26/03/2024 Two unassuming drams

Glen Grant 40yo 1972/2012 (51.6%, Maltbarn, Sherry Cask, 49b): nose: hehehe! A sea of beeswax and honey, propolis and furniture patina. It has maple syrup, candied peach slices, and mirabelle-plum tarts, dripping with melted sugars. Hot on their heels are baked physalis and wax applied on a green car body. Scratch that! That car body is glazed in honey. Acacia honey, manuka honey, prickle-pear honey, a dollop of Douglas-fir honey, and a spoonful of resin. Phonetically close, we have raisins too, or sultanas, to be accurate (the golden type of raisins), converging towards fresh grapes (between Sultana and Crimson Seedless). Further back comes a whiff of a newly-oiled light-wood bench (birch or acacia). The second nose is perhaps even more expressive, with a slightly different angle: this time, it has a fruity yoghurt of sorts, or stewed apricots bathed in custard. Later yet, we note baked tangerines (segments and foliage) and clementines (ditto). It is as if the honeys had muted into fruits, definitely citrus. Out of nowhere, a cloud of coal dust appears, subtle, and closer to charcoal-cracker dust than to soot, but still. Mouth: refreshing at first, it soon acquires a spicy edge -- fierce ginger, galangal, mace, and asafoetida manage to conceal sweeter notes of honey and dried apricot. Those are there alright; they just take some effort to discern. Oak splinters rub elbows with maple syrup, gold-crusted bread meets dark honey and other spreads yet to be identified (walnut?) The second sip has the same spices, with more emphasis on asafoetida, perhaps, which gives it an almost-butyric quality, with zero of the oiliness one may associate with that. Still, chewing allows maple syrup and honey to resurface, powered by ginger peel and cinnamon-bark splinters. The whole surfs on a texture of coconut water, though it does not taste of coconut. Over time, light-wood shelves join in. Finish: big and long, it offers a solid woody profile, full of set dark honey and pine-cone oil (why not?) It has a clear minty freshness too that flirts with liquorice root in terms of intensity, yet has none of the bitterness. Indeed, the 'woody' qualifier brings comfort and rusticity, not plank-y dryness, more set dark honey on black bread than dusty old bookshelves and lemongrass. The warmth that this exudes is impressive; slow-going, but unstoppable. Five minutes after swallowing, the whole bust feels as if it had been sunburnt -- though in a pleasant way. The second gulp has a fleeting full-fat-milk feel to it, before honeys make a comeback -- pine-tree, or prickle-pear honey on charcoal crackers, dark, softly bitter, and cleansing, or so it feels. The burning heat is borderline worrying, after a while. Based on a scene in Fat Man and Little Boy / Shadow Makers, I would liken it to being exposed to Gamma radiation, and burning alive from the inside. Obviously, it is not that bad, here, a pleasant, if irrepressible glow, and I hope never to find out how accurate that comparison is. All the same, that is the mental picture it conjures up, this whisky. To come across as less doomy, let me say it feels like eating a slightly-too-hot apricot compote, or a similarly-hot peach jelly. This is pure class. So glad to have had a chance to try this micro-outturn. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Let us have another forty-year-old Glen Grain.

Cambus 40yo b.2016 (52.7%, OB, Hogsheads, 1812b, b#0685): nose: perhaps it has been sitting in a sample bottle for too long (has it really been seven years?), because it feels shyer than it should. It certainly has pineapple and papaya (papineapple?), yet they are buried under a layer of dust. A minute of breathing fixes that. Pineapple chunks, dried peach and mango slices float on a wood shelf (a dusty old chipboard turns into newly-oiled birch) and untoasted rye bread. The more one breathes in, the clearer wood oil becomes, to a point it eclipses the lovely tropical fruits. Well, not entirely: candied papaya cubes and mango slices remain; it is mostly fresh fruits that fade out, as if stashed away in a lacquered-wood box. The second nose feels a little darker, reminiscent of a well-aged brandy, or a liqueur, integrated so strongly that it is virtually impossible to tell the base product. And then, we return to pineapple and, this time, citrus: grapefruit skins, as well as blush-orange peels. Some may find a nearly-chalky, crumbly laundry-detergent tablet quality to this. Not tOMoH. tOMoH prefers to call that Korean pear, or kaki, crunchy, crumbly, fragrant, without the soapy connotation that laundry detergent carries. Mouth: it has not lost anything on the palate, in any case! Beside a minute touch of wood at first, this is a fruit market. Pineapple, grapefruit, mango, papaya, dragon fruit, persimmon, cherimoya, carambola, guava, longan, kumquat, chikoo burst with flavour, augmented with a dash of liqueur de cassis, and a drop of hazelnut oil. Some of those fruits are wrapped in pages torn out of dated glossy magazines, yet nothing can stop the fruity debauchery. The second sip is probably even more ridiculous in its fruitiness (chikoo and longan come out on top, now, just exceeding mango), yet it also feels stronger in alcohol, and more custard-y in texture, chewy, actually. As if all those fruits were smashed into a pulp, and dunked into coconut milk, then doused with a lovely rum. Finish: here too, we witness a fruity explosion. Witness? Nay! we live it. (Dried) mango, papaya, pomelo, kaki, ugli fruit, chikoo, mirabelle plum, all pressed and blended with milk or yoghurt to make one killer of a smoothie. It is as if the vague woody tones of the nose and palate have turned earthy, at this stage, a dollop of modelling clay, or a ploughed Hesbaye field in the distance. Repeated quaffing just underlines the fruity aspect, and adds a couple of drops of wood varnish for support (or is it dark rum and molasses?) Smashed pineapple and pomelo (or pink grapefruit) make a lasting impression. Incredible how it fares, even after the stellar Glen Grant. Grain whisky does not get better than this. Any whisky would find it hard to be better, in fact! 10/10

23/03/2024 Dune Part Two

Part One was so much fun that we decided to have a Part Two with mostly different actors. If Villeneuve did it, why could we not?

CB, OB, cavalier66, and JS join me for this sequel. GL calls off last minute for a work-related emergency.

The soundtrack: Sabled Sun - 2146

cavalier66 opens the game with a Japanese whisky, because Japan is an empire, just like the universe of Dune (known as the Imperium).

Rare Old Super (43%, Nikka Whisky) (cavalier66): nose: grainy and dirty (cavalier66), sweet and grainy (CB), a bit dusty, cardboard-y, it has crunchy pears slowly eaten by lichen. Mouth: stringent (cavalier66), apple and pear (cavalier66), dusty-sweet indeed, with dust and caramel on Golden Syrup. Finish: not too much happening. It is grainy, with an increasing amount of pressed grapes. This is inoffensive. 5/10

OB unveils a blended malt for the spice mélange (again!). He adds that 1969 is when Dune Messiah was published, because this is a 1969 underproof blend that was beefed up with Dornoch distillery's octave C#0 from 2017, and some eleven-year-old undisclosed Islay.

