Running on Chip Oil and Chaos: A Conversation with Belgrove’s Peter Bignell.

If alchemy ever settled down on a farm, it would probably look a lot like Belgrove Distillery. Perched in Tasmania’s Kempton countryside, this is where Peter Bignell - farmer, sculptor, inventor, and occasional fire hazard - distills not just whisky, but a worldview. In an industry increasingly fuelled by jargon and stainless steel, Belgrove runs on used chip oil, sheep manure, and pure audacity.

Every drop begins and ends on the same patch of soil Bignell tends himself: rye grown in paddocks that roll into the Southern Midlands, malted in a repurposed clothes dryer, smoked with whatever’s on hand (sometimes peat, sometimes sheep dung), and coaxed into spirit through a still he welded by hand. If that sounds anarchic, that’s because it is. But it’s also precise, deliberate, and quietly radical - a one-man rebuttal to the corporate sterilisation of craft.

Runs a distillery on chip oil. Smokes his rye with sheep dung. Still makes better whisky than you’ll find in most five-star bars. Peter Bignell, ladies and gentlemen.

Bignell is, in many ways, the antidote to modern whisky romanticism. There’s no tartan theatre, no talk of lineage or secret family recipes. What he builds instead is functioning philosophy - a distillery powered by biodiesel and imagination, where every piece of machinery seems halfway between a Heath Robinson sketch and a post-industrial art installation. It’s equal parts mad science and moral clarity, with the resulting whiskies - particularly his Peated Rye, twice rated among the world’s best proving that sustainability and excellence aren’t mutually exclusive, they’re mutually dependent.

Belgrove’s spirits aren’t designed for polite tasting rooms. They’re born of smoke and improvisation, shaped by Tasmania’s unpredictable weather and Bignell’s equally unpredictable mind. They taste like invention: earthy, elemental, just a touch unhinged. And yet there’s grace in that grit - a sense that whisky, at its best, should tell the story of how it was made, not just where.

In a world obsessed with legacy, Belgrove is proof that rebellion can be heritage, too. It’s whisky stripped of ornament, distilled down to curiosity, contraption, and craft.

What follows isn’t a technical interview or a sustainability sermon. It’s a conversation with a man who runs his still on biofuel, his humour on caffeine, and his vision on the stubborn belief that true innovation smells faintly of smoke and second chances.

If Belgrove were a person, what kind of trouble would they get into at a dinner party?

Peter Belgrove: Belgrove would be the guest slipping experimental distillates from a coat pocket under the table - passing them around with a wink, well out of the host’s line of sight.

Most distillers worship copper. You seem to flirt with smoke and chaos. What’s the real spirit behind your spirit?

Peter Belgrove: Copper is essential - it strips out the harsh sulphur notes from the spirit vapour, and Belgrove respects that. But beyond that, we take a different path. In the early days, we were the only distillery in Australia making rye whisky. My first love was a peated Scotch, so smoke has always been part of the story. We use local Tasmanian peat from the North East coast, but I also burn dried sheep dung - courtesy of the Belgrove sheep - for a similar earthy smokiness.

Traditionally, smoke is introduced during malting, but we like to play with the rules. Sometimes we smoke the inside of the barrels instead, which gives a softer, more natural campfire character. A few years back, I set myself a challenge: make a whisky so smoky no one could drink it. The name “Bogan Burnout” came up more than once. The fresh spirit was undrinkable - but five years on, a few brave souls have developed a taste for it. I still count it as a failed experiment… but maybe a glorious one.

You’ve been called a farmer, distiller, inventor - how do you personally describe what you do when someone corners you at a pub?

Peter Belgrove: I tell them I’m a maker. I love creating, fixing, and repurposing - especially things most people wouldn’t bother with. There’s real satisfaction in giving discarded objects a second life. I work with my hands, shaping raw materials into something meaningful. Whether it’s sculpting a pile of sand or a block of ice into art, or planting seeds in the soil that eventually become the grain I “sculpt” into whisky p it’s all part of the same creative impulse.

What’s your favourite thing about peat - its flavour, its fire, or its refusal to behave?

Peter Belgrove: I enjoy making peated whiskies because I love their smoky flavours. It wouldn’t make sense to create a flavour I didn’t personally enjoy. I also relish the challenge of building my own smoker and adding the smoke to the final product in different ways. That gives me precise control over how much smoke I use.

For those who don’t know, I smoke my freshly malted grain in an old industrial tumble dryer. The smoke comes from a separate sealed chamber and is pumped into the dryer. It’s relatively cool smoke - not the hot smoke typically used in Scotland.

