tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85719044524775659552024-03-19T08:46:53.120+00:00The Old Man of Huy's key adventuresI am an old man. I am from Huy. I drink whisky. (And I like bad puns.)the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.comBlogger949125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-87464528481825346202024-03-18T17:01:00.000+00:002024-03-18T17:01:41.339+00:0018/03/2024 Tamnavulin<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zSrfqQEhDCUlXn8O8xV3S3C3VviYLkFkSYCmf5hnRsAxQlVA5vnkXxq-mCdjCcEnYMfQI-QG1FmWAapyWiIVDXg_l4xCooeQnMVgFW3otx1pnZJw9cH5kI6m0ZirFCdkoyQFgiKtJXgOQ1ZbA1W-vnmUC0Orxp8fvhv7F8iKXAR4C0f0a68BOQOeGIdm/s808/tamnavulin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="305" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1zSrfqQEhDCUlXn8O8xV3S3C3VviYLkFkSYCmf5hnRsAxQlVA5vnkXxq-mCdjCcEnYMfQI-QG1FmWAapyWiIVDXg_l4xCooeQnMVgFW3otx1pnZJw9cH5kI6m0ZirFCdkoyQFgiKtJXgOQ1ZbA1W-vnmUC0Orxp8fvhv7F8iKXAR4C0f0a68BOQOeGIdm/w151-h400/tamnavulin.JPG" width="151" /></a><u><b>Tamnavulin 25yo 1973/1998 New Century (45%, Glen Stuart Exclusive Limited Edition, C#4869-4870)</b></u>: 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-67453270895479802742024-03-15T17:36:00.000+00:002024-03-15T17:36:11.820+00:0015/03/2024 Springbank<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtMmL2Q5bQeEsjpHDT2aWD94slM9mbZkIUqKFAivuPD13DttQMMfiREQwPtgLy5JMk41xazpNT9mznbVJVycCwdpRsOy_3AXWZPL_m2KskvWeCzkg3BmXSCmUhhVNfrBjixM6rp4k8SfFHKCLPCi_6r3fyFUtsAJ3AHv3ZYRodss4wcf3grOSFykUy4Cl/s831/springbank.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="510" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXtMmL2Q5bQeEsjpHDT2aWD94slM9mbZkIUqKFAivuPD13DttQMMfiREQwPtgLy5JMk41xazpNT9mznbVJVycCwdpRsOy_3AXWZPL_m2KskvWeCzkg3BmXSCmUhhVNfrBjixM6rp4k8SfFHKCLPCi_6r3fyFUtsAJ3AHv3ZYRodss4wcf3grOSFykUy4Cl/w245-h400/springbank.JPG" width="245" /></a><u><b>Springbank 21yo (46.5%, Atom Supplies Darkness Limited Edition, Oloroso Sherry Octaves Finish, b#115)</b></u>: nose: as fruity as <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/01/27012024-burns-night-2024-fear-of-dark_30.html" target="_blank">the first time we tried this</a>, 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 (<i>Thanks for the dram, JS</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-25425181879729511502024-03-14T17:05:00.000+00:002024-03-14T17:05:55.572+00:0014/03/2024 A pair of Coleburns<p>Who said: "Une paire de Couilles-Burnes"?</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNVUv8e7GgSfX5qDv-KveYXRoEdTvLU6ZJbGCAXPAvXhWstTuz16A9tj94O1JKp259K_JyQtOeOTMwlMz9eL1FavQnjKGUGLL_C7REvV7J6z-A172aDlU8r3ujLPqY4in0h0HRFoUDuCjunh2LcXCmY8Km0ah5jABLeEu4iketTFOgrozfVH7trUSmGL8/s1021/coleburn12.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1021" data-original-width="307" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtNVUv8e7GgSfX5qDv-KveYXRoEdTvLU6ZJbGCAXPAvXhWstTuz16A9tj94O1JKp259K_JyQtOeOTMwlMz9eL1FavQnjKGUGLL_C7REvV7J6z-A172aDlU8r3ujLPqY4in0h0HRFoUDuCjunh2LcXCmY8Km0ah5jABLeEu4iketTFOgrozfVH7trUSmGL8/w120-h400/coleburn12.JPG" width="120" /></a><u><b>Coleburn 12yo d.1981 (43%, James Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection)</b></u>: 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</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlAvJD7Orcs2yQih9nUOb_cx2fjBLYY2tyyp1M2a3IM8GuQemdcJ7721KbFDYJQ_pjQBuiaswzKxrC4_kEN3FglZkxbzZPMqFNlCfqm5XDH5cCuBCo1HxZ6MkxP8by6pcimB4w5GnxLn6sIzjp5bzm9h6VivUuaJR9p1U3nXYr67CnrZJluJlhSd2OHnM/s1031/coleburn13.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1031" data-original-width="313" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlAvJD7Orcs2yQih9nUOb_cx2fjBLYY2tyyp1M2a3IM8GuQemdcJ7721KbFDYJQ_pjQBuiaswzKxrC4_kEN3FglZkxbzZPMqFNlCfqm5XDH5cCuBCo1HxZ6MkxP8by6pcimB4w5GnxLn6sIzjp5bzm9h6VivUuaJR9p1U3nXYr67CnrZJluJlhSd2OHnM/w121-h400/coleburn13.JPG" width="121" /></a><u><b>Coleburn 13yo d.1981 (43%, James </b></u><u><b>Mac Arthur Fine Malt Selection</b></u><u><b>)</b></u>: 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</p><p><br /></p><p>Apart from the nose, I reckon I prefer the second one, yet they are in the same ballpark.</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBA1toHpgammr_C_gjwa3QHcvVfobxW1dBoULotbtuzX8-uPYJy6FY0TpVEoiAAe5eXNnGPoIrf8H0yscT4Sslsjm4_-fUnkgT7RMtVnubsUdOOr-Zs6YuDnoy3B9l1MOVQLG1dQpDC2dMDjeeiHJmbYrGVta7vEozDCbpo8eOyXBW4ZZeILrGCyjzTWM/s832/coleburns.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="493" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdBA1toHpgammr_C_gjwa3QHcvVfobxW1dBoULotbtuzX8-uPYJy6FY0TpVEoiAAe5eXNnGPoIrf8H0yscT4Sslsjm4_-fUnkgT7RMtVnubsUdOOr-Zs6YuDnoy3B9l1MOVQLG1dQpDC2dMDjeeiHJmbYrGVta7vEozDCbpo8eOyXBW4ZZeILrGCyjzTWM/w238-h400/coleburns.