18 March 2024

18/03/2024 Tamnavulin

Tamnavulin 25yo 1973/1998 New Century (45%, Glen Stuart Exclusive Limited Edition, C#4869-4870): nose: unlike the usual custard-y profile we tend to observe in Tamnavulin, this has a crisp, fruity white wine (Chablis), and a citrus-y quality to it. Limoncello comes to mind, though one without a raffle ticket on the bottle. It has something waxy too, far from the engine grease that, say, a Clynelish might have, but clean candlewax or plasticine. Unexpected and unannounced, a green note appears -- peony or rhododendron leaves, waxy in any case, though it stops short of ivy. Vine leaves, maybe? Yes, that is it. One can easily imagine the terroir too, crumbly earth over a shale layer. White wine still hums in the background. As one tilts the glass, the afore-mentioned plasticine grows more assertive, closer to rubber -- think of a grey electrical-cable jacket. There are plums too, plump. The second nose feels a tad more mineral, chalky, and the white wine becomes sweeter in the same move. We have a generous Montbazillac, now, and a custard thickened with corn flour. Mouth: it is a river of plum juice, with a bitterness that would convince one they are drinking from a rubber recipient. It is mellow as fleshy plums, fruity, and, well, softly bitter. Here too, that takes one back to candlewax and waxy green leaves (peonies? Rhododendrons? It is probably not wise to verify), and red grapefruit, particularly its skin. The second sip has kerria Japonica flowers, a pinch of spices (powdered ginger), and citrus zest so dry it is hardly recognisable. The acidity lives, however. Finish: aaaaaand here is the custard! Hot plum pulp, umeshu, and tame caramel coulis poured on flan. Further sips confirm the gently-citrus-y custard. Butter comes to the rescue, and, if it is not sticky toffee pudding (it lacks in the chocolate department), it is from the same family. Something peculiar appears towards the death -- something vegetable-like; boiled swede, or turnip cooking water. It is original, and minor enough a note to be easily overlooked for those who are not keen on it. Excellent drop. 9/10

15 March 2024

15/03/2024 Springbank

Springbank 21yo (46.5%, Atom Supplies Darkness Limited Edition, Oloroso Sherry Octaves Finish, b#115): nose: as fruity as the first time we tried this, though with a notable difference: grapes (since it is mostly grapes) are much riper, today, and have started to turn vinegary. It is not quite caramelised red onions, rather red-wine vinegar. That slowly dissipates, which allows fresher darker fruits to surf into view on a wave of rancio: plums, blackberries, lingonberries. Of Springbank itself, a vague earthiness permeates, then polished black-marble floors in a country manor on a sunny day. Wooden furniture is not far behind, and a wooden crate of onions from the market, ready to be stored in the cellar. With some imagination, one can picture the horse and cart of the street vendor. That is right: hidden behind those fermented fruits and waxed floors is a subtle farm-animal touch -- one that grows in power too. The second nose focuses more clearly on prunes and coffee grounds, which takes one back to the breakfast room of many a B&B. It has nectarines too, showing up on the late tip. Mouth: wide and voluptuous, it is also quite drying, in an earthy way. Chewing brings back some of the vinegary fruit, next to crusted earth, dried by the hot sun. Slowly, a dark-berry paste climbs on top of that that feels almost rubbery. It is far from the bitterness of new-car-door joints, and much closer to toasted black cumin, burnt tyres from decades ago, and smashed elderberry. There is even a note of ground mocha. The second sip insists on said mocha -- the posh kind, that coffee enthusiasts describe as having notes of lychee (and who is tOMoH to point out their nonsense?) It is more nectarine than lychee, here, but it is a fruity freshness alright. The coffee touch becomes very clear, once again flirting with rubber. Finally, mocha chocolate and chewy elderberry sweets join the party. Finish: it is a bit of a time bomb, with seemingly not much happening for several seconds. Then, a pleasant warmth settles in and rolls out flavours. We have prunes, black cumin, liquorice allsorts, just a pinch of coffee grounds, elderberry syrup, blackberry jelly, all presented on heated tarmac. Aside the shy earthiness (black cumin or gunpowder black tea), it is tricky to find the Springbank DNA in here. Much of the talking is the Sherry's, or so it seems. The second sip hits the roof of the mouth with a shovelful of chewy sweets (elderberry flavoured), which helps swap the coffee note for dry potting soil as a side effect. A distinct sweetness lingers on the tongue, alongside that earthiness, both a legacy of the Sherry cask again. It dies with an earthy blackberry jam spread on rye crispbread. This is excellent, and better with each sip. All the same, I am slightly less thrilled than last time. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

14 March 2024

14/03/2024 A pair of Coleburns

Who said: "Une paire de Couilles-Burnes"?


