29/04/2022 Another Cognac?

After all those Cognacs, it seems adequate to transition back to ze W gently. Perhaps with a Cognac-cask-matured W.

Linlithgow 25yo 1982/2007 (51.4%, Murray McDavid Mission Gold Series, Bourbon Casks, Cognac Finish, 1800b, b#0553): an old friend for which I never took proper notes. Nose: it has a little fruit and a lot of the traditional markers of the distillery -- in other words: pebbles and dry herbs. Lemon mint, marjoram, lemon thyme, perhaps, cobblestone. It slowly but surely turns fruitier and sweeter, interestingly enough. There are crystallised oranges and lemon drops amongst the stones. Mind you, here are chalk and bleach too, so do not go thinking it turns into a sunny, easy-going thing! A whisper of cork, maybe? The second nose confirms that impression, and adds fruit stones (plum, peach or nectarine), as well as a fragrant, flowery note that is as welcome as it is surprising (cherry blossom, lilac, honeysuckle). Gone is the stone-y austerity, at this point; it is a welcoming, if peppery, Lowlander like one often presumes they all are. Water achieves the stupendous result of making this both fruitier and chalkier, something that reminds me of effervescent Dextro Energy tablets. Mouth: it is bold and muscular on the tongue, rocky at first (as in: 'pebbles,' not 'shaky'), then chalky, desiccating, and pretty hot. The palate witnesses a struggle between sweet and herbal, between fruity and mineral. One second, it is akin to sucking on a hard-as-rock raisin, the next, it is chalk-covered clementine leaves. The second sip is more clearly sweet, with a spoonful of dark-brown sugar and lichen on soaked staves. The mouthfeel is creamy (single cream) and rather numbing, at this strength. Keeping it in the mouth long enough helps red fruits come out (cherries and strawberries). With water, the palate is more mellow, yet also more clearly chalky. It is very close to soluble energy tablets, now, with some fruit (on a chemical tip), and a distinct chalkiness. Finish: that sets the world to rights. All those flavours that were competing on the palate and should not have worked together now combine in harmony. The most obvious may be the lemon mint: the mouth feels fresh and alive, as if covered in minty toothpaste. The second sip dials that down somewhat, which allows fruits to emerge: plums, nectarine slices, grapes soaked in blush-orange juice. That is now met by a pronounced herbal note of lichen and lime foliage, and a dusting of grated chalk. It does not have the bitterness of Aspirin, or other equally-chalky tablets, though, which is good. Water transforms it into pure fruit juice, a blend of orange, clementine and nectarine. It still has a mineral touch (chalk), but it is much less intrusive. Fruity, sweet, herbal and softly mineral. A work of art. 9/10

25/04/2022 Cognac Show... at home (Part 3 -- the after-party)

More Cogn-... brandy!

Mansion House XO Brandy (42.8%, Tilaknagar Industries, B#235, b.2020): nose: pretty muted. Distant camphor, perhaps? Neutral alcohol? At a push, one may find timid lubricant for circular-saw blades, but there is really not much happening, here. A whiff of wilted tulip petals, maybe? Faded hazelnuts? Mouth: oh. Nothing, for a second, then a rather intense floral touch invades the palate, jasmine strongest, and white lilac. Then, suddenly, it is chewy sweets, with a fruit fragrance so strong it tastes entirely chemical. Turkish delights, tutti frutti, Haribo bananas, Sugus sweets, dried peach slices. Repeated sipping leaves the lips numbed, as if anaesthetised by neutral alcohol. Finish: narrow and relatively short, the finish has neutral alcohol and fruit flavouring (again: tutti frutti or Turkish delights, maybe candied nuts). It feels as though the various compounds have not blended together with a high level of success, yet the result is quite decent, as an easy, refreshing drink. 5/10 (Thanks, RM)

Let us not finish on a semi-disappointment.

Très Vieux Cognac Grande Champagne Vallein Tercinier Lot n°65 50yo 1965/2015 (54.4%, OB for Wealth Solutions): I was sure I got this sample from Cavalier66, but the label reads: "Thx CS." Nose: it is, of course, entirely unfair for the Mansion House to be followed by what just may be the best Cognac in living memory, but well. There is an earthy tapestry, here, punctuated by tons of lively fruits. Peaches, white and yellow, apricot, mango, jackfruit, guava, plum, vin de glace, and a sprinkle of dust. It seems tamer than I remember the Lot 65 at 47%, but it still has loads to talk about. Candied oranges, mixed peel, kumquats, but also gardening tools, in the back. Upon second nosing, the earthy background grows and comes closer to the fore, root-y and earthy. Black cardamom, coffee grounds... aaaaaand the fruits are back! Peach skins, smoked quince... Mouth: it kicks bouteille, especially when compared to its predecessor, and the tropical character of it is spectacular. Mango and maracuja (purple, yellow, gulupa, banana passion fruit) are emitting loud and clear, backed by ground ginger and nutmeg. The second sip brings a dusting of Szechuan pepper on halved nectarines, something between green capsicum and cantaloupe (!), and some kind of volatile compound evaporating from an oak cask. Finish: the dialogue between the fruits and the wood is hypnotising. In quick succession, we have sweet and acidic maracuja, cedarwood, nectarines, ginger powder, peach, mocha, coffee even, mandarines, rose-petal jelly, candied angelica -- there is even flipping frangipane in this. Only a minor bitterness that I associate with grape brandy will prevent top score. Still. Rulez, innit. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Aight. That is enough Cognac for several years, probably!

