Where the Highwood Story Begins.
Highwood Five
Five winters in the cask, no more. Clean, unhurried. The prairie's first word.
- Soft cereal
- Vanilla
- Gentle oak
- Prairie air
- Grain
- Prairie Wheat
- ABV
- 40%
- Format
- 750 ml
Three ages, one place.
One prairie, three ages: wheat at five, wheat and corn at fifteen, corn at twenty-five. Never blended across vintages, never hurried, never bottled younger than the label says. Each pour is a single age, honestly stated.
The expressions
What time does to grain.
Set side by side, these are one whisky at three different ages. Nothing is added between them. Only the years, and what the years do.
The aging arc
The slow part.
Everything past the still is waiting, done carefully and counted in years. Here is the wait, at three depths.
-
Year Five.
Prairie wheat, distilled clean. Five years is enough for vanilla to bloom and the cereal to soften, but not so long that the grain disappears. The wheat still speaks.
-
Year Fifteen.
Wheat and corn aged side by side, married late in the cask programme. Fifteen years gives the corn its honey and the wheat its grip. The crossover bottle, easy enough to share, serious enough to sip alone.
-
Year Twenty-Five.
Prairie corn, laid down in 2001. Twenty-five years of patience, a slow conversation between grain and wood, finished long after most stills have moved on. The halo of the lineage.
The cask programme
Wood, weather, and waiting.
Nothing here is blended across vintages. The Five, the Fifteen, and the Twenty-Five each leave their own casks at their own age, and that age is the only one on the label. The barrels are the long-aged spec Highwood has filled for decades, racked in an on-site rickhouse that holds the years steady and lets each age finish in its own time.
Which Highwood is for you?
Pick your pour.
You don't need all three. Start where you are: the easy first taste, the bottle you keep open, or the one you save for a night that earns it.
-
If you've never poured a Canadian whisky
Start with the Five.
Soft cereal, a little vanilla, gentle oak. Easy enough to share with company that doesn't drink whisky yet.
-
If your bar has serious bottles already
Take the Fifteen.
Wheat and corn aged side by side, the crossover bottle, the everyday pour. Holds its ground beside a serious neighbour.
-
If this is for a moment you'll remember
The Twenty-Five.
Twenty-five winters in the rickhouse. Layered oak, warm spice, dark fruit, a long quiet finish. The slow one.
A small almanac, closed for now.
The almanac closes here. The distillery does not. Below: where to find a bottle, how to visit, and a line for the trade and the press.