27/12/2024 Benriach

The BenRiach 17yo Septendecim (46%, OB, ex-Bourbon Barrels, b. pre-2017): nose: heavy peat, earthy, mossy. There is nothing maritime at play, here. Instead, we have crusty earth, baked by weeks of uninterrupted scorching weather, and corroded swarf or rusty metal filings. Soon thereafter, that becomes moist, excessively moist. The dried earth becomes not mud, but chewed food, masticated into a homogenous mass of nutrients (le bol alimentaire, as it is called in French), spat out in an unappetising puddle of barf. This is dirty as a Ben Nevis, minus the wine influence. Thankfully, that passes too: a minute later, we are in the company of breakfast cereals (no milk yet), and crusty bread, flour and yeast, Weetabix and dried-out gravy, the last of which is less breakfast-y, I suppose. The second nose is more-straightforwardly smoky. Smoke from dried wood, meandering through a chimney made of hollow concrete blocks. It somehow makes me think of a Roman hypocaust. The longer one noses, the drier it becomes, by the way. Mouth: oily and custard-y, thick, it almost immediately turns inky. Purple and black inks that are bitter as soon as one chews. Watercolour, earthenware clay, a dash of wood stain too, to give it an ethylene lick, and, fleetingly and gobsmackingly, a kick of Chaource rind, acidic, milky, oh! so recognisable, but blink and you will miss it. The second sip has yellow-white fruits, clearly outlined: Mirabelle plums, nectarines, white peaches. Chewing adds a bold smoke from burning twigs, slightly acrid. It gives the firm belief that one has just taken a swig of warmed vase water. Finish: strangely, it is mostly chocolate, here. Smoked chocolate, to be sure, but chocolate nonetheless. Melted milk chocolate, smoky chocolate milk, smoked chocolate pudding. Retro-nasal olfaction picks up a huge note of stagnant water from a dug-out peat bog, which gives decayed lichens, gunpowder infusion, then dried sphagnum moss, all floating around the herbs-fuelled fireplace in a remote bothy. Very peaty and smoky, the finish has remnants of rusty metal, though it is closer to the antique farming tools outside the museum in Rackwick than it is to corroded swarf, now. The second gulp is smokier still; a chicken covered in herbs (oregano, marjoram), and charred to a point it is clearly no longer good to eat. In the long run, we find charred yellow fruits in a mugful of soot-y vase water. Remember the whiskey from Tyrone? This is similar, but at a decent ABV. I am not convinced I could drink loads of this, but in small doses, it is good. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)

2024/12/24 The Arngibbon

The Arngibbon 10yo 2013/2024 Speyside Release 5 (50%, Stirling Distillery Sons of Scotland, Bourbon Barrel, C#1793, 222b, b#171): another while-we-wait bottling from Stirling Distillery. The Cashly was a Highlander, this is a Speysider. Nose: surprisingly grassy, which is not in line with my recollection of it, but closer to The Cashly, Fresh sage, lemon thyme, some kind of conifer, juniper, and tiled-floor detergent. Behind that is a pasty or another, butternut squash topped with lemon thyme, perhaps rosemary, and rolled in a flaky puff pastry. All in all, it is light and bright, but that grassiness is hard to miss. The second nose has hardened crayons, dried-out marker pens, and old colour-pencil leads. Those are still punctuated by lemon-y herbs: thyme, chamomile, not really mint, but fresh Kaffir lime leaves, maybe even lemongrass. Mouth: hm. There is a soft-but-clear bitterness at play, and the inside of a new sports shoe (synthetic foam, glue, processed leather). or the synthetic carpet/fur inside a case of Douglas Laing Old & Rare A Platinum Selection from 2011. Chewing reveals a soapier side, albeit an ashy soap, rather than a horribly-shampoo-y one. Time adds burnt lichens and Verdigris. The second sip is more palatable, less synthetic. Instead, we have sage stems, crushed pine cones, minty biltong (a matter of texture, not meatiness), and mentholated custard. It tastes as odd as it reads. In the long run, one may detect citrus peels too, mandarine, to be precise, juicy, chewy, and bitter. Finish: still grassy, but not only. We see dried sage sprinkled on vanilla custard. A long, warming finish it is, that ends up rolling out liquorice wheels. The second gulp is strongly custardy, with enough herbs to compete with the vanilla. Those herbs morph into mandarine foliage, over time, with the fruity bitterness that implies. This is not terrible, though not a resounding success either. 6/10 (Thanks for the samples, PSc)

15/10/2024 Jura

We are on Jura. Obviously, it would be rude not to stop by the distillery.

How far we are from Islay, in terms of footfall! We are the only ones there, for a long while. On the shelves, however, it is the same story as on the neighbouring island: the entry level is affordable, and the top range has the specs of the mid-range, but is three times as expensive as logic would dictate. Bah.