24/024/2022 Cognac Show... at home (Part 2 -- the ones above 40%)

Cognac Grande Champagne Frapin Château Fontpinot XO (41%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: it smells like a ginger cat roasting his buns in the sun, accompanied by warm cereals and polished or oiled shelves, which is to say I find it resolutely waxy. Pledge, WD40, then earthy cola, root beer, polished chestnut shells and well-oiled gardening tools. How strange! Next up is puffed caramel rice, which is odd, for a Cognac. Lime and mandarine leaves arrive later, adding a herbaceous touch. The second nose has something rather incisive, penetrating -- probably more of that WD40 getting to my head. All the same, the earthy cola always comes back. Mouth: wow! this is sweet. Sweet and peppery, filled with Szechuan pepper and green pepper from the peppermill, alongside candied pineapple cubes, crystallised sweet-citrus segments, and cinnamon and ginger powders, sprinkled onto a lemon tart. The pepper is as strong as it is surprising. The second sip dials down the spices in favour of earthy fruit -- apricot, pineapple, yellow kiwi covered in dusty earth. Nice. Finish: long and very fruity, this has tinned peaches, overripe apricots, perhaps even mangoes. It is juicy and fresh, something that is underlined by a haze of crisp apple, and a smidgeon of menthol. Retro-nasal olfaction brings Jurançon vin jaune, or better: Maitrank or Pineau des Charentes. It is easy to imagine that the sweetness would backfire, if taken in large doses, but one dram is fine. The nose is a bit disappointing, but this picks up from the mouth onward. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Cognac Grande Champagne Paul Beau Hors d'Âge (43%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: nose: it is hard not to feel that these Cognacs are all very similar. Anyway, this has -- guess what! -- earthy fruits. The fruits in question are perhaps fresher, lighter, and more fragrant than in the previous, with lychee coming through. And then, it has a similar aerosol smell too; let us settle for WD40 again, fresh, if not a little chemical. Yale keys, covered in lubricant, lemon-scented car-body polish, and that synthetic foam they use in shipping boxes to pad, e.g., IT components. The second nose opens the floodgates to fruits (mirabelle plums and white peaches), and throws in a small bunch of flowers (narcissus, snowdrops, wilted lilac) in a plastic vase to boot. Mouth: soft at first, close to watery, it soon finds its feet and churns out fresh fruits in eau-de-vie. Lychee again, dry green grapes (Chenin blanc), snowberries, white peaches, and elderflower cordial. Carambola juice enters with the second sip, as do greengages and green gooseberries, but without the tartness usually associated with gooseberries. The plastic vase from the nose morphs into oilskins, amusingly enough. Finish: bold and long, the finish is sweet and remotely acidic, teeming with the afore-mentioned fruits. That vanishes relatively quickly, and leaves the mouth covered in a bitterness reminiscent of that which results from chewing on grape pips. The second sip has a fleeting note of raspberry and bulrush. Quite nice. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Cognac Grande Champagne Très Vieux Édition Dully (53.4%, C. Dully Selection, D74-84 - A35-45): this one was custom blended for C. Dully Selection by Daniel Bouju. Nose: well, at cask strength, this is, of course, frankly more assertive. It is darker, for starters, and I do not just mean in terms of colour: there are dark berries at play, here, such as prunes, blackberries and myrtles, but also a lot more earth (potting soil), leather and shiitake mushrooms. The second nose has unlit menthol cigarettes, oily blonde tobacco and freshly-poured tar. Mouth: super concentrated on the tongue, here are oxtail broth, the juices of dark grapes, raisins and peaches (with a couple of lychees added for fun), shoe polish and toothpaste, oiled gardening tools and mint. The second sip seems to keep only the fruits and the mint, though chewing on it allows tar to re-emerge too. After a moment, spices catch the attention; ginger powder, mostly, yet also a pinch of ground cinnamon. Finish: it initially appears simple and shy, then reveals itself, little by little. Polished floorboard, black shoe polish, shaving foam, tiger balm, soft potting soil, and, in the background, the same dark fruits as on the nose: prunes, blackberries, and myrtles, in some kind of jelly, now. Further sips are more immediately and obviously fruity, with peach and lychee juices taking centre stage, and rosewood in their wake. I like this. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, CD)

Cognac Borderies Grosperrin 54yo 1965/2019 (56.4%, Grosperrin for C. Dully Selection, C#A1): nose: ah! I have a feeling we will end today's session on a high note. This one is the most assertive of all, and also the most noble on the nose. It presents an endless interplay of fruits, flowers and wood that is truly mesmerising. At first, it is green grapes and pears, then rosewood, before rose and tulip petals invade the scene. Not for long, however: wood comes back; lacquered jewellery cases and cabriolet chairs covered in spilled makeup powder, then quince and mirabelle plums. Phwoar! The whole is refined and elegant, and calls for attentive nosing. Jasmine rocks up, white lilac, and, after a moment, passion fruit -- yes! Even further, a pinch of earth comes up, distant coffee grounds of the sort posh-coffee enthusiasts claim smells of peach shavings and lychee. The second nose has deeper and slightly more-exotic wood (sandalwood, balsawood), and incense too. Mouth: it has the ultimate balance on the tongue. After trying several at 40% that felt spicy yesterday, it is a wonder to see that this one, at more than 55%, is so reserved on that front. We have the dryness of earth or spent coffee grounds, alongside the juiciness and fruitiness of plump green grapes, sweet greengages, and, yes, passion fruit. The latter is discreet, but well present. Subsequent sips put the accent on fruits (white-peach skin, plantain, dragon fruit), though the dryness remains. There is even a minute note of rosewater-flavoured milk chocolate, via retro-nasal olfaction! Finish: long, comforting and elegant again, it starts off with warm apricot jam, evolves to give more wood, then fleetingly slaps you in the face with passion fruit, as if it were a silk glove. This finish produces wave after wave of different tastes; at times, it is wafts of fragrant flowers (Jasmine, white lilac, lily-of-the-valley), at times wood (rosewood, orchard-tree wood), at times fruit (grapes, sultanas, white peaches, Korean pear, lychee). Each sip is as complex, merely switching the order of the above, if anything. Beautiful. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, CD)

Enough Cognac for two days!

23/04/2022 Cognac Show... at home (Part 1 -- the 40% ones)

It is Cognac Show, this weekend, or The Cognac Show, as it is now clear even the organisers called it, at least until three years ago (see picture below). In 2019, CS kindly brought a sample pack to an after-party at tOMoH towers. Of course, we drank whisky instead, that night. Today, we try those samples.