Super Groovy Blended Spirit Drink 6yo 1969 and 2017/2023 (40.1%, Thompson Brothers) (OB): nose: cavalier66 reckons it smells a bit like a blend (many years of university made him clever, our cavalier66), while CB says it is close to a Calvados. It has a funky side, in any case, a bit of sludge, pressed prunes, and damp dead leaves. Perhaps even a hint of hemp. CB finds artificial strawberry coulis to boot. That turns harder, and points at plasticine, waxy prunes and blueberries. Mouth: a certain earthiness emerges, prunes, dried dates, and a drop of juice. It has a tropical streak too, unidentifiable, and mushroom water caramelising in a frying pan. Finish: it is rather Cognac-y in the finish, with indistinct dark fruit. It feels chewy and earthy, with a mix of dark grapes and blueberries. 7/10

Cheese and breads, courtesy of the man who
never has breakfast before a tasting

cavalier66: "It is a funky nose."
tOMoH: "A groovy nose."
cavalier66: "It does not taste integrated."

The soundtrack: Dune: Dune · Der Wüstenplanet (Original Soundtrack Recording)

cavalier66: "That was not unpleasant."
tOMoH: "Remind me: which country were you born in?"

JS presents a Tillibardune bottled by Dewar Rattraydes, a double-barrelled connection to the theme, which is odd, for a single cask.

Tullibardine 33yo 1972/2006 (43.1%, Dewar Rattray Cask Collection, C#2597, 141b) (JS): nose: oh! ah! (cavalier66), honeyed and floral (CB). "I always think of bread, when I have a Tullibardine, and this has some of that bread" (cavalier66). It has a fattiness to it (CB), egg whites, old oak from the 1970s (CB), candied apricots, and a lick of peppery passion fruit. Mouth: some oak wood (cavalier66), but it is mostly a tropical number, here, with loads of candied apricots and preserved maracuja. Finish: long, acidic and fruity, juicy, jammy. Meow. I adore this whisky. Full notes are here. 9/10

cavalier66 observes that Dune is the ultimate film about a galactical empire. He therefore brought an Imperial in The Ultimate collection.

Imperial 20yo 1995/2015 (46%, Signatory Vintage selected by The Ultimate, Hogshead, C#50234, 281b, b#44, L15/1482) (cavalier66): nose: fruit, citrus, photocopier, petrichor (cavalier66), fresh summer rain (cavalier66), the plastic case of a newly-bound photocopied book (takes me back to my student days). Sour citrus (CB), pot-pourri pouches (CB). For me, it is closer to the dried residue os a citrus tonic in the glass. Mouth: slightly rough edges (cavalier66), dirty (OB), bergamot tea via retro-nasal olfaction (cavalier66), acidic, with crates full of crisp (Golden) apple, and dry green grapes. We have more and more hay and lemon thyme with time. Finish: a bit more robust, here, with linen (cavalier66) and mulch, alongside bergamot and kumquat. In the long run, it acquires a dry bitterness like the palate, but goes one step further by bringing forth Alka Seltzer. Excellent Imperial. 8/10

OB: "To think you wanted to swap it for another bottle..."
cavalier66: "I'm not disappointed."
tOMoH: "Mate! You're sooooo British!"

The soundtrack: Cthulhu - The space navigator

CB confesses he had to think hard to fit something into the theme (that he owns). In the end, he went for something he wanted to bring, and then the link dawned on him: this is a Chani-nich.

Teaninich 33yo 1983/2017 (46%, Berry Bros. & Rudd, C#6739) (CB): nose: "there is quite a bit of spice going" (CB). cavalier66 is quick to point another connection to the theme, here. Spice indeed: ground mace (ensues a fascinating discussion about nutmeg and mace), lemon mint intertwined with hay, dried spearmint, aniseed (CB), or (I think) lovage seeds, pomelo foliage, and a sprinkle of ashes. Mouth: acidic, lemon-y, this has loads of lemon thyme and lemon mint, Swiss lemon sweets full of mountain herbs (cavalier66, talking about Ricola). This is excellent. On the late tip, we discover kumquat to supply some candied sweetness. Finish: in the same vein, we have lemon mint, citrus foliage and hay. It is fruitier with each sip, much to my delight. 9/10

Also: hailstorm

Both cavalier66 and tOMoH brought an Arrankis. cavalier66 adds that David Lynch directed the first film adaptation of Dune; he also directed Blue Velvet, starring Italian actress Isabella Rossellini; also Italian is Arran's global Brand Ambassador, our good friend MR. LOLz. Love a stretched connection.

Arran (49.1%, That Boutique-y Whisky Company, B#1, 211b, b#66) (cavalier66): nose: washing powder, baking stuff (CB), freshly-baked croissants (CB), detergent. Then, later on, cinnamon bark, dried fruits, panettone, black bun (JS). The ABV feels noticeably higher. Mouth: hot fruit (boiled citrus zest), a mild bitterness, orange-flower water (CB). It turns chalkier at second sip, then reverts back to fruits, this time it is apricots. Finish: some bitterness again, very orange-y, pithy, with citrus skins, and grated Aspirin tablets -- in a good way. Yes, even when it eventually settles for juicy, it is pressed orange with a bit of Aspirin. 8/10

vs.

Arran 17yo 1997/2014 (51.6%, The Whisky Agency & Acla da Fans Acla Selection specially selected for Whisky-Schiff Zürich 2014, Refill Sherry Cask, 120b) (tOMoH): nose: shaving balm, a faint hand-soap smell that grows in prominence, clean towels. Mouth: a clear note of detergent in hot water. Finish: big, almost boisterous, it has stewed apricots and hot compote. Full notes here. 8/10

Time to check TikTok

I find them to be both on a similar level, in terms of quality, but they have extremely-different profiles.

CB: "The Boutique-y is hotter."
cavalier66: "It's the spice."
tOMoH: "Would you say the mélange was not well integrated?"

CB takes us to the dark side, to explore the machinations of the Bunna Gesserit. In the same move, three of us discover how to pronounce the name of the bottler (weems, not weh-miss; it is written on the back label).

Bunnahabhain 1987/2018 Chestnut & Apple Chutney (46%, Wemyss Vintage Malts Wemyss Malts, Butt, 628b) (CB): nose: leather, shoe polish, date syrup, some turpentine, and prunes take off. Mouth: a nice balance, this is obviously a very-sherried whisky, but at 46%, it does not overwhelm the taste buds at all. Shoe polish, diluted with prune juice. Finish: treacle, date syrup, burnt sugar, molasses, cranberry molasses. Later on, we see a river of melted chocolate too. This is excellent, and better with each sip. 8/10

This calls for tart!
(OB's apple tart)

OB: "The Thompson are now enforcing the three-month free-storage thing, which is annoying."
JS: "Well, not for everyone: BA had things there for years."
cavalier66 [hinting at the royal family's recent health scares]: "But BA is royalty. Let's hope he doesn't have cancer, like the rest of them."

tOMoH: "I still see that picture in my head, every time I see the king -- a picture of Prince and Prince Charles, with the caption: 'There may be two princes, but there is only one king. And his name is Prince.' And, indeed, Charles waited for Prince to die before becoming king."
JS: "Every time you tell that, I think of Spin Doctors."

The soundtrack: Zenith - The Flowers Of Intelligence

With help from JS, tOMoH presents an oft-tasted bottle: Silent Stilgar-nheath.

Garnheath 27yo 1972/2000 (59.4%, Signatory Vintage Silent Stills, C#386516, 190b, b#182, 00/81) (tOMoH): full notes here. Today, I sip it relaxed, and enjoy it immensely. 9/10

JS asks if anyone ever played the Dune video games. Yes all round. The second? OB acquiesces. What was noteworthy in that one? There were three houses, OB remembers correctly. He cannot remember the name of the third, though. It was House (Glen) Ordos.

