31/07/2023 Ardmore

Ardmore 1992/2010 (49.4%, Malts of Scotland, Bourbon Barrel, C#5014, 158b, b#169): nose: the first whiff announces another rustic-as-fook dram, with a fireplace in a mountaineering bothy, twigs ready to be burnt, dry clay floors, and, generally speaking, a welcoming, dry place, when it is cold and damp outside. It is far from all, however, and, underneath all that, careful nosing will pick up candied pineapple cubes and crystallised strawberries, mixed with borderline-charred hazel wood. The earthy note (remember clay floors?) becomes richer, closer to potting soil, and we also find a pinch of soot. Still, strawberries make that fresher and livelier, and they come across as chewy too. In fact, they may be strawberry chewing gum, at this point. Baking frangipane makes a late entrance, sweet, chewy, and almond-y -- or, at least, it promises to be. The second nose sees a few of the same fruits (strawberry, pineapple) fall into a bucket of dry twigs and coal. The deeper one noses, the more fruit and the less coal, merely a sprinkle of charcoal gratings on a fruity yoghurt. Much later on, we have dried sausage (of the light kind, so partly dried only), and light smoke re-appears too. Mouth: almond-bitter in the attack, the palate slowly opens up on the tongue to prolong the beauty of the nose: warm hazel wood, a pinch of soot on a dry clay floor, and swirls of fruity smoke, namely strawberries and candied pineapple cubes. The smoke is bold, softly acrid, and that is very comforting indeed. The fruit in it makes me think of those scents vapers put in their Death sticks, yet it is nowhere near as invading or unpleasant as, say, their strawberry muffin -- oh! no, quite the opposite: here, it is all subtle, balanced, and very much an asset that elevates the already-excellent palate. The second sip raises the power and the bitterness, with heated dried-garlic shavings, and hot almond milk to complement the strawberry, which is now smashed into a creamy, yoghurt-like pulp. Yum! Finish: how I enjoy those naturally-reasonable ABVs! 40%-50% of undiluted joy is my sweet spot; this is no exception. It pets the senses, rather than assaulting them. It feels much less smoky, here, and fruitier instead. More strawberries, stewed, this time, candied pineapple cubes, and dried raspberry slices, rehydrated, and sprinkled with an interesting blend of confectionary sugar and soot. A gentle touch of dusty old wood lingers, as discreet as possible. Here too, subsequent sips turn fruitier, teeming with strawberry. The mouth ends up coated with an oily film, and retro-nasal olfaction reveals a chlorinated-water note, swimming-pool style. We also spot asafoetida, which is a step further than the dried garlic from the palate, perhaps, though firmly in the same direction. This is excellent. On another day, I may score it higher. 8/10

28/07/2023 Linkwood

Linkwood (100° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): still no age statement, but 100° Proof, this time. Nose: and what difference 30° Proof make, eh? This is immediately warmer and punchier than the other miniatures we had recently, with heated cast-iron boilers, healthy lichen that takes advantage of a higher temperature to grow boldly, stacks of dust-dry pine-tree logs, and dried peach skins. Breathing time brings a timid fruitiness -- so timid that I am struggling to identify it. There is also steamed broccoli. The second nose has a fleeting, almost-perfume-y note of magnolia, and metal filings. Water brings out hot candlewax, unripe apricot, greengage, and heated Brighton Rock. Here is a note I have never used before! And I reckon I have not had Brighton Rock in forty years either, so my memory of it is perhaps incorrect, yet that is what I am reminded of. Sadly, Brighton Rockstar WhiskyLovingPianist is not here to confirm. Mouth: it is punchy alright, though a silky texture soon makes one lose one's bearings. Unexpected. Nevertheless, out of that confusion, cast iron and bitter lichen rise, mostly smothering a tentative fruity side. At this point, it is probably unripe apricot, yet it is so faint it is hard to be certain. The second sip grows bitterer, firmly focused on hot, coarse metal, and crushed bay leaves. It drowns with water, surprisingly. Even the tiny amount I added makes this little more than flavoured water. Menthol and unripe nectarines, perhaps. The texture remains as pleasantly silky. Finish: big, bold, we find grey-ink-covered cast iron, military dark-green paint, dry-brushed on boiler plates, and the most minute drop of peach juice sprayed onto it. It does not evolve dramatically upon repeated sipping, yet it turns a tad dustier. A minute or so after swallowing, gravel appears. Water opens up the finish, remarkably releasing peach and nectarine slices, a lick of sugar glazing on a sage doughnut, and shiny metal that comes much closer to the steel of a blade, or the tin of a can than the earlier cast iron. This is very good, if not overly complex. It is a bit closed neat, and very different with water. 8/10