First, we rub it in

Cognac Grande Champagne Hine Antique XO Premier Cru (40%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: one can almost smell the dark grapes, just plucked off the vine, not very fragrant. And then, it is dead leaves and rich soil, moist forest floor, a whiff of quince jelly, in the distance, and, maybe, warm waffles. All that is interesting, I must say. Sadly, it does not last long: soon, the nose turns bland and smells of headache. The second nose revives the fruity-earthy tale, fortunately, perhaps adding watercolour into the blend. Mouth: silky and fruity upon entry, it quickly develops gentle spices (ground cloves, cinnamon powder, ginger powder, nutmeg) and cigar smoke. The cigar itself is there, all warm sheets and old-ish tobacco, yet the smoke is more potent. The initial fruit reveals itself more in the second sip; it turns out to be smoked peach, which is lovely indeed. Plums also join the dance. Finish: a hint of dark chocolate, the juice of a few grapes, and that continues with a lit Cohiba, supported by the same ground spices we had on the palate. Repeated sipping dries out the tongue and leaves the mouth as covered in earth. Simple enough but good. Fingers crossed for tomorrow morning (it worked: no headache). 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Cognac Delamain Pale & Dry XO (40%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: not too dissimilar to the previous really. Fresh grapes, earth, and this one has something leafier too (waxy vine leaves, dolmas, mint), as well as a medicinal touch that comes unexpected. Oh! it is far from bandages and mercurochrome; instead, it is vitamin pills and gelatine capsules. Repeated inhaling increases the minty profile, turns it into earthy menthol, if not peppermint. Mouth: soft, velvety, easy on the tongue. Here, we have peach and lychee joining forces with grapes. The second sip adds squashed banana and squashed plum. There may be tobacco here as well, yet it is then a light Virginia tobacco, rather than anything to do with cigars. Finish: fermented apple and, again, lots of earth. This one is more clay than forest floor, however. Further sips seem fruitier, with pressed citrus (tangerines and oranges with a dash of lemon), pear juice and a dollop of warm mud. Decent. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Cognac Grande Champagne Bache Gabrielsen Sérénité (40%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: this time, it is a much waxier number, with encaustic, polished armchairs, then musty cellars. There is also rosewood, milk about to turn sour, and fruit-tree ashes, soon turning into embers. Green beans in boiling water appear, just after a whiff of headache. That has nothing to do with the quality of the Cognac, by the way, and everything to do with how I react to it. Think of Cambus: delicious, but it gives me a headache. Anyway. Hazelwood, then hard-boiled eggs. Weird. It is fleeting, mind, soon replaced by cut heirloom apples. Far in the back, more fruits watch from behind a wooden fence, slowly building up the courage to come out of hiding (peachy nectarines, roasted carambolas), rose petals. The second nose is all fruit, for a moment, then comes back to the initial waxy profile. Dining chairs that have just received a spray of polish. Mouth: fresh and vibrant, here are grapes, nectarines, Chinese gooseberries, starfruits. At the same time, the tongue picks up a minute-but-growing bitterness, perhaps brambles or hazel covered in lichen. The next sip unveils darker fruits, berries and currants. A lovely blueberry muffin, figuratively dripping with butter, and oozing fruits. Finish: despite being the same ABV, this one has more punch, more character, and much bolder flowers. It is fruity and a half, for starters: quince, carambola, yellow kiwi, juicy nectarine, Korean pear, plump green grapes all parade endlessly, embellished by a drizzle of hazelnut oil. The second sip is a mixture of nectarines and blush oranges, perhaps it has a few raisins too. It does not attain the berry or currant notes from the palate, yet it is pretty all the same. This one is much more to my liking. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Cognac Château de Beaulon 12yo XO (40%, OB, b. ca 2019): nose: earth, engine grease, oily rags, a mechanics' overalls, after a day spent changing engine oils, and even a toolbox (yes, it has a metallic side). Earth, cardboard heated in the sun, oak bark. Further nosing adds petrichor, polished hazelnut shells, but also stale marzipan, before fading out almost entirely. Later on, spices appear: sumac, zatar or ras el hanout. Mouth: beeswax and WD40 at first, then an avalanche of blackcurrant jam, as unexpected as it is sudden. It is also most welcome! After a few seconds, grease for tools returns. That is when dolmas appear, rather timidly. The second sip is sweet, borderline syrupy, choc-full of prune juice in which cassia bark has macerated. Lovely. Finish: long, sweet and fruity, it has tons of dark-fruit jams; blackberry, blackcurrant, perhaps even elderberry. In the long run, that is dusted with spices; ras el hanout is my guess, though it could be ground black pepper too, which adds a nice twist. It is a long finish, gently warming, and the initial fruity sweetness dissipates to leave but the spices, high on the roof of the mouth. Good. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, CS)

Enough Cognac for one day!

21/04/2022 Clydeside

Clydeside 3yo Stobcross (46%, OB, b.2021, CBSCS 09845): nose: cedarwood sawdust and crisp fruit, in a green-grape way. It has liquid floor wax and dried apricots too that soon fuse and turn into nail-varnish remover. That all becomes darker, as pressed plums and prunes make their entrance. The one thing it retains throughout is a sprinkle of dust, which is unexpected in such a young whisky. Case in point: wax comes back, and it is dusty wax, as if the wooden floor had been waxed, then a feather duster immediately shaken over said floor. Odd. The second nose seems fruity in a more-straightforward way -- orchard fruit, now, and still a little dust. Something a little musky creeps up, far from wet dogs, perhaps akin to a clean cat on a spring morning. That and a dollop of freshly-applied window sealant (mastic). Mouth: warmed pencil erasers, liquid floor wax, waxy flower leaves in the sun (without any green bitterness), honey-glazed plums... Yes! this is waxy and fruity in equal measures. The texture is that of pulp-free fruit juice. Chewing on it increases the pencil-eraser impression and actually shifts towards the coarser blue tip of an old-school rubber, the part that supposedly erases ballpoint ink, yet only manages to tear the paper instead. Further sips have nut oils, linseed oil, watercolour and fruit stones. Finish: long and comforting, the finish too is dusty, at first sip. A dusting of ground cinnamon on a plum tart. There is a chocolate-y aftertaste as well; a piece of chocolate that stayed in the larder for too long and is starting to take a dusty taste. Repeated sipping adds chocolate milk and wood spices: ginger shavings, cinnamon bark, cocoa powder. One often hears or says that something is "good for such a young whisky." This, on the other hand, is good whisky, full stop. One can only imagine how fantastic it may become when it reaches twenty or twenty-five years of age. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

