27/02/2023 Glenlochy

Glen Lochy 14yo (50%, Burn Stewart Distillers specially selected for The Whisky Shop The Select Hogshead, Sherry Casks) : nose: ha! ha! Glenlochy alright, with flint, gravel, granite, marble chippings, and bone-dry white wine. Said wine gives more and more fruit (Sauvignon blanc grapes, obviously), but also quite the dose of ash. In fact, it is half-burnt vine branches, with a few leaves still hanging on for dear life. We then have very-old cut pear-tree wood, covered in lichen and dust, apple-cider vinegar, and a dash of crushed green grapes and -- wait for it! -- celery sticks that give the whole a faintly nutty sort of fruitiness. Very original. Still, that ash lurks in the background. The second nose is a little darker; it adds some kind of blackcurrant paste to the above for good measure. It is subtle, yet also a lovely pencil-eraser touch. Later on, it emits a whiff of nail lacquer too, and, perhaps, after-shave lotion. Those too contribute to making the nose more welcoming than at first sniff. Water mellows it out dramatically. It is still full of white wine, but this time, it is Chardonnay, or Chenin blanc -- Petit Chablis or Sancerre come to mind, i.e. fruitier and less indomitably dry. Now, it even has pineapple Gummibärchen (the lightest ones). Mind you, the distant background still has ash. It is not a sugarfest, all of a sudden. Mouth: woah! The attack is acidic and a half. It has got some fiercely-dry grapes -- Sauvignon blanc does not cover it: we are talking Grenache blanc, Muscadet, or Vinho Verde. The mouth feels as if it were shrinking, its mass depleted of any moisture, and therefore plummeting. That rather austere first impression is not all ash and dust, however: once the taste buds have agreed to let go of their moisture, they pick up just how savagely fruity the grapes are. The second sip sees the addition of nectarine juice. The texture turns a little thicker, likely because the initial acidity slows down a notch. That also allows a bitterer note to permeate, more vine leaves than grapes, at this stage. Only now does it become clearer just how warm this is! Hot, dusty boilers, and old tools in the green house. The reduced palate is in line with the reduced nose, somewhat sweeter, with Gummibärchen and white wine. It falls somewhere between the extreme dryness of the unreduced palate and the fruitiness of the reduced nose. Marsanne or Roussane grapes? There is an earthy quality to it too, which is a neat addition. Ash, on the other hand, is less prominent. Finish: sharp, narrow, precise, it is acidic once more, and fairly green, in the vegetal sense. Not that it feels unripe, or overly bitter -- no! It simply tastes quite leafy. Vine leaves and celery foliage complement the grapes that had hogged the spotlight thus far, making for a more wholesome experience. The second gulp is a strangely-successful porridge of oats, celery sticks, crushed blackcurrants, and acidic gooseberries (pips and all), served warm in an old copper bowl. Further sips even add a dollop of maple syrup -- served with a copper spoon: it does not let go of the copper, really. With water, it remains fruity and rather dry, probably drier than without water, bizarrely enough (drier than dry?) It is fruit that shines, though, with candied apples, flash-frozen plump grapes, sherbet, grape sorbet, and unripe honeydew melon. Nice!  8/10 (Thanks for the sample, DW)

