29/02/2024 Tamdhu

On this rarest day of the year, I had something else in mind, but, with a little time to spare, I opted for this pair instead.

8.27 33yo 1967/2000 (48.2%, SMWS Society Cask): nose: this promises to be a woody number, with enough encaustic and patina to become almost heady. Mixed peel, crystallised orange segments, furniture wax, cinnamon-bun dough, toasted marzipan, and a drop of nut-liqueur-and-tonic on chewy kaju katli (and if you do not know what that cashew-nut paste is, you have not lived). Persistence helps identify shoe glue and hardened leather, which give the sense one has just walked into a shoemaker's workshop. It is oranges whose contours become sharper and sharper, however, pointing at orange liqueur, even, sweetened, yet also bitter. Cointreau-soaked Madeira biscuits. No! scratch that. Cointreau-soaked amaretti. Yes, the interplay between orange and almond is clearer with every sniff. Lovely. Later on, it develops a note of old marmalade, stained by a less-than-tight tin cap, and, maybe (just maybe), a whisper of smoke, as one tilts the glass. The second nose is more outgoing, giving orange paste in a PiM's, or -- dare I say? -- in a Jaffa-Cake way. If one closes one's eyes, one can probably smell the sponge-y base of those cake bites too. Boozy PiM's... MMmmmMMmMmMMMMmmM! Water unveils a few drops of marmalade laboriously spread onto a polished dashboard. Mouth: meow! The pleasantly-biting attack comes as a surprise, at this modest strength. The wood is undeniable, with woodworm-riddled rustic shelves, galangal shavings and orange peels so dried they crumble into dust. This has a soft-yet-clear bitterness to it, more old plank than plant stem. It is not plank-y, all the same. The afore-mentioned shelves have recently seen a lick of wax, and there is some marmalade too, for balance. The second sip has "yucca-plant trunk" written all over it, somehow. It is not a thick whisky, by the way; it merely has the texture of fruit juice augmented with a spoonful of paper paste. Perhaps it is numbing the taste buds, but it seems thicker, given time: orange and red-grapefruit pulps grow out of that juice. Water brings it remarkably close to the reduced nose, with Seville-orange marmalade on a dashboard. Finish: gorgeously comforting, it has dark pouring honey, caramelised (blackened) marmalade, and even the gentle earthiness of liquorice bootlaces. To say it is minty would be overstating it, but it has an unmistakable freshness that seems to be a blend of toasted aniseed and grilled mixed peel. Fresh, long, it clings to the tonsils or thereabout, which is unusual. The second gulp is a roof-of-the-mouth thing, teeming with warmed pressed-orange pulp, gloopy and delicious, similar, I imagine, to French toasts made with orange pulp instead of eggs. With water, it feels more robust, woodier, even, with cut pear-tree and walnut branches. Time makes it juicier, adding heirloom-apple cider. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, Volanne)

Tamdhu 33yo 1969/2003 (40.5%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection): nose: it is mute, by comparison. 1970s furniture, at a push. Plastic capsules used to hold saffron, but empty for decades, and nothing left to tell. Discoloured plastic containers, stored in a cabinet for years. Hazelnuts, picked by one's grandparents who died thirty years ago, and forgotten at the bottom of a drawer (the hazelnuts, not the grandparents). I would love to say it wakes up, after a while, but aside that 1970s-furniture halo, not much happens. Let us come back to it later... It works to a point: we now have some glue paste, also from the 1970s, the kind one applied with a tiny... What was it? A spoon? A stick? A spatula? A brush? Anyway, the white school paste kind. The second nose shifts gears without going into overdrive: we have the lacquered wood of a jewellery case, or a watch case, Humbrol modelling paint (dark green for air-force ground-support equipment), and dried orange peel, ground into a powder served on toast. Water hints at the bottom of a firewood basket, full of wood dust, shattered dried leaves, and twigs. Mouth: this is a lot shyer than the other. I misread the ABV, and likely introduced a sequence mistake. Bah. It has cereal milk (as in: the milk left in the bowl after one has eaten all the cereals), dried wax, and dried, unripe peach slices. Emphasis on "unripe": this is well bitter. The mouth shows itself to be chewy, after a couple of minutes of moving around, and reveals (Dior Mirage) nail varnish on blanched hazelnuts. The second sip seems thinner, closer in texture to citrus-scented white spirit than to a liqueur of any kind. It ends up giving away dried-hazel-wood sawdust, before reclaiming some moisture, with blush-orange zest, steadily progressing towards orange pulp (though it never reaches it). Water gives lichen-covered beech branches, cherry stones, and caramelised stewed apricots. It has a fleeting note of tonic too. Finish: this is the strongest part of this dram. Like some of the most-satisfying whiskies, it goes down without a fuss, barely signalling kaju katli, then gradually comes back up the oesophagus in waves of nutty warmth. Crushed hazelnuts, then peanuts, then almonds, then almond skins. Indeed, it grows bitterer with time, though still an old-wood bitterness, rather than a green-plant-stem one. It gets as far as fresh-blush-orange or fresh-red-grapefruit peels, then stabilises. It has a fleeting hit of metal, at some point, akin to a razor blade, or a pencil-sharpener blade. It is faint, but it does come in and out of the frame like a whack-a-mole. The second sip is as impressive, creamier and fruitier, even if it keeps a clear old-bookshelf bitterness, at the death. With water, we see walnut spread on crispy toasted crumpets. Even reduced, the finish remains the best part. 8/10

