Pour me a poitín: The moonshine running through the veins of every Irishman
Laced with mystical properties that promise to enhance a greyhound’s speed or revive newborn calves, Irish moonshine offers so much more than an illegal nip against the cold.
There is a marvellous clip in the BBC archives, filmed in 1962 in black and white, in which a bewhiskered presenter stands in the ‘lonely hill country of Co Cork’ to explain poitín to the nation. It is, he says, the ‘do it yourself hooch’, the ‘Mountain Dew’, the ‘illicitly distilled whiskey’ of Ireland, pronounced pu cheen or poteen for the more Anglicised ear.
The camera follows a pair of uniformed officers striding the hills, looking, somewhat half-heartedly, for a still. ‘It’s a gentleman’s business,’ the presenter explains. The police will only act if the distiller is caught and, if he is, he will go quietly. The still itself, glimpsed briefly in the footage and supposedly illegal, looks like something from a child’s science experiment: old tin cans, lengths of hose forming a ramshackle contraption that somehow produces a spirit strong enough to strip paint.
'It was made in secret in the hills and boglands of the west, more a matter of custom and quiet defiance than crime'
Poitín is part of Irish folklore and runs through the veins of every Irishman — if not in body, in spirit. It was created by monks in the 6th century, long before the Scots laid claim to inventing whisky, and its name derives from the Irish pota, or small pot, after the vessels it was distilled in.
All sorts of mystical properties were attributed to it, from giving greater speed to a greyhound, if its legs were anointed by it, to reviving weak newborn calves. However, on Christmas Day in 1661, it was outlawed by the English Crown, frustrated by its inability to collect taxes on poitín’s production and, for almost 300 years afterwards, it was made in secret in the hills and boglands of the west, more a matter of custom and quiet defiance than crime.
Ironically, once it was outlawed, it was the Church, not the Crown, that held the real power over distillers. The men in black robes, as the presenter puts it, carried more authority than the men in blue uniforms, with the Church by then regarding the drink as the root of all evil.
These days, it is less about stills hidden on fertile slopes and more about a spirit reclaiming its place in Irish culture, as part of the Slow Food movement that has swept the country over the past two decades. In 2008, it was granted Geographical Indication status by the EU and, today, it’s highly regarded as a sophisticated ingredient for a cocktail. Bars such as the multi award-winning Bar 1661 in Dublin, which specialises in poitín mixes, have helped the spirit travel beyond the Emerald Isle into cocktail menus in New York and fashionable areas of East London.
Typically 40% in strength, poitín can be made from grain, sugar beet and potatoes. One of its leading distillers is the award-winning Shortcross distillery on the 500-acre Rademon estate in Co Down, owned by David Boyd-Armstrong and his wife, Fiona, who inherited the estate from her parents.
'It works in everything from espresso martinis to mules — any cocktail that calls for gin, vodka or white rum, you can replace it with poitín'
Her father thought she was ‘crazy,’ explains David, when Fiona first suggested creating a distillery. Undeterred, the pair launched their gin in April 2014 after they married, started making whiskey in 2015 and produced poitín in 2021. ‘It has all the flavour punch of a whiskey, but the mixability of a white spirit,’ he explains, describing their own version as ‘soft, fruity, with a lovely hint of spice, which makes it very approachable. It works in everything from espresso martinis to mules—any cocktail that calls for gin, vodka or white rum, you can replace it with poitín’.
Today, poitín has become part of the tourist culture of Ireland under the banner of distillery tours. Reflecting Ireland’s history, there is a mild north and south divide to it. As David reveals: ‘In the south, you have to register as a brewery first before you can distil whiskey or poitín. In the north, brewing is covered under the distiller’s licence.’
Yet there has always been one Irish drinks tradition across the two jurisdictions, with poitín now emerging from being outlawed and learning how to behave in public — and being celebrated for it. No more men in blue chasing it down through the mountains. These days, the only thing being pursued is the perfect espresso martini.