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-45006906165652977712024-03-13T17:30:00.000+00:002024-03-13T17:30:31.965+00:0013/03/2024 Longmorn<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxaF5XFvX5XOXOOCoAQL_B8xpR_GbjKKY-L-N_3vGc4DUL68LpemAlU7Xcjx_VGlMaHUFl39ftmWwUtrrOIJNh3QasHjIMofWnOrD3RiZljxdHobxP1m25VACghsFvTeb6tyDCClU4nfc0mAg8356xrHfcLB2CQRY0NT7ILFnOKgzmx1RegETcYlOjJvb/s812/longmorn.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxaF5XFvX5XOXOOCoAQL_B8xpR_GbjKKY-L-N_3vGc4DUL68LpemAlU7Xcjx_VGlMaHUFl39ftmWwUtrrOIJNh3QasHjIMofWnOrD3RiZljxdHobxP1m25VACghsFvTeb6tyDCClU4nfc0mAg8356xrHfcLB2CQRY0NT7ILFnOKgzmx1RegETcYlOjJvb/s320/longmorn.JPG" width="131" /></a><u><b>Longmorn 18yo (57.8%, The Whisky Exchange Whisky Show 2011, 150b)</b></u>: leftover from <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/03/02032024-leap-year.html" target="_blank">earlier this month</a>. 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 <i>can</i> 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, cavalier66</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-71293490963662042942024-03-12T17:54:00.000+00:002024-03-12T17:54:49.648+00:0012/03/2024 North British<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aCsWRfMKcynYhBvG90vhw6CLtImDvuRFfaJ1gYfU0Ffdkuefy1fruAhPo6PJw1n2Q3MbIM7iFvU5t_-kOab5I-XOhRrIGkmZDQ7pR4D6IW9RdapukMaOjpZ1KY7HH6on73kLUBL-Lbu4DuumgQvYJ43Dm6Uuw6GGDC9s8N-VtfI_31IFoDOkAseRauBp/s961/northbritish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="329" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aCsWRfMKcynYhBvG90vhw6CLtImDvuRFfaJ1gYfU0Ffdkuefy1fruAhPo6PJw1n2Q3MbIM7iFvU5t_-kOab5I-XOhRrIGkmZDQ7pR4D6IW9RdapukMaOjpZ1KY7HH6on73kLUBL-Lbu4DuumgQvYJ43Dm6Uuw6GGDC9s8N-VtfI_31IFoDOkAseRauBp/w138-h400/northbritish.JPG" width="138" /></a><u><b>North British 45yo 1963/2009 (50.7%, Signatory Vintage Rare Reserve, Hogsheads, C#117362 + 117363 + 117365, 290b</b></u><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #305036; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><b>,</b></span><u><b> b#19)</b></u>: 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-46232951072761021672024-03-11T18:09:00.000+00:002024-03-11T18:09:09.443+00:0011/03/2024 Laphroaig<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghe7syu253L3U8URG9hrLZQtE1BY4ryxXQEU129YZ0YnzF49NQ8mk8l8n3RBhpFzuYMkgAQT05R2Hv4it-Z3NTmZkhts4YkC851ISTcAJAqxcamZi7byaeIV29mfzXEhU9hSU_mQ75T-766RQyrxRS6nnF-2YBfkuHRUCdX1GWuwyE44eREY2cgMNWZvoM/s967/29.99.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="220" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghe7syu253L3U8URG9hrLZQtE1BY4ryxXQEU129YZ0YnzF49NQ8mk8l8n3RBhpFzuYMkgAQT05R2Hv4it-Z3NTmZkhts4YkC851ISTcAJAqxcamZi7byaeIV29mfzXEhU9hSU_mQ75T-766RQyrxRS6nnF-2YBfkuHRUCdX1GWuwyE44eREY2cgMNWZvoM/w91-h400/29.99.JPG" width="91" /></a><u><b>29.99 20yo b.2011 Power and scorched earth (59.6%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Sherry Butt, 360b)</b></u>: 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 (<i>Thanks for the dram, JS</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-39545047504525334162024-03-11T14:28:00.000+00:002024-03-11T14:28:07.921+00:0009/03/2024 Dune Part One<p>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.</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMIFbDmxxoCvgg-P5bUY1Nks5K8i2v8zZly05hGwRvueqDQzeUMCr1WnBshVf7a5qVcr8elm2J_eQMKbIBJ9Wqr29Xetm9O6sCkUCFjwDRR4IeJyR5Ti_rIxsPAU7H5dr-01OSnXc4zMA9Si_0WnM6KW5sHNjIq-DBzRldwe0lFfTjce7GVaDJRS7ojk4/s964/lineup.JPG" style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="964" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOMIFbDmxxoCvgg-P5bUY1Nks5K8i2v8zZly05hGwRvueqDQzeUMCr1WnBshVf7a5qVcr8elm2J_eQMKbIBJ9Wqr29Xetm9O6sCkUCFjwDRR4IeJyR5Ti_rIxsPAU7H5dr-01OSnXc4zMA9Si_0WnM6KW5sHNjIq-DBzRldwe0lFfTjce7GVaDJRS7ojk4/w400-h231/lineup.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>The soundtrack: Cthulhu - Arrakkian Junkies</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hw5X5Wa-4qY" width="320" youtube-src-id="hw5X5Wa-4qY"></iframe></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>tOMoH presents: Tam-<i>Dune.</i></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRg7w1oeCeJ_b9Brk6xzBqpVBjRya7Lv6MkUhSzwmW-7nvOeR1cUKSpL-UaAciR084r5yUgeEtnLp7mTmiJASHJ1hYMohx14N1YbLLbwlZFCQxh4QJDiLascSlx7lIaHyRvFJM3PNSXKThmyhv37ewujbHUCOtwnAMSz68iDzyGvsiYvfZYXkM4nBVsOS/s926/tamdhu.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="282" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRg7w1oeCeJ_b9Brk6xzBqpVBjRya7Lv6MkUhSzwmW-7nvOeR1cUKSpL-UaAciR084r5yUgeEtnLp7mTmiJASHJ1hYMohx14N1YbLLbwlZFCQxh4QJDiLascSlx7lIaHyRvFJM3PNSXKThmyhv37ewujbHUCOtwnAMSz68iDzyGvsiYvfZYXkM4nBVsOS/w61-h200/tamdhu.JPG" width="61" /></a><u><b>Tamdhu 33yo 1969/2003 (40.5%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection)</b></u> (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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/29022024-tamdhu.html" target="_blank">here</a>. Today, I will upgrade it to 9/10</p><p><br /></p><p>OB: "This next one is a blended malt. In French, we would call that a mélange." (An obvious nod to the spice mélange.)