There's something quietly thrilling about holding a bottle that predates your own existence. Mitchells & Butlers Very Old, bottled sometime in the 1950s, is one of those curiosities that lands on your desk and immediately reshuffles your afternoon. For those unfamiliar with the name, Mitchells & Butlers were a Birmingham-based brewing and pub empire — not a distillery, but a company that bottled and sold whisky under their own label, as many large hospitality firms did in that era. This is old-school blended Scotch from a time when blending was considered the pinnacle of the craft, not a stepping stone to single malts.
At 46% ABV, this sits above the standard bottling strength of most blends from that period, which tells you something about the intent behind it. The "Very Old" designation, while vague by today's labelling standards, was typically reserved for a firm's premium offering — older component malts, a more considered vatting. This wasn't the house pour. This was the bottle behind the bar that the landlord reached for when someone was celebrating.
Tasting Notes
I'll be honest — with a bottle of this age and rarity, I'm not going to break down nose, palate, and finish in clinical detail. What I will say is that 1950s blended Scotch occupies a particular space in whisky history. The grain component would have been produced on coffey stills running at a pace and specification quite different from modern operations, and the malt whiskies going into a premium blend of this era would have been largely sherry-cask matured as a matter of course, not as a marketing decision. You should expect a richness and weight that modern blends rarely attempt. The 46% strength means it hasn't been watered down to anonymity.
The Verdict
At £350, this isn't cheap, but let's have some perspective. You're buying a sealed piece of 1950s Scotch whisky history from a bottler that no longer exists in this form. Comparable bottles from the same era — Johnnie Walker, Dewar's, Black & White — regularly fetch similar prices or more at auction, and those are names everyone recognises. Mitchells & Butlers is more obscure, which arguably makes it more interesting and better value for the serious collector or the curious drinker who wants to taste what blended Scotch was before the industry consolidated and standardised.
I'm giving this a 7.7 out of 10. That's a strong score for a bottle where provenance and history carry much of the weight. The ABV is encouraging, the era of production suggests quality components, and the relative obscurity of the bottler means you're not paying a premium purely for brand recognition. If the seal is intact and storage has been kind, this could be a genuinely rewarding dram. It's the kind of bottle that reminds you blended Scotch used to be serious business.
Best Served
Neat, at room temperature, in a tulip glass. Give it ten minutes to open up after pouring — whisky that's been sealed for seventy-odd years deserves the courtesy of time. If you find it needs a touch of water, add it drop by drop. But I'd start without. A bottle like this has earned the right to speak for itself.