20/04/2022 Compass Box

Glasgow Blend Limited Edition b.2019 (49%, Compass Box Great King St Single Marrying Cask selected by The Wine Merchant Ltd imported by Compass Box USA, ex-Sherry Marrying Cask, C#35, 132b): nose: there is an intensity at play, here, something quite hard to identify with certainty; a mix of hay-fire smoke, lemon peels, cider vinegar and roasted barley -- this is cereal-y alright. It then settles down and offers cologne, loquats, beechnuts and a timid sea breeze. A touch of fruit rears its head in the background, smothered by the afore mentioned and polished wood. Despite giving it time, the nose keeps the initial intensity that seems ready to puncture the nasal tissue at any point -- similar to lighter fluid, maybe. The second nose has a pinch of confectionary sugar thrown down a dirty chimney, and burnt rubber, reminiscent of skid marks on a race track. Mouth: ooft! This is huge. What a brilliant idea to bottle this at 49%, as opposed to 43% for the regular batches: it gives power and credibility. There is an immense peatiness that the nose did not prepare me for. Soot by the wheelbarrow, crumbly peat, 1840s-steam-train tenders, coke, scorched earth. The second sip adds a fierce dose of lemon juice, a dose that does not mask the smoky character, mind! Chewing on it allows pink pencil erasers to come through, waxed pencils, and a softer type of smoke -- but smoke, nevertheless. It has charred fruit peel too, likely citrus, but blackened beyond recognition. Finish: amusingly, it is different again. The peat is there alright, yet it is more subdued, this time; even though this still has coke bricks and buckets of soot, they are now almost on the same level as blush-orange segments and lemon-y capers. It is very drying too, by the way, salty and brine-y. There is even a fleeting dash of chlorinated water. The citrus turns more obvious with each sip, yet it is less fierce lemon and more tame calamansi or yuzu -- unless it is ciku? The finish is long. It leaves the lips throbbing, the gums coated in a fruity acidity, and the whole mouth as dry as if chewing on a piece of coal. Seriously good. 8/10

19/04/2022 Tullibardine

It appears we have not tasted any Tullibardine for two years, and this particular expression in almost a decade. :-O

Tullibardine 33yo 1972/2006 (43.1%, Dewar Rattray Cask Collection, C#2597, 141b): nose: every time I see this bottle, I wonder if I liked it so much because it was 2006 and my experience with old whiskies was more modest. And every time I nose this, I am forced to face the (agreeable) fact that this is a belter. We have warm apple pie, warm plum tart, apricot jelly, propolis and honeys of all sorts (although acacia and prickle pear dominate), beeswax on an old polishing rag that is starting to harden, distant copper coins in a glass jar with a tin lid, and furniture polish in a spray canister. This is all fresh and glossy, waxy and fruity. Breathing time allows chestnut purée to emerge, as well as balls of wax that have been stored too close to the fireplace and, by right, start to reek of dust and burnt old wood. Something delicately floral hovers in the background, perhaps lilac, honeysuckle or cherry blossom. The second nose adds a whiff of dead leaves and forest floor, perhaps overripe apples, which gives this a more-autumnal scent I am pretty fond of. Mouth: slightly drier than anticipated, it is still very much a fruity number, with dried apricots and desiccated plum tart, though not a crumbly one; it is chewy instead. There is a very faint bitter note of green hazel that harks back to chestnut purée, now. The second sip feels juicier and sticky at the same time: the great return of pouring honey and the arrival of prickle-pear jelly, then. This is now very sweet, not far off Turkish delights, yet it feels balanced and not sickly in the slightest. In fact, it is simply perfect. Time sees it take a step towards dry nuts. Finish: amazingly elegant. The chestnut purée is now loud and clear, supported by dried apricots, ground into a mulch. Despite the low ABV, this finish sticks to the palate forever and a day, like a blend of set honey and wax. Further gulps do not deviate much from that; perhaps they add some kind of nutshells or hazelnut paste, and, eventually, tulip stems in a fresh vase to greet honey-glazed milk chocolate with chunky hazelnuts. In case it is not clear, I still love this. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

13/04/2022 Ardbeg

Ardbeg 19yo d.1974 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask for The Sunday Times Wine Club, C#4380): nose: Jacob Ree-ZOMG! Old cheese rind (Cote Hill or mature Gruyère), tarry ropes, fishing nets, sea water, anchovies in brine, tapenade... And that is not all! It has a pronounced medicinal side as well, with merbromin, tincture of iodine and gauze that fades into old ink and stained blotting paper. At some point, there is a fleeting sheet of cardboard, then whelks and cockles settle for lunch. The whole has a very salty sea air to it, reminiscent of mussels clinging to tarry ropes in the harbour. Further nosing reveals a herbal side too, with oregano and dried seaweed, kelp. The second nose adds pencil-lead dust and rubbery erasers, warmed by direct sunlight, and dials up the ink note. It has a dollop of silt and a dash of marsh water too, for good measure. Then, it moves back to more petrolic shenanigans. Mouth: ooft! This is akin to sipping sea water, or chewing on a moor! It is enormously tarry, and also very salty. Now, ashy wax appears, a few seconds in, but it is really a seafood affair, this one: cockles, mussels, baked oysters, diesel and sea water all blended together. The second sip has spring flowers, wilting in their vase, and decaying into an interesting mash. Smoked crayfish, smoked shrimps, smoked langoustine. Interestingly, it is seafood with an exoskeleton, not really fish. Although, as soon as I write that down, pan-seared white fish shows up (skate?), served with a drizzle of lemon juice and squashed capers. Go figure! Finish: funnily enough, it is huge, yet has little kick from the alcohol. Instead, we have crayons, burnt erasers, diesel spilled on the surface of sea water, salted watercolour, preserved mussels (preserved in a brine-y jelly), preserved lemons... In other words: it is acidic, salty and chewy. Repeated sipping shows just how coating and petrolic this Ardbeg is, with kerosene that sticks to every square millimetre of the mouth. Despite the modest ABV, that some may think hinders this dram (including me, the first time), that sticky, tarry petrol means that the finish lasts for an eternity. Win! 9/10

12/04/2022 Glenglassaugh

This particular bottle has had the bottle number obfuscated. The marker pen is fading away, but a number is still not visible underneath it. A promo bottle, perhaps?

