness that grounds it, like a lone bonfire in an autumnal field. Black licorice and golden raisins peek through, lending a layer of complexity that keeps the taste buds guessing.
The finish is smoky, mineral-rich, with a juicy sultana note that lingers, like embers glowing long after the fire fades. It’s a whisky that transforms the rustic into the refined, reminding you that sometimes, the best stories are the ones that linger in whispers and faint traces of smoke.
Michel Couvreur Vin Jaune Maturation
This Vin Jaune Maturation is an ode to Jura’s legendary vin Jaune, a whisky matured nine years in barrels with a history as rich as the flavors they impart. It’s a tapestry woven with apricots and mirabelle plums, a sun-drenched day in Provence captured in a bottle. Light, fruity, and intense, it’s like catching a fleeting glimpse of summer’s last golden hour.
On the nose, there’s an elegance here—a poised charm that beckons gently, with hints of roasted nuts and stone fruit, wrapped in an old-world aura. Mirabelle and apricot dominate the palate, with a delicate oakiness that’s dry, almost dusty, like a well-thumbed book whose pages release stories with every turn.
The finish is long and lingering, salty and musty, like the essence of an ocean breeze mingling with a forgotten fruit grove by the shore. This whisky is an experience, one that demands patience, like deciphering a faded love letter scrawled in an ancient hand.
Michel Couvreur Fleeting R
Fleeting R is a clandestine romance between smoky Scotch and Burgundy’s finest wines. With its double aging in Oloroso and Pinot Noir casks, this whisky is a rich, unctuous affair—dark ruby in color, full-bodied, and resonant. It’s like tasting a stolen moment between firelight and shadow, where wine-soaked red fruits dance with whispers of earth and smoke.
The nose is a storybook of wild berries, cranberry juice, and charred wood, mingling like characters in an old noir film. The palate opens to musty leather and dried plum, a rich, complex world where brown sugar and tobacco meet in a secret rendezvous.
On the finish, you find notes of baked plum and molasses, trailing off like the memory of a clandestine meeting in a hidden Burgundy cellar. Fleeting R is the whisky for those who appreciate life’s impermanence—the beauty in moments that pass, leaving only the echoes of flavor in their wake.
The Unexpected N°3 2012
An enigma in a bottle, this whisky is as French as a midnight stroll through the backstreets of Paris—a liquid labyrinth of delicate mischief, tantalizing sweetness, and whispers of something more…
Approaching the nose of The Unexpected N°3 feels like cracking open a novel left unfinished on a dusty bookshelf: a bit of mystery, a hint of nostalgia, and an immediate transport to somewhere vaguely romantic. Fresh and vivacious, like the first step into a market brimming with grape bunches and plump, golden apples, the aroma wraps you up like a well-loved scarf. There’s honey here, oozing with warmth, and a note of something bready—softly floury, like a basket of just-baked pain aux amandes. It’s as if the French Alps themselves are breathing out, one frosty morning at a time.
This sip—ah, it’s like slipping into a velvet armchair with the subtle creak of old leather.
Sweetness takes the lead, but not with any pretense. Instead, it’s the mellow sweetness of grapes wrapped in their own skin, a delicate touch of bitterness lingering like a lover’s last look. Supple oak steps in, a dignified presence that grounds the fruit and adds a bit of intrigue. And there it is—a faint layer of caramel, like a quiet promise, pooling on the tongue with the grace of a Parisian cat winding around your ankles. Each flavor opens up like a well-choreographed dance, with a gentle pirouette and a dash of the unexpected, like bumping into an old friend in a foreign city.
The finish here isn’t one to rush off into the night. No, it’s a medium-length linger that hangs around just long enough, with creamy, faintly woody notes that flicker in and out like candlelight. It’s both mineral and spicy, like someone casually mentioning they used to dabble in alchemy. And just as the flavors fade, there’s a crispness—a minerality that cleanses and then leaves you, satisfied but curious, as though this whisky itself decided to sneak out through the back door of the evening. No smoke, no peat, just a memory of sun-kissed grain fields and whispers from aging sherry casks.
With its harmonious composition of ex-Amontillado, ex-Oloroso, and ex-PX casks, The Unexpected N°3 is not a whisky that seeks applause—it earns it, a drink as unapologetically French as a smirk and as graceful as a gliding waltz. Each bottle is a study in subtlety, where flavors emerge with the elegance of someone who knows they don’t have to shout to command the room. This whisky leaves you intrigued, charmed, and, as the name suggests, a little unexpectedly in love.
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Words by AW.
Photos courtest of Michel Couvreur.