Glen Ord 25yo 1978/2004 (58.3%, OB, 3600b) (JS): I will take proper notes another time. We had this with OB nine years ago, and not once since. Time flies. Nose: austere, rocky, it reminds me of a grain millstone, lichen on limestone, tatters of green grapes and oroblanco, before a veil of refined smoke emerges from the deep, as clear as the sea is wet. Speaking of the sea, this may have iodine and a vague saltiness too. The second nose has a refreshing minty touch too. Mouth: rocky, gravel-y, drying, it is a whole quarry, in there. That aside, it has crushed walnuts. The mood changes with the second sip, which is dominated by acidic citrus, though there is a slight herbaceous touch too. Finish: long, acidic, mineral. Provisional 8/10

House Ordos deposing the Emperor

The soundtrack: Sabled Sun - 2148

As the final dram, OB fulfills the prophecy, and shows us the Kwizats Hadronach.

The GlenDronach 20yo 1993/2013 (53%, OB Single Cask, Oloroso Sherry Butt, C#5, 645b, b#418) (OB): nose: a thick layer of chocolate spread, mixed with Marmite, on a pepper-and-onion beigel. It has a hint of cardboard too, and then it develops a more-floral facet, behind the chocolate -- magnolia? The Marmite all but disappears, amusingly enough. Earth joins the dance, dark, rich, and even burnt, in places, a bit like scorched earth after the rain. The second nose has pickled lychee and blotting paper, roasted cocoa beans and star anise. Eh? Mouth: surprisingly thinner than anticipated, its earthiness is more pronounced than on the nose: torrefied coffee and chicory-infusion granules, as well as mocha-flavoured chocolate. It is slightly drying in the long run, like a high-percentage chocolate can be, or cocoa powder. Time makes this more peppery. Oh! it is no Talisker, obviously, but the chocolaty profile is augmented with cracked pink peppercorns. Finish: fairly short, it has more chocolate, and some herbs (chiefly oregano). OB thinks it does not have much chocolate and calls it a Glendronach for those who do not like Glendronach. I enjoy it. 8/10

OB: "It's the Johnnie Walker of Glendronach."
JS: "The Billy Walker of Glendronach."

Super tasting, once more. Surprisingly, it is the second time we use this theme, and no-one brought anything from Speyburn, Pulteney, Knockdhu, or Balmenach, all particular for their worm tubs. We may re-use the theme again when the next film comes out!

22/03/2024 Highland Park

Highland Park 12yo Viking Honour (40%, OB, L0484C L04 12/01, b. ca.2020): nose: there is something honest about these flagship bottlings. No pretence, no bullshit. It smells exactly as the distillery does, and that is sometimes all that one requires. So, in no particular order, we have tincture of iodine, cut peat still moist from the bog it left mere hours ago, a gentle smoke, and manure in the nearby field. If looking intently for it, one will spot a whisper of violet boiled sweets, but haters need not worry: it is hardly noticeable. What is a bit more surprising is the note of young grain spirit taken directly from the spirit safe. That is not meant in a derogatory way (it is pleasant); it is simply not something I associate with Highland Park. The second nose is more medicinal, with offerings of surgical alcohol poured on a dry corkboard. It also has dried yeast, and orchard-fruit slices desiccated beyond recognition. Gently-toasted barley rounds off the nose with a sugar glazing. Mouth: fresh and lively, though not overly so, it has a nice balance of smoke and violet boiled sweets, with a dash of tincture of iodine. I dare not call it unctuous, but it does have a velvety lick, beside the woodier tone of pencil cases. The second sip confirms. If it does the trick, chances are that the seasoned taster will find this a little pedestrian -- boring, even. Smoked dried apple slices come to the rescue, late in the game, and add a bit of adventure. Finish: more of the same? To a point, yes: gentle smoke, violet boiled sweets, but also a note of plasticine, now, and a clear farm-y side, with rich clay and midden. There is light-blue ink somewhere in this too. It warms up the mouth and oesophagus long after the flavours have dissipated. The second gulp mixes set honey with the plasticine, Honey Pops  mistakenly splashed with clay instead of milk. No reason to deviate from the score we gave it last time we had the equivalent. 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, SL)

20/03/2024 A seasonal pair

Yes, spring is tomorrow, but I will not have a chance to taste, tomorrow. Besides, someone tells me in my ear bud that the equinox happened today at 3:06:21 GMT. What better way to celebrate the return of spring than with two Springers? And not just any Springers...

Springbank 34yo 1967/2001 (40.9%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection): nose: hee! hee! From the first second, one knows one is in for a treat. A generous treat, at that. Rose-petal jelly, stewed physalis, candied papaya cubes, cherimoya, and some berries too, less identifiable (probably strawberry jam), but they add to the big picture. The moment one thinks one can spot a red tractor in a field (International?), one is slapped back onto fruity territory, ready to meet lychee and dragon fruit served on a slate. In fact, it is lychee with a splash of Grand Marnier, to be precise. There is a delicate wood note behind it all, rosewood or suchlike, refined and softly flowery. Dip your nose into the glass again, and it is yet another fruity slap, given with renewed force: following the white tropical fruits, we see a parade of ripe berries (raspberry, strawberry, white raspberry, cloudberry), and plums, dusted with sugar, though not quite jam yet. Later on, it is a lemon-mint paste that comes out on top, the natural conclusion to the above, rather than a competing power. The second nose is just as staggering, a punch of fruity, almost chalky, white wine. Not sure why it comes across as chalky, by the way, because the grapes that said wine carries are reminiscent of Cotton Candy, but it does. A clearer chalky character emerges over time; crushed dextrose tablets, perhaps, and a remote hint of vine. Mouth: mild, at this natural low strength, and more drying than anticipated, this is anything but weak. It delivers a bit of kick, actually, with cracked green pepper providing some excitement. Of course, it is still fruity, even if much less than the nose promised. Carambola, guava, kaki (the crunchy type from Korea), served with a sprinkle of dust from a stonecutter's workshop. There is a gentle bitterness too, green-grape pips, or not-quite-ripe hazelnuts. The second sip has a drop of nail varnish (HEMA Bare Panties -- who comes up with those names!?) with the texture of melted milk chocolate, for a moment, yet chewing immediately focuses on fruit trees of an exotic kind (calamansi, kumquat, tangerine, orange, carambola), which is to say it has a slight wood bitterness, probably, behind all that funny fruit. Finish: gentle and refined, this is the perfect breakfast dram. We find a custard-y concoction that contains a dollop of green-hazelnut paste, greengages, and carambola, including the waxy skin that can be a little bitter. It is not the longest finish (unsurprisingly, perhaps), but what lingers for a while is the dry residue in an empty glass of green-citrus tonic. Would that be close to dried lime or pomelo zest? Why, yes, it would. The second gulp heads in the same general direction, yet it appears more custard-y, while simultaneously more acidic. We are not talking fierce lime juice; simply a more-pronounced acidity in the custard. 10/10 (Thanks for the sample, DS)