Love how the engraved gannets of the logo form a still.
Thanks, JS, I would never have noticed.

Same story on the stopper

Glenglassaugh 40yo b.2013 (42.5%, OB): nose: such a deep and sweet sherry scent! Dried dates, figs, oily teak, dark-chocolate coulis, dark plums, prunes in syrup, fig relish, membrillo, candied physalis, Golden Syrup and all kinds of dark jellies. A couple of minutes in, a delicate impression of milk coffee lands... and scuppers just as quickly. The sherry influence is immense, and it is truly pleasant. Searching hard, one may find tropical fruits too, from Chinese gooseberries to mangoes, yet they are so submerged in sangria that they are hardly recognisable. Sangria is right, though: this nose has something inherently wine-y, in the best possible way. Madeira wine rises, accompanied by lily-of-the-valley and jasmine. Then, we have wine-soaked banana waving from the side line. The second nose sees confectionary sugar dusted on Turkish delights, as if it were talcum powder on a baby's bottom. Shy citrus whispers in the background -- kumquat and candied pink-grapefruit peel. Finally, watercolour and oilskins greet the nose from a distance, before it all unravels and mild-mannered, juicy tropical fruits appear (honeydew, papaya, guava). Mouth: phwoar! this is juicy. Lychee juice shouts loudly and clearly (albeit elegantly) over something more earthy, something that feels rather primeval; lychee juice spilled on garrigue, shall we say. There is wine here too, fresh, juicy, and fruity ay-eff. We have plump green grapes (Thompson seedless) and a respectable kiss of alcohol. The second sip cranks up the acidity, with Korean pears and bergamots adding a layer of complexity that challenges the wine-y side. Chewing on the liquid makes it juicier: now, it is a smoothie made of banana, peach, Korean pear, grapes and that earthy note, which might be provided by root ginger. Outstanding! Finish: a little musky, long and full of sherry goodness again, though a lighter, possibly drier sherry, here -- Fino? It feels very focussed, with the fruity acidity of wine, or fortified white wine, to be accurate. It has a taste of the vine itself, and a nuance of cork. In other words, there is gentle bitterness at play that works really well. The second sip brings back the prunes in syrup and adds candied blush-orange peel to the mix. The obvious sweetness from the first nose has now transmuted into a bitterness and acidity that points to natural fruit. That impression stays in the mouth forever, by the way. This has a depth and a complexity that simply cannot be found in a younger whisky, nor, arguably, in a modern one. It feels less tropical than the first time I tried it, but it is simply a masterclass in sherry maturation. If one does not rush this dram in, one will find satisfaction. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

And of course...

11/04/2022 Rosebank

Rosebank 17yo 1991/2009 (46%, Speciality Drinks The Single Malts of Scotland, Barrel C#2206, 259b): nose: an archetypal Ro'bank, with honeysuckle and luscious honey in various guises. This is the sort of noses that gave the Lowlanders their reputation of being gentle, soft spoken and elegant. We have some juicy grass on a spring morning, covered in morning dew, spreading honey on toast, dragées, rose-petal jelly, various sweets and candy... Oh! This is sweet alright. And then, limoncello appears in the background, a little bigger than limonviolin. There is something a tad herbal in this nose too; it is not quite thyme, but... A pinch of oregano so dry it hardly holds a fragrance? The second nose has more yellow fruit, veering towards the tropical (juicy plums, nectarines), and the herbal touch turns almost metallic. Mouth: soft and mellow, the honey here is akin to a welcoming pillow: warm and comforting. After a few seconds, that lush honey joins forces with milk chocolate for maximum effect. The whole retains a minute bitterness that points back towards the same (muted) herbal character we found on the nose -- faded oregano, marjoram. The chocolate grows in intensity, eclipsing the honey, at times. That comes back, though, and it is pine-tree honey, it is now clear. The second sip is like peach juice in texture -- none of the pulp, but milk thick all the same. Swirling it around the mouth turns it thicker. The gums are especially sensitive to the thick peach nectar that this turns into. It keeps the minty-chocolate dragées too, which is nice. In the long run, crushed bay leaves emerge. Finish: long and immediately rewarding, the finish has the freshness of mint dragées in which the chocolate is but a feature, not the star. Honey on toast still rocks the place, and there is an obvious fruitiness to complement it -- squashed apricot or mango flesh. A tiny herbal bitterness balances out the juiciness of the squashed fruit to perfection. It leaves the mouth in the same state as after a large sip of peach-nectar-augmented cold cocoa, topped with a couple of mint leaves -- or is it crushed bay leaves here too? In any case, it is brilliant. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

08/04/2022 Caol Ila

Autumn has returned, with wind, grey skies and lower temperatures. Meanwhile, the Arctic and the Antarctic temperatures are dozens of degrees Celsius above the norm. That is not the point, however: the weather here distracts me from the fruity, low-ABV Lowlanders and Speysiders, and calls for something more robust.

Caol Ila 32yo 1975/2007 (58.4%, Signatory Vintage Cask Strength Collection, Hogshead, C#458, 221b, 7/1496): nose: firstly, you can smell it from a metre away. Secondly, it smells amazeballs. It is a cool blend of chocolate, liqueur, sirop de Liège, dry earth and salted kippers, and it turns more and more coastal as the sherry influences decrease; sea air, fishing nets, drying in the sun, a small fishing boats that reeks of diesel, empty plastic bottles of cola used as fenders on the ship's hull. Shrouding all that is a thin veil of cooking vapours, most likely a bouillabaisse on a petrol hob. Eventually, farm-y scents also emerge, and ploughed fields of rich, dark soil come tickle the nostrils. The nose even has a dash of India ink, soot and sheets of dried seaweed (nori). This is a journey I never want to end. The second nose has more dark fruit: blueberries, blackcurrants, dark raisins, all cloaked in a gentle smoke. Mouth: powerful and assertive, the palate sees an impressive knitwork of dark chocolate, dates so dried and sweet they are barely recognisable, some animal musk (wet cats), intertwined with petrol-stained dry earth and kippers in sea water. The texture drifts from thick and coating to thin and back again, and it shoots a few wood spices in the process (char-grilled ginger and lemongrass). The second sip seems a lot juicier and sweeter, even though white pepper, nutmeg and liquorice-root shavings also showing up, albeit in acceptable quantities. Come to think of it, there is a pinch of ground cloves too, aptly complementing the fruit. Finish: flat cola, stale dark chocolate, earthy embers. The death has the tray of a fireplace, full of grey ash and distant smoke -- distant, but recognisable. Soot, dry earth that reminds me of a crusty, desiccated field, and still a drop of petrol. Repeated sipping brings back some of the fruit, yet the finish seems more arid than the palate, in truth. It also seems less coastal: no kippers, no fishing nets. We find some coffee liqueur, dried dates and sirop de Liège, perhaps. It is very brown, that is for sure. It is also very long, and, if the different tastes are so tightly packed that it is hard to pick them apart, the overall impression lingers for an extended period. Stunning. 9/10 (Thanks for the discovery, JS)