</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1fDWY19J8-JrHwq8z2uYiUSe1OBNYyGEIyskykFh0QHgqlJZtX_wNLmI4y_td78HuljTj9TD4q4fOVFcelKWLw4OZp18OViTpmAbLKGC8EeUmPLrRj3eAze3WLXsIhz-M6UHerAGrUOptKNQ84twk_AcrT65lVVgYeYEzVAuX8kkpC4Rg1gTbHbFf6zm/s1030/blend.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="272" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc1fDWY19J8-JrHwq8z2uYiUSe1OBNYyGEIyskykFh0QHgqlJZtX_wNLmI4y_td78HuljTj9TD4q4fOVFcelKWLw4OZp18OViTpmAbLKGC8EeUmPLrRj3eAze3WLXsIhz-M6UHerAGrUOptKNQ84twk_AcrT65lVVgYeYEzVAuX8kkpC4Rg1gTbHbFf6zm/w53-h200/blend.JPG" width="53" /></a><u><b>Blended Malt Scotch Whisky 40yo d.1977 (42.9%, Thompson Bros., Sherry Casks, 150b)</b></u> (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</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">tOMoH: "It's growing on me, that mélange."<br />OB: "Your eyes are getting bluer."</div><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprDrtKFd3DuW7ssnyFXzq5NSz46RIcWNKKFs3Gy0jF2fetZw_YMMN5BpSnuWVP2kmFZW-lPHSmTNtGSleHsYKMMowKamFrsoOgDoO7bUYhsF_fa58II9FijJ6_QphlYAU5IWAU94x8ixrUKPJN2ggE8meiqRY2MViqtRg1S0XzyyYaaVnKsI3Ccq_YMDU/s1094/socks.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1094" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprDrtKFd3DuW7ssnyFXzq5NSz46RIcWNKKFs3Gy0jF2fetZw_YMMN5BpSnuWVP2kmFZW-lPHSmTNtGSleHsYKMMowKamFrsoOgDoO7bUYhsF_fa58II9FijJ6_QphlYAU5IWAU94x8ixrUKPJN2ggE8meiqRY2MViqtRg1S0XzyyYaaVnKsI3Ccq_YMDU/w400-h300/socks.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BA cocked up his choice of socks</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>BA presents a whisky from Israel, which is in a desert, just like Dune.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxCbalNXBftq8nGUl0O6O5ArzmLBSTRu_-yCIg1tmN5Hf-iez5gcBX5B76W7m8HjDF-BEf9o_BLyCp7NBKFZXkhJxDV1S_VDkOpp7eSpmcxDFwrBYF617LX11XPfiSosERfXs-Edy49O0PYPuQfuXZqNd7WUg_afZ8iSw4x0ElqHZYXAexJHzbjkB7IQv/s1005/m&h.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1005" data-original-width="312" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuxCbalNXBftq8nGUl0O6O5ArzmLBSTRu_-yCIg1tmN5Hf-iez5gcBX5B76W7m8HjDF-BEf9o_BLyCp7NBKFZXkhJxDV1S_VDkOpp7eSpmcxDFwrBYF617LX11XPfiSosERfXs-Edy49O0PYPuQfuXZqNd7WUg_afZ8iSw4x0ElqHZYXAexJHzbjkB7IQv/w62-h200/m&h.JPG" width="62" /></a><u><b>Milk & Honey Classic (46%, OB,</b></u><u><b> b.2021</b></u><u><b>)</b></u> (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</p><p><br /></p><p>The soundtrack: <a href="https://www.discogs.com/release/49355-Silence-Silence-IV" target="_blank">Silence - IV</a></p><p><br /></p><p>JS presents: a <i>Dune</i> Eideann bottling of <i>Dune</i>-glass.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RRbY5-4z48R_6dDsKcw1Git5b911_Z1bU5sl7Y2c4_elGjQzw0L43vIpith0rDas8lZp-ZxJDGSIxAjnu-7Qt9kUvOP-hK4j2RLz9_YUcaRRol6lawvumZ-MbG57VI3X98kaI4tV3wjSm31YgFoIZsrS-LYnFRhkOEzp3OkgdzFEIbZgKxF2cffPHIIB/s770/dunglass.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="206" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5RRbY5-4z48R_6dDsKcw1Git5b911_Z1bU5sl7Y2c4_elGjQzw0L43vIpith0rDas8lZp-ZxJDGSIxAjnu-7Qt9kUvOP-hK4j2RLz9_YUcaRRol6lawvumZ-MbG57VI3X98kaI4tV3wjSm31YgFoIZsrS-LYnFRhkOEzp3OkgdzFEIbZgKxF2cffPHIIB/w54-h200/dunglass.JPG" width="54" /></a><u><b>Dunglass 22yo 1967/1990 (46%, Dun Eideann imported by Donato & C., C#1893-6)</b></u> (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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2022/12/06122022-dunglass-for-st-nicholas.html" target="_blank">here</a>). JS is not a fan. 7/10</p><p><br /></p><p>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.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAukHQEAigdK38_kzDjrPx4pLPR5YQieHe3xbuMaD59zU2vvK8tlXFUcYBuBDojkxA-Q1nLvmBxUqK_1b95VF6fGQc2orJ3buoP6Ur9Q4ES8VzeZwxMfP1anMiOzpZRikjnC4XIiM-mNltMgvwvuxj3SPSxJyCXno3VACeFJ76Y94ORBhYQcUQR78NWj1e/s1094/logo.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1094" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAukHQEAigdK38_kzDjrPx4pLPR5YQieHe3xbuMaD59zU2vvK8tlXFUcYBuBDojkxA-Q1nLvmBxUqK_1b95VF6fGQc2orJ3buoP6Ur9Q4ES8VzeZwxMfP1anMiOzpZRikjnC4XIiM-mNltMgvwvuxj3SPSxJyCXno3VACeFJ76Y94ORBhYQcUQR78NWj1e/s320/logo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And indeed...</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg340KV3ZwmolwZ_sC17MqGgXZhtfIsx3qEsu7ElkYwVSKiwYwHdzYM2Ri64iO2-__P4EhBXFoubkhuhuwO5tnyyK2WT5XqRkDGwT-HrEdOL_YkIKG5BN-c_7WKyWaGLwlVnTEw1-UnyFyLXAKHDV-DMAbhDYQyuheelCgWOioQ9wSH-gRsnIwrJFY39fdD/s931/wolfcraig.