27/02/2024 Glenlivet

Glenlivet 15yo b.1997 (57%, Gordon & MacPhail): nose: a dusty one, ripe with encaustic, dusty cardboard, and caramel left out on the countertop and gathering dust. That caramel, instead of hardening, is turning softer, gooey and fudgy, close to modelling wax, in fact. Dusty, sugary wax, then. Later on, we have cold coffee (two sugars, no milk), and windthrow -- to be more accurate: lichen-covered fruit-tree, fallen during the latest storm, and left to rot on the forest floor. Verdigris appears shortly after that, supported by toasted grist and dark-grain pellets. At a push, the stubborn taster may find faded tyres covered in moss. For some reason, it is the rubber of those tyres that grows in intensity, not the moss. The second nose has a wicker basket sprayed with wood oil (not teak) and filled with Honeycrisp apples. Soon enough, that becomes a caramelised apple cake. Staggeringly, the apples grow more present, even though they are ultimately matched by the oiled basket. We have a fleeting whiff of black truffle that announces the late arrival of prunes. What a ride! A superb nose that, at times, feels Cognac-y. Middle-of-the-road Cognac; not a VT65, yeah? Mouth: acidic and bitter, it retains some sweetness too. Like a ripe orange, it offers all three: the chewy peel is bitter; the flesh is acidic; and the juice is sweet(ish). Though not thick, the palate is fairly chewy, and chewing reveals just how powerful this is: it starts off surreptitiously, yet soon shows how much those 57% roar. Dusty caramel makes a grand entrance, and reminds me of Mokatine that would be displayed in a wooden dish. The second sip seems more mellow, perhaps earthier too. Mokatine in full effect, and potting soil, to accompany a shot of espresso and a (red) lollipop. Because, despite the new-found earthy notes, it still has a sweet side to it. Finish: dusty Mokatine it is! No question about it. We also have drops of blush-orange juice, oily tobacco, old, Cognac-seasoned pipes, and walnut dashboards. It is a long and wide finish, assertive, not aggressive, and quite juicy, all things considered. It may not have much fruit (dried figs, maybe), but the dusty Mokatine transforms into a chocolate-and-orange spread that feels well satisfying. The second sip is very clearly sweeter, offering toffee, Scottish tablet, and caramel-coated mint crumbles. The earthy side here is limited to a sweet variety, merely flirting with liquorice allsorts. This is very pleasant. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, Volanne)

26/02/2024 Caol Ila

Caol Ila 7yo 2016/2023 (58.5%, Adelphi Selection, 1st Fill Oloroso Sherry Hogshead, C#26580, 256b): nose: sharp and dry, this is a white wine on steroids, with an earthy, medicinal touch for good measure -- and it is growing. Iso Betadine, merbromin, desert dirt, crusty earth, and ashes spread on a rugby pitch. It is ashy indeed, which introduces crumbly dried seaweeds, coated in sea salt, and even kippers, so smoked and salty one would struggle to identify it as fish. We land on a wide beach taken over by seaweed; a glass of chilled white wine helps us forget that we are covered in Iso Betadine, a reminder of chicken pox, of course. We notice fishing nets, hung out to dry on the same beach. Time to nibble green olives. The second nose is slightly less dry; the desert dirt turns into damp earth -- not mud by a long shot, but petrichor. It takes a while for the salt to resurface, and it is then less exuberant. The medicinal impression is more tincture of iodine than the potent Iso Betadine, at this stage. Stale merbromin is still there, if one cares to look for it. Mouth: immensely salty, the palate has black olives, rollmops, dolmas dripping with a salty brine, and a smoke that seems more pronounced than it was on the nose. Menthol cigarette ashes, still smoking in the ashtray, smoked mussels and razor clams, whelks in a salt crust, but also tar. You read that right: it is as if the medicinal aspect from the nose had been swapped for a coat of tar. It even has petrol, via retro-nasal olfaction. The second sip confirms the black olives -- dipped in petrol, now. It takes all sorts, eh? It feels like trying to wash down the petrol with lame coffee. Unsuccessfully, I might add. It is now a petrolic affair and a half. A rather numbing one too. Tincture of iodine, surely. Over time, white wine returns to prominence, this time bone dry. Finish: a bowl of petrol-blue coffee with enough sugar to stop it being instant-spitting material. It is clearly petrolic, and that character easily dominates. Tarry sands, an oil spill on a calm sea, cockles after a black tide, watery coffee. That coffee is all that remains of the nose's earthy notes, and, if the finish has a pinch of ash, it is hardly medicinal. The second sip has overly-salty sourdough, dunked raw into a bowl of watery coffee. By the way, if the idea of a bowl of coffee seems odd to you, you are not alone. The French do it. The French are odd, sometimes. It makes coffee taste peculiar. I do not want to write 'bad', but that is what I mean -- even worse than usual. Back to the finish: after a couple of minutes and a couple of sips, the mouth has the same sensation as after sucking a coffee-soaked smoked seashell (the shell, not the mollusc). That means a mineral and earthy aspect that actually works alright. In the longer term, we have ashy, briny preserved lemons. This is fairly simple, but decent. I like it better today than the first time. Probably because it feels drier. 7/10

24/02/2024 Wolfburn

On this second anniversary of the war between Ukraine and Russia, what would be more adequate than this?