Springbank 30yo b.1996 (50%, Signatory Vintage for Milroy Associates The Milroy Selection Golden Strength, 96/1731): nose: quieter and almost austere, by comparison, this has a much more mineral profile, without being monolithic (see what I did, there?) Here are quarry chippings and stone-cutting dust, lichen on granite, and chalk, cut and pummelled into a dusty mess. It is not long before fruit surfaces, and we see greengages, damsons, carambolas, and green-pomelo zest so dry it may as well be rock salt (there is a margarita joke, in that sentence, I reckon). Soon, we are in the rain forest, cutting a path through dense vegetation, namely the giant dark-green leaves of unknown species of trees and plants. There may even be cactuses in the mix. In any case, we quickly go back to rockier ground, lichen on granite, and rock salt on limestone. That said, it also has caster sugar turning green with mould (yes, sugar does not turn mouldy, I know), and white-pepper powder. The latter grows in intensity. In the long run, this becomes a greener number, with citrus foliage aplenty, and 1970s interior plants (yucca plant, ficus plant, cactuses). The second nose is much more concentrated, with an alcohol so punchy one can almost smell smoke. More accurately: the fumes of a machine running white-hot. In fact, it develops a metallic trait; the image in tOMoH's mind is of a circular stone saw cleaned with green-pomelo juice while still hot from being used in anger. Engine fumes also become more discernible, as does heated cast iron. The operator of that machine is obviously smoking blonde tobacco too. Mouth: despite the huge ABV shift, this feels almost softer on the tongue, with melted greengage sorbet and baked courgettes or cucumbers. Well, it has baked carambola too, to be sure. This one is fruitier on the palate than on the nose, yet it still keeps that mineral side, with granite chippings offering support to not-exactly-ripe pomelo, Kaffir lime and yuzu. The second sip is drier and more austere, hot metal and quarry dust (limestone more than granite, now). That is quickly joined again by fruits and their foliage -- especially their foliage: mandarine, bergamot, lime, grapefruit, and orange leaves. Then, we see jams and marmalades left too long in the open and turning rock-hard. It could as well be crystallised citrus, come to think of it. Finish: unctuous, long, comforting, and citrus-y to the max. Ugli fruit, kumquat, Buddha's hand, yellow tangerine augment a lovely vanilla pudding. It is definitely on the sweet side of citrus, juicy, and none too aggressively acidic. Even the bitterness of their skin is here very subdued, a mere instrument amongst a myriad of others, rather than a distracting force. Repeated sipping reiterates an overwhelming citrus-custard impression, a custard that would be poured on carambola for a snack at the quarry. Further sips prolong that snack break, and augment it with marmalade on bread that is starting to grow patches of mould, and chewy candied pomelo segments. 10/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Bliss.

19/03/2024 Caol Ila

Caol Ila 35yo 1984/2020 (47.5%, The House of Macduff The Golden Cask Reserve, C#CM260, 204b, b#128): nose: it smells like the most marvellous campfire on a misty dawn, something to warm up the soul after a chilly night. Smoked lichens, an omelette with chives, fried in a tin pan, and then we move closer to woody and coastal influences: wood varnish, carbonyl, turpentine, the varnished hull of a small boat, iodine, fishing nets hung out to dry. Smoked lichens insist on not being forgotten, a herbal touch that gives this a near-medicinal side too. Namechecking merbromin would not be too much of a stretch. Behind that are Kalamata olives, and, further still, scorched earth cooling down. The second nose manages to conjure up burnt chocolate-cake crust, charred cauliflower florets, and smoked mint. It soon turns away, and serves scorched earth ploughed by a tractor. A vague salty-air scent may remain, yet it is now becoming a farm-y number, with heaps of beetroots and Korean radishes, alongside smoked ginger. Mouth: wow! Earthy, maritime, and sweet all at once. Indeed, we have honey-glazed cockles, scorched earth, confectionary-sugar-coated mussels, and merbromin blended with Golden Syrup. It really is an original combination, and it works a treat. A clear bitterness rears its head, after a wee while, black-olive stones and smoked vine leaves, as does a drop of salt water. Clear, yet also fleeting: said bitterness comes in and out of frame, providing interest without the negative connotation that bitterness could have. Chewing on this reveals silt and mud patties, dripping with water (marsh water, that is), and more smoked lichens. The second sip is just as inexplicably sweet and smoky, yet it now has a certain dryness as well, a mixture of quarry chippings and lime zest. Acidic and gently bitter, it does not lose sight of the boggy earthiness from earlier: silt and mud, light peat, gorged with marsh water, and soaked cigar leaves. Finish: ideally balanced (that sweet spot of natural-40-to-50%), it has marsh water and marshlands, smoked sphagnum moss, cockles being purged, dredged-up sludge, drying on a barge, old fishing nets, with algae stuck in it, harbour clams, salty and imbibed with diesel from the fishing boats. This finish is indeed a little petrolic, which gives it an extra dimension. The second gulp sees two things: firstly, a lovely smoked-lime custard, refreshing and dessert-like; secondly, manure. Now, that may not read so, but rest assured that that combination is highly effective and, for tOMoH, enjoyable. Repeated sipping numbs the gums a little, with spearmint and chlorophyll, smoked rock salt, and cracked black pepper. It does not seem like there is anything left of the mussels, cockles, and olives from earlier. Even the scorched earth is almost forgotten, though it ends with a lingering note of burnt hazel wood. This is still a killer dram that covers so much ground. It is the sort of whiskies one could spend several hours with, and still discover new things. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

18/03/2024 Tamnavulin

Tamnavulin 25yo 1973/1998 New Century (45%, Glen Stuart Exclusive Limited Edition, C#4869-4870): nose: unlike the usual custard-y profile we tend to observe in Tamnavulin, this has a crisp, fruity white wine (Chablis), and a citrus-y quality to it. Limoncello comes to mind, though one without a raffle ticket on the bottle. It has something waxy too, far from the engine grease that, say, a Clynelish might have, but clean candlewax or plasticine. Unexpected and unannounced, a green note appears -- peony or rhododendron leaves, waxy in any case, though it stops short of ivy. Vine leaves, maybe? Yes, that is it. One can easily imagine the terroir too, crumbly earth over a shale layer. White wine still hums in the background. As one tilts the glass, the afore-mentioned plasticine grows more assertive, closer to rubber -- think of a grey electrical-cable jacket. There are plums too, plump. The second nose feels a tad more mineral, chalky, and the white wine becomes sweeter in the same move. We have a generous Montbazillac, now, and a custard thickened with corn flour. Mouth: it is a river of plum juice, with a bitterness that would convince one they are drinking from a rubber recipient. It is mellow as fleshy plums, fruity, and, well, softly bitter. Here too, that takes one back to candlewax and waxy green leaves (peonies? Rhododendrons? It is probably not wise to verify), and red grapefruit, particularly its skin. The second sip has kerria Japonica flowers, a pinch of spices (powdered ginger), and citrus zest so dry it is hardly recognisable. The acidity lives, however. Finish: aaaaaand here is the custard! Hot plum pulp, umeshu, and tame caramel coulis poured on flan. Further sips confirm the gently-citrus-y custard. Butter comes to the rescue, and, if it is not sticky toffee pudding (it lacks in the chocolate department), it is from the same family. Something peculiar appears towards the death -- something vegetable-like; boiled swede, or turnip cooking water. It is original, and minor enough a note to be easily overlooked for those who are not keen on it. Excellent drop. 9/10