Coleburn 12yo d.1981 (43%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: the most amazing mix of fruity-sweetish white wine (Muscadet, Chablis), or, indeed, Jurançon vin jaune, and hazelnut oil, fruity, nutty, fresh, appealing as a late-summer salad made from scratch. In fact, I swear it has iceberg lettuce too! It turns distinctly greyer (although tOMoH would struggle to explains what that means), and mute, after five or ten minutes. Let us give it some time... Yes, that fruity white wine is back, as is the nut oil. The second nose seems more assertive, especially with the hazelnut oil, to a point it could be seen as farm-y. Oh! it is not a Springbank or a Brora, of course, yet it does carry a pastoral rusticity. Old furniture, the wooden handle of old tools, and old soft-leather gloves, kept in a greenhouse. Mouth: the attack is that of a dry white wine; soft, velvety, fruity, it offers a gentle kick of alcohol, and a subdued bitter bite of vine. Time on the tongue turns it nuttier, with old hazelnut shells and walnut skins. The dominant is green grape, however, ripe and juicy, as well as less ripe and bitter. Vin jaune comes to mind again, this time less for the overt fruitiness, more for the voile-controlled oxidation. The second sip is fruitier still. It adds stewed apples to the mix, which are slowly turning into a blobby pulp. Grapes skins run towards the sides of the palate and the gums, persistently shooting what is now but a shy bitterness. Again, fruity white wine, or vin jaune. Finish: quaffable, silky, it has a fruitiness and a mild bitterness in line with what we saw on the palate. White wine, green grapes, hazelnuts, hazelnut oil, all warming and pleasant. At twelve years of age, it is not particularly complex, of course, yet it would make an excellent daily dram. One dreams of a time when Coleburn classed as a daily dram (full disclosure: never; it was never bottled as anything else than a niche single malt). The second gulp has a fleeting-yet-clear flash of saffron to top the white wine impression. The whole is mellow and plush, which accentuates a feel of having just munched on green grapes. This could very well score one more point in different circumstances. 7/10


Coleburn 13yo d.1981 (43%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: dryish and more mineral than its sibling, it has a bucketful of gravel, dusty marble flooring, and a tidy pile of newspapers. There are some ancient (elderberry) gummy cough drops, dusty and hardened, and Formica furniture. It is hard to explain, yet this smells like its era, as if the late-1970s and early-1980s had been distilled whole, and this were their essence. In the long run, timid apples appear, both roasted and as a compote, served with pan-fried hazelnuts. Then, it reverts back to an even-more-pronounced mineral character, now pebbles taken over by mosses, then old colour pencils, warmed by their proximity to a fire. A minute later, a fruity, if bone-dry, white wine emerges at last, borderline ashy. Grenache, no doubt. The second nose stays true to the mineral side: a wooden palette, loaded with pebbles. "Austere" would be too strong a word, but it certainly is not juicy, now. Mouth: it seems a lot mellower at first than one might have expected. The tongue is treated to lush green-grape flesh, topped with grated apple. Do not be fooled, however: the dry white wine lurks in the background, ashier than ever, supplying a minute bitterness. We spot a drop of hazelnut oil, and watered-down apple liqueur. The second sip is in line, though a few seconds in, it lashes out with a mighty dryness. In instances like these, it is difficult not to think of a bone-dry white wine again, ashy despite being fruity too. Grenache, Chablis, Pinot Grigio. As it blends with saliva on the tongue, some tame sweetness is restored. Finish: juicier and fruitier, this now has something chewy too. One may say fruit jellies, or Turkish delights, but it comes without the sugar coating. If it is sugar-coating-free fruit jellies, then it is a mix of yellow and green ones, fruity and subliminally bitter. Repeated sipping tones down the bitter angle even more, and gives a riper fruity side to it that coats the mouth, in the long run (green grapes and apples). If anything else appears, it is a touch of wood -- this time a rustic woodworm-eaten dining table. 7/10


Apart from the nose, I reckon I prefer the second one, yet they are in the same ballpark.