24/02/2023 Hillside

Hillside 25yo 1970/1996 (61.1%, OB Rare Malts Selection): nose: sawn wood, quarry chippings, stone dust, a drop of cider vinegar, and distant cardboard, a typical marker for this distillery. It is not exactly lush and welcoming, but -- hey! What did you expect? Next up are sliced (yellow) onions, dust puppies from an old broom brush, crumbling dried bulrush, apple pips, boot-sole-dry roast beef. At last, it opens up to reveal more-appealing notes, such a s waxy marzipan and fleshy stone fruits. It remains a rather austere affair, but it is at least trying not to appear rude. In fact, it proceeds to oscillate between the dusty cardboard notes and its fruitier side, just to keep one guessing, and that elicits interest alright, regardless of which aspect one prefers. The second nose is like entering a shed in which wood is stored, ready to be burned in the fireplace -- a damp clay floor, but an altogether-dry atmosphere. Here is also peppermint that has long since expired, and has therefore lost a lot of its potent smell. A drop of water opens it up dramatically, and allows citrus to shine. Mind you, it is dried-out orange peels, ground into dust, but still. It also feels warmer, and adds a vague juiciness of blood orange and pomelo. Much later on, tilting the glass introduces a pasture-like quality: earth, trampled by cows, or dried dung, both very faint. Mouth: a little brash at first (RMS strength, innit), it feels like licking red-chilli powder off a slate, so hot and rocky it is. Underneath that is a delicate fruitiness, with peaches so hot they might as well be on fire, apple pips dripping oil, and grape stems, also moist with oil. Cardboard is never too far, and neither are onions, this time pickled. They are not invasive either, merely in the background. Over a few minutes, the palate develops an unexpected earthy note of clay. The second sip is as wild and unruly, with an abrasive attack, even. We have peppermint-y lime, at this point, intimidating, due to its concentration, but actually quite nice, in tOMoH's opinion. The texture seems to grow thicker, from almost vinegar thin to a mint-y paste. Water softens it, and makes it an almost-gentle, citrus-y juice, showcasing bergamot, kumquat, Kaffir lime, or ugli fruit, and a pinch of sugar to keep the acidity under control. Finish: surprisingly discreet, it displays drops of cider vinegar on dusty cardboard, cured beef slices, brine. Hardly any of the fruity notes made it this far. On the other hand, dried bulrush makes a late-but-lasting appearance, and it leaves the tongue properly parched. The second gulp packs a stronger punch; it delivers a lime-and-mint paste that feels refreshing, yet also a hefty dose of pepper, blended with stone dust. That counterbalances the freshness, somewhat. None of that lasts very long. The only impression that remains after a few seconds is that cardboard-y dryness. Once more, a drop of water makes for a very different experience, one in which the desiccating cardboard is swapped for juicy citrus. At this stage, that juice has chunks of carambola in it, and only a minute portion of crushed mint leaves. What a difference! It is another challenging Hillside, just like the 1997 edition was. There is certainly an audience for this sort of profiles: I am part of it, even though I would not drink loads of it! 8/10

