Glengoyne is fair up front, then the 18 doubles up

The house signature carries right up the ladder. Sweet and nutty, oak and chocolate, dried fruit and orange, the sherry influence deepening with each rung. It is Christmas-cake whisky, unashamedly so, and if that is your thing the good news is that the two cheapest bottles deliver it honestly. The bad news is what happens to the price when you climb.

Start at the bottom, where the value lives. The 10 Year Old is $99, and the model puts its ten nearest comparisons at exactly the same figure, so it sits right on its peer median: a fair price, not a dollar of premium, for a sherried ten-year-old with genuine character. There is a member offer attached to it too, so a loyalty card brings it below even that. The 12 Year Old is a small step up at $109 against a peer median of $102, about $7 or 7 percent over, which is a rounding error in premium terms. Together these two are the everyday Glengoyne, and both are priced the way an everyday bottle should be. If you just want to drink the style regularly, you can stop reading here and buy either.

The Cask Strength is the mid-range indulgence at $173 against a peer median of $117, so about $56 or 48 percent over. It is the most concentrated take on the house style: nuts and caramel, dried fruit and dark chocolate, toffee and a pepper kick, all of it dialled up by the higher strength. You pay a real premium for it, though cask-strength bottlings command one almost everywhere, and if you want Glengoyne at full volume this is how to get it. Add a few drops of water and it opens into a bigger, richer version of the 12.

The 15 Year Old is the awkward one to price this week. Its shelf ticket is $162 against a peer median of $127, which looks like a clear step above the pack. But it carries a member offer that pulls the real cost back down close to its peers, so what you actually pay turns on your card. Treat the shelf figure as the ceiling, not the price, and check the offer before you judge it. The whisky itself is the expected thing: sweeter and oakier than the 12, more chocolate, more sherry weight, a natural next rung for anyone who has worn out the younger bottles.

Then the top of the range, where the numbers stop being friendly. The 18 Year Old is $276 against a peer median of $137, a gap of $139, or about 102 percent: it is asking a little over double what comparable eighteen-year-olds cost, the steepest premium in the entire lineup. The whisky is genuinely excellent, deep and sherried, oak and honey and spice over that rich orchard-fruit core. But excellent is not the same as good value, and doubling the going rate is a lot to ask even for a very good malt. The 21 Year Old is dearer still at $361 but, oddly, the better value in relative terms: its peer median is $207, so the gap is $154, or about 75 percent. Still a heavy premium, just less absurd than the 18's. If you are spending this kind of money on old, sherried Glengoyne, the 21 is the more defensible of the two, even though it costs more in absolute dollars.

The desk median sits at $168, which is high, and it is pulled up by exactly the bottles you would expect. Glengoyne's shape is a common and slightly frustrating one. The everyday bottles are priced fairly, the character is fully present from the 10 upward, and the premium is loaded onto the aged expressions where the brand knows its enthusiasts will pay. The good whisky is cheap. The dear whisky is not better value for being dear.

So what should you buy. For everyday drinking, the 10 at $99 is the answer, and with a member offer it is a genuine steal for a sherried single malt. The 12 at $109 is barely more and a touch more polished, so choose between them on a coin-flip. If you want Glengoyne turned up to full, the Cask Strength at $173 is the treat to reach for, premium and all. Check the member price on the 15 before deciding whether it belongs in your basket. And approach the 18 and 21 the way you would any luxury purchase: buy them because you specifically want old, sherried Glengoyne and the money is not the deciding factor, because on value neither makes a case for itself. The 21, at least, over-charges less than the 18.

The pattern here is the oldest one in whisky retail. The bottles that built the distillery's name are priced to keep you loyal. The bottles that trade on that name are priced to profit from it. Drink the 10 and the 12 for the sheer pleasure of the thing, treat the Cask Strength as a reward, and let the aged bottles tempt someone with deeper pockets and a looser sense of value.