And if you think it looks like the Mortlach from the other day, it is because it does.
Gordon & MacPhail also used the same eagle for Talisker bottlings

25/07/2023 Mortlach

Mortlach (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: in one word: rustic! Piles of lichen-covered branches, cut and stacked in preparation for the winter, wood stoves, antique hot water bottles made of copper, musty dunnage warehouses, and Verdigris all feature, at one point or another. Moss-covered metal and billows of grey smoke too. Here is an old-school nose, if we ever sniffed one! Centuries-old gardening tools that were once used to work a sandy soil, saxifrage and lemon thyme growing on a lime-rich ground, and tangerine turning blue with mould. The second nose has smoked lime leaves, cured limes, and the filling for a lime meringue pie -- which is safe to assume is lime meringue. Later on, delicate nail varnish has a peek too, alongside fancy, scented-crayon shavings and subtle erasers. Mouth: one would struggle to identify the Beast of Dufftown in this. Hail Mortlach in Bourbon casks! The rustic character of the nose takes a back seat, and lets citrus roar. Pomelo, pink grapefruit, clementine, peels included, which gives a soft bitterness, and a mildly-rubbery texture. Scratching the surface, one may spot liquorice allsorts, via retro-nasal olfaction, yet this is mostly a fruity affair. The second sip has flat pomelo lemonade (did we call it pomelonade, in the past?), and turns sweeter with every passing second. Flat pomelo lemonade, now enhanced with Galia-melon juice. It gives a strong, light-green impression, fruity, bitter, acidic. It is also faintly sooty, in the long run. Finish: at an ideal strength, this has the same fruity tones as the palate, perhaps with more-pronounced rubber. It is by no means overly rubbery, yet it certainly has a chewy bitterness to counterbalance the fruit. And chewy it is! Chewy, coating, quite like citrus peel. In the back, we see combava leaves, waxy, chewy, and citrus-flavoured. Behind the fruity acidity, the second gulp somehow gives a whisper of white smoke that would be mildly acrid, it it was less subtle. Smoked Galia melon blends with pomelonade again, with just a pinch of soot to keep things interesting. This is outstanding. Perhaps I am overly generous, today, but I will score it 9/10

24/07/2023 Old Pulteney

Old Pulteney 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): you can tell Gordon & MacPhail were bottling these semi officially (in the since explicitly-named Distillery Labels collection): no-one else calls it Old Pulteney, which is a trademark. Instead, others point to a whisky distilled at Pulteney Distillery, a mention that appears in smaller characters on this very label too. Nose: phwoar! From the first sniff, it is easy to see why Pulteney got "The Maritime Malt" nickname. Sure, we have cut apples, yet what dominate are harbour scents: sea breeze, sea spray, diesel-engine fumes, rusty metal, chipped paint, eroded by salty, humid air... In fact, the impression of corroded metal is strong, in this one, bending and twisting to blend with red-apple peels, smoked, then dunked into an old paint tin. The second nose insists on corroded, borderline-rusty metal, and old paint tins, whilst retaining the sea air. It adds mentholated shaving foam and ground lemon pips for originality. Mouth: heavy-metal fans, rejoice! The story of iron continues, with bitter steel, metal hoardings, corroded corrugated steel sheets, and drill bits, all over a milky texture. It is not all metallic bitterness, fortunately; we also have apple compote, here, apple peels, home to growing lichen, fruit-tree wood smoke, and sanding dust. The second sip is as bitter at the start, then it relaxes a bit, morphing into the peel of citrus that has grown by the shoreline, fruity, salty, and a little more bitter than it is acidic. Maybe we have crushed effervescent tablet with a citrus taste? Imagine lemon-flavoured Alka-Seltzer, and lime leaves. Finish: bold and lively, the finish has a kick! No power lost to the angels, here, despite roughly half a centilitre's evaporation, over the decades. Roasted apple slices, served on a heated steel or pewter plate, the velvet shrine in which that pewter plate is normally displayed, a whisper of smoke (though what the source is is less clear), but very little of the coastal elements, at this point. The second sip has dried citrus peel (pomelo), lemon thyme, and crushed Kaffir lime leaves. It is remotely salty, though that is overshadowed by the citrus. Belatedly, a drop of pouring custard appears. Imagine a tequila shot for which salt has all but run out. The death has remnants of the leafy bitterness, and spouts out some of the diesel fumes from earlier. This is excellent. 8/10

21/07/2023 Belgian National Day

Patriotism grips me so much I will sample something Scottish, today. And while we are having eight-year-olds bottled at 70° Proof in flat minis...