Wolfburn 7yo 2015/2022 (46%, OB supporting the Ukraine Humanitarian Appeal, ex-Bourbon Quarter Casks, 1550b): nose: we have a mix of Chenin blanc, or Sauvignon blanc, even, and smoking ashes, the sweetness of citric-powder sweets, and the content of an ashtray, albeit one devoid of cigarette ends. That combination of sugar and ash is quite enticing, really. Barley sugar, sugar-cane juice, fruit soda, and a cloak of smoke that simply will not go away. Not that anyone is suggesting it should. Deeper nosing reveals bandages, gauze, and a spray of hospital disinfectant, yet we are far from what one would call a medicinal whisky. The second nose is a lot fruitier, shouting grapes and clementines, as well as smoked clementine leaves. The ashes from earlier seem to turn into granite. That changes again to give orange-flavoured cigarettes, a combination that works so well one wonders why the evil tobacco industry has not thought of it. Fleetingly and inconsistently, it has moments in which it is vaguely reminiscent of a pre-War Speysider. Unexpected, to say the least. Mouth: thin, it comes across as diluted juice, rather than any kind of syrup, although it stays sweet (sugar-cane juice, barley sugar), and gains spices with time (stem ginger, candied mace, some pepper too). The smoke is less apparent than on the nose, yet it is definitely there. The second sip starts off more bitter, with dried orange peels and grated Aspirin tablets, and swiftly brings back smoke from a bushfire, and fruit juice -- smoked oranges, shall we say, with a few drops of pomelo to keep it interesting. Repeated sipping dials up the bitterness. Oh! it is acceptable all round, mind. We spot (smoked) yuzu foliage, for example. Finish: it is peppery, here. Ashes and ground white pepper. It has a drying, bitter quality too, maybe crushed smoked Aspirin, yet what comes out most is white pepper from the peppermill (a Peugeot, no doubt). That pepper must have been stored by the sea, because it is marked by iodine too. A clearer fruitiness emerges, after a while: crystallised lemons or orange segments. The second sip takes this firmly to the smoked-citrus camp, and pushes it towards brine. To namedrop preserved lemons would likely be a step too far, yet it does have a salty, acidic touch that works well, and a (very) gentle acrid smoke to keep one guessing. Throughout, the source cereal is traceable (just), without the whisky ever becoming a cereal-y number. At a push, children of the Eighties may find Vanydene at the death. This is very decent, if very different from the first time we had it. I like it as much. A strong 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, adc)

21/02/2024 Clynelish

Clynelish 33yo 1973/2006 (54.3%, The Prestonfield Whisky Co. Prestonfield Highland, ex-Sherry Oak Cask, C#8912, 405b): nose: our third 'lish in a row (see episode 1, see episode 2), and a different story again. This one is a beehive, teeming with honey and wax, royal jelly and golden goodness. It does not take long to gain fruits such as physalis, apricots, and plump green grapes, or, indeed, mirabelle plums. It has an indistinct undertone of ashy white wine too (grenache). Suddenly, the above fuse to make up the most delicious-smelling plasticine, or modelling wax, with a delicate earthy tone that never goes far enough to be considered clay, much less peat. The bees promptly return, however, and we have car-body polish, light furniture wax, extra-light-amber pouring honey, and confectionary-sugar-coated daffodils and tulips. In truth, this is quite far from exuberant. But regardless of their punchiness, those aromas are very appealing. The second nose cranks up the yellow flowers, and gently simmers their petals in a broth. In addition, it has nut spread (hazelnut, walnut, almond), and gelatinous chicory infusion with a dash of almond milk. Lastly, and out of nowhere, a strong whiff of brown shoe polish storms in, forty-five minutes in, as welcome as it is unexpected... Aaaand away it goes, replaced by berry-flavoured chewing gum. Mouth: oh! boy, the palate is more intense and punchier than expected, and it is a waxy one, to state the obvious (or a cliché). Furniture wax from a spray can and car polish. We cannot find much honey, now, but more flowers (daffodils and tulips) than on the nose -- their stems, in particular. That is to say it has a drying bitterness that is a little unsettling at first. Mind you, it also has a strong mineral aspect, with quarry chippings and cut slate. With time, that is swapped for hazelnut paste augmented with a spoonful of pouring honey. The second sip has honey-glazed gravel, cobblestones coated in a blend of wax and hazelnut paste, wood oil (more walnut than mahogany or teak), and balls of shiny golden wax. Once the original intensity and bitterness have calmed down, the texture appears silky and milky, perhaps some kind of thickened almond milk. In the long run, not-quite-ripe tangerines and clementines join this lovely dance. Finish: Amazingly, it is the reverse of the mouth: a sweet and comforting hazelnut paste with honey at first, it soon turns into a mineral and bitter affair, not unlike the residue in an empty glass of citrus tonic (with remnants of crushed citrus foliage at the very bottom). The glowing warmth that radiates up the pipes is comforting and relaxing. Hot tin lids on jars of warm honey, a tulip-petal broth, and, well, lukewarm, flat, cucumber-infused tonic. The second gulp focuses on the comforting side: almond milk or cream, cocoa custard, maybe honey-topped warm porridge (although it is not exactly cereal-y). This is now a frankly-creamy finish that goes on forever. It has also lost its wax, fruits, and minerals (or they are well hidden), which, sadly, removes some of the complexity, at least for a time. It does retain shy mirabelle plum, via retro-nasal olfaction, but picking that up requires a careful analysis. No dullness here, though: repeated sipping seems to patiently and painstakingly bring back some fruit and bitterness: we end up with stewed physalis, and a spoonful of crushed Aspirin cut with aspartame. How quaint! Warm salted frangipane and chicory infusion with almond milk argue at the death. This is obviously excellent, yet it does not have the irresistible, assertive class of yesterday's, in this humble taster's opinion. 9/10 (Thanks for the opportunity, jnpons)