23/02/2023 Auchentoshan

Auchentoshan 17yo d.1987 (61.5%, OB Individual Cask for Belgium, C#1659, 552b): Psycho opened this one before this blog existed (my first notes are from 21/07/2009, and I already write that I had it prior). He raved about it, while the other group members (including tOMoH) were less enthused: it was all burnt tyre, hydrocarbons of all kinds, and exhaust fumes. That led to its being nicknamed the Francorchamps Grand-Prix. We emptied the bottle at Burns' Night, this year, and this sample is all there is left. Time to give it some proper attention. Nose: well, the famous rubber is still present, but much less of the burnt-tyre sort, and more of the bicycle inner-tubes variety -- soft, root-y rubber, vaguely reminiscent of liquorice root, or nigella seeds. It is not rubber that dominates, though; it is prunes and dried dates, sprayed with droplets of nail varnish. Next is a jerrycan of petrol (or diesel), not terribly fragrant. After a few minutes, a dark-cherry-and-blackcurrant paste appears, sticky, chewy, and, well, dark. A thin veil of engine fumes wraps the whole thing. Oh! and here comes mulch too, which suggests to me an autumnal drive in a forest clearing, at the wheel of an old Land Rover Defender that could do with an engine servicing. The second nose is closer to what it used to be -- a Sherry monster. Espresso, mocha, coffee grounds, black cumin, and Mokatine sweets. Soon, a dark-fruit sweetness re-emerges. With water? Wow! Brioche bread, speckled with mixed peel and candied citrus, slathered with butter and marmalade. A little further, we meet Suc des Vosges, and distant mocha fudge. Mouth: huge, borderline frightening, in line with the announced ABV. But it is also pretty fruity: dried dates, dried figs, prunes, and juicier specimens too, namely: blush orange, nectarine, and, fleetingly, something more exotic that I struggle to pin down. Swirling it around the mouth for a bit burns the tongue allows the blush orange to really give it its all. It is supported by pink-grapefruit peels, surprisingly enough. A big, wine-y wave joins in that could very well mean sangria. The second sip has mocha custard, sticky toffee pudding, fudge, and, bizarrely, a lot more horsepower than the first. It does not take long before blush orange makes a comeback, very acidic; it displays an obvious citrus-peel-y bitterness. Water increases that bitterness, yet it cranks up the sweetness too, so it stays well balanced. Mixed peels in blush-orange juice, really. Deliciously refreshing. There may even be cucumber peel, too, as well as a pinch of nigella seeds, or asafoetida. Finish: astonishingly, it is rather soft, today. Sure, it grows warmer, but the terrifying ABV is nowhere to be spotted. Instead, it is a parade of juicy fruits: blush orange, pink-grapefruit zest, lychee (you read that correctly!), rambutan, unripe nectarine, and tangerine. What is happening!? This finish has the pronounced acidity of all those lovely fruits, and a certain fruit sweetness. To note on top of the above is a drop of strawberry juice. It is all very fresh again -- so fresh, in fact, that it is close to spearmint, or nigella seeds. Repeated sipping maintains this far below rocket-fuel levels of heat; it remains fairly soft, all things considered. On the other hand, it seems more and more acidic, which comes with ever-present citrus fruits. Water works less well in the finish, and that is not a shock, seeing as it was so quaffable naked. It subtracts the acidity, leaves a dialled-down sweetness, and a clearer (though less strong) bitterness. Picture diluted lychee juice, with a sprinkle of crushed lychee stone and cucumber peel. It took (almost?) fifteen years, but I finally enjoy this very much! 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, Psycho)

22/02/2023 Royal Lochnagar again

Royal Lochnagar 27yo 1952/1979 (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail Connoisseur's Choice, Oak Casks): this should be fairly different from the other day's, considering they were distilled more than forty years apart... Oh! It does not say on the label, but all those black-label Connoisseur's Choice that were not explicitly made for Giaccone were bottled in 1979. They switched to brown labels in 1980. Nose: different alright! This is in the old boys' league, with cigars, plush gentlemen's clubs, smoking rooms covered in wood panels, and a purring fire in the fireplace. There is burnt-wood sawdust and caramelised marmalade, of course (trademarks of a whisky of that era), gunpowder, cordite, and granite chippings. Then, those notes of smoke and elemental sulphur transform into old vegetation, lichens and mosses growing on sandstone. It is deep and complex, and it moves back where we started: with fire -- this time burning in an old stone bread oven. That is not over, however: age-old ink on parchment or yellowed paper, blotting paper, stained to death and starting to shred, old quills in dried-out inkwells, then empty aquariums, which is to say: dried freshwater algae, pet-turtle food residue, and drying gravel, augmented with crumbly dried orange peels. Meow. The second nose brings up old broom brushes, cartoon-witch style, dry, dusty, and covered in microscopic amounts of various powders (ground mandrake root comes to mind), but also old stone tools from an archaeological site. Mouth: holy smoke! This is like putting vase water in the mouth. Algae, lichen, moss roots, sphagnum, but also Verdigris, cordite, burnt moss, and loads of stone dust. The attack is surprisingly big, and one could understandably question the modest ABV. It is an unusual palate, one that will doubtlessly deter some, as it is not exactly sexy. The next sip seems more acidic, with ground lime zest that has sat dormant in a metallic container for decades, and only wants to be remembered. Next are cut branches from decades ago, covered in lichen, and destined to be burned, distant smoked mussels, and, again, vase water, greenish-brown with particles of the plants it once held. Finish: much easier in the finish (read: more-traditionally appealing). The notes from the mouth move to the background to allow orange marmalade into the spotlight. It is not show-offish at all -- in fact, it sports signs of decay: patches of mould, and a metal taste certainly imparted by a copper spoon left in the jar for too long, but still: a bit of fruit! It is as though the lichen and algae were set on fire, leaving but traces of their presence, in amongst cordite, gunpowder, charred twigs, and ash. The second sip introduces a drop of apple juice, and some unidentified, chewy paste, resinous, quite clearly vegetal, but discreet, and not earthy in the way peat can be. It grows sweeter the more I drink, yet never becomes sweet. Cane sugar covered in lichen, perhaps? Sugar cane from which the juice has been pressed out and the sugar machine-extracted? Vase water stays in the throat for hours afterwards. This tastes like illicit hooch made in a shed down the back of a garden in the XVIIIth century, and nothing like what comes out of a modern factory that churns out millions of litres of formatted product each year. Actually, I find it closer to the oldie from Tyrone than to Lochnagar. Spectacular! What a nose! 9/10