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="411" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg340KV3ZwmolwZ_sC17MqGgXZhtfIsx3qEsu7ElkYwVSKiwYwHdzYM2Ri64iO2-__P4EhBXFoubkhuhuwO5tnyyK2WT5XqRkDGwT-HrEdOL_YkIKG5BN-c_7WKyWaGLwlVnTEw1-UnyFyLXAKHDV-DMAbhDYQyuheelCgWOioQ9wSH-gRsnIwrJFY39fdD/s320/wolfcraig.JPG" width="141" /></a><u><b>Wolfcraig 30yo Premium Blend (46.3%, OB)</b></u> (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</p><p><br /></p><p>The soundtrack: Cthulhu - Travelling without moving</p><p><iframe frameborder="0" height="60" src="https://player-widget.mixcloud.com/widget/iframe/?hide_cover=1&mini=1&feed=%2Fcthulhu303%2Ftravelling-without-moving%2F" width="100%"></iframe><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>tOMoH unveils a Dallas <i>Dune</i>. Also, Dallas is in Texas, parts of which are deserts.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4KymE923rxdMsSUVYVf_cGACmKaf0pvtgdyvFSOLqtqVa-m9gY3kRSG4L_g_xzdqnz-4s3HT0NQp8MTU7y9XQ_C5RTaqHtHo_6qjdi_resNjIx8uJt4Crw5EmmEKEGGR-WVGDuSYSD2l6SfFHul0iTOyvsXWKQMLEqQdVh5M3-iRNG6AB1z9uuAY8pC0W/s845/dallasdhu.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4KymE923rxdMsSUVYVf_cGACmKaf0pvtgdyvFSOLqtqVa-m9gY3kRSG4L_g_xzdqnz-4s3HT0NQp8MTU7y9XQ_C5RTaqHtHo_6qjdi_resNjIx8uJt4Crw5EmmEKEGGR-WVGDuSYSD2l6SfFHul0iTOyvsXWKQMLEqQdVh5M3-iRNG6AB1z9uuAY8pC0W/s320/dallasdhu.JPG" width="126" /></a><u><b>45.19 31yo 1975/2007 Foreplay whisky (45.6%, SMWS Society Cask, Refill Barrel)</b></u> (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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/08022024-dallas-dhu.html" target="_blank">here</a>). I like it more today. I am tempted to go to 9, but will calm down. 8/10</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">BA shows the next bottle and explains: "This is in theme, because it's nice. I hope."<br />JS: "Also, your name is on it..."<br />BA: "Yes. And there is a mention of axles. Axles of Dune's battle tanks."<br />tOMoH: "Ballechin. Or ball aching, as I like to say."<br />BA: "Bally chin, too. Plus, a sponge soaks up water, and makes things dry. Dry like Dune, the sand planet."</div><p>We sadly all miss the obvious Gurney Hallec-hin.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbb5lSzrBzHcPPOemFwbLAn355dTfkx2o01QvA5_Ew2ghcqFoi0fWynXbU_loTUaPZiobEQNALcTejVnhIEA3eJB_ko5rNhVy1qrGRMfgqFLDVfM7Kj6LNaTf9fQs3RgAyzp_SpCpL9D1h-WdeOfVCxHxk1Lunu34N7sn_7fDhJw56r5AcLJqhFbFv46lN/s983/ballechin.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="983" data-original-width="257" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbb5lSzrBzHcPPOemFwbLAn355dTfkx2o01QvA5_Ew2ghcqFoi0fWynXbU_loTUaPZiobEQNALcTejVnhIEA3eJB_ko5rNhVy1qrGRMfgqFLDVfM7Kj6LNaTf9fQs3RgAyzp_SpCpL9D1h-WdeOfVCxHxk1Lunu34N7sn_7fDhJw56r5AcLJqhFbFv46lN/s320/ballechin.JPG" width="84" /></a><u><b>Ballechin 15yo Second Secret Edition (48.5%, Decadent Drinks WhiskySponge Secret Edition, 121b)</b></u> (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</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">JS: "I recognise this... Hecker."<br />tOMoH: "Yup."</div><div style="text-align: left;">JS: "Tim?"</div><div style="text-align: left;">tOMoH: "Woody Wood P. Hecker."</div><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIREypD3xemD3wDaQ8XJ0W-O6BuVR03kG_Kz7tU-Tf2NJ2CU6ijIb3i_PUgi84HV11XSiS_mH28bs1QAK6OvMfaaiZ9XHcd293EE87zqe5Mgvj3jPLD-6oD2gu9tQmlNICm1gbl9TpzP06GqWjd3PE9_LAEDusDr6No_bDRWK01Ao2KVA52amTA6xvFQK/s1094/kouignamman.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1094" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIREypD3xemD3wDaQ8XJ0W-O6BuVR03kG_Kz7tU-Tf2NJ2CU6ijIb3i_PUgi84HV11XSiS_mH28bs1QAK6OvMfaaiZ9XHcd293EE87zqe5Mgvj3jPLD-6oD2gu9tQmlNICm1gbl9TpzP06GqWjd3PE9_LAEDusDr6No_bDRWK01Ao2KVA52amTA6xvFQK/s320/kouignamman.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time for some kouign amann, courtesy of our in-house baker, OB</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>The soundtrack: <a href="https://www.discogs.com/release/472-Dune-The-Alliance-EP" target="_blank">Dune - The Alliance EP</a></p><p><br /></p><p>OB presents a Clynelish bottled by Duncan <i>Idaho</i> Taylor.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoruvQvVhAtaCK9Ew3q9kZpo_1zb3NKjC-G9cUdLFFP5VPSA-iGYhSczw2HUDt-ZaE-Gn69-7uQ0MoMZsLMnuZk21n3TtZFWSkqH-Pu92L1ADz_noWtk2wr0nEVxdxl_ZbWCD2r9QefFYgfj-BDfhhfB8ts3DLRHGwq5_neHoVp2knD3kCWvtxfwfAFwNn/s955/clynelish.