Glenrothes-Glenlivet 8yo (70 Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: oufti! (ooft!) Sherried, yes, yet far from the recent Glenrothes expressions, which I find overly buttery, to the point of being sickly. Here, it is all precious woods and fortified wines. Pedro Ximénez, tawny Port, mahogany, teak, and polished dashboards, rich, deep, and dignified. A minute of breathing pumps rancio into it, the dusty clay floor of a dunnage warehouse, and a heap of lichen-covered, cut branches (apple tree), drying before it is used as heating fuel. Later on, a fruity note tickles the sinuses: myrtle boiled sweets, crystallised orange segments, lemon or lime Sugus, candied angelica. Finally, boiled red-cabbage leaves come into focus, then disappear almost as quickly as they arrived. The second nose clearly has coffee, very-distant burnt tyres (must be those protests in France), and gradually moves towards chocolate (of the dark-ish kind, much to my delight). Looking hard, we find a drop of washing-up liquid, hardly worth mentioning. Then, boiled mud, or clay, and fruit-scented air-freshener rock up, faintly mentholated too. As one tilts the glass, roasted apples tumble out of it. Mouth: fresh, fruity, acidic. It appears sweet, for a fraction of a second, but it turns citric in no time, shooting pink grapefruit, clementine and pomelo in all directions. There is a soft bitterness too, almost rubbery, and the texture is chewy and a half, reminiscent of liquorice boot laces, or toasted, then stewed star anise. The second sip, without being smoky has more of a chimney-sweep feel, with sooty metal brushes and coal dust. Those are easily matched by a bold fruitiness, however; cut apples and plums, soaked in Sherry until they are soft. What is most remarkable is how punchy this is! Bottled at the legal minimum of 70° Proof more than forty years ago, with a dwindling fill level, and yet... Over time, wood lacquer settles in, a bit solvent-like, yet elegant. Finish: mellow, not weak, here are chewy liquorice, cured citrus (peel and all), a big chunk of candied angelica, and chewy sweets, Sugus or Starburst style. The second sip is sweeter and fruitier, and the cut apples and plums from the palate make an assertive comeback, emboldened by all that fortified wine they have been soaking in. We also find nut oil, coating and heart warming. Elderberry cordial, Frangelico, candied angelica, frangipane, Grand Marnier-infused custard all leave a softly-bitter dryness in the mouth that makes this dram rather moreish. Wow! 8/10

Ô Belgique, ô mère, chérie

A toi nos cœurs, à toi nos bras!

A nous tes frites!

20/07/2023 Two low-fill eight-year-olds

I had something else in mind, but the level in this mini shifts my priorities.

Glen Mhor 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: unlike any other Glen Mhor I have tasted, this one smells close to a brandy, with clear notes of ripe grapes (Crimson Seedless), and fragrant jasmine, caramelised-lychee juice, and pineapple weed, perhaps augmented with a dash of chocolate coulis. I fear for the strength, though, as this, albeit charming, smells free of alcohol. Further nosing brings Turkish delights, rubbed hyacinth leaves, and still that promising chocolate. The second nose is even fruitier, with rehydrated raisins, dates, and lychee (provided one dehydrates lychee -- and if not: why not?), yet also Vanidene granules (apparently more-scientifically known as cyclovalone). Yes, it has that creamy, vanilla-y scent (it could also be cream soda) that fortunately never feels vulgar. Mouth: it is definitely below the advertised strength, unfortunately, yet it still hangs together (by a thread, let us be honest). As expected from such an old miniature, it presents old cardboard and the brine from a jar of pickles, a drop of balsamic vinegar in a cup of heavily-diluted coffee, and... fenugreek. The second sip has Vanidene granules with a dusting of ground white pepper, which is original. Slowly settling on the tongue, we see something earthier and darker -- maybe a dollop of Marmite, or torched Demerara sugar. The finish is the strongest part of this dram, with seemingly very little lost to the ages. There is a refined sweetness to it, caramel coulis poured on chocolate-filled dragées, caramelised carrots (!), and a milk-chocolate cream so thick it might as well be chocolate mousse. The next sip adds Demerara sugar, torched so much it is starting to foam and froth. In other words: it turns earthier and toastier, yet it retains a clear sweetness. This has obviously suffered from evaporation, but it is still very good. 7/10

We have time for another one.