15/03/2024 Springbank

Springbank 21yo (46.5%, Atom Supplies Darkness Limited Edition, Oloroso Sherry Octaves Finish, b#115): nose: as fruity as the first time we tried this, though with a notable difference: grapes (since it is mostly grapes) are much riper, today, and have started to turn vinegary. It is not quite caramelised red onions, rather red-wine vinegar. That slowly dissipates, which allows fresher darker fruits to surf into view on a wave of rancio: plums, blackberries, lingonberries. Of Springbank itself, a vague earthiness permeates, then polished black-marble floors in a country manor on a sunny day. Wooden furniture is not far behind, and a wooden crate of onions from the market, ready to be stored in the cellar. With some imagination, one can picture the horse and cart of the street vendor. That is right: hidden behind those fermented fruits and waxed floors is a subtle farm-animal touch -- one that grows in power too. The second nose focuses more clearly on prunes and coffee grounds, which takes one back to the breakfast room of many a B&B. It has nectarines too, showing up on the late tip. Mouth: wide and voluptuous, it is also quite drying, in an earthy way. Chewing brings back some of the vinegary fruit, next to crusted earth, dried by the hot sun. Slowly, a dark-berry paste climbs on top of that that feels almost rubbery. It is far from the bitterness of new-car-door joints, and much closer to toasted black cumin, burnt tyres from decades ago, and smashed elderberry. There is even a note of ground mocha. The second sip insists on said mocha -- the posh kind, that coffee enthusiasts describe as having notes of lychee (and who is tOMoH to point out their nonsense?) It is more nectarine than lychee, here, but it is a fruity freshness alright. The coffee touch becomes very clear, once again flirting with rubber. Finally, mocha chocolate and chewy elderberry sweets join the party. Finish: it is a bit of a time bomb, with seemingly not much happening for several seconds. Then, a pleasant warmth settles in and rolls out flavours. We have prunes, black cumin, liquorice allsorts, just a pinch of coffee grounds, elderberry syrup, blackberry jelly, all presented on heated tarmac. Aside the shy earthiness (black cumin or gunpowder black tea), it is tricky to find the Springbank DNA in here. Much of the talking is the Sherry's, or so it seems. The second sip hits the roof of the mouth with a shovelful of chewy sweets (elderberry flavoured), which helps swap the coffee note for dry potting soil as a side effect. A distinct sweetness lingers on the tongue, alongside that earthiness, both a legacy of the Sherry cask again. It dies with an earthy blackberry jam spread on rye crispbread. This is excellent, and better with each sip. All the same, I am slightly less thrilled than last time. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

14/03/2024 A pair of Coleburns

Who said: "Une paire de Couilles-Burnes"?

Coleburn 12yo d.1981 (43%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: the most amazing mix of fruity-sweetish white wine (Muscadet, Chablis), or, indeed, Jurançon vin jaune, and hazelnut oil, fruity, nutty, fresh, appealing as a late-summer salad made from scratch. In fact, I swear it has iceberg lettuce too! It turns distinctly greyer (although tOMoH would struggle to explains what that means), and mute, after five or ten minutes. Let us give it some time... Yes, that fruity white wine is back, as is the nut oil. The second nose seems more assertive, especially with the hazelnut oil, to a point it could be seen as farm-y. Oh! it is not a Springbank or a Brora, of course, yet it does carry a pastoral rusticity. Old furniture, the wooden handle of old tools, and old soft-leather gloves, kept in a greenhouse. Mouth: the attack is that of a dry white wine; soft, velvety, fruity, it offers a gentle kick of alcohol, and a subdued bitter bite of vine. Time on the tongue turns it nuttier, with old hazelnut shells and walnut skins. The dominant is green grape, however, ripe and juicy, as well as less ripe and bitter. Vin jaune comes to mind again, this time less for the overt fruitiness, more for the voile-controlled oxidation. The second sip is fruitier still. It adds stewed apples to the mix, which are slowly turning into a blobby pulp. Grapes skins run towards the sides of the palate and the gums, persistently shooting what is now but a shy bitterness. Again, fruity white wine, or vin jaune. Finish: quaffable, silky, it has a fruitiness and a mild bitterness in line with what we saw on the palate. White wine, green grapes, hazelnuts, hazelnut oil, all warming and pleasant. At twelve years of age, it is not particularly complex, of course, yet it would make an excellent daily dram. One dreams of a time when Coleburn classed as a daily dram (full disclosure: never; it was never bottled as anything else than a niche single malt). The second gulp has a fleeting-yet-clear flash of saffron to top the white wine impression. The whole is mellow and plush, which accentuates a feel of having just munched on green grapes. This could very well score one more point in different circumstances. 7/10

Coleburn 13yo d.1981 (43%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: dryish and more mineral than its sibling, it has a bucketful of gravel, dusty marble flooring, and a tidy pile of newspapers. There are some ancient (elderberry) gummy cough drops, dusty and hardened, and Formica furniture. It is hard to explain, yet this smells like its era, as if the late-1970s and early-1980s had been distilled whole, and this were their essence. In the long run, timid apples appear, both roasted and as a compote, served with pan-fried hazelnuts. Then, it reverts back to an even-more-pronounced mineral character, now pebbles taken over by mosses, then old colour pencils, warmed by their proximity to a fire. A minute later, a fruity, if bone-dry, white wine emerges at last, borderline ashy. Grenache, no doubt. The second nose stays true to the mineral side: a wooden palette, loaded with pebbles. "Austere" would be too strong a word, but it certainly is not juicy, now. Mouth: it seems a lot mellower at first than one might have expected. The tongue is treated to lush green-grape flesh, topped with grated apple. Do not be fooled, however: the dry white wine lurks in the background, ashier than ever, supplying a minute bitterness. We spot a drop of hazelnut oil, and watered-down apple liqueur. The second sip is in line, though a few seconds in, it lashes out with a mighty dryness. In instances like these, it is difficult not to think of a bone-dry white wine again, ashy despite being fruity too. Grenache, Chablis, Pinot Grigio. As it blends with saliva on the tongue, some tame sweetness is restored. Finish: juicier and fruitier, this now has something chewy too. One may say fruit jellies, or Turkish delights, but it comes without the sugar coating. If it is sugar-coating-free fruit jellies, then it is a mix of yellow and green ones, fruity and subliminally bitter. Repeated sipping tones down the bitter angle even more, and gives a riper fruity side to it that coats the mouth, in the long run (green grapes and apples). If anything else appears, it is a touch of wood -- this time a rustic woodworm-eaten dining table. 7/10

Apart from the nose, I reckon I prefer the second one, yet they are in the same ballpark.