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="955" data-original-width="260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoruvQvVhAtaCK9Ew3q9kZpo_1zb3NKjC-G9cUdLFFP5VPSA-iGYhSczw2HUDt-ZaE-Gn69-7uQ0MoMZsLMnuZk21n3TtZFWSkqH-Pu92L1ADz_noWtk2wr0nEVxdxl_ZbWCD2r9QefFYgfj-BDfhhfB8ts3DLRHGwq5_neHoVp2knD3kCWvtxfwfAFwNn/s320/clynelish.JPG" width="87" /></a><u><b>Clynelish 23yo 1988/2012 (49.8%, Duncan Taylor Dimensions, Oak Cask, C#4546, 273b, b#163)</b></u> (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</p><p><br /></p><p>The soundtrack: <a href="https://www.discogs.com/release/27399126-ByrdGesualdo-Six-Owain-Park-Mass-For-Five-Voices" target="_blank">The Gesualdo Six / Owain Park - Byrd - Mass For Five Voices</a></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7j0RW6DACA46j-HI5KpQMC2nLIeg-OJaY3ROk29ALXaeZlT0adxayJywRKXZHychXMnSzwRdkeYEMbKfA4KXaW1iJnuGzPPRdyG0RfPN8-S6Zuz8Fo93sIzw4SYwQ-G48V5nn6hDW_cxNOBLb0oR0qLyB3e-8SjuXI55VAHsYW4XUu3FWfVubTnezwZCI/s942/ardnamurchanck670.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="416" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7j0RW6DACA46j-HI5KpQMC2nLIeg-OJaY3ROk29ALXaeZlT0adxayJywRKXZHychXMnSzwRdkeYEMbKfA4KXaW1iJnuGzPPRdyG0RfPN8-S6Zuz8Fo93sIzw4SYwQ-G48V5nn6hDW_cxNOBLb0oR0qLyB3e-8SjuXI55VAHsYW4XUu3FWfVubTnezwZCI/w141-h320/ardnamurchanck670.JPG" width="141" /></a>BA: "Do you mind if I take a picture of this Clynelish to post it on our WhatsApp group?"<br />OB: "I don't mind you doing anything with the bottle, except finishing it."<br />tOMoH: "You'll notice he did not mention anything about inserting it in your rectal cavity..."<br />BA: "I was just about to say that."</div><p><br /></p><p>Following International Women's Day, JS focuses on Dune's main female protagonist: Ardnamur-<i>Chani</i>.</p><p><u><b>Ardnamurchan 2015/2020 (59.5%, OB part of the Ardnamurchan first aid kit, ex-Oloroso Hogshead, C#AD/CK.670-16/10/15)</b></u> (JS): JS finds it alright, yet pretty intense. I love it and give it the same generous score as before. My full notes are <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/03/06032024-trio-of-ardnamurchan.html" target="_blank">here</a>. 9/10</p><p><br /></p><p>Excellent little tasting with some original drams of high quality. And quality dodgy puns.</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-88505280823862004742024-03-06T17:30:00.000+00:002024-03-06T17:30:13.675+00:0006/03/2024 A trio of Ardnamurchan<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRzyubqITNxGmF4kHiShvUilZ41cG6FKRafEMFo7nA7CwxdFCriyJoWaK4drdunvP-FPRY6md2nx0Rx9QCp9LkmNcW_0yLoGxq9w6WDohShGebXGXKW5gCVmASuw_xPKIqDhEWJrA5bjMDH3EaM4TwM_EEVBAy3D5_IddYg_l2ON8oXVMIoGpr4SJ6pBW/s785/ardnamurchanwarehouse.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="366" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFRzyubqITNxGmF4kHiShvUilZ41cG6FKRafEMFo7nA7CwxdFCriyJoWaK4drdunvP-FPRY6md2nx0Rx9QCp9LkmNcW_0yLoGxq9w6WDohShGebXGXKW5gCVmASuw_xPKIqDhEWJrA5bjMDH3EaM4TwM_EEVBAy3D5_IddYg_l2ON8oXVMIoGpr4SJ6pBW/s320/ardnamurchanwarehouse.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-65XYmWJJZHzrvBD-2AWJRn4zuIPpisD7q5x09oscOL65RKqJ6YijwswRlOMzVyBhm93e5vkXLoAWGDR_jOOaP87CX25nqB7jjbw3MxyfKrEivpCEInX7fAaCLG7YrInyRJm20KsmVCD16YJeDQh08ZoD85TDB9LT7iHV_DzMcpsTQVRHgX2yCmeS0LYj/s971/ardnamurchanspirit.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="971" data-original-width="497" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-65XYmWJJZHzrvBD-2AWJRn4zuIPpisD7q5x09oscOL65RKqJ6YijwswRlOMzVyBhm93e5vkXLoAWGDR_jOOaP87CX25nqB7jjbw3MxyfKrEivpCEInX7fAaCLG7YrInyRJm20KsmVCD16YJeDQh08ZoD85TDB9LT7iHV_DzMcpsTQVRHgX2yCmeS0LYj/s320/ardnamurchanspirit.JPG" width="164" /></a><u><b>Ardnamurchan 2yo b.2019 (53.3%, OB Warehouse Release Limited Batch, Oloroso Octaves, B#8, 145b)</b></u>: this is the sample I was given <a href="https://keytravels.blogspot.com/2019/06/may-june-2019-campbeltown-and-mull.html" target="_blank">when we toured the distillery in 2019</a>. 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</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QdUtKz5XQq2rQrc-1HsexonK-nlRtAuELdKMIdj4vvWO7eOIPWkuXBbv2w2hupokGBJ1a_zHa4NzqGLwigXxRBSbn6M25XsQHhRVH6ibKdNxvP3Y3gIV8vfEFzW6PZjMhyphenhyphenU2zil0me51qk6gCHkQzOV_OgvJeuzo3TuoU86mP8pZrH6h9ikwqzyyD06-/s1130/ardnamurchanck670b.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="784" data-original-width="1130" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QdUtKz5XQq2rQrc-1HsexonK-nlRtAuELdKMIdj4vvWO7eOIPWkuXBbv2w2hupokGBJ1a_zHa4NzqGLwigXxRBSbn6M25XsQHhRVH6ibKdNxvP3Y3gIV8vfEFzW6PZjMhyphenhyphenU2zil0me51qk6gCHkQzOV_OgvJeuzo3TuoU86mP8pZrH6h9ikwqzyyD06-/w200-h139/ardnamurchanck670b.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8S8bpGJgYRY9RjZdh322VWBDMwBhMbveOGL5fR2P0fv42onNjvVCm0ooszORaME2miLxpfYv6QZgrIhiorVR1g-g9SrnYDV3df9cUsU_qLwRupbxDN_Td3wz_WpmFvZxkeI9tC9RoppUtZ_yeddyI9TuTikQhi8Nf4CWDmltt9Zgs1pPrwNXrSTWooVq/s942/ardnamurchanck670.