Tamdhu-Glenlivet 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: could this be more different? We have sawdust, pine planks, and something that, strangely, reminds me of my aunt's kitchen in the house she moved out of twenty years ago. I cannot tell if that means the chipboards of the cheap furniture, the oilskin on the table, or the butter of her cooking, but the way it triggers those memories is striking and confusing, though not unpleasant. That dissipates somewhat, and we are left with the sawdust of cut Formica-clad chipboards, and a shroud of fruits (tangerine, pineapple, unripe papaya or guava). The second nose seems more flowery (lily of the valley), and leans more on confectionery (candy floss) than on fruit. The sawdust backtracks, and the undeniable bitter note now comes from a green plant, rather than it ('it' being the sawdust). Cut flowers in a vase, maybe. Water further tunes down the sawdust and leaves but the flowers (lily of the valley) in a bakery, while the baker prepares the choux dough. Mouth: this one has lost less of its power, if any. It is full of sawdust, and bigly peppery! Fruits appear quickly in the shape of plums and nectarines, white peach at a push, but they cannot be very ripe, because they are balanced by a strong bitterness -- picture those fruits in a cup of black coffee, enhanced with a drop of wood oil. Perhaps nigella seeds join too; it is hard to tell. Actually, it is not: after a minute longer, nigella seeds become fairly obvious, overwhelming the spoonful of strawberry yoghurt they are meant to top. The second sip is in line, first fruity, then toasted to char. Water renders this greener, sappier, bitterer. It is a mellow bitterness, yet it overshadows the fruit a bit. Finish: a very fruity, creamy outburst, the finish has more of that strawberry yoghurt, almost overpowered by nigella seeds so toasted they resemble charcoal chips. Sawdust and bitterness have gone away, leaving the charry nigella seeds do most of the talking -- and talk they do! This is coating, drying, desiccating, long and warming, though I would not call it comforting, as that char dryness will not be for everyone. It reminds me of those two Tamdhu we had in Dornoch, a few years ago, yet this one is much more balanced and pleasant (thanks to the reduction?) The second sip feels more peppery, this time black pepper, which retains the warmth, while dialling down the char. With water, it is reminiscent of a cold chicory infusion, with a drop of green-grape juice to keep it interesting. The finish is, surprisingly, perhaps better with water. 7/10

Happy birthday, YDC and ZC!

17/07/2023 StilL 630

StilL 630 16mo 2015/2017 X-9 Cherrywood SMB (50%, OB Experimental, C#15-65, b#161): nose: this is much more savoury than X-7 and X-8 at first sniff, with beef stock, oxtail stew, and Bovril, alongside a cup of coffee. Then, we have miso paste and chocolate-scented plasticine, a welcome addition that brings a balancing sweetness. A short while later, this acquires a nuance of wild-berry jelly, somewhere between blueberry, elderberry, and blackberry. The sweetification (you read it here first) continues, with pressed sultanas, pressed dried dates, and candied cherries. The metamorphosis goes on, now giving birth to flowery scents too -- brambles, honeysuckle (not exactly, but close enough-ish), and it is flirting with forsythia, when it suddenly changes its mind and goes for evergreen instead (spruce). It smells oily (wood oil, that is), and almost honey-like. It is very hard to reconcile what is happening now with the initial, savoury impression! The second nose is warmer and welcoming, with a chocolate-and-chicory infusion (chocory, obviously), nutty wax, and a vegetable of sorts (celery stalk? No, but I cannot tell what else it could be), as well as dark-rose and tulip petals. Woah! Mouth: woody and savoury, oily in taste, yet thin in texture. What I am trying to say is that it tastes like the oil that one finds at the top of a peanut-butter jar that is getting on a bit. All the same, it does have massive waves of wood in the shape of oily pine planks. It is not planky, to be clear. It has pine planks is all, with the acidity and bitterness one should associate with that. The second sip has melted chicory granules, and some nut spread that does not appear to be made of peanuts. There is an undeniable bitterness, so it could be almonds or Brazil -- with skins on, in either case. Finish: well balanced, all things considered, the finish is closer to the palate in character than to the nose. Pine planks, a lick of wood oil, and a broth of crushed pine needles. That remains fresh, though, a delicate blend of anise, menthol, and minute honey. It also has a fleeting whisper of asparagus, in the back, which, on top of a soft bitterness, brings an unexpected and original touch. The second gulp is very similar. At a push, one may find a drop of unripe-grapefruit juice, or its zest, in fact: bitter, dried zest. This is probably my favourite of the three. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

14/07/2023 Bastille Day

A Port Charlotte, then, because it is a French-sounding first name, and because this expression was gifted to me by a Frenchman.

