TLDR

‘Craft’ doesn’t always mean handmade

In the whisky world, “craft” often suggests small scale and authenticity, yet the term is largely unregulated. Many so-called craft whiskies rely on sourced spirit or automated processes. True craftsmanship lies less in scale or marketing language and more in transparency, terroir, and the distiller’s attention to detail.

The Long Read

The word craft has become one of the most overused in the drinks industry. Whether on bottles of whisky, gin, or beer, it promises individuality, authenticity, and care, an antidote to mass production. Yet in whisky, as in beer, “craft” does not always mean handmade. The term is rarely defined, frequently stretched, and sometimes entirely disconnected from the process it describes.

While “craft” implies human skill, independence, and tradition, many producers use it as a marketing tool. In reality, a whisky labelled as craft may be distilled in a modern, automated plant or even sourced from an industrial producer hundreds of miles away. The whisky might still be excellent, but it is not necessarily handmade.

What does “craft” actually mean?

Traditionally, a craftsperson was someone who mastered a trade through experience and care. Applied to whisky, that ideal points to distillers who make decisions by taste and touch rather than by algorithm. Yet in modern production, automation and consistency are essential, and most distilleries, even small ones, rely on computerised systems for efficiency and safety.

Because “craft” and “handmade” are not legally defined terms, almost any distiller can use them. The American Distilling Institute, for example, sets voluntary limits for what counts as craft, but these are not binding. In practice, a whisky can be called “craft” if it is bottled by hand, even when the spirit inside was produced elsewhere.

Parallels with the craft beer movement

The evolution of “craft” in whisky mirrors what happened earlier in beer. When microbreweries began to challenge industrial lagers in the 1980s and 1990s, they emphasised flavour, locality, and independence. Over time, large corporations bought many of these breweries, yet the labels still read craft beer. As ownership changed, the meaning of “craft” blurred.

The same process is visible in whisky. A growing number of small distilleries have been acquired by multinational groups or source their spirit from larger facilities while maintaining the appearance of small-scale authenticity. The result is a confusing landscape in which “craft” describes everything from one-person startups to brands backed by global corporations.

Terroir and the search for authenticity

Some distilleries have responded to this dilution of meaning by focusing instead on terroir, the idea that place, soil, and climate shape the character of the spirit. Few have pursued this philosophy more passionately than Bruichladdich on Islay and the (now sadly closed) Waterford Distillery in Ireland.

Bruichladdich has championed the concept of barley provenance for decades, working with local farmers and releasing bottlings that highlight specific farms, fields, and barley varieties. Waterford, founded by Mark Reynier (formerly of Bruichladdich), took this idea even further. It treated whisky like fine wine: each farm’s harvest was distilled, matured, and bottled separately to express its unique terroir.

Although Waterford closed its doors in 2024, its legacy remains important. Both distilleries demonstrated that genuine craftsmanship need not rely on small size or handmade romanticism, it can also mean a deep respect for origin, transparency, and traceability.

Why “craft” doesn’t always mean handmade

Many so-called craft whiskies are not distilled by the companies that sell them. Instead, they purchase new-make spirit or mature stock from industrial producers, often in large quantities, before bottling it under their own label. This practice, sometimes known as sourcing, is entirely legitimate but sits uneasily beside marketing stories about local artisans and hand-filled casks.

Even distilleries that do distil their own spirit often depend on highly automated mashing and fermentation systems. While technology allows precision, consistency, and safety, it also means that few whiskies today are made truly “by hand.” The artistry lies not in the lack of machines but in how the distiller uses them.

The myth of exclusivity: Pappy and the power of selection

The cult of Pappy Van Winkle is a reminder that “craft” and quality are not always the same thing. Despite its near-mythic reputation, Pappy is not distilled in some hidden Kentucky barn, it is sourced from the same stocks as other Buffalo Trace whiskies. The difference lies in selection. Pappy’s casks are simply the best of the bunch, the most flavourful, mature, and balanced barrels chosen for extended ageing and careful blending. Its excellence is not about scale or handmade romance, but about curation and patience. True craft can sometimes mean knowing which barrels not to bottle.

Reinventing smallness: Edradour and the illusion of intimacy

Edradour offers another instructive example. Once proudly billed as Scotland’s smallest distillery, it held that title until a new generation of truly micro-scale operations, from Strathearn to Dornoch, rendered the claim obsolete. Rather than compete on size, Edradour reinvented itself as “Scotland’s Little Gem,” leaning into rustic charm and traditional presentation. The distillery’s evolution shows how “craft” can be as much a story as a scale, a mood of nostalgia that survives even as production expands and equipment modernises.

Craft isn’t always better

There is also a temptation to equate “craft” with superior. Yet smallness alone does not guarantee quality. Copper, for instance, is mission-critical to whisky character, its catalytic reactions strip away unwanted sulphur compounds during distillation. Some small-scale distilleries, constrained by budget or equipment size, lack sufficient copper contact, or, in rare cases, any at all in key parts of the process. The result can be a spirit with sulphurous notes that no amount of premium cask finishing can fully conceal.

Equally, small producers lack the buying power of the big players. Accessing top-quality casks, or even any casks at all, can be a challenge when cooperages and brokers prioritise established names with volume contracts. While large distilleries can afford first-fill sherry butts or rare ex-bourbon barrels, smaller ones may have to settle for tired wood, limiting the spirit’s potential no matter how well it was made. In such cases, “craft” becomes less about artistry and more about perseverance in the face of scarcity.

Transparency as the true measure of craft

Because the word craft is so easily abused, transparency has become its truest expression. Distilleries that openly share their processes, where their spirit is made, who distils it, which farms provide the grain, embody craftsmanship far more than those that rely on vague language and nostalgic imagery.

For drinkers, the best approach is curiosity: to ask who made this, where was it distilled, and what makes it unique. A genuinely craft producer will be proud to answer.

In summary

“Craft” is not a synonym for “handmade,” nor is it a guarantee of authenticity. A whisky can be industrially produced yet marketed as craft, just as a small distillery can make truly artisan spirit without ever using the term. The heart of craft lies not in marketing, but in honesty, in the distiller’s care for raw materials, for place, and for the final spirit itself.

True craft, like terroir, cannot be faked. It can only be earned through transparency, integrity, and time.