20/02/2024 Clynelish

Clynelish 12yo d.1973 (56.9%, OB exclusively bottled from original cask for Whiskyteca Edward & Edward, b#198): perhaps we should have had this alongside yesterday's, since it is the same age, and a comparable ABV. A matter of time, you know? It is not exactly a plentiful resource, around these parts, and two whiskies in the same day is mostly a fantasy. Nose: well, hello. Although the affiliation with the Adelphi bottling is hard to miss, this one is more austere, with (clean) engine parts and engine grease. It turns slightly grimier in seconds, providing soot and grated coal, yet clean steel and lubricant ready for application prevail. It takes a few minutes to cross the dirt line, after which we have dusty boiler plates and old tools gathering dust in the shed. It does remain very metallic, though. Engine-assembly lines (I feel like naming the Packard plant in Detroit, but I have never been -- much less when it was active), engine grease, petroleum jelly, and then, at last, a twister of waxes. Moustache wax, Barbour grease, encaustic, and old, rustic furniture, thick with many decades of patina. It also has pollen, propolis, and ozone, but, really, those are nothing, next to that wax tide. The second nose has wood burners on canal barges (or river boats), burning fruit tree to keep the cold at bay, and also a mineral side that was not obvious at first -- flint chippings, hot sands, riverbed pebbles, polished by the waterflow, and dried by the fireplace. There is definitely a soft-water character to this, closer to farming and iron mongering than to sea fishing, or anything maritime. Even the algae are from soft water, and they smell of silt, not salt. And wax, of course. Mouth: holy shiznit! How effing huge is this? It feels like drinking a newly-mechanised coal mine. Soot, metal carts, coal dust, steam engines, and lubricants of all kinds. And the head engineer overseeing the lot, with his starched shirt collar and waxed moustache. Several minutes on the tongue, and this kicks and bucks like a bronco, perhaps more metallic with each passing second. That is certainly unexpected, and properly breath-taking. The second sip helps one realise how desiccating this really is. Still as punchy, it is now halfway between chomping on a piece of coal, and fruity sweets of some imaginary kind -- sweets that would have the intense cinnamon of a brown Boule Magique, the peppermint of Fisherman's Friend, and the fruits of Turkish delights. That is not all, however: it also has a touch of eucalyptus powder, and smoke from a garden fire fuelled by lichen- and moss-covered trimmings. The punch at every sip is simply incredible, stronger and sootier each time, more anaesthetising, and cinnamon-y. Lastly, the palate picks up the earthy bitterness of liquorice root. Finish: it now feels like an entirely-different whisky, suddenly civilised, warming and comforting, still robust, but less rugged and intimidating -- almost plush, in fact. Chesterfield sofas in the wood-panelled smoking room of a gentlemen's club. Only minutes after quaffing does one notice that the finish is still going, and it is more rustic and not as tame as it appeared initially. We have a cast-iron cauldron on an open flame, in which marmalade is gently simmering. It must be a coal fire, because the (faint) smoke is softly acrid. It could also be apple-tree wood, covered in moss. The second sip is in line, yet perhaps adds mint lozenges to all that, which, strikingly, pushes forward the impression of a shed full of moss-covered fruit-tree logs, ready for the fire that timidly burns outside, and generates a lot of acrid smoke. Then, we go back to the gentlemen's club to enjoy a comforting nightcap, or a lukewarm gin & tonic, to fight off the dreary weather. It must be the Honourable Artillery Company, because it has gunpowder towards the death, which, by the way, comes an hour later. It is that long. Such complexity in this mostly-rustic dram! We did well not to have it back to back with yesterday's Adelphi Clynelish. They are not in the same league. 10/10 (Thanks for the opportunity, elskling)