127.33 10yo 2002/2013 Mouth-numbing mountaineering dram (63.5%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Barrel, 182b): nose: without surprise, it is full of bacon and grilled mud patties, clay pots out of the oven (ooooh!), and fortified wine spilled on scorched earth, yet also grilled cherries and rancio. Beside that is an obvious raging power that throbs, waiting for its moment to maim one's nose -- or bite it off, to be accurate. It also has old Indian ink, drying on ancient scrolls, and linseed oil, also rather dried. The second nose rejuvenates the ink (meaning it smells more recent), turns it red or green, adds unripe-citrus rind (lime? Pomelo?), and cranks up the farmyard, with farm paths and muddy tractor tyres. A faint herbaceous whiff joins in, likely grilled lemon mint. Even later, we find burning seal wax and dried sausage, as well as a whiff of weed ash, and rubbed Kaffir lime leaves. Just a drop of water tones this down dramatically, and it now has a flowery scent -- not in the widely-hated, perfume-y way, no! It is almost lilac. Oh! it still has plenty of ink and earth, do not be fooled, yet also much more. Mouth: a mellow attack, full of steamed plantain, but it is not long before this brute reveals its power. Scorched earth, glowing embers, ink wells, bitter and dark, creosote, soot, tar, and crushed nigella seeds. It goes from hot and burning to charred and bitter in less than a minute. The second sip is more acidic, with roasted calamansi, and a drop of citrus juice, on hot sandstone. After a second, we discover moss-covered bottles, heated to close to their melting point, more damp earth (clay, probably), burnt cake crust, and a numbing combination of surgical alcohol and Iso Betadine. Not that it is particularly medicinal; it simply feels brown and anaesthetising. With water, peppery menthol takes over, and if it does not mask the earth, it certainly balances it. Char-grilled mint stems, and char-grilled patties that were coated with a lemon-mint marinate. Finish: bold, yet not the kick one might have foreseen. Very earthy again, the finish numbs the tongue for a little while (it almost paralyses it, actually), until the taste buds wake up to all kinds of earthy touches (clay pots, mud cakes, earth patties interwoven with bacon rashers). The second sip is even earthier, if that is possible, and introduces silt, muddy stagnant water, and freshwater-algae-covered pebbles. It is warming and numbing, yet not exactly in a comforting way -- more in a medical fashion, whereby one is stuffed to the gills with anaesthetics, yet that does not bring peace of mind; it merely knocks one out. Repeated sipping adds hot seal wax, which is nice, if not clear enough to come with fruit. Hot maraschino cherries, at a push, covered in mud. Water converts this into something heavily mentholated that is now elevated by lemon mint and char-grilled flowers (lilac, both white and purple). Why would one char-grill lilac? Erm, because it works as a whisky tasting note? Retro-nasal olfaction picks up loads of barbecue scents, in fact. This is a bit much for me. I certainly like it better with water. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, Fixou)

Epilogue: this Port Charlotte has the Cambus effect. Only one dram, and I have had a headache for thirteen hours. Downgraded to 6/10

12/07/2023 Flanders Day

Celebrating Flanders Day like a Walloon. Late. (It was yesterday)

Hi-dilly-oh, neighbor!

The GlenDronach 19yo 1995/2014 (54.2%, OB Single Cask selected by La Maison du Whisky for whisky.fr, Oloroso Sherry Butt, C#1563, 640b): nose: it is a 'dronach as most aficionados love them, one overflowing with chocolate and musty, earthy, Sherry aromas. Potting soil, prunes, pan-fried-mushroom water (or rehydrated-shiitake water), roasted cocoa beans... Heck! it even has oyster sauce. That does not make it maritime in the slightest, though: it is very much an earthy number, albeit an appealing one -- provided one likes chocolate (and who does not!?) Ten minutes of breathing steer all that towards drinks cabinets and polished teak furniture, tobacco leaves and unlit cigars, liqueur-soaked raisins and a jelly made of unidentified berries (blackcurrants? Blackberries? Mind you, it may be rose-petal jelly slathered on softly-smoked rosehip). A faint whiff of lichen-y rancio adds a late depth. The second nose seems drier. It brings leather and cured-ham rind coated in earth so dry it could be desert dirt. Happily for me, it does not stray into coffee-grounds territory. Mouth: rich and wine-y, the attack is not as chocolate-y, which is a bit of a departure from the nose. Nail varnish, wine sauce, gravy, green-lentil cooking water, mushrooms (penny buns), all splashed with a generous serving of Palo Cortado Sherry. We have prunes too, dried dates, a pinch of discreet potting soil, and boiled purple potatoes. The second sip is drier and bitterer, earthier, perhaps, which increases the impression of green-lentil cooking water. It also sees distant pebbles, covered in moss. That somehow makes the whole palate seem warmer. Finally, cocoa powder returns to the scene, borderline desiccating. Finish: yes, big and sherried, without a doubt, it delivers nail varnish and dried fruits on a heated metal plate. Dates, dried and earthy, prunes, currants so dry they retain hardly any sweetness, and some tame spices. It falls somewhere between amchur, cloves, and black cardamom, in terms of lasting flavour, which is a sweet spot, in truth. The second sip comes dangerously (for me) close to mocha, yet it could simply be ground cocoa beans that were roasted a little too heavily. Let us settle for for chococino, which is rather fitting, as I discovered that while working in Flanders, ahem, many moons ago. This is not my favoured profile, but it is well pleasant. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, elskling)

