Locked In at Silver’s Motel: A Daylight Affair with Glenfarclas 70-Year-Old.

There’s something deliciously subversive about being locked inside a bar in broad daylight. Especially one so dark, so sultry, that it makes The Doss House look like a Leni Riefenstahl lighting experiment. Step through the door of Silver’s Motel on Enmore Road and the world outside dissolves. The hum of Enmore traffic fades to a dull echo, the sunlight is swallowed by dark timber and caramel glow, and suddenly it’s midnight - or close enough to forget that it isn’t.

This is no ordinary watering hole. Silver’s is the lovechild of two of Sydney’s most quietly audacious minds: Michael Chiem, the cocktail alchemist behind PS40 - still one of the city’s most inventive bars - and Tynan Sidhu, a veteran collector whose shelves boast over 350 rare, revered and forgotten whiskies. Between them, they’ve built a whisky sanctuary that’s equal parts style, soul and subversion. You can order an Ice Magic Old Fashioned (a playful nod to every Aussie childhood dessert), or a frozen whisky slushy, and still be handed something that could’ve been poured for your grandfather’s grandfather.

Tonight, Silver’s mood is reverent but loose - a dimly lit Lynch-esque chapel where faith meets fun. Because Glenfarclas, one of Scotland’s last great family-owned distilleries, has come to town. And it’s brought something extraordinary: the Glenfarclas 70-Year-Old, the oldest single malt Scotch whisky ever poured in Australia.

Proof that patience is not merely a virtue - it's a dman fine investment in liquid form.

This tasting, however, didn’t just materialise out of thin air. It’s the handiwork of The Whisky List (TWL) - the quietly powerful engine behind Australia’s growing whisky renaissance. Part importer, distributor, educator, and evangelist, TWL has become a force for whisky discovery in Australia. It’s the team that’s redefined how Australians explore whisky - through curated experiences, an award-winning app, and partnerships that bring the world’s rarest spirits within reach of those who care enough to taste them. Their latest move - becoming the official Australian importer and distributor for Adelphi and Ardnamurchan - has cemented them as a major bridge between the craft traditions of Scotland and the modern curiosity of Australian drinkers. Tonight’s tasting, then, is not just a celebration of an old whisky - it’s a statement about what’s possible when passion, patience and partnership align.

The evening is guided by Ian McWilliam, Glenfarclas’ quietly magnetic brand ambassador. A Keeper of the Quaich and custodian of the distillery’s story since 1991, McWilliam embodies everything Glenfarclas stands for - authenticity, humility and devotion to craft. He’s the kind of speaker who doesn’t sell whisky so much as share it; a man who has rolled casks, walked the dunnage floors, and seen time do its quiet work on spirit and oak alike. His voice, low and measured, carries the cadence of Speyside itself - patient, lyrical, unhurried.

The night opens with a Glenfarclas 105 Highball, crisp and teasing - an overture before the plunge, followed by the 105 Cask Strength - fierce, unapologetic, a dram that smoulders before it blooms. With a drop of water, it turns generous and nutty, all roasted chestnut and treacle.

Then the room settles. The chatter drops to a low murmur, and the first serious pour arrives - Glenfarclas 15-Year-Old. It’s the soul of Speyside in a glass: generous, steady, unshowy. The kind of whisky that feels like coming in from the cold. Rich and warming, it moves in layers - fruitcake soaked in sherry, bitter marmalade, a dusting of toasted nuts. You could chase its contours for years and still find a new shimmer in the dark.

The 21-Year-Old follows, slower and more introspective. The tempo drops; the whisky breathes. Notes of leather and walnut drift into tobacco leaf and dried orange peel. It’s a contemplative dram - whisky for those who prefer long silences to small talk, meant less for celebration than for confession.

Then the mood shifts. The 2008 Whisky & Wisdom Edition No. 2 enters the scene like a wink across the table - playful, sunlit, Australian. A single cask chosen for the local palate, it hums with honeyed malt, golden syrup, and a flicker of spice. Youthful but self-assured, it reminds you that whisky doesn’t have to be ancient to be memorable. There’s a spark of mischief in it - a promise that when Andrew Derbidge unveils his next bottling in May 2026, it won’t be one to sip quietly.

The 1993 Family Casks 28-Year-Old closes the lead-up with quiet sophistication: espresso, dark cherries, mahogany polish. The room hushes. Glasses glint. The air thickens with anticipation.

Then - the moment. McWilliam lifts the decanter of Glenfarclas 70-Year-Old, its liquid a deep mahogany amber that looks almost alive. Only 262 bottles exist in the world, with just fifteen ever reaching Australian shores - a reminder that we are, quite literally, drinking history. The nose is haunting: sherry-soaked fruit, antique wood, polished leather, dark honey, cocoa, a wisp of smoke. On the palate, it’s impossibly soft yet commanding - black coffee, molasses, dried fig, sandalwood, and a long echo of oak. There’s no burn, no haste - only warmth that unfolds like memory.

Seventy years. Longer than most lives, longer than most stories, longer than the world has been modern. This is time, bottled. A distillation of patience, craft, and the enduring belief that something extraordinary can still be made the old way.

And perhaps that’s what makes this night - and The Whisky List’s role - so significant. It isn’t just about importing bottles or hosting tastings; it’s about cultivating a culture that values craft over hype. TWL has, in its quiet way, reconnected Australia’s whisky scene with the global conversation - not through spectacle, but through substance. Their collaborations, like this one with Glenfarclas and Silver’s, remind us that great whisky doesn’t exist in isolation; it lives through the hands that pour it, the rooms that hold it, and the people who take the time to understand it.

As the last sips fade and plates of cheese and charcuterie have been devoured, Silver’s begins to hum again. Someone laughs. Someone orders another dram. The illusion of midnight breaks, just slightly.

To walk out of Silver’s Motel after tasting a seventy-year-old whisky is to feel disoriented by time. You return to the mundane world with the faint warmth of history in your chest - a reminder that every great whisky is not just something to drink, but something to remember.

For one Sydney evening, thanks to Glenfarclas, The Whisky List, and a bar that understands the beauty of shadows, the past wasn’t behind us. It was in our hands, breathing.

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Words by AW.

Photo courtesy of Glenfarclas.