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="942" data-original-width="416" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8S8bpGJgYRY9RjZdh322VWBDMwBhMbveOGL5fR2P0fv42onNjvVCm0ooszORaME2miLxpfYv6QZgrIhiorVR1g-g9SrnYDV3df9cUsU_qLwRupbxDN_Td3wz_WpmFvZxkeI9tC9RoppUtZ_yeddyI9TuTikQhi8Nf4CWDmltt9Zgs1pPrwNXrSTWooVq/s320/ardnamurchanck670.JPG" width="141" /></a><u><b>Ardnamurchan 2015/2020 (59.5%, OB part of the Ardnamurchan first aid kit, ex-Oloroso Hogshead, C#AD/CK.670-16/10/15)</b></u>: 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 <i>insanely</i> good. Perhaps optimistically, I will score it high, today. 9/10</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6mPfbG5Z0k8C6jIgxlMqQxpXf7_5GEcH0u3XUzhg8oyfoAJRuOG0UVii8K3vc5DHyPc2IOgAIu1XCGYzaoyypkN5zMgiZWx9jhTt_Ms6WmcPqQHlX2c9trkx-3X0EqMbIeWi6K_Smcj7XgYxY7mQjc1r2pdvsT2MT0kd8X13RuvMS9qOQ4nk4BB841LX/s1008/ardnamurchan.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="406" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp6mPfbG5Z0k8C6jIgxlMqQxpXf7_5GEcH0u3XUzhg8oyfoAJRuOG0UVii8K3vc5DHyPc2IOgAIu1XCGYzaoyypkN5zMgiZWx9jhTt_Ms6WmcPqQHlX2c9trkx-3X0EqMbIeWi6K_Smcj7XgYxY7mQjc1r2pdvsT2MT0kd8X13RuvMS9qOQ4nk4BB841LX/s320/ardnamurchan.JPG" width="129" /></a><u><b>Ardnamurchan 9yo 2014/2023 (56.2%, Adelphi Limited, 1st Fill Pedro Ximénez Hogshead, C#240, 320b)</b></u>: this is from <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/01/17012024-adelphi-30th-anniversary.html" target="_blank">the Adelphi tasting, last January</a>. 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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2019/07/25072019-august-outturn-at-cadenheads.html" target="_blank">the monkey's arse tasting note?</a>), 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</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQJxg63Oyegr4K4XvNr66knJknQ16nYysntIkIS2Uj3ryFV7L0foeCCd0M509zomPxI4W9CS7gR8oMAh66aRTRW9yM4fFhSwxib-YWsqZg3jJUS1Hc8Eem64u1ckjqB4JlofUmPHUWk6o5X_q8XqcFuGAGULSrT1aFYo9aOM81MKCSJJeTGtUnN0jFdgP/s762/ardnamurchantrio.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="762" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuQJxg63Oyegr4K4XvNr66knJknQ16nYysntIkIS2Uj3ryFV7L0foeCCd0M509zomPxI4W9CS7gR8oMAh66aRTRW9yM4fFhSwxib-YWsqZg3jJUS1Hc8Eem64u1ckjqB4JlofUmPHUWk6o5X_q8XqcFuGAGULSrT1aFYo9aOM81MKCSJJeTGtUnN0jFdgP/s320/ardnamurchantrio.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-43823336043786107882024-03-05T17:10:00.000+00:002024-03-05T17:10:58.229+00:0005/03/2024 Caol Ila<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwDo7ZQcFDobqyxnh2BCbKndZbbJvZAavOZtKBXKxGRf1XZMZMWtZ0TfRvpSdJfxGop3SMRYT5Mj-d4Hif12p4-e_gOuyM0y69TWR5bzlp4lvEmMO6B7fP9eY3C_gs6VsUl0yM4k74s0BXzGKAwvJ9daFEXVCutqWtP6R-ttVtMCet7P_fJHYXplC1vpg/s1030/caolila.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="470" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwDo7ZQcFDobqyxnh2BCbKndZbbJvZAavOZtKBXKxGRf1XZMZMWtZ0TfRvpSdJfxGop3SMRYT5Mj-d4Hif12p4-e_gOuyM0y69TWR5bzlp4lvEmMO6B7fP9eY3C_gs6VsUl0yM4k74s0BXzGKAwvJ9daFEXVCutqWtP6R-ttVtMCet7P_fJHYXplC1vpg/w183-h400/caolila.JPG" width="183" /></a><u><b>Caol Ila 29yo 1984/2013 (55.5%, Cadenhead Small Batch, Bourbon Hogsheads, 564b, 13/467)</b></u>: it feels like we had this yesterday, but it was, in fact, a whole <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/03/02032024-leap-year.html" target="_blank">three days ago</a>. Strike while the iron is lukewarm, eh? Nose: phwoar! those old Caol Ila... It is refined ash and ash-enrichened soil, and forest floor on a dry day. A moment later, maritime notes arise, fine (volcanic) sand, and smoked whelks and cockles. Mind you, there is a clearer-and-clearer fruitiness too that climbs on top of all that; squashed raspberries, bergamots, apricots, and salted calamansis. That salty fruit is reminiscent of a margarita, yet this is, of course, a lot classier. In the distance, a pile of damp logs is perceptible -- unless it is peat bricks, stacked to air dry. Next up are a drop of ink and smoked nail varnish spilled on fishing nets hung out to dry. The second nose has torched marshmallows, pan-seared peach flesh, and some kind of fresh-water fish. It has something nutty too; something akin to smoked almonds or macadamias. It ends with drinks cabinets (from a smoker's home), made of MDF or whichever indistinct wood, with but a veneer of mahogany. Later on, we find the fake-leather interior of a thirty-year-old car. Mouth: ooft! Inky to an extreme. We are talking ink wells, quills, old parchments, and blotting paper. Speaking of which, this is also pretty desiccating, sucking the moisture from the cheeks. Then, as one starts to salivate to compensate the drought, it is a wave of petrolic flavours, starting with tarry sands, ending with kerosene, ticking off cockles after