About
Galway's first legal distillery in over 100 years, founded by sixth-generation poitin distiller Pádraic Ó Griallais. Named after Micil Mac Chearra, who began distilling illicit poitin in 1848 on a Connemara hillside. Commenced whiskey production in 2020. First whiskey release in July 2024: a peated single malt with triple sherry cask finish, 360 bottles sold out in under 3 minutes. Also produces poitin and gin.
Production Details
The Micil Distillery Tale
The Atlantic winds carry salt and stories across Galway Bay, and in 2016, they brought whispers of something stirring in Ireland's western reaches. For the first time in over a century, legal distillation would return to this ancient city, where the Corrib meets the sea and Gaelic still colors the conversation.
Pádraic Ó Griallais stood at the threshold of legitimacy, carrying six generations of hidden knowledge in his hands. His ancestor, Micil Mac Chearra, had begun distilling poitin on a Connemara hillside in 1848—those famine years when survival demanded ingenuity and secrecy. What flowed from Mac Chearra's illicit still sustained more than bodies; it preserved a craft that would otherwise vanish into the bog mist.
The distillery that bears Micil's name rises from this inheritance of defiance. Here, in Connacht's rugged embrace, Ó Griallais transforms generations of clandestine wisdom into something the taxman can finally smile upon. The transition from poitin to whiskey came naturally—both spirits share the same rebellious DNA, the same understanding of grain and fire that runs deeper than any legal distinction.
In 2020, whiskey production began in earnest, the copper pot still breathing life into malted barley as Mac Chearra's ghost might have nodded approval. The waiting began—that particular patience Irish whiskey demands, where years dissolve into the wood and emerge as liquid memory.
July 2024 marked the moment six generations had been building toward. The first whiskey release—a peated single malt kissed by triple sherry cask finishing—lasted exactly three minutes in the marketplace. Three hundred sixty bottles, gone before the Atlantic could complete another surge against Galway's stone walls.
The stillhouse hums with more than machinery; it resonates with vindication. What began in shadow on a Connemara hill now stands proud in daylight, bridging the gap between Ireland's hidden distilling heritage and its bold renaissance. Here, where the old ways meet new legitimacy, Micil Distillery writes the next chapter of Galway's liquid story, one legal drop at a time.