Tea totalling £52 13s. 6d. was the second largest item by value in John Walker’s business by 1825: two chests of ‘fine tea’ (166 pounds), no doubt black tea and blended, and at around 6s. a pound the cheapest one might expect to buy, and two smaller canisters of green tea, Hyson at 10s. 6d. per pound and one of Twankay at 7s. 4d. (plus reams of ‘tea paper’ for packaging small parcels for customers). This was hardly enough stock to suggest that Caldwell and John had been blending tea commercially themselves by 1825 – more likely it was purchased from one of the large tea-houses in Glasgow or Edinburgh.33 That’s not to say that they would have been unaware of the flavours and qualities of the various teas on offer, and the intricacies of blending them. In all likelihood they would also have been acutely aware of the importance of the art of blending teas, and of local preferences for tea styles, tastes which varied distinctly across Scotland.34 Scotch whisky was the most valuable item in the shop at £64 13s. 3d. Amongst the small casks of rum, brandy, gin and ‘shrub’ there were two large casks, probably puncheons, of ‘aqua’ at two qualities – ‘No 1’ at 5s. 9d. per gallon, and ‘No 2’, at 6s. In addition there were 5 ‘small casks’, most probably octaves, of Islay whisky at 11s. 4d., and one from the newly built distillery at Largs, at 9s. 6d.35 In total, by 1825, he held just over 175 gallons (including around 125 of ‘aqua’ and 45 of Islay), likely not enough in either quantity or variety to be commercially blending from, or at least not as it would be understood today.
And what exactly was the ‘aqua’, a term used through the nineteenth century (and occasionally into the twentieth) in the whisky industry in a bewildering variety of ways? By way of example, in March 1805 John Munro in Edinburgh offered his customers ‘Fine Old Aqua Shrub’. In December 1808 Robert Taylor, also in Edinburgh, was offering for sale 20 puncheons of ‘Old Grain Aqua’. In September 1821 over 800 gallons of ‘old Highland Malt and sugar aqua’ were being sold.36 In November 1824, Thomas Miller of the newly built Abbey Hill distillery in Edinburgh announced that he had commenced making ‘Grain Aqua, and that early next month he intends to make Malt Whisky’.37 Most likely, however, the ‘aqua’ in the Kilmarnock shop in the early 1820s was Lowland single grain whisky, ‘the long use’ of which, lamented a Scotsman editorial in June 1823, had ‘in some measure vitiated the taste of the people in Scotland’.38 The prices charged elsewhere for grain whisky seem to match the Kilmarnock price for ‘aqua’. In 1823 the Genuine Tea Wine and Spirit Warehouse in Edinburgh’s High Street offered the following for sale by the gallon to its discerning clientele:
Plain Grain Whisky 6s;
Good Old Grain Whisky 6s 6d;
Fine Old Grain Whisky 7s;
Very Fine Grain Whisky 7s 6d;
Strong Grain Whisky 8s;
Double Strong Grain Whisky 8s 6d.
Further up the road, James Hardie’s Genuine Tea, Wine, Foreign and British Spirit Warehouse advertised ‘Fine Grain Whisky’ at 6s. to 7s. per gallon, and ‘Fine Strong Grain Whisky’ at 7s. 6d. to 8s. per gallon.39 There was certainly no shortage of pot-still grain whisky on the market, albeit much of it was still being shipped to England for rectification into gin. Both the techniques and economics of production of whisky from ‘raw grain’ were fully understood, as were in particular the economies of scale that resulted from producing raw grain spirit in larger distilleries as opposed to the typical Highland small stills, highly prized for the production of full-flavoured single malt whisky.40
The blending of grain and malt whisky was also a common and well-understood, if unspoken, practice which it is impossible to think was not influenced by the skills of the tea blender, given shared practitioners and a common approach of blending light and heavy, the expensive with the less expensive, the good with the less good. Giving evidence to the Royal Commission on Whisky in 1908, James Mackinlay of Leith recalled a handbook in the firm’s office that showed that ‘blending or mixing was a very old affair’.41 Alexander Peddie’s The Hotel Inn Keeper Vintner and Spirit Dealer’s Assistant, published in Glasgow in 1825, was intended for the young publican and innkeeper so that:
He will rise by easy steps to be a proficient in the art of making, mixing, managing, flavouring, colouring, and bottling of wines, foreign and British spirits, porter and ales; and will be capable of producing liquor of every description, pleasing to the eye, and grateful to the palate; which at all times will command a run, and the respect, attention, and support of the public.
Unlike the many similar London-published handbooks which offered guidance on how to manage, preserve and ‘improve’ stocks, and manufacture a bewildering variety of compounds and cordials which barely (if at all) mentioned whisky, Peddie dedicated a whole chapter to the subject. He explained how whisky ‘may be mixed up in such a way to be of considerable advantage to the seller, and be as equally good, agreeable and palatable, to the buyer’. Peddie’s exemplar recipes were simple, merely offering different proportions of either grain or malt, and not going to the level of particular makes or styles. The overriding importance of quality and age, both in the grain and malt whiskies used, was essential, ‘as two bads will never make a good’, and the ‘whiskies should be bought from the distiller as old as possible’. If both were of a high quality, ‘two thirds of grain whisky may be added to one third of malt whisky . . . without the mixture being known by those who reckon themselves judges’. The longer the blend could be kept in the cask, the better it would become, and ‘by the mellowness it acquires by age . . . it is impossible to know it from that extracted from malt’. Small beer and even strong ale could be added to give additional richness and a tinge of colour (‘There are a great many people fonder of a dram that has received a tinge than that which is clear and transparent’), but porter would have the effect of making the spirit too dark, like a brandy. A good quality blend could easily be sold as a malt whisky, ‘and no judge whatever will know that it is so’, the blenders intent being to produce something that was ‘wholesome and good for the consumer’. Blends, Peddie concluded, were ‘not only palatable, but highly beneficial and conducive to health as they change the effect which a perpetual round of sameness would have on the system’.42
In addition to pleasing both his customer and his pocket there was another reason why a grocer or spirit dealer might choose to think of producing their own blends of whisky, or for that matter, tea. A grocer might well possess all those virtuous prerequisites demanded by the Shopkeeper’s Guide, and the particular skills of his trade, but in a crowded market, over and above service (including, importantly, the offer of sales on credit), distinctiveness was the key to both survival and success. In larger towns and cities with more and wealthier shoppers and more heavily capitalised businesses, this might be achieved through an extensive range of goods with some exclusive lines; in smaller communities a unique and well-priced popular blend of tea or whisky might just be enough to guarantee customer loyalty. Authorities on the subject were clear what commercial benefits a distinctive blend could bring:
The chief objects to keep in view in making up a blend are that . . . it shall possess a flavour which shall please the taste of your customers and at the same time be sufficiently distinctive to make the blend your own spécialité, and he who secures these objects at the least cost will be the most successful blender.43
Our grocer will aim to give his blends a distinctive character if he finds he can do so. The aim of the smart houses is to produce a