The Balvenie distillery launched the third release of its Signature Malt on March 17 at Gieves and Hawkes on Savile Row: a suitably stylish venue for a very stylish dram.

Signature tells a story about the nature of the malt whisky world in two ways, showing firstly how some things don’t change (and don’t need to); but secondly demonstrating a reaction to significant change in that world.

The original idea of producing Signature was in large part to mark Balvenie’s celebrated malt master, David Stewart, being 45 years with the organisation as of 2007, a long stretch even in an industry known for maturing its people as much as its product. Such an anniversary deserved something different. It says much about the profusion of ‘expressions’ (limited productions of special malts e.g. using unusual casks) in the industry over the last decade or so, including in its own range, that Balvenie chose another route; and a subtler one.

Mr Stewart was given the task of producing a malt that was the essence of Balvenie; that included all the taste elements in a balance that was typical of the distillery’s production. The poetic might say trying to bottle its soul. Given the complexity of a great malt like Balvenie, and the many variables in making scotch, that is no easy task. Repeating the process the following year, and with the new release for a third year, takes it to new levels of difficulty.

To make Signature Mr Stewart blends 12-year-old whiskies matured respectively in first fill bourbon, refill bourbon, and sherry casks. At the launch event he and Dr Andrew Forrester, Balvenie’s whisky ambassador given to intriguing analogies, walked us through tastings of the individual elements (or examples of them) to explain where the final product comes from. This included tasting the spirit before it has been matured in wood. Even though Dr Forrester reckons 70 per cent of a malt’s flavour comes from the wood in which it matures, that rough-edged spirit still had something notably Balvenie about it – dried fruit and citrus in particular. Moving on, the first-fill bourbon was woody, with spice and liquorice; refill bourbon brought a mellow sweetness and the spirit came through more; sherry-cask for me had walnut, a dash of caramel and more honey.

So what is the result of David Stewart’s painstaking experimentation and balancing? Of his selection from some 300 casks? That depends on the taster, as the complexity of such a malt means the way our palates are wired, our preferences and prejudices, combine to influence what we experience – I for one could scent pea-pods in there, and leather in the finish. But the dominant flavours are spices like cinnamon, nutmeg, hints of clove and fennel, and lots of raisin. It is a sweet dram, with some honey and maple syrup, and vanilla. And it has a citric edge, with for me more lime than grapefruit or lemon. There is a deep sherry flavour, almost Pedro-Ximenez-raisiny rather than oloroso even though the sherry casks are of the latter type.

Andrew Forrester described it as a conversation whisky: something to sip with friends while chatting, rather than it serving as an aperitif or digestif. It could, however, quieten things for a while as aficionados will want to concentrate on what’s in the glass. This is a fine malt. Very fine indeed.