19/02/2024 Clynelish

Clynelish 12yo 2011/2023 (58.3%, Adelphi Selection, 1st Fill American Standard Barrel, C#800305, 208b): nose: leftover from last month's tasting. Nose: just like the first time, it proves to be a stereotypical Clynelish, with wax, propolis, honey-glazed yellow fruits (physalis?), and buttercups, as well as a dusting of faint soot, and a dollop of engine grease. It is waxier and sweeter as time passes, with candied pineapple cubes and tutti frutti joining a can of beeswax for wooden floors. In the background, the engine grease teams up with turpentine to an outstanding effect. The second nose is sweeter yet, full of yellow flowers (daffodils, tulips, buttercups), and waxier -- seal wax, this time, clearly red. Later on, a whiff of dark-purple plasticine enters the nostrils too, perhaps splashed with a drop of ink. Mouth: ooft! Turpentine alright! It seems to have a dissolvent quality to it that just disintegrates any grease. The texture is chewy, yet turns chalky as soon as one starts chewing. It reminds one of Dextro Energy tablets, rocket, and strawberry-flavoured dextrose tablets (chalky, then). Although powerful, it is not overly so, and is absolutely tolerable neat. The second sip is strongly acidic, and bitter to a lesser extent. Crushed citrus-flavoured energy tablets, we shall call it. A certain sweetness relieves the tongue, after a wee while: milk chocolate, citrus soda, or a combination of the two. Underneath that is stewed physalis with a spoonful of crushed Aspirin mistakenly added instead of sugar. Finish: big, without surprise, it has crumbly strawberry sweets, mint crumbles, and candied pineapple, if those could come sugar free. A long finish, slightly numbing and drying, that comes with desiccated orange zest and citrus pith, dried to a point it could be mistaken for papier mâché. That spells a mild bitterness indeed, and, if it is still fruity to a degree, the wax is now but a memory. The second gulp adds chewy-and-oily blonde tobacco to the mix, stirs dried-pineapple shavings, and adds a lick of a lukewarm moka pot stained with nut spread. In any case, it works a treat. Very, very decent dram. It came across quite differently from the other time too. 8/10

15/02/2024 Glen Grant

Glen Grant 32yo 1976/2009 (50%, Douglas Laing The Old Malt Cask 50°, Sherry Cask, C#DL REF 5034, 266b): nose: the colour is a dead giveaway for things to come, of course: it is a strong Sherry maturation, naturally. A selection of nuts (walnuts, whole almonds, Brazil nuts, macadamias, pecans), leather coats, and dried fruits (dates, figs, dark raisins). It gives some shoe polish too, which goes well with the leather coats, and hair lacquer. Beside that, we see drinks cabinets and mainstream Cognac. By that, I mean it is not ridiculously fruity as some of the niche bottlings can be that we sometimes enjoy on this blog. It is not a VT65, in other words; closer to Courvoisier VSOP, if that makes sense. All that is well refined and enticing, despite an unexpected note of humid dishwashing sponge, in the distance. Must be the shiny drinks cabinets, yet one would struggle to associate it with furniture wax. The second nose oscillates between sweet and earthy: it adds decaying dark wood in a forest clearing, and mushroom-cooking water at room temperature. Later on, hints of milk chocolate show up -- or cocoa butter, in fact. Mouth: mellow, yet drying, this blends raisins and nuts with remarkable ease. It has some (brown) shoe polish too, and a spoonful of coffee grounds. That immediately adds the earthy side that the nose did not have at first. The second sip is even earthier and darker, introducing nigella seeds and toasted aniseed, without losing sight of the raisins. Prunes also are much clearer, now, augmented with minty toothpaste. Huh!? Yes, it is almost tarry, at this point. Each sip seems spicier and more intense than the previous, amusingly enough. It would probably turn sickly, after drinking half a bottle -- ha! ha! Finish: lovely. Coffee is perhaps more pronounced here than ever, though it is not a coffee-stained dram at all; it merely has notes of that. We spot currants and raisins so dry they are crackly, almost crunchy (the stems too), a pinch of ground cloves, earthy dried dates, prune-juice residue in an empty tin the following morning, and even old-school Semois pipe tobacco. The second gulp appears woodier. Splintering lacquered wood that suggests a double-bass player smashing his instrument after an intense performance. Regardless of that, what dominates in the long run are prunes and raisins sipping flat cola. The backing vocals, however, are supplied by lacquered wood and dark-honey-glazed coffee grounds. Mellow, sweet and drying, still. Yum! 8/10

14/02/2024 Strathearn

Strathearn 55do (55%, Cask Sample): indeed, fifty-five days old. Nose: ooft! this is woody. Oily exotic woods such as mahogany, iroko, or teak, walnut, or freshly-cut cherry tree. The nose is akin to walking into a carpenter's workshop, and catching them in the middle of applying a thick coat of lacquer. Polished-walnut dashboards, precious-wood jewellery cases, still wet with lacquer, drinks cabinets so fragrant they are guaranteed to taint any booze kept in them, walnut stain, walnut oil, and the wooden, coffin-like cases Douglas Laing used to use for their Old & Rare Platinum Selection range in 2011-2013. The inside of those cases have a characteristic smell imparted not only by the wood, but by the protective lining and the glue it is stuck with; well, this is that. There are apricot stones too, cleansed and polished beyond recognition, made into decorative objects. The second nose swaps the wood for tins of stale orange tea cakes (PiM's), and (stale) gingerbread. Then, we have oily pipe tobacco and mixed peel interlaced with shards of cassia bark. Mouth: carbonyl, turpentine, and diluted modelling paint meet chestnut oil, shiny chestnut shells, and a tiny amount of grated Kluwak nut. Incredibly woody without it becoming a nuisance, it is actually rather classy, and still vibrant -- it simply vibrates with wood. Flat root beer slowly enters the picture. The second sip confirms the flat root beer. It is sweet, and a tad bitter (nothing to worry about), which hints at citrus foliage (kumquat). Keeping the liquid in the mouth increases a candied sensation, either mixed peel with cinnamon or cassia splinters, or a mulled-wine mix (minus the wine): cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, and a dollop of black-as-tar pouring honey. Finish: surprisingly discreet, considering the age and ABV, it does take off after a couple of seconds, warming, comforting. Here are flat cola, walnut oil, maple syrup or dark honey, and shallots. Yes! It is a lovely vinaigrette with a sweet touch. Chestnuts and roasted walnuts linger (it is actually pecans), sprayed with pineapple juice and glazed with maple syrup. An oily finish it is, with ground cloves and sumac to complement candied blush-orange peel. The whole is bathing in walnut and orange oils. In the finish too, we find a drop of carbonyl, yet it is nothing like it was in the first nose. This has to be tasted to be believed. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, DH)

