English Single Malt from the Welsh Marches - Henstone Distillery

Henstone is not the biggest name in English whiskey but I'm very glad I got to visit! In October last year, I was lucky enough to drive up there with my mother. We were met by Henry, son of the distillery's owner . Henstone was started in 2016 by a local family in Oswestry , and is named after the family home. 

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Single Malts and Chestnuts in the Cévennes: Visiting the Distillerie des Camisards

After visiting Domaine des Hautes Glaces and Marseille, I took a morning train to see Distillerie des Camisards. After a quick stop in Nîmes, I took the tiny train below to Grande Combe la Pise. It's a beautiful area, just sitting at the edge of the hilly Cévennes. The distillery name comes from the Camisards, a set of Occitan-speaking Huguenots here in the Cévennes who rebelled against French royal authority in the early 18th century. 

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Rye High in the Hills - French Whisky with a View at the Domaine des Hautes Glaces

Last September, I was incredibly fortunate to visit the Domaine des Hautes Glaces in the mountains above Grenoble. Getting a lift from Geraldine (the distillery's Commercial and Marketing Director), I was stunned by the scenery on the way there. This area, the Trièves , is a 900m high plateau named for three ways through the mountains - south toward Marseille, north toward Lyon, and east towards Switzerland. 

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A Big Name, A Big Appetite for Experimentation: A Look at St Kilian Distillery

Taking a morning train from Frankfurt, I got off at a small stop called Kleinheubach. From there, it's a quick bus transfer up into a small valley, to the quiet town of Rüdenau . Any doubts about going the right way disappeared as the bus passed along the length of the distillery, 'St Kilians' standing out against the whitewashed walls in large black letters .

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Bees, Hills, and a Park Distillery: Visiting Brennerei Habbel in Germany

“Let’s get this party started” says Jens as he welcomes me to Brennerei Habbel. I was a few minutes late thanks to train delays, coming over the border from the Netherlands and into the Ruhr. Graciously, Jens pretends not to notice how I spent a few minutes stumbling around the outside of the distillery muttering about how lost I was. 

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