a black tide, and fishing nets covered in petrol in the interval. The second sip adds earthy chocolate milk, and all sorts of nuts, nutty, earthy, and bitter, at times. It is the milky texture that impresses most, now. It also acquires a fruity sweetness: ash-dusted raspberries, and peaches, served on a white-hot silver plate. Yes, it is quite hot, after all, and not all sips are as silky. In reality, it alternates between rocky-desiccating and silky-milky. Dr. Caol and Mr. Ila. Finish: it feels earthier, here, still petrolic, but to a lesser extent. Scorched earth may be an overstatement, but it is certainly dry earth, and it comes across as overheated too. Retro-nasal olfaction brings back the hydrocarbons loud and clear, with petrol (from the pump, this time, none of that crude oil from earlier), swimming pool (chlorinated water, in other words), and lemon zest mixed with Texas dirt (because the state has deserts and oil, see?) It dies in a whisper of extinguished cigar -- a whisper that could be perceived as a scream, actually; it is very distinctive. The second sip takes the oil and earth, throws squashed raspberries and ground nuts into the mix, and adds a splash of 98-octane petrol and a drop of sea water for fun. A sprinkle of lemon juice completes the picture. Still excellent. 9/10 (<i>Thanks for the dram, OB</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-88545880010900369722024-03-04T17:03:00.001+00:002024-03-05T09:42:25.455+00:0004/03/2024 Benrinnes<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQdsVw63fydkHP-T3MzKWYG66ovEm6RZySsMTtnCMrhYhTuhy0O7NoqUsjx68W0RTdWEzwXxPg_Gdog4xPBPTn7a-rYbsON4gKkkCj8ppin8mbMcfdYfVBpYf4j8lHrJ277nJnd3Jr5dvXrClfOWRcEdwCv_qYL7ejnTxwqWgIfC-9Se1LmKToK-9H_Hm/s1054/benrinnes.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1054" data-original-width="409" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEQdsVw63fydkHP-T3MzKWYG66ovEm6RZySsMTtnCMrhYhTuhy0O7NoqUsjx68W0RTdWEzwXxPg_Gdog4xPBPTn7a-rYbsON4gKkkCj8ppin8mbMcfdYfVBpYf4j8lHrJ277nJnd3Jr5dvXrClfOWRcEdwCv_qYL7ejnTxwqWgIfC-9Se1LmKToK-9H_Hm/s320/benrinnes.JPG" width="124" /></a><u><b>Benrinnes 12yo 2011/2023 (52%, Adelphi Selection, 1st Fill Oloroso Sherry Hogshead, C#301624, 302b)</b></u>: nose: instead of the Benrinnes-y pine needles, we have a syrupy concoction, part Golden Syrup, part date syrup, part caramelised cooking-onion juices. A few seconds later, that changes into setting honey, and a drop of ink, then a watercolour palette. It is that latter note that sticks, triggering childhood flashbacks. It also has a faint touch of shiny metal, lubricated with an oily flannel. It changes again, and now offers raisins and dried figs. The second nose is fleetingly meaty, in the same way a Sherry-cured roast can be. A second later, it is watercolours and dried fruits again, spread on a pine cone for fun. Mouth: dry, earthy, and a tad meaty, it quickly composes a nice wine sauce that could be sickly, it it were not for the pine-tree dark honey that one expects from this distillery, spread on toasted rye bread. Time in the mouth helps reveal raisin relish and fig paste. The second sip is rancio-y, and drying, more earthy than the first, and a bit acidic. Something that is hard to ascertain, because it turns sweet again fairly quickly. It has a very chewy texture, and is, one would imagine, close to chomping on watercolour. On the late tip, we spot dried cranberries (that would explain the acidity), and a lick of rubber. Finish: squashed (dried) figs and raisins mingle with watercolour, modelling wax, and hardened plasticine. The watercolour is particularly evident via retro-nasal olfaction, and makes for a gently earthy aftertaste. Of course, it is a Benrinnes, so we see pine needles, but they are subdued. In fact, it might be a broth of pine-cone spores instead, with a spoonful of caramelised dark honey. The second sip is sweeter, with currants aplenty, and fruit-scented plasticine to replace watercolour. My money is on dried apricot slices or dried plums. Rather nice altogether. I think I like it better than <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/01/17012024-adelphi-30th-anniversary.html" target="_blank">the first time</a>. 7/10</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-21250325414541265902024-03-04T16:46:00.000+00:002024-03-04T16:46:04.662+00:0002/03/2024 Leap year<p>OB, cavalier66 and JS join me to mark this calendar oddity that is a 29th of February -- or a year in which it happens, at least.