There are bottles you buy and bottles you inherit. Midleton Very Rare sits somewhere in between — a whiskey designed to feel like a bequest, even when you've walked into a shop and handed over two hundred quid for it yourself. The 2024 Vintage Release continues a tradition that stretches back to 1984, when master distiller Barry Crockett first began selecting exceptional casks from the Midleton distillery's vast reserves in County Cork. Each year's release is a singular blend, never to be repeated, which gives the whole enterprise a pleasing sense of occasion.
I've spent time with several vintages over the years, and what strikes me about the programme is its consistency of ambition rather than consistency of flavour. The 2024 bottling arrives at the standard 40% ABV — a decision purists will grumble about, and not without reason. At this price point, you'd like to see the distillery push past that floor. But Midleton has always played the long game with Very Rare: this is a whiskey that prizes composure over volume, poise over punch.
Tasting Notes
I won't pretend to give you a note-by-note breakdown here — the bottle speaks for itself, and every palate will find its own path through the blend. What I can say is that the Very Rare house style leans toward the elegant end of Irish whiskey: expect pot still richness married to grain whiskey's lighter, almost floral lift. The blending at Midleton has always been about balance, about that particular Irish talent for making something complex feel effortless. If you know what pot still whiskey does — that characteristic spice, that oily weight on the tongue — you'll find it here, but wearing its Sunday best.
The Verdict
At £203, this sits in a bracket where you're paying for provenance as much as liquid. And I think that's fair. The Midleton Very Rare programme has earned its reputation through four decades of thoughtful, unhurried blending. The 2024 vintage won't convert anyone who finds 40% ABV a dealbreaker, but for those who appreciate restraint as a form of craft, it rewards attention. This is a whiskey that asks you to slow down, and in an era of cask-strength arms races, that feels genuinely countercultural. I'd rate this 8.2 out of 10 — a confident, polished release that honours its lineage without coasting on it. It loses a fraction for the bottling strength, which I suspect holds back some of what the blend could offer, but what's here is undeniably accomplished.
Best Served
Neat, in a Glencairn or a thin-walled tulip glass, after dinner. Give it twenty minutes to open — Midleton rewards patience. If the evening calls for something longer, a single cube of ice and nothing more. This is not a whiskey that needs company in the glass. A leather armchair, a dog-eared novel, rain against the window — that's the serve.
