For some whisky drinkers in Kampala, the difference between one bottle and another used to be simple: the price.
There was whisky, then there was more expensive whisky. If the bottle looked good and the budget allowed, that was usually enough reason to pick it.
For one Kampala whisky drinker, that changed after spending time at The Chef’s Table, where whisky conversations and tastings turned what had once been a straightforward drink into something worth paying attention to.
“I used to think whisky was just whisky. I never understood why one brand could have five different bottles and all of them had different prices,” the customer says. “After the mentorship, I started becoming deliberate about the expressions I was drinking.”
That may be one of the clearest signs of how Kampala’s drinking culture is changing. The city is slowly moving from drinking whisky to understanding whisky.
And increasingly, the people doing the explaining are those behind the bar.
For years, bartending was largely about getting the order right. Today, Kampala’s better bars have turned the bartender into something closer to a guide. Ask for a whisky and you might get a few questions in return: Do you prefer something smoky? Fruity? Smooth? Are you drinking it neat, with ice, or would you like to try something different?
The bartender is no longer simply reaching for a bottle. They are helping customers decide what goes into the glass.
It is a change that has followed the growth of Kampala’s premium drinking culture and the arrival of more expressions for consumers to explore. Brands such as The Singleton, Johnnie Walker and Roe & Co have all found themselves part of these conversations, each offering drinkers a different entry point into whisky and whiskey.
At The Singleton’s Big Meeting, for instance, whisky enthusiasts have been taken through single-malt tasting and mentorship, learning how to identify flavours, compare expressions and understand why bottles from the same brand can taste remarkably different.
For someone who once saw whisky as simply whisky, that education can change the way a drink is ordered.
Steven Baguma, a UBL Reserve Brand Ambassador, says much of the confusion comes from people wanting to explore whisky but lacking the information to make a choice.
“Many times, people wish to have a whisky, but fail to make up their minds because of limited information and knowledge,” he has said. “We are here to help them make informed decisions, plus, ensure they enjoy whisky the best way it ought to be enjoyed.”
Even the spelling can become a lesson.
Baguma explains that “whisky” and “whiskey” belong to the same broad family of distilled grain spirits, but the spelling generally follows the tradition of the country producing it. Scotch and Japanese producers use “whisky”, while Irish and American producers commonly use “whiskey”. That is why The Singleton is a Scotch whisky, while Roe & Co is an Irish whiskey.
For the drinker, however, the more interesting lesson is what happens after the bottle is opened.
Jane Apio has experienced this change from both sides of the bar. Her entry into bartending was initially practical, but training transformed it into a profession built around knowledge, technique and customer experience.
“As a mixologist, I would be consulted on what drinks to mix,” Apio has said. “A customer would walk up to me and ask to take a gin. I would then give them a range of drinks that would blend well with the gin.”
It is that consultative relationship that is becoming increasingly common in Kampala.
Veteran mixologist Ivan Kanyesigye believes the first responsibility of anyone behind a bar is to understand what they are serving.
“When I am teaching people, the first thing I show them is not how to make a cocktail but help them understand their drinks,” he says.
The difference is subtle but important. A customer who understands what they are drinking is more likely to explore. They may try a different Johnnie Walker expression instead of ordering the familiar bottle, discover The Singleton neat before deciding whether it belongs in a cocktail, or encounter Roe & Co and realise that Irish whiskey does not have to be approached in quite the same way as Scotch.
Masterclasses and competitions have also become part of Kampala’s bar calendar, bringing bartenders together to sharpen their skills, exchange ideas and test their knowledge. A recent Tanqueray masterclass, for example, brought more than 30 bartenders together for sessions covering mixology, technique and the business of bartending.
The lessons may be about gin, but the principle travels easily across the back bar: know your drink before you serve it.
For Kanyesigye, however, the bartender’s job is not to show off how much they know.
“I am not there to make you drunk, I am there to ensure that you have a good time,” he says.
Perhaps that is why whisky education is quietly taking hold. It does not necessarily require a formal classroom. Sometimes it is a conversation at the bar, a tasting at The Chef’s Table or a bartender suggesting that, before ordering the usual, you try something else.
Kampala’s whisky culture is becoming less about knowing the most expensive bottle and more about knowing why you like what is in your glass.
And sometimes, all it takes is a bartender to point you in the right direction.