13/03/2024 Longmorn

Longmorn 18yo (57.8%, The Whisky Exchange Whisky Show 2011, 150b): leftover from earlier this month. Nose: a delicious fruitiness slaps the nostrils with apricots, ripe and stewed, warm pineapple rolled into a paste with a rolling pin, mandarine pulp, and a nut paste, spread on cream crackers with a knife that was previously used to chop onions. Further on, we find rosehips, physalis, and mirabelle plums, not as bold as the initial apricot, and rubber gloves dipped in hot clean dishwater. That is not to say this is rubbery or soapy -- it is neither. It merely paints that specific image in my mind. Hot apricot compote soon comes back in full form. After all, plump apricots can be a little rubbery and squeaky. Anyway. it has a remote notion of a Moka pot too, likely imparted by the strong alcohol. That transforms into a fruity grape brandy, amusingly enough. The fruitiness continues at second nosing, this time accompanied by flowers: daffodils and yellow tulips, handled with those (green) rubber gloves. Water introduces clean linen, and a freshly-paraffined tablecloth. Soon, peach custard takes off. Mouth: ooft! It kicks like a mule. A litre of wood varnish, a mugful of turpentine, six kilogrammes of cracked black pepper, and green rubber gloves. The palate confirms that impression from the nose: it is fairly rubbery, on top of being very powerful. It leaves the palate squeaky clean. The second sip is more flowery too, showing thick yellow petals, daffodils and yellow tulips again. There is a slight bitterness, here, which stops it being a juicy delight, once the heat has calmed down. Soon, a spoonful of sugar sees to it that the bitterness is under control. With water, it feels more metallic, veering towards a pencil-sharpener blade. It is still fruity, though, and showcases minty apricots. Finish: although hot, the finish puts the emphasis back on apricots -- baked, hot, and juicy. That is augmented with a laughably-large dose of unaged eau-de-vie (apple, now), and a pinch of herbs (laurel and fresh marjoram). A very long finish that punches one in the sternum. In line with the nose and mouth, the second gulp brings in yellow flowers dusted in confectionary sugar. That complements the apricots adequately, which are served in a heated mess tin. Water makes the fruit exquisite, a mix of apricots, white peaches, and mint served warm. Fresh, juicy, and lush. As I thought last time, this benefits from not being surrounded by colossal drams that could overshadow it. It shines brighter on its own, and brighter yet with a drop of water. Score with water: 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, cavalier66)

12/03/2024 North British

North British 45yo 1963/2009 (50.7%, Signatory Vintage Rare Reserve, Hogsheads, C#117362 + 117363 + 117365, 290b, b#19): nose: extremely jammy, this has blueberry jelly, pressed currants, raspberry jam, and blackberry relish, spread on toasted crumpets, or, better, on scones. Indeed, this has afternoon tea in its DNA. With a bit of imagination, one might picture a cat, humid from a trip outdoors, warming itself by the wood stove. Scones turn into buttered toasts, and we have a bunch of dark tulips in a vase, too close to the stove, and slowly wilting. It being a grain, it is little surprise it should carry something slightly metallic, hot pipes, or stainless-steel tanks of hot water, unless it is the circular saw of a meat slicer coming out of the dishwasher (not recommended), and rightly steaming. Buttered baked goods soon come back: scones, crumpets, toasted bread, with jams hot on their heels (blackberry, blueberry, blackcurrant, raspberry, myrtle). Oh! but we also have faint whiffs of mango turnovers, and heated dried papaya cubes. The second nose introduces a cup of cappuccino, but serves it at another table, at the other end of the tea room. There are greengages and Chinese gooseberries on the buffet too. Mouth: thin at first, the palate has a pinch of oily Virginia tobacco, before it unleashes a cascade of dark-berries jam: blackberry, myrtle, blackcurrant. They are a notch bitterer, here, those jams; not as pumped with sugar, in other words. Yet, that sugar appears gradually as one salivates. Hot stainless steel resurfaces, as do papaya cubes (of the dried kind), all while the texture grows more viscous. The second sip seems more drying and bitter, for a moment, until it pushes the dark berries forward again -- this time, in a mocha-infused cake that reminds me of a schwarze Torte. A minute on the tongue gives one the impression of having bitten into a crusty cake. Repeated sipping brings an acidity to the palate, likely white grapefruit, yuzu, or Buddha's hand, and pineapple. Finish: big without being overwhelming, this is fruity-and-a-half. It delivers more of the above (blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, papaya, blackcurrants), with some additions too (stewed strawberries, lingonberry compote). Long and satisfying like an afternoon tea once more, the finish parades those fruits in cordial form, now, which properly coats the mouth. The second sip is even darker, almost earthy, which hints at a crusty cake again -- a mocha-infused, dark-berry cake. Juicy, jammy, toasty, it blends the sweet and the bitter perfectly. It even dies in a modest explosion of grapefruit, pineapple, and grated liquorice root, or lovage seeds. Said explosion is fleeting and tame, yet a fitting reward for the attentive taster. This is one fine dram! 9/10

11/03/2024 Laphroaig

29.99 20yo b.2011 Power and scorched earth (59.6%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Sherry Butt, 360b): on this grey and drab day, this should warm us up... Nose: yup, it is immediately comforting as a bothy at the end of a damp hike. It has logs by the fireplace, marmalade toasts, served on an oiled rustic table, frijoles on the hob, and cold smoke from the morning's fire. There are paint pots in a cabinet, suggesting a recent refresh of the furniture, and a basket of fruits, not far from the hearth: plums, cherries, oily nuts. This nose also has its share of earth (a bothy usually has a clay floor, after all), and, suddenly, black liquorice rolls. Something else is present, harder to identify, possibly Bulgomme undercloth. Whatever smoke and peat simply come across as earthy, with hints of a fireplace that has yet to be lit today, and whiffs of cured ham, hanging from the ceiling. Whether the last one is imagined or not is another story. The second nose has minty cardboard left outside overnight, mint crumbles, burnt pine cones, spent mentholated cigarettes, and the remains of a garden fire (burnt leaves, charred sage twigs, ashes. Mouth: phwoar! This is immense! Hot and extremely dry, this is an ashtray that contains embers too -- or red-hot ashes, probably. When the taste buds wake up from the alcoholic shock, they catch a bitter fruitiness, unripe blackcurrants or myrtles. Whichever they are, they are covered in white ash. That grows earthier with time; scorched earth, or earth upon which a farmer has sprayed ashes to rejuvenate it. Despite the bitterness, the stubborn fruit is very welcome. Said bitterness takes the shadow of cut peonies or purple tulips. The second sip is somewhat thicker, and reminds me of some cough syrups, the names of which do not spring to mind. Chewing brings back ashes, fruits, and a drying earthiness. It is pretty numbing too, but where is the trademark TCP? In the far background, maybe. It is rather mercurochrome. Or, in fact, a blend of mercurochrome and Iso Betadine. Finish: a lot mellower than anticipated, it has melted chocolate, soon overtaken by crushed cherries, and cherry liqueur, Mon Chéri style. That liqueur would be intrusive, were it not for the shovelful of ashes that comes with it. Indeed, the mouth is left in the same state as if it had licked an ashtray, and chewed on the fag ends. There is a market for it, I am sure, and, honestly, it feels very appropriate for today. At second sip, the melted chocolate is burnt and coagulated, which half-spoils the bowl of cranberry jam served alongside, Repeated quaffing unveils a growing medicinal lick, a mixture of Iso Betadine, mercurochrome, and hard-to-like cough syrup, while the ash takes more of a supporting role. This is just what one may expect of a twenty-year-old Laffie from a Sherry cask. I personally prefer them a tad fruitier, but -- hey! 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

09/03/2024 Dune Part One

With the second film in cinemas since last week (BA and OB have already seen it, JS and I are seeing it tomorrow), now is an ideal time to use Frank Herbert's universe as a theme.

The soundtrack: Cthulhu - Arrakkian Junkies

tOMoH presents: Tam-Dune.

Tamdhu 33yo 1969/2003 (40.5%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection) (tOMoH): the nose is elegant and fruity from top to bottom, with citrus-y custard. The palate is nicely spicy, yet balanced, while the finish has lovely stewed tangerine segments. My full notes are here. Today, I will upgrade it to 9/10

OB: "This next one is a blended malt. In French, we would call that a mélange." (An obvious nod to the spice mélange.)

