30/04/2021 Dalmore

Dalmore 15yo (40%, OB, b. ca 2020): this was the starter I never tried at the Christmas bash. Nose: it smells like breakfast in a Scottish lodge; warm cocoa, a gentle fire in the chimney and corduroy upholstery. The host might be frying a cooked breakfast in the kitchen, though that does not overpower the unmistakable mix of ambient humidity, outmoded velvet and warm, chocolate-y drinks taken in a plush (if old-fashioned) dining room. There is squeezed orange too, a bowl of prunes in juice on the buffet, and open jars of marmalade, ready to be spread. The rustic breakfast table has seen a number of licks of varnish, over the many decades, and it smells of encaustic, a little. Maybe, just maybe, there is even a whisper of acetone. The second nose is all about roasted coffee beans and charred breadcrumbs. Mouth: soft and gentle, breakfast-like, the attack has velvety hot chocolate, marmalade on toast, a yoghurt-y woodiness not too dissimilar to set honey, and, as one keeps it in the mouth, a developing spicy touch (ground cumin and coriander seeds, cracked black pepper). The second sip seems to crank up the bitterness, inviting toasted aniseed and nigella seeds to the table, still only in supporting roles to the chocolate. Marmalade takes a back seat and turns into charred mixed peel, or caramelised marmalade. Finish: superbly chocolate-y, here, with an added drop of mocha -- think of Côte d'Or's mocha Mignonettes. The finish is long, laced with bitter marmalade, and that bitterness grows -- first veering towards soft rubber, then Bakelite. It has more and more toasted notes, as time passes, with charred breadcrumbs first, then black cumin seeds, then nigella seeds. It stops short of liquorice, however. A decent starter dram. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, JA)

28/04/2021 Bimber for Poland

Bimber 3yo 2016/2020 Oloroso Cask (51.4%, OB Small Batch for Poland, Oloroso Casks, B#01/2020, 950b): leftover from the Christmas bash. Nose: confectionary is what jumps at me immediately; toffee, caramel, candy apple. Shortly thereafter, it becomes syrupy and wine-y, hinting at Sauternes, Fino, or white Port. There is a pinch of delicate spices, far in the back, more cinnamon than ginger. I do get the impression I am nosing a fruit eau-de-vie, from time to time -- maybe Kirsch? Berry-flavoured cake icing, half a teaspoon of cocoa powder, dried-raspberry shavings and ananas flambé (torched pineapple, I guess). It is all pleasant, even if it hints at an exaggerated sweetness to come... Mouth: ...and overly sweet it sort of is, too. Cherry liqueur, poured on soft marzipan, syrupy wine (white Port more than Sauternes, here), candy apple is back too, and shovelfuls of cinnamon powder that almost hide a lovely peach-flesh undertone. The attack seemed spicier, yet that quickly fades out and leaves a fruity-yoghurt texture, though a yoghurt that would be mixed with a splash of fortified wine. The back of the throat picks up woodier notes, with middle-aged bookshelves and resinous oils, Maitrank and mirabelle-plum liqueur. Finish: cinnamon is quite potent, once more, leading to a sponge-cake impression -- a sponge cake with cherry, chocolate and a hefty dose of syrupy wine. I was about to write "liqueur," but it is neither that thick, nor that strong. Maitrank might be close enough, yet it would have to have had the chocolate treatment, then. That is right: there is some milk chocolate in the aftertaste, alongside mirabelle plums. Goe bezig, Bimber! 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, BA)

23/04/2021 Whisky-Online Auctions' First Cask tasting Part 2

JS and I, along with fifteen-or-so others, join Tim Roberts, Harrison and Wayne Ormerod and Lee "Connas" Connor for the second episode of the triptych dedicated to First Cask, Direct Wines Ltd.'s late collection.

Connas reminds us what First Cask was, as not everyone was at the first tasting. That takes up a whole thirty seconds or so, as the information is as scarce as it was last month.