After a brief discussion we decide to take the exclusive tour that starts shortly. We have to wait, in case someone else shows up, but I am confident it will just be us... until five minutes from the start: a guest from the hotel across the road wants to verify what tour his group is on, and whether they can change it. They are on tomorrow late morning, but they have a midday departure that they cannot miss, and would prefer to tour today. The staff is as accommodating as possible, which delays the start of our tour. The bloke goes back and forth between the shop and his pals, who are still at the hotel. In the end, they decide to tour tomorrow as planned, probably not wearing the right makeup to cross the street today. Honestly, we are at peace with that. It means we have the place to ourselves, yay!

The tour is informative. The guide cleverly focusses on what is unique at Jura, so we can spend more time in the warehouse. The Porteus mill is in full swing, which is nice to see; it is noisy AF.

The mill

The mash tun

The mash

We get to put our mugs on top of the washbacks: it is like being punched in the face by a shovel made of vinegar. Never smelled that elsewhere.

KA-POW!

The still room

Racking warehouse

Our tour ends in the warehouse, where five drams are waiting to be poured (or eight, in the end). No valinching here (COVID-19 has well and truly happened): bottles have been pre-filled.

Jura 15yo Sherry Casks (42.8%, OB UK exclusive imported by Stillman Spirits, ex-Bourbon Barrels finished in Oloroso Sherry Casks): nose: sticky toffee pudding and melted chocolate of a high cocoa content. Next are prunes, currants, and a softly-earthy side too. This is Sherry maturation one-o-one. Deeper nosing adds a dollop of blue plasticine that seems flavoured with berries -- blueberries most prominent, yet also lingonberries, shortly thereafter. That marches towards yellow fruits in a jam form, and we end up with apricot jelly and nectarine compote, as well as honey-glazed pear slices. Shaking the glass awakens a gentle vegetal greenness, spring green hazel, or such. The second nose offers baked honey-glazed strawberries, and a cherry tart augmented with thick crème pâtissière and sugar-free Haribo Bananas. Mouth: thinner than anticipated, the attack is full of yellow-fruit juices (plum, nectarine, apricot), none of the pulp. The texture is that thin without being frankly watery. Chewing unleashes a generous dash of liquid wax, whether that is furniture polish, car polish, or floor wax. It is slightly bitter here too. All that wax, surely. The second sip sees banana flambée, fruity, caramelised, and alcoholised (as in: there is alcohol in the preparation, not that it is invasive). It comes across as chewier too, which takes us back to Haribo Bananas. Finish: milky, the finish reignites the nose's chocolate, even if it is now a lot shier, and has a significantly-lower cocoa content. All the same, this is a fairly-long finish that sticks to the gob. Indeed, chocolate coats the walls of the mouth. Confectionary appears with the second gulp: something with hazelnut or yellow fruit, not spoiled by any layer of granulated sugar. No, this is chewy and moreish. Very pleasant, if, perhaps, not very special or unique either. 7/10 (I finally try this on 16/12/2024)

Jura 16yo b.2024 Perspective No. 01 (46.5%, OB Perspective imported by Stillman Spirits, American White Oak Bourbon Barrels finished in Oloroso Sherry Casks, L4222 P/026236): nose: this is a slap of hazelnut in the snoot. Chopped hazelnut, hazelnut oil, and hazelnut liqueur, after a few seconds. A bit of swirling in the glass, and it gains chocolate truffle, pralines filled with hazelnut liqueur, hazelnut chocolate, and ganache. More shaking, and coffee comes out, cut with hazelnut cream. A little further on, we spot grated nutmeg, which, one might say, would go well with a hazelnut-cream coffee. It is creamier and creamier with time, and reaches affogato levels. Suddenly, plasticine rocks up, as if fallen from the sky. The second nose is fruitier: it adds mixed peel, or, more accurately, mixed citrus zest (not candied, in other words), then splashes that with hair produces -- lacquer at first, followed by shampoo. Mind you, it also has warmed hazelwood branches by the fire. Nice. Mouth: plasticine-y, chewy, if not quite rubbery, it has a soft bitterness, then rushes back to its hazelnut roots: oily hazelnuts, far from the chickpea-like thing a hazelnut can turn into when drying. Chewing brings back the liqueur impression, now closer to Mandarine Napoléon. The second sip is somewhat more stripping. It combines the bitterness and acidity of citrus, with the dryness of cut branches from two-or-three seasons ago. Chewing makes it juicier, close to orange juice, in fact. Thinking about it, it is closest to orange jellies. Finish: ooft! this is creamy. A flood of hazelnut cream, punctuated with dried mandarine zest that provides a pleasant bitter touch. It has an undeniable sweetness too, even if that is almost obfuscated by the creamy bitterness. This feels very much like a dessert whisky -- something that would go really well with profiteroles, for example, or with a chou à la crème (vanilla cream puff, as they are sometimes called). As with the nose and mouth, repeated quaffing unveils a more-citrus-y profile in which orange jellies shine, supported by marmalade spread on sourdough, and a dash of mandarine liqueur in a cup of chococino augmented with a splash of hazelnut milk. One may struggle to find any Jura character, here, but, if one is ready to overlook that, it is a cracking drop. 8/10 (I finally try this on 20/12/2024)

