Iceland

Shit Whisky in the North

A very northern distillery uses some very unusual ingredients.

I had been living in Reykjavík for three months, which means I knew pretty much all the bartenders by first name.

So it came to a surprise when they told me about a local liquor I had never tried before...

Click play to WATCH

“Yes. Brennivín. Everyone here has drunk Brennivín,” says Birna, the blond, brassy bartender at Bastard sounding both like a gift and an insult in that typically Icelandic way.

The very next day I found myself pedalling south on a bike along the sea to Garðabær (no idea, before you ask) to see if I could wrap my lips around this mythical elixir that was, if nothing else, purely Icelandic.

Eimverk Distillery sits quietly beyond a round-a-bout, and a low-key facade from the outside, giving away no hint that you're outside one of the northernmost distilleries in the world. It's only when you move inside that you start to feel its magical power from the ancient Viking symbols which grace the walls and which are burnt deep into locally made barrels. As an alcohol anthropologist this was like discovering a newly contacted civilization.

Click play to WATCH

Brennivín is considered Icelandic’s signature distilled beverage. The original bottle (produced by the Government) displayed a white skull on a black label warning against consumption, and was sometimes referred to as ‘svarti dauði' (black death). This rather grim marketing was designed to be visually unappealing, therefore limiting demand. It didn't work. For decades, Brennivín became the drink of choice for Icelanders, and a must-try for travellers.

“We make wonderful gin and aquavit here, but I think we are most remembered for our whisky, Flóki. Well, remembered if you don’t drink too much of it,” says Erik with a straight face as he lined up several drams of various handcrafted delights. Eimverk Distillery, like most of Iceland, takes extreme pride in their craft, and sources pretty much everything locally. This includes their winter barley, which grows during an extremely short summer season — making this some of the rarest small batch whisky in the world.

“Most Icelandic people have a still in their house. We have just taken what we all do at home, and do it on a larger scale. Did you ever think you would drink shit and like it?”

I was on either my fifth or fifteenth tasting dram, and thought I perhaps misheard my host, but no, he was asking me if I enjoyed the taste of faeces.

“You see we have no peat on Iceland. So in order to flavour our whisky we use sheep dung… it’s traditional. ”

Again, straight face. What has already been tasted cannot be untasted, but fortunately this century-old technique actually yields a surprisingly smooth, floral and even a little earthy whiskey, that is nothing else is unlike anything I’ve tasted before.

“We named the whisky after the Viking that discovered Iceland in 868. He was named Hrafna-Flóki because three ravens were said to lead him to Iceland.” (NOTE: Hrafna-Flóki Google translated to ‘Raven Complex’. We think something has been lost here, but it makes the raven stuff make sense).

Like Flóki I have been led somewhere; to a new favourite whisky, a millennia later, and I don’t think I will be the last person to discover this amazing distillery any time soon.

Try Flóki at Eimverk Distillery by heading to Lyngás 13, 210 Garðabær, Iceland. Check their website book a tour, and try their shit.