10/07/2023 Glenfarclas

Glenfarclas-Glenlivet 11yo 1980/1992 (59.6%, Cadenhead Authentic Collection 150th Anniversary Bottling, Oak Cask): nose: naked and rustic, this one offers a delicate whiff of smoke, alongside crispy bacon and roasted apples. Leather bags full of orchard fruits are next, as is dusty grape juice by the campfire. A few minutes in, that is joined by engine grease and cylinder heads, in other words: a metallic scent, and it works a treat. Lichens and mosses arrive shortly thereafter, hinting at oxidised copper. Aaaaaand faded leather re-appears, a leather hat left on a straw bale. The second nose has a strange combination of heated aged eau-de-vie and liqueur (warming and sweet at the same time), and reminiscence of a coppa dell’amicizia (read: a wooden drinking vessel). Yes! It is Calvados, served warm in one such coppa, with a drop of liqueur to make it sweeter. Over time, oily blonde tobacco sticks to the back of the throat. Water turns this into a dry-white-wine Schorle. Chenin blanc, almost metallic, or mentholated -- perhaps it is toothpaste out of a tin tube, after all? Mouth: sharp attack, young and raw, at first, and quite bitter too. In no particular order, we see plant sap, straw, sage and oregano, a cast-iron boiler, coated in dust, and then the whole comes together and starts to make sense. Crispy shortcrust, caramelised custard (vanilla and mocha), hot metal. The second sip has roasted apple and quince, surfing on a milky texture. It is warm like hot wool, not burning, and one may detect Virginia-tobacco notes. It works very well. Adding water gives watered-down grape (or apple) juice, and too thin a custard. It is still decent, but not a glowing success. Finish: it does leave the gums and the front teeth a little numb (so close to 60%, how could it not?), but it is actually more mellow that one might have expected. Hot chocolate custard, some herbs (sage becomes more and more obvious with each passing second), stainless steel warmed in the oven. The second sip confirms the metal: it is fruity and sweet, yet those aspects are perpetually struggling (and failing) to eclipse a clear metallic vibe -- a stainless-steel salad dish, or pewter plates. A way to describe this would probably be to say: roasted slices of apple and quince, topped with a dollop of hot chocolate custard, sprinkled with dried sage, and served out of a stainless-steel bowl, into a pewter plate. A taste of cured apple sticks in the mouth, titillating the tonsils. Water brings back blonde tobacco and straw, yet they are so diffuse, now, that they are less enticing. Strangely, considering the ABV, this one is not exactly Michael Phelps. Neat, on the other hand? Excellent! 8/10

07/07/2023 StilL 630

StilL 630 24mo 2015/2017 X-8 Chocolate RP (50%, OB Experimental, C#15-38, b#47): nose: it leaps out of the glass with overwhelming notes of fruity Cognac and exotic woods. Grapes, mirabelle plums, orange wine, polished mahogany, and redheart. There is some soft rubber too, in a 1980s-cheap-trainers style. Oh! and Irn Bru. This could easily be mistaken for a rye, and, should one associate a colour with, it would be neon orange. Further back are roasted nuts, oily, interspersed with chopped orange segments. Oranges do take off, yet they do not feel too natural; more the crystallised sort, almost sickly sweet. We also have freshly-made oilskins or rubber boots, still reeking of melted rubber. With quite some imagination, one may detect a whisper of smoke, very far from all the above, and probably closer to caramelised marmalade than actual smoke. The second nose has lukewarm cocoa, as welcome as it is unexpected, and a wooden spoonful of cheap marmalade indeed. Mouth: bitter and a half, comparable to cold coffee (for which you do not have to wait a moment, if you want it -- for those who know). Chewing on it increases that perception, though it adds wood: cold coffee spilled over a wooden dining table. Orange peels join in, chewy as if fresh, bitter as if dried. Also mocha-flavoured gelatine, and a drop of Cointreau. The second sip is in line, with old wood perhaps featuring more prominently, although citrus peels are not far behind. Over time, the bitter side stabilises, in terms of intensity, and point at metallic-tasting herbs, verbena, or sage. Finish: the best part of this dram, in my opinion, with gelatine sheets, melted milk chocolate, and mocha custard, as well as some mixed peel that comes across as far less vulgar than the citrus of the nose and palate. The finish glows a comfy warmth, and is now more acidic than bitter, which is good news for tOMoH. The citrus is much riper is what it surely means. The second sip adds a dash of pineapple-weed infusion. I could not drink huge amounts of this, to be sure, but it certainly is interesting! 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

