Originally posted by The Australian, below is an excerpt on Tasmanian Whiskies.

At the bar, more than 30 Tasmanian whiskies glow like golden lamps; they include bottles from one of the newest kids on the block, Waubs Harbour distillery. This operation, in the pretty coastal town of Bicheno about 30 minutes away, released its first bottles only in April last year. It has collaborated with the lodge on a special Saffire whisky edition and guests are invited to take an informative, and delicious, tour of the business.

The distillery virtually dips its toes in the water at its headquarters, a former oyster hatchery that has been spruced up with a smart black and white paint job. It is owned and operated by Tim and Bec Polmear and Tim’s brother Rob, a “mad scientist” who took a circuitous route from Antarctic biology to hone his whisky-making skills at Lark and Overmeer distilleries.

Regardless of whether you’re fond of a dram, Waubs has a deeply photogenic setting. Fur seals bask in the afternoon sun on a rocky outcrop in the harbour, and the gentle winter light highlights moody skies and glassy seas. It must be a wild place in a storm but all is calm as our host, venue manager Thomas Etges, welcomes us into his fragrant workplace where barley, salt, sea and spirit hang in the air.

First port of call is the room where grain and water meet in the mash tun to make wort. This liquid is then moved next door where, with the addition of yeast, fermentation bubbles away for five days. We taste the “wash” at its various stages and it’s not unlike an unsophisticated, cloudy craft beer. It’s not a patch on the sweet but sinus-searing spirit that emerges from the pair of giant copper stills. This precious liquid is poured into sherry, port and bourbon casks, where the real magic takes place.

Thomas takes our palates on a journey in which descriptors such as salted caramel, Christmas pudding, treacle and banana guide our way. Having lived in Scotland for a couple of years, I was tutored in no uncertain terms on the purist philosophy of drinking single malt neat. Thomas takes a more relaxed approach, suggesting a few drops of water to open up the spirit’s character. He’s even been known to plonk an ice cube in a glass of Laphroaig, the polarising peaty Scotch from the Isle of Islay. “Just don’t drink it with Coke in front of us,” he pleads.

Our tour ends in a room lined with barrels on one side and delivering broad harbour views on the other. Gulls wheel over the water as we sip the founder’s reserve, a 62 per cent cask-strength beauty that delivers a punch of chocolate and sultana with a maritime twist. Like so much of what visitors to this lovely island eat and drink, it’s a taste of Tassie like nowhere else.