We Tried Bushmills $12,500 46-Year Irish Whiskey And It Was The Best We've Ever Tasted

"If I can get them to try it, I can make a new Bushmills fan," says master distiller Alex Thomas about those who doubt Irish whiskey and the venerable distillery itself, dating back to at least 1608. Those of us who had gathered at New York City's Crane Club to sample the newest (and oldest) Irish single-malt whiskey discovered every reason to believe her. Sampling the recent lengthy age statements, including the ultra-rare 46-year debuting at the dinner, we encountered Irish whiskey at the top of its glory.

Hyperbole? No. I admit it. I've been too willing to overlook Irish whiskey. I've dismissed its standardized qualities in the complexity of Scotch whisky's shadow. While recent tastings have shown me my mistake, Bushmills 46 makes me question how I can even have made it. This pour had me asking why I even bother with bourbon, and I have to say: I really love bourbon. Bushmills 46 is the absolute peak of what whiskey can be in any country. Whiskey fans all know a temperate climate produces fantastic stuff given enough time, but this is something else even so. I can't think of a comparable whiskey that's ever been my pleasure to sip.

Some recommendations are based on firsthand impressions of promotional materials and products provided by the manufacturer.

Bushmills 46-year is the oldest Irish single-malt whiskey ever released, beating out 2021's Midleton Very Rare's Silent Distillery Collection, Chapter 1 at 45 years old. While older Irish whiskeys do exist (the Silent Distillery Collection actually premiered a 49-year-old whiskey in 2024, but it wasn't single-malt), this is the oldest single-malt to ever escape the Emerald Isle's stills for commercial consumption. America is unlikely to catch up anytime soon since, despite the presence of a few distillers like Stranahan's or, more recently, Frey Ranch and even Jack Daniel's getting in on the game, American single-malt was only just recognized as an official, legally defined class of spirit in the final weeks of 2024 after a couple of years of noodling on the subject.

The 46-year-old whiskey was casked in used Oloroso sherry butts before I was even born and probably before you were, too. The end product is a gentle, and I do mean gentle, 46.3% ABV that is seasoned by almost half a century's weather. If you have to get married just to get someone with deeper pockets to gift you a bottle of this stuff, start hunting for rings.

Here's the bad news: Bushmills 46 costs $12,500. Now, here's the good news: With only 300 barrels poured into bottles, you're not very likely to encounter it anyway and stare forlornly at its exorbitant contents. But hey, this is the oldest Irish single-malt ever made; you have to expect this kind of cost for record-setting achievements. Certainly, there are worse whiskeys that retail for more, and at younger age statements, too. Considering that some Midleton Very Rare stickers are down for the price of a brand-new luxury sedan before doubling or more at auction, you might even consider this a bargain. (Although just as likely to be had for a couple hundred... it's a volatile gamble.)

If you are lucky enough to spot Bushmills 46, you're probably in a major city, globally speaking. These bottles are primarily going to land at top retailers and bars, where they'll gleam down on us plebes from behind safety glass. They're going to have to build a higher top shelf to house Bushmills 46. For those of you who travel in such exceptional circles, the world's oldest Irish single-malt is out now.

At the tasting, where I was lucky enough to sample some 46, we also tried previous expressions with a high age statement; both of them barreled before I could even legally drink in the U.S., and one of them before I could even enjoy it in Ireland, where the drinking age is 18. If you're looking for something a little more accessible and available, the 25-year will cost you just $900, and the 30 bumps it up to $2,200. That's quite a boost for the next five years!

Personally, while I found both exceptional and the 30-year to be — perhaps even objectively — better quality, I might splurge on the 25 instead, being that it's nearly as good for 41% of the cost. If I'm the type of spender who has $2,200 to drop on a bottle of most excellent whiskey, I probably have $12,500 to spend on an expression that's half the age again for a tasting feat that is truly incredible. These whiskeys absolutely scale in quality, but the leap might not be so great as to go full-on big spender for most of us, especially if you think you'd prefer the fruitier, bread-like 25 to the toffee and spice of the 30.

As it is, I'll be dreaming of life with the 46 while more realistically pursuing either of these distinguished, if younger, single-malts.

To start, this is the darkest whiskey I've ever seen. It looks more like a porter than a whiskey, and a stout one at that. Call it the power of suggestion, but this has incredible coffee overtones at the back of blackcurrant fruit, with allspice, cumin, and even pepper all tantalizing your nostrils. There's absolutely no ethanol burn, nor kick in your mouth. This is the edge of what's possible with whiskey, and I am all the way present for it.

In part, you can credit the Antonio Paez Lobato Oloroso sherry casks that housed this liquid, giving it a large part of its glorious taste of currant, rum cake, and tobacco. Please understand that mere tasting notes, no matter how rich, can't convey just how much more this whiskey is. This whiskey goes deep, broad, and complex connecting those dimensions.

I cannot believe I'm adding water to this triumph, but I'm duty-bound. Some very interesting oak comes forward, but I still prefer it as-is. Maybe the last sip would be worth diluting to experience more spice minus the usual nut/chocolate/earth, as well as the embellished prune flavor, but if I'm ever lucky enough to enjoy a second pour of this, I can't imagine adulterating it in the least. Our serving was paired with a chocolate fudge Viennetta, and trying the whiskey again after some dessert, its coffee tones again leapt forward, but better than any brew I've had.

It's incredibly unusual to find a whiskey that can justify these five-figure price points, but Bushmills does exactly that. I have simply never had a whiskey quite like this: soft, smooth, rich, complex. If I had regular local rich guy money, like "owns a car dealership" or something, I would consider Bushmills 46 an extravagance well worth obtaining. I don't foresee it dropping in price, and if it does, rather than cry that I overspent, I'd buy a second one at the discount.

While Midleton Very Rare has teased out that the Silent Distillery Collection will culminate in a 50-year-old whiskey drop expected to come at any moment, we don't know if it will be a single-malt or not. Even if it is, don't expect Bushmills to plummet in price once it loses the crown of oldest single-malt. At this level of craft and rarity, it's only ever going to remain desirable for both collectors and those who want to drink the nectar of the gods. You might not be frugal to get your paws on it, but when the whiskey is this good, it's hard to say you're not wise to. If you can afford it, get ready for a treat worth scouting. This is the best Irish whiskey I'm likely to ever enjoy in my life. But competing distilleries should feel more than free to challenge that by sending their best my way; they'll certainly need it.