12/02/2024 Talisker

Talisker 20yo 1982/2003 (58.8%, OB, Refill Bourbon Casks, 12000b, b#11171): leftover from a sesh in December. Nose: what a mineral start! We have a rocky shoreline, eroded by the elements, chalky cliffs, and quarry chippings, soon augmented with briny sea air and seaweed on a sandy beach. In a matter of seconds, whelks and smoked fish join in, then oysters, sprinkled with lemon juice. There is definitely a minute whiff of smoke, and cooked-cabbage cooking water (or is it artichoke?) None of that last lot is in your face, and we return to maritime aromas in little time. A little bit of breathing helps some kind of detergent to the surface -- specifically lemon-, mint-, or forest-scented powder agglomerate, which would hint at either dishwasher tablets, or urinal cookies (who the flip came up with that name anyway?) Lemony it remains, even when this takes on a more-robustly smoky note of burnt wood. The second nose paints a slice of sponge cake, topped with a generous pour of custard cream, and enjoyed on the beack of a remote cove, with a timid ray of northern sun, a gentle sea breeze, and the call of seagulls for sole companions. Not far are the remains of last night's campfire, though it is now extinguished. A vague smell of tincture of iodine calls one's attention to a wound inflicted while fishing, but with that custard on cake, life is good. Later, we have wafts of swimming-pool water. Strange addition. Mouth: a punchy attack alright, it delivers fierce lemon juice, burning hazel wood, peppermint reminiscent of Fisherman's Friends, and pepper in cream diluted with sea water. This feels muscular to a point that could easily be seen as brutal, and it desiccates the jowls. I was about to write that it is chewy, but, actually, the texture is rather creamy. It is just that one does not often have cream that is at once peppery, salty, and kipper-y, so this here is quite confusing. The next sip is equally impactful. It adds eels to the menu, smoked haddock fillets, and pebbles, licked by the lapping. The smoke takes on a trawler's boiler aspect, with diesel fumes and an engine splashed with sea water. That increases over time, and we end up licking dusty and rusty boilers. Finish: battered cod, fried to melting perfection, with a dash of lemon, too much pepper, and a dollop of crème fraîche (which, for our French-speaking readers, equates to crème épaisse). It is a long (!) and comforting finish, much more approachable than the somewhat-violent palate suggested. The second sip adds some fruits, namely pomelo, oroblanco, and chargrilled ugli fruit, as well as lime yoghurt. Despite the obvious acidity and smokiness, one is struck by the creamy feel of it all. In the long run, this Talisker cranks up the heat and the smoke, yet the creamy, comforting side prevails, and (green) citrus is there to manage that smoke. Not just the fruits, now, but foliage too (clementine, grapefruit, pomelo). 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, OB)

09/02/2024 Bowmore

Bowmore 13yo 2001/2014 (50.9%, The Whisky Agency / Three Rivers Tokyo, Refill Hogshead, 272b): nose: marvellously earthy, full of mud patties, wetlands, and salt marshes. It is only a second before we are on the shoreline, wading in wet sand, breathing the salty air. Then, it is smoked kelp and dried seaweed, damp seashells... Oh! and cut mangoes underneath it all, discreet and fleeting to a fault, yet it is briefly there. It disappears behind cockles and periwinkles, then comes back, carried by a mudslide, and accompanied by dried herbs (oregano, rosemary, samphire), gently smoked. The nose picks up a slight petrolic whiff when one tilts the glass. The second nose is a blend of petrol, herbs, and crushed glass, then paper paste, and the wafers they use to make those flying-saucer sweets (or white-flour hosts, if one is more familiar with that). Finally, we witness a small explosion of grilled and smoked fruits -- chiefly mango again, and pineapple. This time, in the distant background, one can almost spot liquorice bootlaces. Mouth: surprisingly, it is very petrolic, now; wafts of kerosene, or indeed 98-octane unleaded fuel. Dried seaweed is still there too, and grilled fruits (mango and pineapple, mostly), covered in barbecue ash. That fruity aspect grows in power, which is lovely. The second sip has a drying earthiness reminiscent of baked clay, or liquorice root, subtle, yet present. Then, a veil of smoke barely has time to introduce the same grilled fruits. In addition, this has the red-hot embers that grilled those fruits, and that have naturally been splashed with the juice of those very fruits. The sea influence is now limited to a generous saltiness, while billowing black smoke coming from the chimney of an old trawler covers the petrolic side, acrid, bitter, almost sooty, which counterbalances the delicious fruitiness, and adds complexity. Finish: woah! this is good. Unctuous, creamy or buttery finish, ripe with grilled fruits again (the same mangoes and pineapples, this time sliced), a few drops of petrol, dripping from the pump, and a sprinkle of ashes. It is a long, progressive finish, however, and, after five-or-so minutes of seemingly not much else happening, it turns out we are enjoying terracotta and grilled mud patties topped with smoked seaweed. The second gulp is borderline custardy -- a smoked-mint custard, then. Datz ryte: a minty freshness enters the scene, and brightens up the finish, until it is caught up by a ladleful of black, sticky tar that ends up coating the tongue and tonsils. Excellent dram. I can see this turning into a 9 on another day. For today, I will settle on a strong 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, elskling)