20/02/2023 Royal Lochnagar

Royal Lochnagar 10yo b.2006 (57.2%, OB The Manager’s Dram, European Oak Cask, b#1189): nose: intense and concentrated, this nose offers oily, exotic wood, and wood glue. Here are teak, redwood, mahogany, drinks cabinets, and teak oil. Slowly but surely, it moves towards earthier tones, and mulch appears, as does bark. It does not take long for that earthiness to elevate to Oloroso territory -- a soft, elegant Oloroso, rather than the brutes we sometimes encounter. Suede gloves, fringed leather jackets, fruit-scented lipstick in a soft-leather purse, and dried figs just about cover potting soil. The second nose has old wooden boxes made of oak, turning green with moss, and eaten by woodworm. Nail varnish appears, subtle and pleasant. A pinch of dried tarragon and crispy caramelised onions add a note of originality. Water removes all complexity, as we enter a sawmill; pine trees. Douglas firs. Epiceas. There is a lot of resin alright, but the earthy side has vanished. Mouth: wide and punchy, assertive and a half, the attack brings engine-grease-stained apricots, teak-oiled shelves, freshly-sawn mahogany, prunes, dates, and a drop of dark-cherry liqueur. What starts off as oily becomes almost milk-coffee-like in texture, with a faint bitterness that is immediately brought down a notch with Lyle's Golden Syrup. The second sip turns that into corn syrup, with walnuts and pecans floating in it -- roasted pecans, of course. Both have the skin on, which continues to provide a mild bitterness, and a distant note of old rubber. With water, here is a softer (and blander) attack, with diluted Golden Syrup, and, perhaps, custard, in which a drop of Sherry would be lost. Finish: it has oomph, that is undeniable. At first, we see more milk coffee, though that soon becomes a slathering of melted caramel, coating, sweet, and ever-so-slightly burnt. A soft nuttiness lingers, at the back of the palate, while the heat warms the whole body. Repeated sipping emphasises Golden-Syrup-glazed tarragon, much to tOMoH's delight, yet also increases the bitterness: it is no longer just green, but discreetly metallic, now. Adding water introduces chicory infusion, but renders the finish short, and quite simple. It does enjoy a remarkably creamy feel, though, which clings to the walls of the mouth like mocha custard, topped with loads of whipped cream. Excellent, though it is not exactly Michael Phelps. 8/10

17/02/2023 Rhosdhu

Rhosdhu is now distilled from 100% malted barley in a column still, which classes it as a grain, according to current SWA regulations (a silent malt, in the old world). But there was a time, not too long ago, when it was a single malt. This is from that time.