07/04/2022 A decade of the Old Man of Huy's key adventures

Datzryte, folks. It has been ten years, since JS convinced me to start this blog. Allow me to not reflect on how much the whisky world and this blog have changed, over the past decade, and move on to a dram. I want to find something suitably special; Something like a Ben Wyvis, since that was my first review on these pages, but I reviewed one not too long ago and have no other open. Something that is ten years of age, perhaps? And that is equally rare?...

107.3 10yo 1989/2000 (61.9%, SMWS Society Cask): is this rare? Well, I have never seen this bottling elsewhere -- not for sale, not in a collection, nowhere. Enough chit-chat. Nose: sharp, almost vinegar-y, at first, it opens up to reveal lemon curd and custard cream topped with lemon zest. This is lemon-y and three quarters! The alcohol is obvious, yet not brutal; it simply is there, minding its own business. Rising from behind it are stroopwafels -- that would be soft, moist wafers and honey, then. From then on, the nose promises more and more creaminess, with lemon custard and lemon curd, some kind of pomelo-flavoured vanilla ice cream, and a sponge, heavy with lemon-scented washing-up liquid. There is also a discreet-but-heady musty undercurrent, probably the alcohol, brooding beneath the surface. The second nose has humid laundry, line-drying on a warm but overcast day. Water diffuses the nose and gives an ethereal pot-pourri air that comes across as very elegant. Mouth: astonishingly, it is exactly what the nose promised, which is to say hot, creamy lemon custard with a drop of lime-scented washing-up liquid. One can feel this is higher than 40% ABV, but considering it is above 60%, the alcohol integration is staggering. One would have to be mindbogglingly attuned to guess higher than low 50s. It is perhaps down to an unexpected sweetness on the tongue, bold, lush and lovely. The second sip merely confirms all that, though it adds warmth too. With water, the mouth becomes a little thin, and the taste is more subtle, although it remains pleasant. Finish: long, lemon-y, this really is warm lemon cake, piping-hot pomelo custard, perhaps lukewarm limonade (lime lemonade, yeah?), and that lingering sweetness indeed. Crystallised citrus and creamy citrus biscuit filling -- imagine Custard Cream biscuits with a pomelo custard, instead of plain vanilla. Outstanding! With water, the sweetness almost disappears, strangely enough, leaving but the memory of citrus -- not custard, nor sweets, this time, which is maybe a pity. I find this extraordinary, tonight. Perhaps it lacks complexity to reach 9, however much I want to give it that. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

02/04/2022 A day is wasted, in which you have not queued at least once

After, ahem, an eventful couple of years, culminating in a five-month closure for refurbishments, Cadenhead's London shop is reopening today. An event that was widely communicated via the Club newsletter. To make it more special, the company announced that they would release a forty-year-old Caol Ila for the occasion.

Also released today, in all Cadenhead's shops, is a charity bottling of Springbank 10yo, the proceeds of which will go to Ukraine relief. There are to be five hundred bottles spread across those shops.

The shop, they said, would open at noon, and close at 17:00. Staff from the head office in Campbeltown would be down to raprezents and pour good stuff.

Since he is in the general vicinity, and since there is nothing on the telly, tOMoH thought he would pop round the shop to say hello, see the new interior, and see what else is available.

Armed with the certainty that many things will be limited to one bottle per person and that there will be some crowd showing a certain level of interest, tOMoH braces himself for a reasonable wait before accessing the wares. No matter: the weather is clement, and the bus journey there is not only fast, it restores faith in Humanity (or in TfL's drivers, at least: the bus is ready to leave, yet a wave and a short trot results in the driver waiting for us -- yay).

It is 11:30ish when I arrive near the shop. From a short distance, there seems to be a decent crowd -- it is with no little surprise that, coming closer, I notice it stretches halfway up the street.

If you know the area, you know this does not look good

In the multitude of unknowns, familiar faces are spotted (JS, WK, MSo, SOB, soon SA too, then DW and JF), altogether weighing less than ten percent of the queue. Conversations start to fuse. 12:00 arrives in no time. The first few people in the queue have been there since 21:00 last night, we discover, probably feeling withdrawal symptoms from not being allowed to queue on Islay for almost three years, and making London pay for it. We estimate the queue is roughly two-hundred-people long, which is way more than I had expected. Anyway.

12:15 comes and goes, 12:30, then 13:00. It dawns on everyone that we have not moved one metre in that time. Passers-by, intrigued by the crowd, start asking why we are queueing. They will do so until the end. Tired of answering seriously, we start the comedy: "Justin Bieber concert tickets," "the new iPhone," "shoes," "I hope to find out at the end of the queue..."

The first customers come out with bags (or boxes, for some) full of bottles. The very first guy in will walk up and down the queue with those very bags for five hours, "doing the peacock," says WK. "There is no pea," fuses MSo's answer. He says he is waiting for a friend who is behind us in the queue. He will end up leaving alone regardless, shortly before we reach the doorstep.

But let us not get ahead of ourselves.

Long is the road

A little after 13:00, a police car arrives: Queues News Network informs us that they are here to disperse queue-jumpers. Soon, we progress a little bit (literally a couple of metres). Then we are immobile again for the longest time.