Connas announces he took the feedback from last time on board and has a presentation to share. He apologises in advance for the fact he is not extremely tech-savvy. Case in point: his version of Powerpoint tells him that his licence has expired and offers to close that message by clicking a button -- he never does. The presentation is composed, for each dram, of a picture of the bottle, superimposed on a picture of the distillery. Connas then seemingly ad libs a little history and facts about the distillery.

I do not pay it much attention, more concentrated on enjoying the drams at my pace.

Bladnoch 16yo d.1980 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#89/591/12): nose: fresh and minty, fruity as a crisp white wine (Rivaner?), soon morphing into citrus peel. Later on, a woodier note shines through, with eucalyptus and rubbery olive-tree bark. Mouth: a surprising bite, with sparkly orangeade, which grows at the second sip. Swirling the liquid around the mouth reveals a soft bitterness and an even softer fruitiness. Finish: big, wide and orange-y, with a minute amount of grated Alka-Seltzer. It keeps the gentle bitterness, reinforcing the citrus (marmalade) and an almost rubbery woodiness. Lovely. I almost had it at 9, but for tonight, it is 8/10

Inchgower 18yo d.1976 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#9891): nose: barley sugar, apple jelly, crushed pear, candied lemon peel, lavender leaves (not the flowers, strangely enough), perhaps a note of pineapple. All in all, I find this rather herbaceous, despite the others detecting tropical fruits. Mouth: acidic attack and a lot more fruits, now, with pineapple and juicy apple, sprinkled with lime droplets and pomelo juice. Finish: bold -- no! Assertive, it once more has a softly bitter, rubbery side. Asafoetida and nigella seeds increase that bitterness. Someone cleverly mentions Campari and it is indeed reminiscent of bitter liqueur or dry vermouth. 9/10

Glenrothes 21yo 1975/1996 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#6051): nose: ah! It is a Glenrothes that falls under the category I am not fond of: rancid butter, sticky feet, chemical lemon flavouring, before sweet pot ale comes through. In the long run, the lemon-y side wins, which is good news, as far as I am concerned. Mouth: phew! It is all lemonade and chemical lemon flavouring, akin to souped-up Sprite. It is almost sickly sweet, though that is balanced by a gentle bitterness. The rancid butter seems gone. Finish: same as the palate, but even sweeter. Lemonade, in which one has poured ladles of caster sugar. Undoubtedly the weakest dram of the night, according to my taste, but still a decent drop. 7/10

Convalmore 16yo 1981/1997 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#89/604/112): there is a typo on the sample. Connas tells us this is his first Convalmore and he is excited to tick that box. Based on his post-sip reaction, that box-ticking excited him more than the dram itself, which is a pity. Nose: old school. This is smoky and hairy, boiler-room-like, with derelict garden tools and caramelised apple compote, simmering in a cast-iron cauldron. Mouth: zingy, it sparkles and tingles on the tongue. Repeated sipping makes this a full-on flat pomelo lemonade affair (pomeloade?) Finish: a lovely combination of citrus and vanilla; juicy mandarins, vanilla pods, and the whole turns creamy, towards the death. Very nice. 8/10

Glencadam 29yo d.1972 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#7639): nose; hugely vanilla-flavoured at first, with lots of custard, it then becomes weirdly farm-y, with dried cow dung and faded leather. It is not as metallic or herbaceous as more recent expressions from this distillery, even though it is also not the 1960s style. Mouth: furiously bitter, here, with lichen growing on old metal and moss on rubber joints. Cough drops, cachous... Oh! yes, this is Glencadam alright, now: vegetal, metallic and very good. Finish: a different story altogether, the finish is overflowing with melted milk chocolate, though chocolate sticking to a tin mould, to be sure. 8/10

Connas has another slide deck in which he talks about distillation. Again, I am too focused on the drams to pay much attention.

