At last, some time to rerun that epic tasting.
Speyside Region 42yo 1976/2018 (45.2%, Sansibar Whisky / Acla da Fans Acla Selection, 386b): nose: hehe! The aromatic depth is unprecedented this year. Or this month, at least. It has a rich mix of oily precious woods (teak, mahogany), juicy chocolate spread, and berries compote (lingonberry, cranberry, red- and blackcurrant). There is gingerbread and French toast, in the back, which suggest a spice blend and eggs for baking, I suspect. The fruit compote morphs into elegant nail varnish, before returning to a burst of juicy berries. Darkened, overripe strawberries, served on a slab of precious wood (not a cutting board!) Plums, rehydrated prunes, fresh figs. The wood slab becomes louder with time, but remains under control. Plus, it is so elegant, it is forgiven. Fleetingly, shy tropical fruits take a peek (mangosteen, lychee, dragon fruit). Not quite so shy, actually: a moment later, it is a small parade of peaches, dragon fruits, lychees and strawberries, all pressed together for a cheeky jig. The second nose is even more expressive, assaulting the nostrils with soaked raisins, brioche, smashed raspberries on toast, and a rum-cured banana purée. This nose has fleeting glimpses of flowery fragrances too (peonies, pansies, purple tulips), unless it is fruit-scented modelling wax. In any case, it is tantalising. I think it is time to say: phwoar! Mouth: well, it is pure fruit juice, here. What is surprising is that it is more acidic than anticipated, and, therefore, drier. We have the texture of kaki fruit, which is closer to apple than peach, for those readers who are not familiar with the various types of persimmons. Chewing on it reveals a dollop of nail varnish via retro-nasal olfaction, and that, alongside a minor bitterness, takes us back to those wooden slabs (teak or iroko, now, perhaps even ebony). A dialogue between wood and fruits ensues. The second sip seems less marked by wood, and lets the fruits speak more freely -- carambola, barely-ripe guava, Granny Smith or Crispin apples in the same state of maturity, yet also tart cranberries and cherry liqueur. It is not Edelf Tropfen or Mon Chéri, but it has traits of those two. Subsequent sips are chewier, and add some kind of elderberry paste to the above. And rancio. Plenty of rancio. Finish: a palatable kick of wood (polished chestnut shells, polished-walnut dashboard). Fresh fruits are less-immediately obvious in the finish, tropical or not. Kiwano, perhaps, or pressed berries, the juice of which is served in a coppa dell'amicizia. Repeated quaffing puts the emphasis on fruits again, and it is a wine-soaked grapes, apples, orange segments, lychees, and guavas that emerge from a bowl of punch. It somehow manages to stay elegant, though; we are not dealing with a vulgar sangria. And, look! there is no denying it: the finish does have a woody bitterness to it; however, it is classy, bookshelf-grade wood, not flower stem or green hazelnut. Also, that bitterness is subdued, anyway. In fact, it is even closer to orange pith than to anything overly woody. I remember ruckus being very impressed with this, especially the nose. Well, I can see why. It is a work of art. 9/10
Inchmurrin 42yo 1974/2016 (45.2%, Cadenhead Cask Ends, Bourbon Barrel): nose: boom. An explosion. The first note is a slap of hay. Hot on its tail is ripe pineapple, part cubed, part pulped, and part baked. Those three distinct preparations are then strewn about. It also has mirabelle plums, plump peaches, apricots, persimmons (sharon, this time, the much-softer, Middle East type), and jackfruit, racing to the sinuses. We can find a subtle lick of metal too, as if all those fruits had been cut with a sharp steel blade, and yellow-tulip petals (or daffodils). Still, what easily dominates is the pineapple. Ten minutes into this, a spray of waterproofing aerosol for leather adds an unexpected layer of complexity. The next minute, that turns into sprayed mango juice. Jacob Ree-ZOMG! that nose slaps. Pineapple returns, now wearing hiking boots (which means: decaying tropical fruits; of course, you know this, since you read this blog). Newly-waterproofed hiking boots, naturally. Not much sink funk to be found, on the other hand; only fruit goodness. Oh! Purple cuberdons come out of nowhere, all of a sudden. Quite amusing, considering ruckus and I forced WhiskyLovingPianist to try a cuberdon for reference, on the day we had this dram. I had forgotten that until this smell started tickling my nostrils. Yet again, fruits take back control: pineapple, greengages, strawberries, papayas, and new-hiking-boot sole. The second nose is as fruity, yet also greener (the colour, not a lack of ripeness). Green bananas, pulped pomelo (though sweeter), clementine foliage, crystallised citrus. Looking hard, it is possible to detect a (very-)faint eggy note, quite removed from H₂S, but an acquaintance of it. It is almost drowned by the trumpeting fruits, though. Mouth: creamy, velvety as a fruit yoghurt, it does not take long to