Jura 7yo 2016/2024 (60%, OB Distillery Cask, C#1428, b#16): nose: pretty neutral at first, with a trace of surgical alcohol, for someone intently looking for it. Warming up the glass in the hand creates a timid medicinal number, with plaster glue, old gauze, and medicine boxes made of cardboard in an overheated pharmacy. Over time, that opens up to give strawberry gums and laurel leaves. In fact, those leaves become more pronounced and waxier as time goes on, hinting at hebe. We keep the medicinal touch, however. The second nose feels more welcoming; it offers more sweets of the red and purple varieties, chewy fruit-flavoured stuff pumped with processed sugars and colorant. The only medicinal note at this point is that of plaster glue. Mouth: chewy, fruity, here are violet gums, grape-flavoured gums, and Mirabelle plums. Chewing gives a fleeting-but-clear lick of wood stain, which is to say: solvents and carbonyl. Scratch that! It is not fleeting at all; it is an unexpected combination of wood stain and wine gums. The second sip strangely comes across as more powerful, in terms of alcoholic strength, and spicier. Our confectionary discoveries land on brown Boules Magiques, which spells ginger and cinnamon. It is slightly numbing. Further sips have a faint celery paste that is well original. Finish: oh! wow, what lovely chewy fruit-flavoured sweets. Currants, blueberries, elderberries, myrtles. Although the alcohol is well integrated, it is obviously present, which means we have wine gums here too. This is a trip down memory lane, and into a 1980s sweets shoppe, to be precise. Next to chewy fruit drops and gums, we find red bootlaces and Cola Bottles. Repeated quaffing makes for a milky impression on the tongue, a milk that is augmented with powdered cinnamon. Dough-y cinnamon rolls, not totally baked, chewy cassia bark, and a little liquorice to boot -- bootlaces come to mind (see what I did, there?), yet it is not intense enough be the black kind. It dies with a gob-warming note. I will rate this conservatively. May go one higher on another day. 7/10 (I finally try this on 09/12/2024)

Jura 2014/2024 (58%, OB Distillery Cask, C#422): bottle number not written on the label. Nose: a bit indistinct. Twigs and dried herbs, maybe. Let us allow it to breathe a bit... Yes, that is better. It comes across as a typical Bourbon maturation, with shortbread and custard-cream biscuits. It has a fleeting note of alcohol that shouts "whisky" without being more precise, as well as a whisper of bathroom detergent (meant in a good way). Shaking the glass brings us back to twigs and dried herbs, although it is now closer to dried cereals than herbs, really: wheat, spelt, corn. The second nose has melted toffee, shortbread dough, (caramel?) flan, and a gentle boozy layer that is neither particularly refined, nor well defined. Mouth: Bourbon maturation alright! We have butterscotch, caramel flan, and toasted brans. Next to those are caramelised wheat puffs, a drop of cough syrup, and wooden-pencil-case lacquer. Chewing releases a certain bitterness, herbs or polished wood, and stone chippings. It remains rather fresh, though, which suggests Tiger Balm, or camphor. The second sip feels greener, with oregano, lichen, gentian, jellies rocket, dried moss, and even dead leaves (from an unidentified tree). Finish> the arrival licks like a donkey, then disappears just as quickly as it rocked up, and leaves the tongue numb and the mouth coated in toffee, butterscotch, and thick vanilla cream (think of the filling in a custard-cream biscuit). The second gulp adds a minty freshness, and a herbal-mineral bitterness, yet it remains a vanilla-fuelled affair. Simple. Efficient. 7/10 (I finally try this on 23/12/2024)

