From Hobart with Love (and a Little Smoke): A Taste of Tasmanian Whisky Week.

The Monroe Room at The Roosevelt isn’t so much a venue as it is a mood - part old-Hollywood speakeasy, part gentleman’s drawing room, part fever dream of polished brass and Art Deco bravado. It was the perfect setting for Tasmanian Whisky Week’s 2025 Sydney preview, a sultry little rendezvous that brought the essence of the Apple Isle north for one glorious evening.

Where impeccable taste meets a devilish wink. Ready your palate - and perhaps your alibi.

Tasmania, long known for its brooding landscapes and elusive devils, has quietly - and now not-so-quietly - become Australia’s whisky capital. A place where distillers wield copper stills with the flair of artists and age their creations in sea-salted air, coaxing out liquid that doesn’t just taste of whisky - it tastes of patience, provenance, and a touch of coastal mischief. And once a year, during Tasmanian Whisky Week, they throw open the doors to share their secrets.

But before the full affair rolls out across the island, a handful of lucky Sydneysiders got a flirtatious glimpse of what’s to come - complete with five rare drams, five distillers, and enough banter to warm even the coldest, neatest pour.

We began, as all refined evenings should, with a Lark "Kurio" Highball - tall, refreshing, and politely mischievous. A gentle curtain-raiser that hinted at citrus and grain, like a particularly charming text from an old flame: light-hearted, but full of potential.

Then came the whisky. And with it, the storytellers.

Chris Thomson of Lark was up first. His Ex-Bourbon Single Cask #LD2801 (46%) was a masterclass in subtle confidence - vanilla-laced oak, toasted coconut, and that Lark signature: balance with backbone. Sipping it felt like catching a private jazz set in a hidden cellar bar - elegant, intimate, and entirely unforgettable. Chris, ever the alchemist, called it “curated chaos.” We called it the kind of whisky that should come with a warning: may cause you to rethink your entire top shelf.

Like dessert in a glass, if dessert had a secret past and knew exactly what it was doing.

Next, Kristy Lark of Killara, Tasmania’s high priestess of peatless, poured her PX Cask with Rum Finish (50.8%), and honestly - we swooned. If Lark’s dram was jazz, Kristy’s was velvet opera. Ripe figs draped in burnt citrus silk, a flirtation of black treacle, and a finish that unfolded like the closing scene of a scandalous romance - slow, sweet, and just dangerous enough to remember. It's the kind of whisky you don’t sip so much as swan dive into. And Kristy? An elegant fusion of familial warmth and fearless experimentation - astute, effortlessly charming, and unmistakably devoted to her craft.

Then came a showstopper that needed no introduction, though it got a very poised one from Miranda Lidgerwood, Sullivans Cove’s Brand and Communications Manager, who delivered the dram with the elegance of someone unveiling a family heirloom. Old & Rare French Oak Second-Fill TD0346 (47.3%) was less a whisky, more an experience in time travel. Aged with immense patience, this pour felt like sipping the memoirs of a well-travelled elder: dried figs and antique leather chairs, orange oil, and the ghost of Christmas puddings past. A wisp of cigar box and crushed walnut added gravitas. It was refined, deliberate, and yet surprisingly flirtatious - like someone who speaks six languages and uses them all to compliment your taste in shoes.

Enter David Hunn of Hunnington, quiet, thoughtful, and with the kind of calm intensity usually reserved for botanical illustrators and monks who make Chartreuse. His Apera cask expression (47%) was as composed as the man himself - fresh pear skins, almond husk, gentle florals and just a flicker of oak spice. Like an old bookshop in Hobart on a rainy day: warm, layered, and full of quiet treasures.

10 years later and still full of secrets

And then - just when we were all feeling gently poetic - Seamus Carroll of The Whisky Club barreled in like a literary antihero with a wicked grin. His Overeem single cask collab (63%), made from a lightly peated 1OYO, was like being kissed and slapped by the same dram. Charred honeycomb, smoked plum, dark chocolate bark, and enough ABV to make your ancestors sit up in their graves and politely nod approval. “It hugs you,” Seamus smirked, “but with muscle.” We were too dazzled to disagree.

It wasn’t just the whiskies, though. It was the sheer, undiluted access. Each distiller spoke not like a brand ambassador, but like an artist unveiling their work-in-progress sketchbook. They told stories about cask accidents, misbehaving barrels, flavour surprises, and climate quirks. They didn’t sell - they shared. Which is, after all, the very essence of Tasmanian Whisky Week.

Once a year, Tasmania throws open its cellar doors and invites the curious, the connoisseurs, and the mildly unhinged to join over 40 distilleries for a week-long waltz of tastings, tours, and well-lubricated storytelling - all culminating in the grand finale: the Tasmanian Spirit Showcase at Hobart’s PW1, where the island’s finest come out to strut, swirl, and pour. It’s more than a festival; it’s a pilgrimage. One part hedonism, one part heritage, and entirely Tasmanian.

Organised by the Tasmanian Whisky and Spirits Association (TWSA) - founded back in 2007 when the island had more sheep than stills - the event is equal parts celebration and resistance: a stand for craft, character, and community in a world that too often forgets that spirits are meant to be soulful.

So yes, there are bigger whisky expos. Shinier ones. Louder ones. But none with the intimacy, eccentricity, or layered depth of Tasmania’s offering. This is an island that has learned how to make liquid poetry - and is generous enough to pour a glass for anyone who asks nicely.

As the last drams were drained and guests drifted into the Sydney night with hearts warmed and heads pleasantly fogged, one thing was clear: Tasmanian Whisky Week is not just an event - it’s an invitation. To slow down. To sip properly. To ask the distiller what went wrong before it went right.

And perhaps most importantly, to fall in love - again and again - with what whisky can be when it comes from the edge of the world and carries that edge with it.

For full Tasmanian Whisky Week 2025 program details, ticket releases, and travel tips (yes, you’ll want to stay longer), visit the official site. And bring your sense of adventure - and your liver.

---

Words by AW.