Rhosdhu 26yo d.1979 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#3236, b#163): nose: it is clearly a wicker basket full of all kinds of ripe fruits. -- bergamots, satsumas, plums, apricots, nectarines, quinces, carambolas, canary melons, papayas, and more. The wicker is fairly obvious, underneath all that fruit, sporting a thin coat of varnish. A few minutes in, the nose welcomes custard, and the smashed fruits are simply gloriously bathing in it. This is not a particularly complex nose, yet all that vitamin C it showcases aptly makes up for that. The second nose has confectionery, though I am struggling to say what... A combination of Twin Cherries and Cola Bottles, maybe, with a pinch of crushed Sweet Bananas to make it more interesting. Whatever it is, it works a treat: distinctly chemical, yet as agreeable as the natural fruit from earlier. Mouth: acidic and metallic attack that has more kick than one might expect of 46%. Past that, it is a parade of juicy fruits: overripe quince, mushy plum, juicy satsuma segments, ripe banana, covered in caramel coulis, cubed papaya, dried apricot and mango slices. The texture is that of natural fruit juice, neither pulpy, nor thin. Subsequent sips are bursting with fruit, still, and there are more kinds, here, such as greengages and mirabelle plums, as well as a drop of thick, darker elderberry compote, or currant jam, straight from the pot in which it has stewed, and still piping hot. Finish: a little on the discreet side, the finish namechecks all the fruits from the nose and palate nonetheless. This time, we also see a gentle bitterness, a root-y, earthy beverage, or a knife's blade, that complements the sweet fruit very well indeed, and brings this close to the profile of some grains (Cameronbridge and Cambus come to mind). The second sip augments all that with a spoonful of softly-earthy elderberry jam, or old raisins. Unless it is a dark-chocolate praline that contains dark-cherry liqueur. It is very convincing, either way. Pleasure in a glass. 9/10

16/02/2023 Ardmore

66.25 22yo 1985/2007 Pink ladies and dark chocolate (52.3%, SMWS Society Cask, Refill Hogshead, 295b): nose: a hefty serving of rich earth, soil, or potting soil, chocolate, and mulch. Some fruit manages to pull through, after a minute or two, so earthy it is barely distinguishable. We have crisp green apple, fallen off the tree, papaya, lychee rind, mangosteen rind, bread fruit rind, rambutan. In a nutshell (pun obviously intended), tropical fruits that come in an inedible, medium-hard skin. That morphs again to turn slightly boggy, craggy, not quite to a stagnant-water level, yet there is definitely an impression of damp earth. Even later, dishwater surfaces, a drop of washing-up liquid in a sink full of earthy water. The second nose has forest floor, maybe even petrichor, yet in a forest full of citrus trees and pine trees, then. Mouth: earthy on the tongue too, it has a more-pronounced and acidic fruitiness, with pink grapefruit taking the lead. The texture is thicker than grapefruit juice, though -- think: peach juice, but more acidic. It takes a while of swirling around the tongue to detect any alcohol, strangely enough. Instead, an earthy, root-y haze dominates the palate: chicory infusion, Jerusalem artichokes, citrus-tree roots. The second sip introduces a faint bitterness that hardly competes with the afore-mentioned acidity, a musty cellar in a country house in the Ardenne (yes, singular), and dry logs for the fire. In fact, that vague woodiness becomes more assertive, if it remains specific -- it is not an impression I have felt anywhere other than in the south of Belgium. Finish: softly mint-y, in a Tic Tac way, the dials quickly turn to lime (lime Tic Tac, innit), and root beer. The ABV is, again, hardly noticeable, although that does not prevent a long, lingering finish. It is simply a procession of flavours, rather than a pow in the kisser. Desiccated pink-grapefruit peels, lime leaves, lemon mint, and roots of all kinds, dropping clods of earth. Further gulps appear sweeter, and... pink. Suggestion at play? Perhaps. It is hard to explain. Maybe it is reminiscent of those pink ladyfingers from Champagne. In any case, it is as pleasant as it is original! Green-house scents rock up via retro-nasal olfaction, a blend of soil, earth, and clay pots, overheated plants and spray cans of fertiliser, yet also an open jar of marmalade, as well as hints of milk chocolate and cactus, at the death. Very good! I think I like it better than the first time. 8/10