08/02/2024 Dallas Dhu

45.19 31yo 1975/2007 Foreplay whisky (45.6%, SMWS Society Cask, Refill Barrel): nose: well, that is enticing! Grape juice, cut flowers (forsythia and cornflower come to mind), followed by Turkish delights and fruit jellies of all kinds. That is not all: it has marzipan too, and a whisper of panettone crust stuck to the parchment mould. Soon, that morphs into chewy blackcurrant sweets (think Gummibärchen) and crème de cassis served with scones. How wonderful! Talking about piles of logs would be lying, yet a woody element grows in stature, certainly close to age-old, Bourbon-soaked oak staves. The cut flowers return, however, firmly yellow (forsythia, crocuses, tulips, buttercups), hand in hand with the associated pollen, and a spoonful of honey that is starting to set. Come to think of it, that subtle aroma that could be fresh plasticine is probably wax instead. Beeswax indeed. Then, we go back to fruits: green grapes, greengages, mirabelle plums, maybe lychee, mangosteen, or dragon fruit. Exciting! The second nose sees the wax and honey fuse into an almost chocolate-y paste, and if it no longer turns tropical at all, it remains fruity, with dark cherries joining the grapes. Lastly (and fleetingly) a minute note of fermentation comes and goes -- sheep or rabbit droppings or suchlike. Thankfully, it disappears quickly, because it would work less well with the rest of this nose. Mouth: mh. The initial impression is soapy. And I am not particularly sensitive to soap, as this blog's readership will be well aware. It has fruits (green grapes, less than ripe), budding flowers (forsythia), yet also stripping soap that turns bitter in seconds. That calms down and becomes more mineral, with quarry chippings and green-hazel-wood ash, before turning leafier (hazel). It remains quite bitter, though. The second sip is a little fruitier, and welcomes the return of dark cherries. It is still fairly soapy, bitter and caustic, unfortunately. Pumice, fruit-scented shampoo, green hazelnut, Turkish delights covered in green-grape-scented hand wash, sweetened plant or tree sap (hazel, daffodil, dandelion). Finish: phew! The soap has mostly gone. Hazelnut paste and crushed green hazelnut, blended with pressed grapes, a generous dose of relatively-young wood (shelves made of recently-cut hazel wood) grossly covered in dark honey (some kind of conifer, probably). One cannot escape a certain bitterness, yet it is now a far cry from what it was on the palate. The second sip is as fruity, yet now splashed with droplets of soap. That sadly wrecks it. We have a lovely sweetness, imparted by grapes and greengages, but, over time, green hazelnuts regrettably become louder, which renders the whole bitterer and less pleasant, like a mix of scented soap or shower gel, ash, and ground pumice. What a pity. This would have been an easy 9, based on the nose. The subsequent soapy notes bring it down dramatically, in my opinion. To the point I wonder if something has messed up my taste buds, today. 7/10

07/02/2024 Rosebank

Rosebank 22yo 1991/2013 (55.2%, Iain Mackillop Mackillop's Choice, Sherry Cask, C#271): nose: ooft! This is marked by the Sherry. Last time we had this, we thought it was meaty; not so today, but it is clearly not a spring-like, flowery Rosebank. Instead, we have drinks cabinets made of exotic woods (mahogany, teak, walnut), and dried fruits (dates, figs, prunes). In the background, we find earthier notes, such as ground cumin and crusty desert dirt. Then, it fleetingly evolves towards a more-traditional Rosebank profile, with tulip petals and juicy-plant stems. It is mere seconds before we step into an unusual building, part rancio-filled dunnage warehouse, part tropical-plant greenhouse. Indeed, succulent plants and flowers grow on dusty clay floors, surrounded by slumbering old casks full of maturing wines, fortified or not. The lasting impression is of dust, and the nose goes quiet, apart from that. The second nose has an old oilskin tablecloth on a walnut kitchen table. Digestive biscuits are on display, until the nose changes again, and welcomes smashed strawberry on toast -- nay! on a biscote. Eventually, it turns into toasted brans, perhaps toasted a little too long. Mouth: a big attack, it tries to be meaty, then winy, with a slightly tannic touch, then it turns all Rosebank-y, with bunches of cut flowers, their stems still dripping sap, and rich custard. That is quickly augmented with a syrupy wine-enhanced caramel coulis, and booze-pumped fudge. It is so rich on the tongue! Again, the wine influence is unmissable, and reminds one of Palo Cortado. The second sip is in line, if it feels more drying. It has a warming quality not unlike a roaring coal fire on a cold winter's night. Finish: biscuit-y, this finish is the perfect thing to follow afternoon tea. It has notes of wine and biscuit (in fact, it leaves the whole mouth in the same state as after chomping on a crumbly digestive biscuit), as well as some spices (green-cardamom pods the most obvious, yet also ground cloves), dark brans, and raisins soaked in alcohol. The second gulp is warming and comforting, and reinforces the image of a coal fire at the inn, on a sleety wintry afternoon -- perhaps with a damp dog drying itself by the fireplace. Oh! What now? Once settled, retro-nasal olfaction gives a crystal-clear note of cigar -- one that lingers forever too! All of a sudden, the state of the mouth transitions from post-biscuit to post-cigar, and one feels as though one had just smoked a Cohiba. Cigar leaves, a veil of smoke, ashes in the ashtray at arm's length, unlit cigar, lit cigar, extinguished cigar, cigar, cigar, cigar. It really is a cigar malt. Striking! This here dram is not one of the great Rosebanks (tOMoH prefers them au naturel), but it is very good all the same. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, LM)