Tomatin 18yo d.1976 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#27643): nose: caramba! Tropical fruits aplenty, although that swiftly mutates into fruity/mentholated drops (dragées), before fire catches up, numbing the philtrum with verbena and fresh mint. Proper nosebleed, like. Then, the fruits come back, with peach and rosehip, dragon fruit and lychee. Mouth: it starts out bitter, then a huge wave of tropical fruits slap you in the face. It has dragon fruit, enormous peach and strawberry yoghurt, topped with nigella seeds. Finish: unctuous, creamy mashed peach, apricot custard and, quite simply, a fruity cavalcade, with caraway seeds to round it off. Total lack of surprise, as far as I am concerned, but when the quality is this high, I certainly do not mind it being predictable. 9/10

Bunnahabhain 19yo d.1980 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#5643): nose: dry earth and soft menthol, then steamed vegetables (swede?), turning back to toffee and mocha custard. Mouth: it is very mentholated. It also has a strong dandelion-stem bitterness, as well as peppermint, apple mint, crisp-apple skins and a delicate sea-air influence (sea spray, iodine, salt). Finish: complex, it swings between mentholated custard and dry moss, becoming almost mineral, then drying, with a lick of new-car rubber joints -- or is that melon skins? A more-than-decent Bunna, but to put it in simple terms: it is a sequence mistake. It is completely in the shadow of the Tomatin. 8/10

Different vibe, tonight. It felt less relaxed, and the conversation flowed less easily. Perhaps everyone was exhausted from a long week (I know I was), but it unfortunately made for a slightly-less enjoyable time. Some found the selection inferior to Part 1's. I did not share that opinion, but nevertheless...

Connas's line was also hissing during the whole tasting, which I found draining. Not sure if it was his microphone, his connection, or whatever else.

Anyway, looking forward to Part 3 all the same!

22/04/2021 Ledaig

Ledaig 1974/2000 (40%, Gordon & MacPhail Rare Old, JJ/CB): nose: heaven. At once, it is orchard fruits (apples, pears, peaches, rosehips) and haystacks, though it is not long before tropical fruits take over: waxy mango peel and papaya. Earthy peat appears in the background, subtle and elegant, but definitely present. Next up is a mixture of fishing nets, petrol and silt in a freshwater harbour. The dialogue between silt and tropical fruit strongly reminds me of the ancient thing from Tyrone we had last year. There is a whiff of nappy glue too, which is rather original, old rubber, baked by years spent on the beach, washed-out and regurgitated by the lapping. Muddy peat and tropical fruits are never far, though, and they inevitably come back, occasionally supported by berries. The second nose seems fresher, as in: sea air, though no sea spray, or brine, which points towards white-water-river air instead: brisk, but humid with fresh water. Lastly, the apples come back What a nose this has! Mouth: remarkably petrolic in the attack, it is also creamy in texture and quite peppery, considering the low ABV. Bathed in kerosene, we have sliced peaches, sliced mangoes, papaya and waxy apricots, sprinkled with cracked green pepper. A soft note of creamy horseradish-and-honey sauce come spice up the whole, served with grated lychee and a drop of lychee liqueur. In the long run, red fruits also show up (gooseberries, snowberries cranberries), juicy and acidic. They are soon caught up by petrol-stained mudflats and rubber. Finish: controlled and balanced, the finish is long, despite not being explosive; it has the same fruits, doused in petrol. I do not think I ever found this as petrolic, in the past. Freshwater fishing gear is present here too, and there may just be a spoonful of silt. On the other hand, hay has all but disappeared, and rubber is only there because it can be related to the hydrocarbon-soaked, muddy fruit. Sweet barley makes an entrance with the second sip, as do sweetened soy milk and tahini. That is right: the finish tones down the acidity in favour of a light-touch bitterness. And it is gorgeous. What a cracking dram! 9/10

21/04/2021 Glenrothes

A reliable source tells me those casks were filled at 69%, rather than the standard 63.5%. They were allegedly used as payment in 2017*, when Edrington bought The Glenrothes (the brand) back from Berry Brothers & Rudd, who had owned it since 2010 (they had a share in it since 1987). If you find it bizarre that a company should own a distillery but not the branded product of that distillery, you are not alone, but that is not the question. The point is that Edrington seems to not have been cash rich, at the time, and supplied Berry Brothers & Rudd's directors with whisky casks instead of GBP. At least some of those casks were promptly sold off, and those three found their way into Cadenhead's warehouses.