turn acidic. Oh! it is no lemon juice, but it does tease the tongue a bit. Maracuja, pineapple, rambutan... and boot sole again. There is indeed a soft note of rubber -- 'soft' as in: blink and you will miss it. The second sip brings tutti frutti in yoghurt, punctuated with fresh fruits. Fresh and a little greener, it flirts with pomelo, or oroblanco, without reaching the acidity level of those two. Yuzu it is, then. Crystallised green citrus (pomelo boiled sweets), rubbed mandarine leaves, and a tiny pinch of asafoetida complement the afore-mentioned tropical fruits. Meow. This is akin to a crossing between Littlemill and Penderyn. Finish: Like the best fruit bombs, it goes down without much noise, other than a comforting warmth. Then, it comes back to haunt you. Pineapple, yellow maracuja, smashed greengages and mirabelle plums, papaya, rose apples. How can something that spent forty-two years in a cask be so devoid of wood influences? Where are the planks, the splinters, and the ginger? Not here, that is for sure! This is as fresh as a fruit juice from an inert container. It is at the second gulp that one is struck by the absolute perfection of the balance: this is frankly acidic (those fruits), and clearly bitter (rubber boot soles), yet those two have the same intensity, and virtually annul each other in the overall delivery. For those who want to find them, they are there; for those who are not keen on either, they fade into the background. Over time, the finish seems to turn sweeter and sweeter, in a hard-candy way. Only upon moving the tongue about a bit does the already-stated rubber become more detectable. Unrestrained masterpiece from the most-criminally-unloved distillery in Scotchlandia. 10/10
Benriach 42yo 1966/2008 (43.9%, Signatory Vintage Cask Strength Collection, American Oak Hogshead, C#1019, 175b, b#12, 8/706): nose: perhaps it is less show-y than the previous two, but it is no less beautiful. This has more control and restraint, and is perhaps more intriguing as a result. Of course, it is primarily fruity: it is a Benriach from a certain era. And we are talking about purple fruits: fresh plums, plum compote or jam, plump and juicy dark grapes, blueberries, and purple maracuja. It is not simply fruity, however. The plums are part of a plum cake, which means we have cake batter in a tin -- yes, this nose has a whiff of metal. Grapes are not simply naked either: at least some are in a paste form that comes out of a tin tube -- more metal. It has something else too -- something earthier or grassier, without being openly earthy or grassy. Something that makes me think of a ball of wax, for some reason. Unadulterated beeswax, rolled into a malleable ball -- a powerfully-fragrant one. Further on, we see a decoction of purple-tulip petals, a dash of plum-and-prune juice, and I swear I spotted a pinch of soot in there too. None of the above stands out much; this is a nose that requires work. The second nose seems to dial up the fruit, with kumquat and tangerine entering the scene, and timid mint joins in, hand in hand with smashed apricots. All of that happens in a wooden shed, which is not to say it is woody (it really is not); rather, all is toned down as if unable to talk outside the wooden box, so to speak. Mouth: soft and gentle, it may show its age more than the others. It is not frail, yet it also will not try and steal the spotlight. Thirty seconds in, it does reveal itself a bit, and we reunite with plums, grapes, blueberries, and purple maracuja. The second sip is fresh, a freshness imparted by herbs: lemon mint, spearmint, dill, fresh lemongrass or fresh Kaffir lime leaves. Once again, none of that is brash; it is all subdued and restrained, and will only reward the patient analytical tasting. In the long run, cooled-down plum compote shows up, as do (discreet) aniseed, a whisper of liquorice root, and bog myrtles. This adopts a fresh and delicious earthier profile, given enough time. Finish: how unexpected! The finish is more characterful than the nose and palate suggested. The old lady still can kick! Tulips (purple), stems and all, plum and grape skins, pressed berries (the residue, not he juice). Indeed, this retains a surprising bitterness, although it is safe to assume no-one will call this bitter. Unripe greengages, kumquats come and go. This is pleasant and adequately comforting, fruity, integrated almost beyond recognition of the individual flavours, superb all round, yet it is perhaps difficult not to think this should be a little more spectacular. Fortunately, repeated sipping turns this into a force to reckon with. Lemon mint becomes more present, as do citrus leaves and passionflower. Interesting that it is the flower that comes out, now, when we had the fruit, earlier on. Speaking of fruits, some are still here, more currants and raisins than fresh plums, however, and they are complemented with a sprinkle of liquorice-root shavings. A dram that demands time and careful attention. 9/10
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