06/07/2023 Benromach

Benromach d.1969 (40%, Gordon & MacPhail Connoisseurs Choice, b. ca. 1989): the miniature does not indicate the bottling year, but Gordon & MacPhail did a big bottle with the same livery in 1989, so it is rather safe to assume this is the same. Nose: well, well! Burnt wood, embers in the rain, calcinated twigs, campfire, the morning after. That is soon joined by mellow menthol and growing peppermint, and balanced by walnut oil and polished dashboards. The back of the sinuses pick up something more organic that may be a mix of sink funk, vase water, and silt; it reads horrible, but it is subtle enough to not be a bother. In no time, that fades away, and makes room for some kind of strawberry paste, enhanced with a drop of furniture polish. The second nose sees hay, or straw bales, dry, dusty, and heart warming, used farming tools, not particularly old, stored in the barn, after a sunny day's work. There are also piles of twigs and branches (not logs), drying in preparation for the winter. Further nosing brings varnished wood, and I detect the faintest note of white-fleshed tropical fruit (dragon fruit, mangosteen, cherimoya), in the long run. Mouth: mildly astringent in the attack, the palate delivers a similar cocktail of woods polished and burnt, strawberries, and peppermint. Perhaps it has grated ginger too. The (dried) strawberries are magnified, here, yet they do not come alone: bitter hazel wood supports it adequately, the bitterness never becoming a negative talking point. The second sip is just as impressive, and fruitier, with apricots, macerating in juice in an open-top wooden cask of a certain age. Woodworm-eaten old furniture appears, as does slightly-caramelised jam, stuck to the bottom of the metal pot. Finish: robust, woody, filled with dried berries and wood spices (ginger powder, wasabi, asafoetida). The wood and its spices impart a clear bitterness (think: chipboards) that does not detract from the enjoyment. It is a lasting finish that sparkles on the tongue long after swallowing. The second sip has liqueur-boosted toffee, mocha-and-berries custard, sprinkled with coal dust, sooty wooden buckets, apricot jam turned black on the hob, and charred fruit stones that become progressively fruitier and fruitier. This starts good, if perhaps unassuming, but ends up big and rustic. Duhlishes! 8/10

05/07/2023 Linkwood

Linkwood 11yo 1984 (60.5%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: hot metal, marmalade-jars tin lids, cast-iron stoves, made dusty and sooty by years of usage. It is perhaps a little closed, apart from that. We may find stale chicory granules in an old jar, and faded oilskins in the background. A little later, we have apples, poached, then caramelised, and rusty metal, as well as a minuscule drop of nail varnish. It might seem shy-ish a nose, yet it is probably the high ABV masking the aromas that are purring underneath. The second nose has hot clementine and hot metal intertwined. With water, it is quite the change! Forsythia-scented air freshener, sprayed in a black-marble-tiled, dark-wood-panelled room in a country estate. In other words: flowery and waxy -- both floor wax and wood polish. That gives the nose an elegance and a distinguished bitterness, as well as something a little more light hearted. Further nosing adds a thin veil of white smoke. Mouth: sharp, bitter, and musky, here are dried plant sap on a rusty sickle, hot chicory infusion, poached endives (in fact, poached, then braised). After thirty seconds, it is an old, cast-iron stove that emits a comfortable warmth, and heated marmalade-jars tin lids. The second sip seems sweeter, more approachable. We have citrus rinds, both dried and candied, an old-school colander, still hot from the pasta it was just used to drain, and the enamel of which is chipped. This feeling of heat never really disappears, more numbing than comforting, like gin on a flesh wound. Water turns this into a gentle Speysider as one usually understands them: mellow, flowery, a little sweet, and elegant all round. Finish: it is bold, of course, yet also fruitier than before: now, we have some marmalade, not just the lid of its jar. It only lasts for a moment, mind; soon, all that remains is anaesthetics, as the whole roof of the mouth tries to shake off the numbness. It feels as though hit by a dusty stove. Oh! there is plenty of dust, although the soot and rust are now hidden. The second sip brings back some bitterness, well within the boundaries of what is tolerable, but still: a drop of flower-stem sap, hot metal, warmed mixed peel, and cake batter, lightly burnt in the tin mould. With water, it is a drop of plant sap in a glass of plum juice, which is to say it is sweet and bitter in a balanced way. It does remain warming, yet nothing like the fierce heat from before, and little of the metal survives. Only that gentle bitterness that ends up pointing towards honeysuckle. Lovely, if not as fruity as the first time we had this. Happy birthday, JB!. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