(*) It could also have been in 2010, when Berry Brothers & Rudd sold Cutty Sark to Edrington, who gave their share of The Glenrothes (the brand) in return. Perhaps BBR thought the deal was not fair, and whisky casks were added to the equation.

You would probably be hard-pressed to find an official confirmation for the above; I find it plausible, though.

Glenrothes-Glenlivet 9yo 2009/2018 (65.3%, Cadenhead Small Batch, 3 x Bourbon Hogsheads, 858b): nose: pretty new-make-y, honestly, with grain and cork-y limestone. After a bit of breathing, it does reveal ivy and sarsaparilla, perhaps thyme too, yet it certainly remains young. Lime leaves, damp sand and tobacco being dried. Cupping the glass in the hand brings about tame menthol, as well as something sweet... Fruity Ricola cough drops? The nose certainly benefits from a lot of breathing: it goes from rough and markedly underaged to fragrant and almost-welcoming, if still rather green -- it is 9yo, after all. Geraniums, tagetes leaves, rocket salad, primrose and linen. Water helps an unusual fragrance come through: that of plastic bags left in the sun. It also cranks up the raw cereal, dusted with talcum powder. In fact, I may go further and call it chalky, now. Mouth: unsurprisingly potent, it has plasticine, waxy plums, caster sugar and tons of cracked green pepper. It has an almost rum feel to it, in some respect, though it lacks the depth that a rum hitting that sort of notes would have to have. Case in point: the dandelion leaves and meadow-flower stems betray its youth. H₂O, even just a drop of it, stops the alcohol bite spectacularly, which allows other flavours to appear, mostly  primary-school-yard material, such as boot laces, sugar sheets/edible wafer paper, but also candied angelica and chlorophylle chewing gum. Finish: the obvious youth is swiftly submerged by an unexpected pairing of melted milk chocolate and ivy leaves. The sweetness of breakfast cereals is then met by an overly-caramelised note. All the same, in the long run, it is the herbaceous side that triumphs, leaving a softly bitter taste on the palate, and the tongue as if covered in lichen. The back of the throat sees herb-infused grappa, which works rather well. Here too, the addition of water boosts the sweetness. Similar sweets as on the palate now make their way to the taste buds and turn this into almost too sweet a dram, borderline sickly. The death is a soju-and-lemonade long drink with a cucumber slice. Interesting, but I find it was bottled too soon. 6/10 (Thanks for the sample, SW)