Jura 33yo 1990/2023 (44.8%, OB Distillery Cask, Sherry Hogshead, C#2188, b#15): our host must have been gauging our level during the first few drams: at some point, she looks at the line-up, rummages through a cupboard, and replaces a young, distillery-exclusive expression with this. Who do I hear complaining? Exactly. Nose: phwoar! The depth and richness a whisky gains with an additional ten-fifteen years in a cask cannot be faked, can it? We have dark-wood rustic furniture (cupboards and wardrobes, mostly), but also forest floor -- dead leaves, slightly-damp rich soil, wild mushrooms. We promptly go back to furniture; encaustic and decades' worth of layers of wax have created a patina the smell of which is so characteristic. Perhaps we can smell car polish too, or a drop of nail varnish. This is a very-elegant Sherry-cask maturation, at any rate. The second nose adds cocoa and coffee beans, with the former louder than the latter by a comfortable margin. It really is an earthy one, though neither dry, nor toasted. Nor is it muddy: the dampness is akin to that of potting soil upon opening a new bag, or of decaying tree bark. It smells like the greenhouse of my grandfather. Mouth: on the tongue, we have a blend of flat cola, lukewarm ginger beer and cinnamon water. Chewing asserts just how woody the palate is, yet it is neither bitter, nor plank-y; rather balanced and elegant, with all sorts of wax and furniture polish, propolis, encaustic, and even waxed black-marble floors, when searching for it. The second sip brings back the nose's decaying tree bark, and sprinkles it with flat cola droplets. Chewing somehow adds a pronounced fruitiness -- that of a white wine, fresh, sweet, exuberant. It could be Maitrank. A little later, toffee tags along. Finish: here, flat cola returns, punctuated with shards of cinnamon bark. on its tail are golden-brown cinnamon buns and croissants, ever-so-slightly overdone. It is a medium-long finish, even if it becomes indistinct fairly quickly. The second gulp has a strong PX note: pressed currants, pressed sultanas, golden Smyrna raisins, sweet, juicy, despite being dried, and oh! so comforting. That nature produces delicious grapes is something to marvel at. That those grapes remain exquisite when dried is remarkable. But that a spirit can taste similar that contains no such grape or raisin is truly baffling. To accompany those sultanas, we note dried apricots and a pinch of mocha. I love this. 9/10 (I finally try this on 13/12/2024)

Jura 2005/2024 (53.7%, OB Distillery Cask, C#2492): a peated expression without a bottle number. Nose: immediately, we are transported to the middle of a field that was recently ploughed. This is very farm-y, with dark earth, greasy and fertile. A couple of sniffs in, we find the same earth turned to crust on the farmer's boots, and the murmur of a maritime influence -- drying fishing nets, at this stage. That latter note grows in intensity, slowly but surely; it is not oysters or mussels -- rather dried kelp amidst the farm-y earth. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, we have a wave of chocolate flooding the nasal cavity. When it recedes, it leaves a layer of salty kelp on dark earth. Tobacco smoke lingers for a while longer. The second nose is smokier yet, and introduces a medicinal element: burnt gauze, smoky philtres, and a smoked-thyme-based poultice that also contains smoked hawthorn. Mouth: salty and smoky, the palate wastes little time with field-related considerations. Indeed, this mouth is salty and maritime from the get-go, with razor clams and cockles, and sweet citrus (calamansi, tangerine, kumquat) augmented with a sprinkle of sea salt. It is as original as it is delicious, and points more towards the distillery across the Sound of Islay than the Craighouse attraction. Chewing adds salt and more citrus juice; it takes copious insistence to see some of that dark earth from the nose. The saltiness of the second sip gives us a sandy impression -- hot sands, to be precise. The citrus is more acidic and less juicy, now, but smokier. Smoked grapefruit, is it? Finish: initially light, in terms of alcohol (read; very-well integrated), the finish more than makes up for it with its earthy intensity. Yes, we have earth so dark it could just have been scorched, littered with burnt wood, charred, yet still oily. The second gulp balances the earth and the char with hot sands, and salty seafood, topped with droplets of pressed citrus (pomelo or Shaddock pomelo, rather than lime). This is very convincing! 8/10 (I finally try this on 23/12/2024)

What have you there, young lady? May we try? In return, here is a sample of Isle of Jura d.1976 (57.5%, Harleyford Manor for Geoffrey Folley, b.1980s). (Notes here.)

Jura 21yo Tide (46.7%, OB travel retail exclusive by Stillman Spirits, American White Oak ex-Bourbon Barrels enhanced in Virgin American Oak Casks): why the distillery has a bottle earmarked for Spain and the Continent that also wears a UK tax seal is a bit of a mystery. I do not get a sample of this one, but on the day, I give it 8/10

Jura 21yo Time (47.2%, OB travel retail exclusive imported by Stillman Spirits, American White Oak ex-Bourbon Barrels enhanced in ex-Peated Malt Casks, b.2019): this is another EU bottle, though it does not have the UK tax seal. Living dangerously! No sample of this either. Similar quality, though I prefer it the Tide. 7/10

Once done, we come back to the shop for some goodies. Sadly, our branded copitas magically transform into clean Glencairns to take home. Who needs another effing Glencairn?

Anyway, an excellent time in this largely-underappreciated distillery.