Blended Malt Scotch Whisky 40yo d.1977 (42.9%, Thompson Bros., Sherry Casks, 150b) (OB): nose: well-caramelised stewed tangerines, borderline shoe polish, blackened banana skins. It has a touch of liquorice too, and perhaps some panna cotta on the second nose, as well as an odd, very discreet whiff of hemp. Mouth: a tad drying, it has caramelised apricot stained by the stone. It turns fairly mineral, with quarry chippings, yet that is balanced by more fruit. The second sip is juicier, fresh and vibrant. Grape juice, augmented with drops of grapefruit juice. Finish: very pleasant, it has just the right oomph. A nice acidity of citrus, and a faint bitterness, like grapefruit peels. The following gulps are more caramelised, with barbecued honey-glazed grapefruit skins. I like it better than I remember. That is: I am convinced that I have tried this before, yet I cannot find any evidence 8/10

tOMoH: "It's growing on me, that mélange."
OB: "Your eyes are getting bluer."

BA cocked up his choice of socks

BA presents a whisky from Israel, which is in a desert, just like Dune.

Milk & Honey Classic (46%, OB, b.2021) (BA): nose: marzipan and frangipane, then candied tangerine segments, and newly-oiled birch shelves. It is distinctly woody, yet it is a honeyed style of wood. The second nose has a  serving of grated cedarwood sheet. Mouth: a vague woody bitterness, and, again, a lot of honey, slowly setting. It is slightly drying, after a while, but mostly velvety and unctuous. I love it more with every sip. Finish: warming and pleasant, with more setting honey, and creamy body butter. It is long and relaxing. I would have loved to hate this (because, really, who needs more temptation?), but it is, in fact, very good. 8/10

The soundtrack: Silence - IV

JS presents: a Dune Eideann bottling of Dune-glass.

Dunglass 22yo 1967/1990 (46%, Dun Eideann imported by Donato & C., C#1893-6) (tOMoH): nose: flowery (OB), soapy (JS), yet it retains a malty backbone (OB). I have pot-pourri, flowers and a lick of soap indeed. "This nose is not too offensive," says OB. Mouth: violet sweets, which works for me. Finish: boiled sweets and melted milk chocolate -- loads of it. It is very particular, but I like it. Much more than the first time, in fact (notes here).  JS is not a fan. 7/10

BA produces a bottle that is obviously an industry sample called Wolfcraig. Leftover from a competition, in which BA was a judge. He ventures that the logo looks a bit like the crest of House Atreides.

And indeed...

Wolfcraig 30yo Premium Blend (46.3%, OB) (BA): hot marzipan and crispy bacon. What? Next are minty wood splinters, then, suddenly, plasticine. It then has a touch of linen and warm oilcloth lining. A few cuberdons in the second nose, and some kind of blueberry paste. We find some wood too, and a chemical fruitiness I associate with bubble gum. Mouth: well, it is not soapy per se, but it does have a flowery note, part dried lavender, part pot-pourri, part heather, part melted chocolate again. How odd! Am I particularly sensitive to melted chocolate, today? The second mouth is astonishingly-more drying, with stone filings and ground olive stones. Finish: wide, it has chocolate, though lavender-infused chocolate. It has a great balance, some spices, and an enjoyable complexity. The second gulp has more chocolate, even. This is not blinding, yet one has to admire the skill of Richard Paterson for putting something like this together (credit to Ian Macmillan too, of course). JS finds it too round, while I, in the long run, bump it up one point. 8/10

The soundtrack: Cthulhu - Travelling without moving

tOMoH unveils a Dallas Dune. Also, Dallas is in Texas, parts of which are deserts.

45.19 31yo 1975/2007 Foreplay whisky (45.6%, SMWS Society Cask, Refill Barrel) (tOMoH): nose: "rather good" (BA), polished oak (BA), "reminds me of Glen Mhors I have had" (BA). Old jams and smoky marmalade on the palate, very satisfying. It has a jammy and juicy finish, with a softly-austere touch. JS finds strawberry jam, while I have a drop of shampoo (much less than last time -- full notes here). I like it more today. I am tempted to go to 9, but will calm down. 8/10

BA shows the next bottle and explains: "This is in theme, because it's nice. I hope."
JS: "Also, your name is on it..."
BA: "Yes. And there is a mention of axles. Axles of Dune's battle tanks."
tOMoH: "Ballechin. Or ball aching, as I like to say."
BA: "Bally chin, too. Plus, a sponge soaks up water, and makes things dry. Dry like Dune, the sand planet."

We sadly all miss the obvious Gurney Hallec-hin.

Ballechin 15yo Second Secret Edition (48.5%, Decadent Drinks WhiskySponge Secret Edition, 121b) (BA): nose: hay bales, straw, bacon. It turns more farm-y, after a moment, with cow stables, horse saddles, and mud patties drying in the sun. OB calls some butyric action. The second nose has more bacon, and earth. In the back of the sinuses, something slightly medicinal appears, perhaps ether. Mouth: liquorice root (OB), swede (JS), caster-sugar-coated turnips, honey-cured bacon, baked clay. Ink and ash appear at second sip, with a chopped red chilli in tow. We also detect a few grains of toasted barley. Finish: long, balanced, it has roasted apples, charred apple cores, Verdigris, and lichen on staves. This one is not totally my style, yet it is good. I like that it is bottled at this low ABV, as opposed to some of the jaw-tearing Port Charlottes with a similar profile. 7/10

JS: "I recognise this... Hecker."
tOMoH: "Yup."

JS: "Tim?"

tOMoH: "Woody Wood P. Hecker."

Time for some kouign amann, courtesy of our in-house baker, OB

The soundtrack: Dune - The Alliance EP

OB presents a Clynelish bottled by Duncan Idaho Taylor.

Clynelish 23yo 1988/2012 (49.8%, Duncan Taylor Dimensions, Oak Cask, C#4546, 273b, b#163) (OB): nose: fruity white wine (Riesling?), maybe even Schorle. Indeed, although fruity, the nose is a little subdued, as if cut with water (which is known as Schorle in German). It is also rather mineral, and has a touch of exotic wood too (mahogany or teak). Waxy plasticine timidly takes off, after a bit. The second nose has smoky seal wax, and stale stamp glue. Mouth: citrus-y custard, custard-y citrus. Calamansi, oroblanco, pomelo, ugli fruit. It grows more acidic, over time, though still on the mandarin side of citrus. No fierce lime or grapefruit here. Finally, it gets stone dust, stuck in drying wax. The second sip feels sweeter. Finish: wide and warming, with a stewed-apricot note lingering on the tonsils. We also find warm peach slices, melting in the mouth, and coating the palate. In the long run, there is a faint metallic touch too. I enjoy this immensely, today, and will rate it accordingly generously. 9/10

The soundtrack: The Gesualdo Six / Owain Park - Byrd - Mass For Five Voices

BA: "Do you mind if I take a picture of this Clynelish to post it on our WhatsApp group?"
OB: "I don't mind you doing anything with the bottle, except finishing it."
tOMoH: "You'll notice he did not mention anything about inserting it in your rectal cavity..."
BA: "I was just about to say that."