15/04/2021 Glenlivet

Glenlivet Solera (48.3%, Thompson Bros, drawn 1994, 17b): this is the dram that PT poured me on the last day of the latest Hogmanay sojourn, that I could not try, because I was driving. Nose: ZOMG, it smells like something from the 1950s, at a time when the locomotive of Europe's industrial might was unleashed once more, after half a decade of forced slumber. More prosaically, this has metal to spare, petrol (not of the unrefined, diesel kind, however), as well as lovely fruit (kumquat, overripe peach and even mango), a distant note of stale bread and more-pronounced lemonade. The stale bread mutates into stale tobacco, though it struggles to make itself heard, behind the growing fruitiness. Boy! is this nose something, or what? Tree-bark mulch, deep-purple tulips, leather grease, hair grease (a 1950s staple, incidentally), cast-iron cauldrons, heated by naked flames. The second nose is a debauchery of tropical fruits left on a table, under a heating lamp (those nonsensical things one sees outdoors in the winter). Mango, guava, mud-covered papaya, perhaps with a sprinkle of ether. Mouth: whatever the phrase "old school" evokes for you, I pretty much guarantee it is in this dram. It is metallic from the off, herbaceous too, with lichen and verbena, whilst also fruity (crumbly Bramley apples, cider), and intensely powerful. The ABV might be reasonable on paper, yet this still kicks like a mule. Ginger shavings, cinnamon powder, surgical alcohol -- actually, that might be xylene instead. It does have "hot metal knife" stencilled all over it, and I almost expect a fruit picker to knock on my door with a machete in hand. Finish: the poem continues with a big drop of fruit, metal and herbs. The finish stops as abruptly as it came, giving the impression it is short, but as soon as the taste buds regain composure, they pick up a persistent humming of flavours: peppermint, broken razorblades and dried herbs. The herbs (verbena, sage, marjoram, thyme) provide a not-so-subtle bitterness that veers towards pencil-sharpener blade without being so extreme. I remember 117.3 tends to be so upon opening a new bottle, then that transforms into mango juice with oxidation. This has been in a half-empty sample for over a year, and in an open bottle before that, so it is unlikely it would change much. Repeated sipping makes it creamier, with melted milk chocolate, though that is fleeting: it quickly comes back to the herbaceous profile that is closer and closer to citrus leaves (lemon, calamansi, bergamot). Amazing dram, delicious and complex. Even if I find it very different from the first time I had it, it still deserves the same score. 10/10 (Thanks for the sample, PT)

14/04/2021 Macallan

Macallan 19yo 1995/2015 (49.1%, A.D. Rattray Cask Collection, Bourbon Hogshead, C#10454, 310b): leftover from a trip to Kirkoswald, wow, five years ago. Nose: surprisingly flowery, this has forsythia and jasmine in vast quantities, if not quite lilac. Pollen, hay dust, chaff, cosmetic powder -- it is fragrant and dry at the same time, in other words. Unripe citrus, calamansi, lemon and grapefruit, rather than anything orange in colour, and it even has waxy Kaffir lime leaves. Talcum powder too, which adds to the dry-but-fragrant impression. Breathing seems to open up a peachy side, slightly juicier, yet it is peach skins more than flesh. The back nose, as one tilts the glass, has a dollop of polish-y varnish. Citric powder capsules hover under the nostrils like the flying saucers they are, before a very distinct note of dark plum takes over. Mouth: fruity, the palate has crisp red apple, not totally ripe, unripe peach flesh, torn off the stone, and a growing woody character, with bitter cutting boards, wormwood and new cork. The fruit is less ripe with every sip, yet it is balanced by cut flowers (forsythia and jasmine again), as well as a welcome spoonful of pouring honey. If the slightly plank-y side recedes, it is replaced by an acidity that might be much for some to take. Finish: astonishingly different from the nose, the finish reveals pressed plums, the juice of which the stones have been macerating in for a little too long. It has therefore turned a bit too bitter. Yoghurt, past its expiry date (that would be lactic acid, then) and a decoction of meadow flowers. Repeated sipping brings a drop of honey to the table, yet it does not make this a clear winner. Even the late note of milk chocolate is almost spoiled by a green touch of dandelion stems that nearly ruins it. Nearly. It is like a chocolate mousse with too much three-year-old brandy in it: it is not the best you have ever had, but it is still a chocolate mousse. This is not bad, but it is not one to convince me that my prejudice about the distillery is ill founded. 7/10