With impatience settling in, news slowly travels up the queue: the queue-jumpers, in hoodies and classy JD Sports bags, are back. The staff have made it clear they would not serve them or indeed allow them into the store, but they will not budge. The staff have therefore barricaded themselves inside and are waiting for the police to remove the nuisance. Said police, probably busy elsewhere and annoyed at having to intervene once again in something that, ultimately, does not concern them, are taking their sweet time. It is yet another hour before they show up, on foot, this time, and sporting an air I hope never to be the cause of (read: exasperated and clearly ready to use force).

Once on site, they appear to try to reason the queue-jumpers (who seem to be beyond reasoning), then trap them to have a, ahem, more-serious conversation. They trap them... inside the shop. That move prevents anyone from entering the shop, and also the punters inside from exiting. Great.

Regardless of the excitement that that causes, it feels like another eternity passes before anything happens. Eventually, they all come out and a kerfuffle erupts, ending with one of the misfits pinned to the ground by the cops, while the other miserably protests and films the scene ("He's not resisting, bro! You're getting fired for that!") People left, right and centre start filming on their phones, not just in the queue (that now looks like a blob), but from windows around the scene too. Shouts are uttered, and a general sense of adrenaline-fuelled excitement rushes through the crowd.

The queue-jumpers were just as interested
in that wedding dress

Click here and scroll through the comments to watch a video, because I do not see how to embed it.

In the meantime, it is long past 15:00, and we still have not really moved.

The weather has been variable, with a few drops, a few snowflakes, some sun rays. Fortunately, it is mostly dry, if cold. WK in particular is ill prepared, wearing just a sweater and not even a scarf.

A police van shows up, nicks the handcuffed bloke who was pinned to the ground, drives off as the other, who filmed the whole scene, scuppers, tail between his legs. The creaky shop door opens, and the "hostages" come out under a round of applause. I joke that the police are now on the same level as the NHS: unloved, unsupported, underfunded, but paid in crowd-clapping instead.

With those two mischiefs no longer around to cause mayhem, we are relieved that the queue will move at last.

It does not. 16:00 comes and goes; we have made two steps towards the front door. That is not a figure of speech.

Many pace up and down just to keep a little warmer; it helps strike up conversations. Friends come back with stories, most of which go like this: "Do you know what you are getting, once you are in?" "The limited one." "Which one is that?" "There is one for £1,000." A phone is then produced with a picture of the Caol Ila on it. It quickly feels as though at least sixty percent of the people in the queue do not know what they are queueing for. It kind of shows too: amongst the groups, mostly of Asians, are obvious wives, girlfriends, sisters, and even children in prams, who look like they walked out of a West-End musical to spend their London city trip queueing instead. Earlier, a couple of visitors from the Netherlands left the queue: one of their friends had asked them to pick up a bottle for them, and they let him know after a while that they were only in town for a few days and were not going to sacrifice one to pursue a bottle for someone else. Some are more dedicated.

Random acts of generosity are much welcome, on the other hand: MSo shares a pack of almonds, and JS visits a branch of Crosstown Doughnuts before sharing the bounty.

MSo also fetches a coffee from a local shop. He tells us how he heard the staff there talk about the queue: "They are queueing to buy the last-ever-bottled Ukrainian whisky!"

We are amused.

All that is well and swell, but we are still moving nowhere fast. With a promised closing time of 17:00, it dawns on us that we might not make it in at all: It is now 16:30, and there are still in excess of fifty people ahead of us. Quick mental calculation: there were one hundred and fifty, five hours ago. It took four-and-a-half hours to process one hundred of them. The remaining should then take two hours and fifteen minutes. That does not bode well.

The pace picks up for a bit, then it grinds to a halt again. Rumours start emerging that there is not much left to purchase.

A bearded guy sporting a cap comes out with a box full of bottles. "Yes, they still have the Caol Ila. I bought it. I'm not selling," he tells someone in the queue who may have offered to take it from him. "I'm buying, though. If you're selling, I'll buy it."

The end of the river

It is 17:40 when three customers exit and WK goes in -- alone. Up to this point, they allowed six people in at a time, operating a one-out-one-in policy. Now, and with no explanation whatsoever, it is down to one person at a time. The first customers were also offered a dram and a chat, we understand, as well as a more or less lengthy browse, delaying others getting in and resulting in there still being a healthy queue now.

WK goes and comes out. Halt again. Cameron McGeachy and Grant Macpherson come out: they have a taxi to take to the airport, now. Urgently. WK came down from his remote neck of the woods because those two were down from Campbeltown, and barely had a chance to greet them. Clearly, I will not even have that opportunity. They look mightily annoyed when they leave too. Brian Jackson, the new shop manager, recruited from the now-defunct London branch of Royal Mile Whiskies, locks the door behind them. For a while, it seems as though the shop is now closed for business, right as JS reaches the front of the queue, and I immediately behind her.

Eventually, BJ returns and allows JS in. Then it is my turn. It is 17:45. The atmosphere inside is tense. I do not feel welcome.

"What are you after," BJ asks me. "Well, what is left?" I ask. "Not much."

Allow me to point out, here, that the selection is not advertised anywhere that I can see. All this is on the back of an email announcing that one Caol Ila, a separate advertising campaign on social media about that Springbank for Ukraine, and rumours from the queue. Apparently, they released some aged Springbank, bottlings from a few months ago, when the shop was closed -- Longrows, Hazelburns and Kilkerrans -- and the most recent Local Barley. None of that is left, but one would not know if one did not know they were available in the first place.

Conscious that I am annoying more than thirty people outside who are waiting to get in, and, let me say it, at the tail end of my own patience, I dodge the opportunity to express my appreciation of this court exchange with the new manager. I give the names of two bottles which, fortunately, are still available, pay and leave. It is now 17:47.

Outside, the mob is eager to know what is left. In particular, if that "rare bottle that costs £1,000" is still there, picture at the ready, to make sure I understand which one they are talking about. Even now, almost an hour after the announced closing time of the shop, I am baffled at how desperate some people seem to be to get their hands on something they clearly cannot even name.

Well aware that the shop has a hard stop in just over ten minutes (their licence allows the sale of alcohol until 18:00 only), and no-less aware that a significant number of those still in the queue will not even make it inside in that time, I decide not to be there to witness the inevitable riot and bugger off. The bus ride home is easy and quick. Phew.