06/02/2024 Longmorn

Longmorn 11yo 2008/2019 (57.9%, A.D.Rattray From the Cask hand bottled exclusively for A Whisky Lover, Bourbon Hogshead, C#800349): the mention on the label suggests the private cask of an anonymous enthusiast from the UK. Nose: a young one, with fruit eau-de-vie (plum, apple), and a certain stripping quality. It also has a spray of pinched orange peel, and a cloud of dust. In fact, it opens up and gives hardened plasticine and dried paint pots, dried nail-varnish brushes, and an old blush kit. Indeed, it turns all makeup-y, over the space of five minutes, and almost fruity from then onward, with dried peach skins. The second nose has the residue in an empty glass of pomelo tonic, which spells a hefty mix of sweetness, bitterness, and acidity. There is a faint woodiness too, rather indistinct, but likely ancient walnut shelves. Mouth: thin and punchy, it lacerates the tongue and rubs salt in the wounds. It is not merely a hyperbolic figure of speech: it is pretty salty, before suddenly turning mineral. We have granite chippings and cut limestone. After a couple of minutes' chewing, delicate milk chocolate emerges alongside a vegetal bitterness. The second sip is more generous and sweeter, thicker, even. I cannot remember coming across a dram that would change texture so much from one sip to the next. Now, we have orange juice, heavily sweetened. Given time, chocolate re-appears, as does an obvious bitter touch, half plant sap, half crushed Aspirin. Weird. The orange prevails. Just. Hot peach stones rock up last. Finish: a strange mix, here: a clear sweetness that is quite the departure from the palate, but then also a fierce bitterness that makes the whole difficult to enjoy. Imagine mentholated lozenges cut with crushed quinine tablets. The result is desiccating as a chunk of chalk doused in lime juice. Further sips add orange juice here too, and an interesting woody, chocolate-y lick. Cocoa beans, perhaps? It is quite anaesthetising too, clearly the numbing alcohol. This has redeeming qualities, but it is not something that I will seek out. 6/10 (Thanks for the sample, A.D. Rattray)

01/02/2024 Glen Garioch

Glen Garioch 21yo d.1965 (43%, OB imported by AUXIL): nose: a dusty one, with all sorts of lint and fluff that quickly turn out to be smoky. Indeed, we have smoked ham, cured dry sausage, and sliced horse fillet. It also has wood, dusty shelves, as well as lacquers and oils. Further back, deeper nosing reveals spearmint, or dried-toothpaste crumbs -- maybe the lichen from the first time we had this. A delicate smoke lingers, almost imperceptible, at times close to solvents, as if acetone could be smoky. Lastly, we detect an interesting mix of potting soil and plasticine. Sadly, fifteen minutes in the glass seem to be enough to disperse those aromas in the wind, and the nose goes ridiculously quiet. The second nose is smokier, a garden fire fuelled by dried cut grass and felled bushes (dried bramble, honeysuckle branches). Soon, dry sausage comes back, spicier than before, although not chorizo by a long shot. Csabai Kolbász, at a push, though I reckon tamer than that too. Mouth: a fruity attack, full of wild strawberries, is joined by cocoa beans, cinnamon powder, and walnut paste. It is unctuous on the tongue, elevated by clear wood spices (ground cinnamon, ground cloves, ginger powder), but well behaved. Bring the glass close to your ear, and you will hear half of France cry: "Imagine this at cask strength!" It has a dash of cola too, copper coins, and little smoke to talk about. Roasted cocoa beans have taken its place. The second sip is earthier, potting soil, wet coffee grounds, and definitely ground cloves. It cannot shake off stained-wood-shelf splinters, and that is fine. Finish: a little indistinct, honestly. It does stay in the mouth for a while, and, with time, one can pick walnut paste, cinnamon sticks, a few grains of powdered ginger, and 55%-cocoa chocolate from this finish, yet that requires a lot of work and careful analysis. Casually sipping this, one would likely only notice a pleasant warmth, and a gentle bitterness. Burnt-shelf smoke is my guess. The second sip is in line: burnt shelves extinguished with chocolate milk. Very late, the last surviving touch is that of smoky varnish: glossy, sweet, solvent-y, and smoky. Original. I could go down to 7, but that would be unfair. It is a very good drop, even if one would be excused for expecting more of something with this pedigree. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, OB)