13/02/2023 Ledaig

C. Dully managed to get his dirty mitts on a cask of unpeated Ledaig, which he bottled. For whatever reason, the label on the actual bottle reads 'Tobermory', but an authority tells me... The spirit called Tobermory, which is the usual unpeated expression from Tobermory distillery, goes through a different distillation process, hence the distinction. How exciting!

Ledaig 23yo d.1995 (46.8%, C. Dully, Refill Hogshead, C#3636, 295b): nose: well, in line with the colour, this nose is pure white wine. Light, fruity, sweetish, and refreshing, this has all the markers of a Riesling, or a Gewürztraminer (in truth, it has notes of Sancerre or Chablis too, minus the flint and the dryness). Pressed green grapes of a sweet variety, a cloud of soft wood, and even flowers (chamomile is my guess). That wood comes to prominence, after a few minutes' breathing, and starts a lively jig with the lovely fruit. There are whiffs in which the white wine is stored in Cubitainer (aka Polypin), rather than bottles, amusingly enough, and maybe it has apple juice too. The second nose has an increased freshness, be that mint or pine (though not as concentrated as Gocce Pino), with a pinch of vanilla sugar, and much less white wine. Water mostly swaps the wine and mint for lukewarm chicory infusion, or chamomile tea -- or a combination of the two. Mouth: wide, acidic, the attack is a lot less subtle than expected, and a lot saltier! In fact, we have this strange blend of white wine, wood shavings, and table salt that kind of works, but is hardly reminiscent of whisky. How quaint! The texture is thin, close to diluted grape juice. Once the mouth gets over the initial acidity, a gentle bitterness settles in, augmented by a chemical, mint-y sweetness (think: Tic Tac). The second sip confirms the Tic Tac note, while the salt seems more integrated -- but it is still there, alright, growing bolder with each second it spends on the tongue. Water makes it very thin. It shows some tame flowers and a gentle bitterness, perhaps akin to that of almond biscuits, yet so subtle it is easy to miss. Finish: almost absent, for a good five or ten seconds, it eventually develops a more-pronounced sweetness, with mint-y, thick vanilla custard, limoncello, and the clear warmth of an eau-de-vie. A warmth that numbs the inside of the lips, at second gulp, ripe with crushed pine needles in resin. An obvious bitterness appears, towards the death, that leaves the mouth as if having chewed on a pine cone. With water, imagine a hot chocolate made with (too much) hot water and (not enough) milk chocolate, infused and cooled off to hardly higher than room temperature. Not sure this swims well, in other words. An interesting curiosity. Honestly, I cannot see Burn Stewart Distillers (proprietors of Tobermory) turn this into a wide commercial success, but for the curious drammer, it is original. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, CD)