As a side note, I, like everybody I know, did go by the assumption that everything was limited to one bottle per person and self-imposed that limit, yet that was not explicitly advertised either. In hindsight, seeing the boxes others brought out, it cannot have been constrained in that fashion: at one point in the afternoon, a Tesla stopped in front of the shop and a bloke loaded five boxes of six bottles into the boot. Thirty bottles. Good for him if he can afford it; that is not the point. The point is: there were likely multiples amongst the lot; how many of those bottles were then no longer available to the seventy-or-so remaining people when he came out?

Impressions

Was it all worth it? No. Would I do it again. No. It reminded me, as if I needed it, why I do not attend Fèis Ìle. I take no pleasure in queueing for hours for dregs, thank you very much. If anything, it put me off going to that shop again.

It is frankly a miracle the kerfuffle with the two queue-jumpers was the only major mishap. Queueing on a Scottish island may be civil, courteous and good-spirited, but London has a collection of shadier characters who can spot an opportunity to cause disruption for their personal gain. It appears those things happen regularly upon release of mobile phones, watches, video-game consoles, trainers etc.

Even if we make abstraction of the fact I personally do not enjoy queueing for six hours, it is hard not to feel that the whole thing could have been handled differently. No-one ever came down the queue to explain the hold-up, the in-out policy, announce what was sold out, or even what was for sale in the first place.

It is equally hard to believe that many of these people who did queue will become loyal customers. In fact, it is hard to think that the shop sold much of the regular stock, today, and hard to imagine that they will have many customers for the rest of the month. They probably made a fortune in little time, but at what cost?

Sadly, it is almost certain many of those bottles sold today will be found on auction sites from next week onward. The only thing that was missing today were the auctioneers' vans waiting for the flippers to offload their bottles. If you think that is cynical, know that it is exactly what happens at Fèis Ìle, where the vans are next to the queues, ready to collect bottles bought sixteen seconds earlier.

And in fact...

Right. In keeping with my self-imposed discipline of never posting anything without a tasting note, it seems fitting to have some Springbank, after all that. We have it three days later, to be precise.

Two contrasted ones

Springbank 27yo 1993/2020 (51.3%, Whiskybroker for IAAS, Refill Bourbon Hogshead, C#26, 200b): nose: representative of that famous distillery, the nose has an earthy minerality to it. It is indeed a combination of fruit stones, ploughed fields and hay bales. Semi-hidden behind that is a drop of green-grape juice, adding a sweet fruitiness on what is otherwise a little austere, perhaps. In the fruit's wake is a pinch of ash and a dollop of hand cream. Unexpectedly, a couple of sniffs in, that all changes, and it is plump peaches that come to the fore, wrapped in their velvety skin. They merely announce the return of hay and ash, themselves precursors to woodier tones, such as lacquered chairs that are starting to gather patina. What a nose! A soft salinity emerges in the distance, a combination of iodine-laden air and rollmops, both equally subdued. The second nose seems to highlight the wood, and it adds freshly-dyed wool. Even later, a dash of liquid laundry detergent rocks up, which is quite the surprise. Mouth: robust and not a little rustic, projecting grape pips, toothpicks used to impale rollmops, hay bales and straw, and a dry bitterness that, for some reason, makes me think of ground flint and powdered peach stone. That is to say it just might be ashy, yet it does not have the sulphur-y or carbonated touch that one would associate with ash. Maybe soot? Some kind of dusty compound, in any case. Each sip seems dryer than the previous, reaching Muscadet levels. Sucking on rocks from a sandstone sea-cliff. Maybe someone spilled orange juice on that sandstone a week ago, leaving but a fading memory of fruit. It is dry. Finish: a tranquil force, it seems to disappear unnoticed. It is not soo, however: it simply purrs in the background until it catches the taster's attention. Then, it is an obvious powerhouse that blends the hay, fruit and fine ash to provide a comforting warmth. The second sip has a flash of honey, then swiftly mutates: now, it is burnt wax, mixed with the ashes of burnt peach stones. Further sips bring back more vivid fruit, but this is not one of those Brazilian-fruit-market drams at all -- oh! no. It is more intellectual than that. Cracking cask selection! 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, RG)

Springbank 19yo 1997/2016 (58.8%, Cadenhead Warehouse Tasting, Recharred Sherry Cask, C#606): nose: more different, this could hardly be. We have nail varnish and molten seal wax dripping from the glass, honey-glazed pineapple rings, a drop of surgical ether on baked peaches -- no! On tinned peaches that have been heated in the oven (the nuance is tiny, but important). All that before Springbank's trademark farm-y notes take off -- farmland, farm paths, muddy boots, rich soil and a shovelful of muck, sprinkled with ash. Oh! there are hessian sacks too, and Belgian White (a chalk-based floor disinfectant). Both are well distant, however. Inside the farm, breakfast is served: Weetabix. Far away, behind closed doors, yet still providing a distant note of cereal. The second nose sees firewood and sweetened latte, augmented with a dash of fruit juice, very comforting indeed. Mouth: nail varnish is first, promptly joined by dark pouring honey and metal -- a tin knife to spread the honey, no doubt. It is pretty lush on the tongue, and, if cereals are still present (honey pops), the farmyard takes a seat at the very back of the bus, if it has not entirely disappeared. The second sip has pineapple skin, freshly torn off the fruit, and an anaesthetising strength, it turns out. To call it medicinal would be a stretch, yet it absolutely has something antiseptic -- in a good way. Repeated sipping brings out a more austere facet, with bone-dry hazel and slate. Finish: !!! Where did this lovely milk chocolate come from? Out of nowhere, that is where! Ovaltine, chicory instant "coffee", lukewarm cocoa. Here too, it is augmented with a drop of fruit juice, which provides some acidity. Mind you, there is a tiny bitterness too, reminiscent of chococino. In the long run, the finish becomes dry, not quite ashy, closer to sucking on pebbles. Leafy spices come out too, combava or curry leaves, lemongrass, maybe even bay leaves, at a push. They are so diffuse and integrated that they are hard to identify. Unexpectedly, I prefer this one, today. It appears I tried it a few years ago already, but I like it more today. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, WK)