04/07/2023 Independence Day

StilL 630 15mo 2015/2017 X-7 Mesquite Smoke (50%, OB Experimental, C#15-66, b#177): nose: we have a mix of strongly-subdued torrefied coffee, hard rubber, and industrial glue -- all discreet, integrated, pleasant. Old chewy sweets rise to prominence: years-old Gummibärchen, kept in an unsealed bag, and rightly stale as a result, radial tyres that have crushed berries, stale cuberdons, faded green gum drops, and old candied angelica. It really is not sharp enough to be fully rubbery, nor is it openly fruity; it is instead that unlikely mix that is closest to stale chewy sweets. Deeper nosing unveils some plasticine too, which matches the chewy sweets, I suppose. The second nose feels thicker and richer, almost earthy, or gravy-like. It stops short of savoury, yet one may detect a wine influence, here, or liqueur, perhaps. Warm brown bread out of the oven (ooooooh!) completes the picture. Mouth: there is a clearer-if-fleeting bitterness at play, in a coffee-custard way. It lasts for about half a second, then makes room for Caramella Mokatine. Yes, the texture goes from custard to that of boiled sweets, to flan, in the long run. As for the "fleeting" bitterness, it only fleetingly disappears, and soon comes back, full of mild coffee flavours and metallic spoons (silver?). The second sip adds rising sourdough, a drop of caramelised corn syrup, and a hot moka pot. It is more straightforward in the finish, overtly focussed on mocha and toffee -- picture a crossing of Mokatine and Quality Street's Toffee Penny. Both are soft enough to be inoffensive, and the result is all the better for anyone not enamoured with coffee. A gentle bitterness lingers, be it metal, or dried herbs, and complements the undeniable sweetness one could also detect in a Mokatine. Simply do not think it tastes sugary, because it does not. The second sip has Bourbon Cream biscuits, and more mocha-infused toffee. It is a long and comforting finish, all in all. Although dialled down, the afore-mentioned bitterness draws one back for more! 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

03/07/2023 Laphroaig

Laphroaig 10yo (55.7%, OB Original Cask Strength imported by Allied Domecq Zürich): nose: perhaps less meaty than I remembered it, the nose is clearly smoky and medicinal instead. We have the famous TCP, tincture of iodine, and linen bedsheets in a hospital. More prominent still are gauze and bandages. Underneath those, one can find a lacquered drinks cabinet, warm watercolour, and crusty bread (Schwarzbrot, to be precise). The nose shifts after ten minutes or so, and settles on sea air and mossy, sea-spray-infused earth. A rash of lichen flares up, and a drop of melted candle wax rounds it off. The second nose is more grilled, if that makes sense. Grilled puffy waffles, grilled aubergines. The waxy note comes back with a vengeance, so bold as to be minty -- it is likely lint, though. Mouth: the rather brash attack provides the same candle wax, now augmented with spent wick and torched bandages, ether, sprayed on gauze, waxy, plasticine-y clay, and Iso Betadine. The texture is chewy, and the whole is warming. The second sip has lukewarm ink blended with the Iso Betadine, which provides a mild bitterness. It is subtle, mind, and torched bandages soon reappear. There is a gentle freshness too -- lint, tar, mint. Finish: a time bomb. It goes down unnoticed, waits for five seconds, then radiates warmth for an eternity. It is in line with the above; gauze, bandages, iodine, earth. This time, we also have stagnant water, however, brackish. The second sip adds tar to that equation, never overpowering, and actually pleasantly refreshing. A dark, slightly bitter freshness lingers in the aftertaste, that emphasises said tar. I like it better than the first time, despite the seemingly-reduced fruitiness. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, OB)