08/02/2023 Lagg

Lagg Heavily Peated Inaugural Release (50%, OB ex-Oloroso Sherry Cask, B#2, b.2022): nose: 'peaty', you said? Despite the young age, the peat is integrated (but not 'subtle'; let us not go crazy) and harmonious, reminiscent of farmyards, and cattle-trampled pastures, crusty earth, and, to some extent, stagnant water, or algae. Next to that earthy character are cedarwood and a pinch of ash, then pickled courgette. The least one can say is that that is original! Soon, the courgette is eclipsed by dusty newspapers, kept in a damp basement, and a tiny dollop of wax. The earthy influence grows back to prominence, now mildly smoky. The second nose appears to put the accent on the wax, and it adds pencil shavings, as well as horse's hair. Mouth: a soft attack quickly allows a veil of earthy smoke to settle and envelop the tongue. Here, we note a little acridity, a delicate wood bitterness too, yet they are soon overtaken by a lovely (subdued) dark honey. Further sips are sweeter, offering smoked light brown sugar, or smoked sugar cane, amongst cedarwood splinters. An undercurrent of ash remains, for the attentive taster -- it is far from obvious. Finish: rather big, but controlled, the finish welcomes more of that refined, earthy peat , that, instead of the steamroller a three-year-old whisky could have presented, goes toe-to-toe with a honey-like sweetness, and only a small amount of ash. Perhaps this is akin to sipping peach liqueur, whilst observing the surrounding fields burning. The second sip is in line, yet it adds nori, or smoked freshwater algae. Unlike nori, however, it is not salty. Actually, it is its sweetness level that grows bolder with subsequent sips. Later on, burning cherry tree lingers, long after the above have all vanished. Well done, Isle of Arran. This quality, after only three years!... A strong... 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, MR)

In other news: bit foggy, today

06/02/2023 Highland Queen

This one is unusual in that it is a single malt, rather than a blend, which most, if not all other Highland Queen expressions are. From which distillery? Well, it is undisclosed, but we know that Macdonald & Muir, the founding company, bought Glenmorangie in 1918, and Glen Moray in 1923. The brand Highland Queen was sold in 2008 to Picard Vins & Spiritueux, a company who also owns Tullibardine distillery. Of course, Highland Queen Scotch Whisky Company being a blending firm, this could be any old cask, but chances are that it is one of the afore-mentioned three distilleries. And considering Tullibardine has been releasing well-aged expression in their Custodians collection, in recent years, there is no reason to think they would surreptitiously sneak a cask under the radar by not disclosing its provenance. In other words, this may very well be a single malt from a distillery whose name starts with 'Glen( )mora-'. And only one of those two is really touchy with their brands, so go figure! Hm.

Highland Queen 52yo 1962/2015 The Century Edition (40%, The Highland Queen Scotch Whisky Company Majesty, Oak Casks, 500b, b#491, L15/6000): nose: an immediate whiff of vanilla custard, sprinkled with pleasant cologne, or tame after-shave balm. Quickly, citrus rises, and we have grapefruit and oroblanco coming to the fore. A nuance of minty, pine-y freshness catches up, alluding to citrus foliage to complement the fruitiness. The whole is subdued, restrained, elegant, a geisha in a China shop. A bit of breathing gives this nose a lick of marmalade, in a PiM's style -- the one coated in white chocolate, which they seem to no longer make, these days. The second nose is as discreet, yet it may well add dried-raspberry slices to its repertoire. Mouth: as mellow as one would imagine at this legal-minimum strength, but totally acceptable, and not weak in any way. Here is the soft ginger of ginger snaps, sweet shortbread, lemon-y custard cream, clementine foliage, crushed with a pestle and mortar, and dusted onto the cream. A faint bitterness appears, akin to the citrus leaves morphing into bay leaves, yet it adds a layer of complexity, rather than distracts from the lovely citrus-y shortbread. The second sip has a little more wood: balsawood shavings, or grated fresh galangal, more than anything bitterer or plank-y. The ever-present citrus turns greener, pomelo or yuzu, now, or heavily-sweetened lime juice. It seems more acidic with each sip, but falls short of turning stripping. Finish: it truly shines, here, with, essentially, the logical continuation of the nose and palate -- clementine, satsuma foliage, custard, shortbread. The next gulp confirms that (perhaps simple) picture, and leaves a very long-lasting, creamy feel in the whole mouth. It is now lukewarm, liquid custard, bursting with vanilla, bright citrus, pressed satsumas, vanilla sugar, and powdered shortbread. The death has a fleeting sense of a more-tropical fruit, though one would be hard pressed to identify it, so fleeting it is (kiwi? Chikku?) What a delightful drop! 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)