11/04/2021 Strathisla

Strathisla 24yo 1972/1997 (62.6%, Gordon & MacPhail Cask Strength imported by Giuseppe Meregalli, C#7534-7536, AG/AIJ): nose: without surprise, it smells fierce, with an almighty gingery fire and antiseptic, TCP, ether and mercurochrome, more than tincture of iodine. It also has an undeniable wood influence: cedarwood, ginger and galangal fade out to reveal American cream soda, vanilla yoghurt and baking soda. Not long until that also morphs into Maple Biscuits and spearmint, both fighting with the quietly assertive medicinal side. Surgical spirits, hospital disinfectant, Iso-Betadine. At that strength, it certainly does clear the nostrils! The wood comes back, with dry bark and wood sheets, toffee, and even treacle. Mandarin peels, torn off the fruit and left to dry on the window sill, for a couple of weeks. With water, it turns more brine-y, amazingly, with fresh sea air and capers, alongside peppermint, hot cinnamon sticks, and more of that hospital disinfectant. Dried sage appears too, very much in the background. Mouth: there is hot mixed peel, stewed orange zest, preserved ginger peel, dried apricot... and then, the alcohol comes a-knocking. Boy! does it hit. It feels as though it melts the front of the top gum a little. Mind you, it is strong, yet not so numbing that the tastes become blurred -- oh! no, they remain surprisingly clear. The texture is acerbly acidic, yet there is a discreet bitterness as well; my money s on orange tonic. It is mixed in with a drop of custard cream, though one would be delusional to call this creamy -- it really is not. Each sip seems more acidic than the previous, re-enforcing the impression of orange tonic in my mind. It is as if it were poured in wooden bowls, too, which is original. Water makes this juicier and more acidic, surprisingly enough. The citrus is now fresh, with orange and pomelo segments, rubbing feathers with pressed dried apricot (and why the hell not?) Despite the still-high ABV, the reduced palate is much more easily accessible, I find. Finish: in line with the nose and palate, the finish sees wood and crystallised citrus parade, this time in slow motion. Spearmint, mixed peel (lime, orange, pomelo, mandarin), grated ginger, dried apricot, curry leaves. There does not seem to be much of the medicinal touch left, at this stage. Repeated sipping cranks up the sweetness, which is reminiscent of Sprite or 7Up. It does leave the mouth dry and a tad bitter, however, harking back to tonic instead. The wood becomes more present with the addition of water, not quite splintery, but not far off either, yet it is citrus that steals the show again, with orange and pomelo zest and segments, softened by a few drops of tangerine juice, in which the foliage would have been left to macerate. Excellent, and pretty interesting. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

09/04/2021 Glencadam

Glencadam 14yo 1964/1979 (45.7%, Cadenhead): that Glencadam with the Tintin font. Nose: peach jelly, apricot chutney, sprinkled with ground cumin and spread on toasted bagged white bread, eaten outside, whilst wearing oilskins. The jams are simmering gently, with a pinch of herbs to liven them up (sage and thyme). Soon, it has an almost metallic feel, akin to orange drops in tin foil. Far removed, a hint of wormwood settles too, perhaps tree bark and a delicate lick of varnish. Suddenly, all that disappears to make room for a deeper, graver fistful of old copper coins, forgotten in a drawer of the carpenter's workbench. It may whisper calmly, but it still has lots to say, this whisky! Breathing time adds cracked black pepper to the waxy-apricot compote, soothing lichen on stone, brown shoe polish -- it becomes rather talkative, actually, emboldened by the warmth of my hand on the glass, and the contact of air. Mouth: the attack is frankly metallic (it is a Glencadam, after all), loaded with copper coins, a verdigris-eaten copper bed warmer and thyme, paving the way for the inevitable hot peach jam and apricot compote (with sage again). It has some chewy plasticine too, solidified wax or modelling clay, left out to gather dust before it has been modelled. The second sip is as though a mischievous child had dropped a collection of copper coins in a pot full of simmering apricot compote, then run away before the cook added a copious dose of black pepper. The wax is never far, and the herbs become less discernible. Finish: if the nose felt a little ancient and fragile, in the beginning, the finish leaves no doubt that this bottle has not lost anything. The liquid is still unabashedly assertive, dishing out modelling wax, simmering jams, discreet herbs, and the by-now-expected copper coins, perhaps with touches of verdigris on them. All that colludes to leave a mildly bitter taste on the tongue and the roof of the mouth -- nigella seeds, I would say, yet subtle and effaced. If it is nigella seeds, then it is nigella seeds sprinkled on a bowl of strawberry yoghurt. It might even have a tiny dose of crushed spearmint. In any case, the way the sweetness and the bitterness interplay is something to marvel at. Wonderful Glencadam. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

