Why it’s time to try poitín, Ireland’s beloved national spirit

Eight years ago, a friend of mine who’d grown up in County Fermanagh led me to a cave behind a waterfall which housed a secret. There, my torch light illuminated an old pot still — a relic that would have once been used for the illegal distillation of the historic Irish spirit poitín. I remember thinking how difficult it must have been to heave it over the slippery rocks.

Poitín has come a long way since the days of illicit stills hidden in caves. Its forerunner, aqua vitae, was originally distilled by monks, but by the 16th century, after the dissolution of the monasteries, the spirit move into community production, distilled in households across rural Ireland. In 1661 the British Crown introduced an alcohol tax, a move which resulted in the emergence of two distinct spirits: ‘parliament whiskey’, a taxed, legal spirit that was matured in barrels, and the untaxed, illegal poitín, its name derived from the Irish word for small pot — a reference to the pot stills used to make it.

Illegality did little to dent its popularity however, and poitín continued to be produced illicitly in stills hidden in back rooms, out buildings, forests and even in caves behind waterfalls. It was initially made from malted barley, but later from other fermentable crops including sugar beet and potatoes. Then, in 1997, more than three centuries after it was first outlawed, Ireland’s beloved moonshine became legitimate when the Irish Revenue Commissioners withdrew their opposition to its sale.

It was in 1997 that I had my first taste of poitín, and I admit to dismissing it as rough. So, as I go to sip a shot of Micil’s Heritage Poitín it’s with some trepidation — at 46% ABV, I’m expecting it to be a little raucous. But I’m surprised. Not only is there a welcome touch of sweetness, but also a pleasant oiliness that makes it a smooth sip. This, I’m told, comes from the addition of oats, along with barley, in the initial fermentation.

With its wooden panels, shelves full of bottles and the comforting aromas of fermentation, Micil Distillery, in Salthill, on the shore of Galway Bay, is something of an oasis — and it feels symbolic of how far poitín has come. Maker of gin, whiskey and Irish cream as well as poitín, the distillery offers a variety of tours — for mine, visitor centre manager Tom Doran expertly puts the company’s range neatly into a historic and geographic context. At one point, I find myself holding a brick of peat — traditionally the principal fuel used in poitín distillation — and marvelling at how light it feels. 

Towards the end of the tour, we’re joined by founder and director Pádraic Ó Griallais — a sixth-generation distiller, who speaks Irish as his first language and who learnt distilling from his moonshining grandfather. With a glance at the distillery’s bulky equipment, I ask him how his ancestors managed to keep their operations secret. He explains how County Galway’s terrain offered shelter.

“After each distillation run the still was dismantled and parts would have been buried in bog holes,” he explains. “This environment actually kept the still clean; the water would be slightly acidic. Fermentation vessels were concealed using scraw, the top layer of vegetation and some turf as camouflage. Typically, barrels were placed in a recess in a small hill to give natural coverage. Malting, brewing and distilling took place on commonage — land with multiple shareholders — so it was very difficult to prove ownership of an illicit still unless the distiller was caught red-handed.”

The legalisation of poitín brought with it many changes, particularly a move towards indoor distillation. “Open-air production methods allowed bacteria to enter the wash as it fermented,” Pádraic explains. “These days, we leave our fermenters open to allow bacteria to naturally enter the wash, and fermentation vessels rest for two to three days after fermentation to emulate outdoor conditions. This gives greater depth of flavour and fruity characteristics known as esters.”

Pádraic points out that poitín distillation is also now a year-round affair. “Traditionally distillers stopped producing in summer, as alcohol yields were not as good due to the prevalence of competing wild yeast and wild bacteria,” he says. “Most distillers were farmers too, which meant other summer duties — saving hay, turf and crops — had to be prioritised. Long days were also impractical for illicit distillers trying to avoid the authorities — long winter nights were preferred for discretion.”

Cocktail culture

In 2008, along with Irish whiskey and Irish cream, Irish poitín was given Geographic Indication status by the European Union, and in 2015 the spirit had its production methods codified by the Irish Government. And while it’s taken two decades for the newly legalised industry to really find its feet, today it’s exported to numerous countries worldwide, with the Irish Government predicting the level of exports will hit one million cases in 2025.

One of the brands spearheading this revival is Bán Poitín. Made with barley, Comber potatoes and Irish grain, it was founded by poitín enthusiast Dave Mulligan, whose fascination with the spirit was first kindled by a gift from his father. “He bought me a bottle as congratulations for opening my first bar, in 2012,” he explains. “When I asked him why, he said poitín was always for the big moments in life.

“I enjoyed drinking it with him, while he told me tales about growing up around poitín and how important it was. People think it was a cheap alternative to whiskey. But there was a period where people rejected whiskey because it was made by the Crown, and the craft of the poitín maker was widely preferred. I love the history of booze and cocktails, and I was thinking, why is no one telling this story? I became a bit obsessed and did it myself.”

In addition to Bán Poitín, Dave also owns Bar 1661 in Dublin, which channels the spirit of the country’s rebellious illicit distillers by declaring itself “staunchly Irish and fiercely independent”. The venue is playing its part in introducing the spirit to a wider audience by showcasing its potential as a cocktail ingredient.

One of its best-selling concoctions is Belfast coffee, in which Bán Poitín is combined with cold brew coffee, cream, demerara and nutmeg. “It’s basically a cold brewed Irish coffee,” Dave explains. “It’s a cocktail that’s easy to understand and it’s so delicious.”

Across Bar 1661’s vast menu, a third of the cocktails contain poitín. And while Bán Poitín is also used in creations such as the flat iron, other brands get a look-in too. In golden moment, for example, Mad March Hare poitín is mixed with an apple aperitif, grapefruit and champagne to produce a cocktail that Dave says illustrates “how elegant poitín can be”. Mulroy Bay poitín is combined with Lost Irish whiskey in the ‘lost Irish’ cocktail, which tastes of carrot cake without being oversweet. And Teeling poitín is mixed with vermouth, mead and marmalade bitters for the fragrant spritz, paperwork.

Dave speaks highly of his fellow poitín pioneers, noting the craft of Pádraic of Micil Distillery; John Ralph of Mad March Hare (which, at 40% ABV, is easy to mix); and Brendan Carty of Killowen Distillery, which uses old-fashioned processes to produce its poitín. He also praises Jennifer Nickerson of Tipperary Distillery, adding that a wider return of women to the industry is overdue. “It was generally the women who distilled at home, as they would have a had a little pot still on the stove. But after it was made illegal it became male-dominated.”

During the 336 years in which distilling poitín for sale in Ireland was illegal, the spirit continued to be made, just in secret. Legalising poitín opened the door for people outside of the friends, family and local community around distillers to taste and appreciate it. And now, for travellers to Ireland, it’s really time to seek it out and take a taste of Irish history.