I’ve read many discussions about the flavours of different Scottish peated whiskies. Some are described as “smoky,” others as “peaty.” I disagree with that distinction - after all, both flavours come from smoke. Perhaps people are really trying to describe the difference between a sweeter, lighter smoke and a heavier, earthier one.

Some American distillers use wood smoke, often from cherry wood, to create their own style. In addition to smoking the malted grain before distilling, I often pump smoke directly into barrels before filling them with spirit. This produces a completely different smoke profile.

In recent years, I’ve noticed several cooperages around the world offering smoked barrels. Perhaps they’ve taken inspiration from my early experiments, since I can’t find any record of the practice before my first release in 2016.

You run your still on chip oil and your dreams on fire. How does sustainability shape creativity at Belgrove?

Peter Belgrove: When I first started my distillery, I needed an affordable heat source. I was already producing biodiesel from used chip oil, so I began using a standard diesel burner to heat the base of the still directly. As production increased, I realised I was spending too much time converting the chip oil into biodiesel, so I modified the burner to run on straight chip oil instead.

Economics was my initial motivation, but over time I’ve come to value the environmental benefits even more - using biofuel rather than fossil fuel is simply the better choice.

What’s the most bizarre piece of equipment you’ve built for the distillery that actually works?

Peter Belgrove: Well, there’s the industrial clothes dryer I repurposed to malt and smoke the grain - it spins like a charm and smells like a campfire. Then there’s a metal sculpture that is a mechanical cocktail shaker made from two old BMX bikes, which shakes with more flair than most bartenders. If it’s got moving parts and a bit of rust, chances are I’ve tried turning it into whisky gear.

Do you see yourself more as a custodian of tradition, or a cheerful saboteur of it?

Peter Belgrove: “I’d say I’m both - and proudly so. I deeply respect the traditions of distilling: the craft, the patience, the connection to land and grain. But I also believe tradition should be a springboard, not a cage. At Belgrove, I’ve built a distillery that runs on biofuel, repurposes waste, and smokes whisky with sheep manure - not to mock the old ways, but to show that innovation and sustainability can walk hand in hand with heritage. So yes, I’m a cheerful saboteur, but only of the idea that tradition must mean stagnation. I’m here to prove that distilling can evolve without losing its soul.”

If someone’s first taste of whisky was Belgrove’s Smoked Rye, what would you hope it teaches them?

Peter Belgrove: I’d hope it teaches them that whisky can be a conversation starter - not just about flavour, but about place, process, and personality. Belgrove’s Peated Rye is bold, earthy, and unapologetically different. For newcomers, it’s a gateway to discovering that whisky isn’t one-size-fits-all. For seasoned drinkers, it’s a reminder that there’s still room for surprise. It’s not just a dram - it’s a handshake from the farm. Jim Murray has twice scored our Peated Rye 96.5/100. In his 2024 edition it rated 4^th in the world, and Southern Hemisphere Whisky of the Year in the 2019 edition. This recognition places Belgrove Peated Rye not just at the forefront of Australian whisky, but among the elite on the global stage.

How do Tasmania’s seasons, soils, and mischief-makers shape the character of your whiskies?

Peter Belgrove: Tasmania’s climate is a bit of a trickster - cool and wild one moment, hot the next - and that unpredictability plays beautifully into the maturation of our spirits. The rye thrives in tough, sandy soils - its struggle is its strength. Smaller grains mean less bland starch and more of the good stuff: germ and husk, where the real flavour lives. But Belgrove isn’t just shaped by soil and grain. It’s the mischief-makers - the curious minds, backyard inventors, and generous locals who swing by with surplus wine, leftover beer, or a pallet of pineapple juice - that truly give the place its spirit.

You’ve wrangled rye, smoke, and even Gordon Ramsay — did his visit leave a lasting impression on your distilling philosophy, or was it just another day on the farm with a bit more camera flair and kitchen fire?

Peter Belgrove: Gordon’s visit (Gordon Ramsay UNCHARTED, Season 2, episode 1) was definitely more than just camera flair. He’s intense, sure, but he’s also deeply curious and respectful of craft. He asked the kind of questions that make you reflect on why you do things the way you do. It didn’t change my philosophy, but it sharpened it - reminded me that authenticity and innovation aren’t opposites. And yes, there was an outdoor kitchen fire and cookoff at the end of the show. But there was also genuine connection over grain, smoke, and a shared love of flavour.

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Questions and words by AW.

Answers and photos courtesy of Peter Bignell.