08/04/2021 Aultmore

Aultmore 18yo 2000/2018 (55%, Adelphi Selection, Refill Sherry Casks, C#571+573, 480b): leftover sample from a trip to Ardnamurchan distillery in 2019. Nose: an enchanting note of enticing encaustic, furniture wax, beeswax, and honey, sticking to the wooden racks of the hive. There are some tea leaves, behind all that, a smorgasbord (Scrabble triple-triple, right there) of pouring honeys and beeswax. Manuka honey, acacia honey, even honey made from mountain flowers and tree buds. Well hidden in the background, I also find a soft and discreet murmur of Virginia tobacco, supported by warm bread and jam with, at last, delicately-roasted barley. It is extremely subtle, yet, when one pays attention, it feels relatively close to chocolate or treacle. The second nose seems more straightforwardly pine-tree-like, with sticky sap and polished pine cones (the tacky addition to any self-respecting holiday log cabin). It soon re-focuses on honey and wax, which is all for the better! Water makes the nose more herbaceous. It now has citrus leaves and bay leaves, kept in a tin in the sun. Oh! and cannabis plants, drying in the sun too. Mouth: the attack is bold, spicy and drying on the tongue. It is not quite the chalk that Aultmore often displays, yet it is no longer the rich honey either. Precious woods and furniture wax, carrying a certain bitterness, nail varnish, to an extent, but also that roasted barley from the deep nose. Maple syrup-coated pecans, cardamom pods, juniper corns and, in the long run, caramelised marmalade, bitter and sweet at the same time. Crystallised orange, mixed with Suc des Vosges -- yes: the freshness of pine and the bitterness of orange meet to produce something pretty interesting, augmented by a remote note of chocolate. I cannot say water helps the palate. In fact, it makes bay leaves take over and mute everything else. What a pity! Finish: the light bitterness is still there, and it comes with lots of precious woods, lacquered, polished, spicy and a tad drying. Chestnut shells, encaustic, polished broomsticks, the wax build-up on an old armchair... And then, it dawns on me that the beeswax is back, as is the honey. It is different, however: now, we are talking about dark, set honey made from walnut or chestnut, if such a thing exists (and if it does not, what are the beekeepers waiting for?) Let us be lucid: this has a fleeting note that is borderline plank-y; the emphasis is on 'fleeting', though. It quickly veers towards spices, with crushed juniper and cardamom, a sprinkle of ground clove and charred pecans, yet no maple syrup coating, this time. The mouth is left dry, a feeling reminiscent of that caused by chalkiness, perhaps. Just like the reduced palate, the reduced finish is one-dimensional, herbaceous (bay leaves again, tobacco leaves) and cardboard-y. Ruined by water. I must say: blind, I would never have pegged this as an Aultmore, nor even an 18yo. It feels older and closer to a well-known distillery in the northeast. Water is to be avoided, though. 8/10

