Whisky Without The Rulebook

Stuart Gregor on the people, place and possibilities shaping LARK’s next chapter.

Early in his time as LARK CEO, Stuart Gregor noticed a curious contradiction. People spoke warmly about the brand, yet some had never actually tasted its whisky. When he asked why, the answer was often the same: they couldn’t afford to.

For a brand with that much goodwill, it was a revealing gap. LARK had earned admiration, but Gregor saw an opportunity to make the whisky itself part of more people’s lives: more first tastes, more conversations across the bar and more reasons to explore what Tasmania has to offer.

That ambition is personal. Having moved from journalism to founding communications agency Liquid Ideas and co-founding Four Pillars, Gregor knows the value of a brand with a story worth sharing. LARK was one of the few Australian spirits businesses that could have drawn him back into distilling, he says, because its history, founder, whisky and home in Tasmania form such a compelling combination.

“GREAT BRANDS TELL THE BEST STORIES. THEY DON’T MAKE UP THE BEST STORIES. THEY HAVE THE BEST STORIES.”

LARK’s begins in 1992, when Bill and Lyn Lark helped revive whisky distilling in Tasmania after a long absence. More than three decades later, Bill remains a passionate advocate for the business, and Gregor has seen firsthand how warmly bartenders, retailers and whisky lovers respond to him. That connection between people, place and product is the foundation Gregor hopes to build on.

It helps that Bill has a habit of stealing the room. Gregor describes travelling with him and watching bartenders, retailers and duty-free teams light up when he appears. There is real affection beneath the jokes: for a whisky brand looking ahead, having its founder so present keeps the history human.

A Tasmanian story, in its own voice

For Gregor, the opportunity isn’t to make an Australian version of a familiar Scottish, Irish or American whisky. It’s to give people a reason to discover something distinctive about Tasmania. The island’s climate, water, barley, casks and independent spirit all have a part to play in the character of LARK’s whiskies.

“We’re uniquely Australian. And more specifically, we’re uniquely Tasmanian,” he says.

He is equally interested in how that identity is expressed. A word like “dram” comes with a Scottish heritage; “pour” feels closer to the way Australians might naturally talk about a drink. Gregor raises the idea with a sense of humour, as one small way Australian whisky could develop a voice that feels like its own, without losing respect for the traditions that came before it.

It is also what he means when he talks about New World Whisky. Rather than measuring LARK against the flavour profile of another country, he sees its character in the choices made at home: the way local brewers’ barley is fermented, the texture it lends the whisky, the influence of Tasmanian peat and the richness of fortified-wine casks. Each expression offers a different way into that story.

More ways into whisky

Making the story easier to share also means making the whisky easier to discover. Gregor is conscious that premium Australian whisky can feel like a category reserved for enthusiasts, particularly when the first bottle represents a substantial investment. His aim is to widen that invitation without compromising the quality and complexity that established LARK’s reputation.

The evolving Signature Collection is central to that approach. Dark LARK is intended as an accessible introduction with a contemporary edge. From there, Fire Trail offers an approachable, unpeated style; Devil’s Storm introduces Tasmanian peat alongside LARK’s characteristic fortified-cask richness; and Ruby Abyss takes that richness further, drawing on maturation in old fortified-wine casks, primarily port.

For the trade, that gives the range a natural progression without requiring every guest to arrive with a whisky education. Someone might discover LARK through a mixed drink, return for a familiar expression and, over time, become curious about the others. The starting point matters less than creating a good first experience.

Gregor’s own family has offered a reminder of how that can happen. His daughter, who had never considered herself a whisky drinker, found she enjoyed whisky with fresh apple juice at particular bars. To him, that is the opportunity in a well-considered serve: it introduces someone to flavours they might not otherwise have explored.

And while he appreciates whisky neat, he has little interest in insisting it must be enjoyed that way. A carefully made Whisky Sour, a highball, ginger beer or cola can all have their place. As he puts it, “Have it as you like it. Take it however you like it.”

“NO ONE EVER WENT OUT FOR A WHISKEY AND THOUGHT TO THEMSELVES, I HOPE THIS IS REALLY BORING AND SERIOUS.”

At a rugby league get-together, for instance, Gregor’s own choice would be a Dark LARK highball or whisky with ginger beer. He’s also partial to Dark LARK with cola and lime. These aren’t serves designed to win a debate about the “right” way to drink whisky; they’re familiar combinations that might make someone curious enough to order another.

“YOU CAN WIN THE WORLD WITH A PERFECTLY MADE WHISKY SOUR.”

Where the story comes alive

That openness creates an important role for bartenders. A bottle can communicate plenty through its presentation, but the person pouring it can connect the whisky to a place, an occasion and the guest in front of them. Gregor sees that personal recommendation as something even the strongest advertising campaign cannot replicate.

Devil’s Storm is the expression he and Bill often find themselves coming back to when they taste through the range. Its touch of Tasmanian peat and fortified-cask character make it, in Gregor’s view, a particularly recognisable expression of LARK. It is also one he enjoys seeing used creatively: in an Old Fashioned, for example, or even as a small pour over an oyster – a pairing he believes deserves a wider audience.

This is where his mischievous streak shows. He talks about pouring just five millilitres of Devil’s Storm over an oyster with the excitement of someone who has stumbled upon a new classic. Whether or not it becomes a menu staple, it’s the kind of suggestion that invites bartenders to play with LARK rather than simply preserve it.

“DEVIL’S STORM AND OYSTERS, IF WE GET IT RIGHT, IT COULD BECOME A THING.”

Dark LARK opens up another set of possibilities, from a simple highball to Gregor’s own preference for whisky with ginger beer. None of these serves needs an elaborate explanation. The value lies in finding a flavour, story or pairing that makes sense for the guest, and giving them an enjoyable way to encounter Tasmanian whisky.

The same opportunity extends beyond Australia. Gregor imagines bartenders in places such as Singapore, Hong Kong and London sharing not just tasting notes, but a sense of where LARK comes from: the conditions that shape it, the people who make it and the distilling history that Bill Lark helped revive.

Closer to home, he hopes Australian hospitality professionals will feel increasingly connected to the whisky being made in their own country. Having seen how readily drinks education can focus on established international regions, he would love local whisky to have an equally familiar place in the conversations happening across Australian bars.

Ultimately, his invitation to the trade is a personal one: visit Tasmania when the opportunity arises, experience LARK at its source and decide what part of its story resonates with you. Because LARK’s next chapter won’t be told by the distillery alone. It will take shape in the bars, bottle shops and conversations where someone discovers their first or next Tasmanian pour.