Following International Women's Day, JS focuses on Dune's main female protagonist: Ardnamur-Chani.

Ardnamurchan 2015/2020 (59.5%, OB part of the Ardnamurchan first aid kit, ex-Oloroso Hogshead, C#AD/CK.670-16/10/15) (JS): JS finds it alright, yet pretty intense. I love it and give it the same generous score as before. My full notes are here. 9/10

Excellent little tasting with some original drams of high quality. And quality dodgy puns.

06/03/2024 A trio of Ardnamurchan

Ardnamurchan 2yo b.2019 (53.3%, OB Warehouse Release Limited Batch, Oloroso Octaves, B#8, 145b): this is the sample I was given when we toured the distillery in 2019. Nose: delicate, spongy forest floor, with rubbery humus, and clay so bouncy it could be plasticine. Paraffin, wax, and something that falls between vase water and river dredging. It has a soft fruitiness too, plump plums and yellow Gummibärchen. That fruitiness even has hints of the tropics (mango), perhaps too fleeting to be overly excited. Once that has receded, the nose comes up with a pine-needle-scented shaving foam, and lacquered pen cases. The second nose cranks up the fruit, with waxy grapes and smoked nectarines, as well as an oilcloth, after a sunny day on the dining table of the conservatory. Yes, this is waxy-and-two-thirds, with a dash of apple brandy to liven things up a little and stop it becoming too plastic-y. Mouth: mellow at first, it quickly turns into an acidic beast that seems to corrode the enamel of one's teeth. Behind that is a clear, bitter, plant-sap-based broth, in which tulip petals and whole daffodils come bathe. The whole is chewy, borderline chalky. The second sip is a little less stripping, if thinner, and it combines a clearer fruitiness (warmed nectarine slices) with grated chalk or white ash, and the juice of a pressed oroblanco -- unless it is pressed calamansi. Finish: warm, the finish offers an interesting mix of warm, minty custard, a pine-needle paste, and flavoured plasticine. It has an a fruity undertone, a minty freshness, and a layer of earthy flavours to boot. There is an impossible-to-miss heat, radiating from one's core, yet, all in all, it is stupendously balanced -- much more so than many an older whisky bottled at 40%, in fact. The second sip gains some citrus (bergamot, yuzu), and a dusting of chalk. It is not exactly dextrose tablets, but it is somewhat reminiscent. Retro-nasal olfaction has cooking diced swede, which is an interesting addition. The death sees a stronger wood note, mulch and dark-conifer bark, so dark it comes close to earthy. Moist, bouncy, a notch bitter, and, well, woody. This is amazing, especially when one considers the age. 8/10

Ardnamurchan 2015/2020 (59.5%, OB part of the Ardnamurchan first aid kit, ex-Oloroso Hogshead, C#AD/CK.670-16/10/15): one of the bottlings from the tasting sets that were released at the start of the COVID-19 lockdowns. Nose: a much-peatier affair, as advertised on the (barely-legible) label. This has mud, ploughed field, a hint of manure, clay pots ready to be baked in the oven, and some fruits, such as dragon fruit, rambutan, or jackfruit, none too juicy nor fragrant, but discernible nevertheless. The back of the nose has a bacon-y note too, which should please the carnivores, and mud patties on the grill (to please the mud eaters, surely). Later on, the earthy trip continues, augmented with pine-tree bark, dark, fragrant, and elastic. The second nose takes a turn and introduces purple chewy sweets (blueberry jelly tots?), then blueish-purple chocolate from Venice (cioccolato colorato). Blueberry sweets turn into a paste, enticing to say the least, and welcome some berry-bush leaves in the background. Mouth: wow! How different is this? Sunflower seeds coated in dark(ish) chocolate (55% cocoa or thereabout). It is mellow and creamy on the tongue, a bit like a good sip of chocolate milk, and takes a while to grow a certain acidity imparted by pine bark. If pine-nut milk existed in the same way almond milk does, this would be close to it. In addition, we find a gentle, pine-y-citric acidity that keeps things fresh, and remnants of a squishy, clay-like earthiness that only serves as a complexity generator. The second sip sees juicy, fresh blueberries, and the gentle bitterness of the couple of leaves that were left with the fruits. Some bouncy earth subsists, as does a soft mint paste. Not sure what wizardry the folk at Ardnamurchan operate, but the balance on this is impressive. Tickling 60%, it flows like a warm cocoa. Finish: similar characteristics are on display in the finish: earth, chocolate, pine flavours, and gentle citrus (tangerine?) perform a dance of fluid moves for one's pleasure. Chocolate milk just may be the dominant, at this stage, though everything holds together tightly, clad in the thinnest shroud of smoke. That makes it all rustic enough for some to call the whisky farm-y. The second gulp turns up the complexity dial, with vase water, gunpowder, and torched crusted earth, perhaps even charred mussel shells (empty) and cocoa beans. Indeed, it now has an overly-roasted, charry touch that flirts with nigella seeds. That complements the blueberries and the chocolate very well. This is astoundingly good. Pedigree taken into account (you now, four years old, give or take), it is insanely good. Perhaps optimistically, I will score it high, today. 9/10

Ardnamurchan 9yo 2014/2023 (56.2%, Adelphi Limited, 1st Fill Pedro Ximénez Hogshead, C#240, 320b): this is from the Adelphi tasting, last January. Nose: this one is more chocolaty today than then, with melted milk chocolate, torched, and sprinkled with powdered cinnamon. Besides are dried banana slices, bouncy mulch, and fresh citrus peels. Blush orange, maybe? Nah. Mandarines. There is something weird about it too, damp newspapers, perhaps. It reminds me of a certain Glen Scotia (remember the monkey's arse tasting note?), although it is not vile in the slightest, here, and that impression is as fleeting as can be. It is merely a general feeling that I cannot explain. "Dank" is the word, I reckon. However, what presides over this dram is a combination of melted milk chocolate and orange. Not to be mistaken for PiM's, though: the two are side by side, not mixed together. The second nose has a bunch of faded dried flowers, carnations, roses, chrysanthemums -- a faded pink that looks like a dirty white, really. Fruit is also more pronounced, now, rosehip, kumquat, and rambutan. Chocolate milk comes back, of course, supported by ink. Woah! Mouth: the attack is rubbery. At first, that means bouncy, then, quickly, it turns out the texture is close to that of chewy windscreen wipers that have been rubbed clean with acetone. Really chewy, and a tad squeaky on the teeth. Once that dies down, the palate has chocolate too, now augmented with dark-grape juice. We detect a vague woody tone as well, chewy cassia bark, rather than powdered cinnamon, and day-old citrus peels. The second sip is still stripping and chewy, not unlike chewing on that putty dentists use to make a dental impression. Then, it is all gentle citrus: kumquats, tangerines, clementines. Finish: outstanding! Chocolate ganache topped with a blueberry paste. Or a myrtle paste. We find a spoonful of hot marmalade too, which gives a lovely sweet acidity. There is no shortage of wood, yet it is not overpowering at all either. A cup of hot cocoa, served with a cappuccino-style cream crown, and a generous dusting of cinnamon. The second gulp brings back the citrus, acidic, juicy, and plump. More tangerines, clementines, mandarines, and kumquats. Chocolate is now in the rear-view mirror, quickly disappearing from sight, and, if cassia bark is still perceptible, cinnamon powder has also vanished. 8/10