07/04/2021 Springbank

Springbank 21yo 1995/2017 (54.7%, The Greedy Angels for Bas Veenendaal, Ivor Johnstone, Ian Park, Refill Bourbon Hogshead, 288b): nose: juicy fruits taken off the grill, which probably means there is a bit of char and some smoke too. In no particular order, we find peaches, apricots, cantaloupes and papaya. It becomes smokier and increasingly charred with each whiff, cleverly interlacing the fruit with the trademark farm-y notes: soon, it has farm paths, beaten by the summer sun, tractor saddle, mud cakes, all introducing roasted pineapple. Shortly after that, sherry vinegar is poured onto pink grapefruit and melon slices. It does not fully get rid of the earthy impression, though. Simmering ink and wormwood surface, after a while, and darker fruits show up on the late tip, the kind that leave indelible stains on a shirt -- squashed blueberry and blackberry. Mouth: sharp and citrus-y, the palate sees pink grapefruit too, acidic and coating, balsamic-vinegar-soaked cheese cubes (Parmesan?) and lots of fruit again (melon, apricot, peach), this time given the marinade treatment (more vinegar than wine). The gentle acidity permeates through all cells at the front of the mouth, with the space behind the upper lip to the base of the nose (the philtrum) particularly sensitive to it. Cranberry and shy maracuja join the grapefruit for a lively debate. Miraculously, they all work together to strike a remarkable balance. Finish: long and calmly assertive, creamy, fruity, it develops more apricot and peach flesh, with a splash of wine for good measure. Repeated sipping fans the fruity flames, and the same berries end up here too, alongside maracuja and a touch of rubber. That is right: the acidic/sweet dominant is joined by a very faint bitterness seemingly caused by tar-like black liquorice laces. The creamy feel morphs into something more crumbly, akin to caked coconut cream powder, or sesame halva (a solidified paste). Unless, of course, it is fruits, decaying into a compost cake. In any case, the mouthfeel this leaves behind is very much that of a cake-y paste. Amazeboulanger, this Springbank. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

02/04/2021 Clynelish

26.93 28yo 1984/2013 Cottage garden beside a church (56.3%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Sherry Butt, 352b): nose: unsurprisingly, it is Candlewax Central, with spent wick -- scratch that! It is burning wick. Char-grilled apricots, waxy mirabelle plums, coated in a thin dusting of soot. A second wave brings berries, though they seem waxy too -- maraschino cherries, fragrant blueberries, waxy dark grapes... Further along, a note of dry wood enters, by the fireplace, along with paraffin sealant in a jar of apricot jam. This is one to nose forever and a day: the combination of waxy fruit and charred wood is really something! In the long run, something delicately wine-y appears, though it is nowhere near cured meat in a wine sauce, fortunately. More roast beef, smothered in caramelised apricot compote. The second nose brings a note of fermenting apricot peel that is most interesting. Incredibly, adding water makes it even waxier -- insanely waxy, in fact. On top of that come whiffs of oven-baked biscuits (speculoos?) Mouth: meow! The attack is that of a cat's claw: incisive. Beeswax joins waxy fruits, here (mostly apricot), and the bitterness of apricot stone is present too, adding more depth. Candlewax? Check. Matchsticks are dancing quietly in the background. It is warming and makes me think of hairball (that is not Mitch Graham pronouncing 'herbal'). Maybe it has honey-coated lichen, though that is hard to confirm. Pencil erasers, nectarines, purple plums. Is that a drop of walnut oil and caper brine? You bet! It is a little numbing, undiluted, but I like that. Water creates the perfect balance. The cat now purrs, and, if the warm, fuzzy feeling is still there, it does no longer maul the tongue with sharp claws. It remains waxy and fruity, with piping-hot apricots and candlewax, as well as the softest sulphur-y note (spent wick is my guess). Finish: it really shines in the finish. Seal wax, solidifying beeswax, crystallising apricot compote, scented-candlewax, pressed plums, moss on a tree trunk (birch or hazel), a lick of new cork, caramelised honey, honey mustard. It is also remarkably long, clinging to the palate insistently, releasing the charred, waxy sweetness of char-grilled fruits that might well be tinned peaches, now. It becomes yet fruitier with water, and more accessible, thanks to a reduced alcohol kick. It was good neat, but it reaches another dimension reduced, shooting tinned peaches, fresh apricots and even wine-soaked mango slices left, right and centre, only letting charred matchstick or spent candle wick whispering softly through a gag ball, in the background. It took me about two decades to start appreciating this distillery. Expressions like this one justify the lengthy "quest." 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)