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAVllHy28NCTMjVQXB3zTtKbyjHCxLya47CEJGFtoDJD4EajEZBQgTruIxasZCj6J9U-XUT4OVL9ctN58ikTPHpOMioEcb_f8lH9tQiN4KZGNORPVld1X2tQIhI3GsxyW_VrxuAA2JMUTibX3hOfo9PMv_TrqkI81Pk-WO7WQnEFRDFJfFabPCOzSs3wy/s1094/socks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1094" data-original-width="821" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBAVllHy28NCTMjVQXB3zTtKbyjHCxLya47CEJGFtoDJD4EajEZBQgTruIxasZCj6J9U-XUT4OVL9ctN58ikTPHpOMioEcb_f8lH9tQiN4KZGNORPVld1X2tQIhI3GsxyW_VrxuAA2JMUTibX3hOfo9PMv_TrqkI81Pk-WO7WQnEFRDFJfFabPCOzSs3wy/s320/socks.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another oddity are cavalier66's funky socks<br />which he pulls up his trousers to show off</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>OB and cavalier66 both brought food, sweet and savoury, which will come in handy. As usual, cavalier66 has been up for seventeen minutes when he arrives, meaning he has had neither breakfast nor lunch.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxfYk4PW0hORARLk1rwQHn3ky0pANlJ-7DQArB_XBab9UMs4NAXVoZ8j4pVfpyFZ686Yy_S8lJEgoXyo0AUif46ejpWRIbsEHZ_xUkPRxJUBGQGnaDSX4f5b70rpD6k5djOcP4woPMIt_Y01LwdwU_FQDOyzCj899Ogj6whjKc1ETU1jrKLcUFBFpfiac/s899/cheeses.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="899" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxfYk4PW0hORARLk1rwQHn3ky0pANlJ-7DQArB_XBab9UMs4NAXVoZ8j4pVfpyFZ686Yy_S8lJEgoXyo0AUif46ejpWRIbsEHZ_xUkPRxJUBGQGnaDSX4f5b70rpD6k5djOcP4woPMIt_Y01LwdwU_FQDOyzCj899Ogj6whjKc1ETU1jrKLcUFBFpfiac/s320/cheeses.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hence the cheeses and fig spread</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynfB1J_sRTZPF-CbFHl7Psna5-SyEWMinLv8Sj_ZGqVu1la3R6saAr4V7VMvBLwRE5EM9qJhZDodGIVD0qhtyRiQaeHoDhwvvII_QFfTxHSAZOP6EmOmr2qCc_SYRP-hN-4oVBXad48z4_vd6_FMpF0BChAYOqQ2RypgIjprVv8dsbCgG8QI9nphy3MlY/s950/appletart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="950" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynfB1J_sRTZPF-CbFHl7Psna5-SyEWMinLv8Sj_ZGqVu1la3R6saAr4V7VMvBLwRE5EM9qJhZDodGIVD0qhtyRiQaeHoDhwvvII_QFfTxHSAZOP6EmOmr2qCc_SYRP-hN-4oVBXad48z4_vd6_FMpF0BChAYOqQ2RypgIjprVv8dsbCgG8QI9nphy3MlY/s320/appletart.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and OB knows he can no longer set foot in these premises <br />without bringing baked goods. :)</td></tr></tbody></table><p><br /></p><p>OB presents two samples to kick off, both distilled in a leap year, and one of them bottled in a(nother) leap year.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnmtvXKL27AyAXdFuVq6jovramP3on44r0thctyOqcUXTsrOQtn6tqXbeB1FOZY7xcNJWc3aRMWJzUM9ayimz-Kumgj4tPmy6x-IVT3MzzbIbHDe1YOQi5Qd8D8COdNfWs0CK7JMWfxJs5xuraqQewlZS8UJuCiQDG_O9sXy5Vpt6_ICOHDm2-Srswh5m/s822/glengrantmos.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="822" data-original-width="396" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnmtvXKL27AyAXdFuVq6jovramP3on44r0thctyOqcUXTsrOQtn6tqXbeB1FOZY7xcNJWc3aRMWJzUM9ayimz-Kumgj4tPmy6x-IVT3MzzbIbHDe1YOQi5Qd8D8COdNfWs0CK7JMWfxJs5xuraqQewlZS8UJuCiQDG_O9sXy5Vpt6_ICOHDm2-Srswh5m/s320/glengrantmos.JPG" width="154" /></a><u><b>Glen Grant 40yo 1972/2012 (54.2%, Malts of Scotland Angel's Choice, Sherry Hogshead, C#MoS12045, 136b)</b></u> (OB): complete with mistaken ABV on the sample label. This bottling is 54.2%. The 54.1% promised by the label is the offering limited to 78 bottles and was bottled at 39 years old from cask MoS12006. Tsk. Nose: "the immediate glory of the MoS" (cavalier66), "you can already smell the tertiariness" (cavalier66). "It is very, very, <i>fucking</i> elegant" (cavalier66). We have dunnage warehouse (cavalier66), thatch, lattice cob walls, dusty marmalade, a dusty beehive, with honey and propolis. The second nose has a faint whiff of soap -- the hard blocks of ashy soap that do not generate any foam. That soap grows in power, and, if it never bothers me, it is hard to see past it, after a while. Hand soap and washing powder (cavalier66). Mouth: orchard fruits (cavalier66), non-Tatin-ed tart (cavalier66). I find it spicy and equipped with a nice woody bitterness, before it brings back some honey, and lots of liquid beeswax. Cassia bark, cracked green pepper, and unripe physalis too. The second sip is less outspoken; perhaps it has damp pumice. Finish: bitter and refreshing, it unrolls cassia bark and mint stems. cavalier66 calls it narrow and spirit-y. The second gulp is still as good, with vine and grape pip -- grape-pip oil, actually. 8/10</p><p>vs.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DKv1Sc5YD0qTiD87Wu1aRpvuI6ZsiwEYAH6IDK7AxrDI_5DibetO81XyUZYlpstUpqqtNidoZKVvK1aMFsTkwKLrt3frpBVNaYTs1jIMEaHgzHlba2-lV0or4owzD-Jqnbc_OhQap0SJmMHDtmRannXz3kbpmJo23PWYsDv95_F9Q6XuzHpUE_PiVCnc/s840/glengranttwa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DKv1Sc5YD0qTiD87Wu1aRpvuI6ZsiwEYAH6IDK7AxrDI_5DibetO81XyUZYlpstUpqqtNidoZKVvK1aMFsTkwKLrt3frpBVNaYTs1jIMEaHgzHlba2-lV0or4owzD-Jqnbc_OhQap0SJmMHDtmRannXz3kbpmJo23PWYsDv95_F9Q6XuzHpUE_PiVCnc/s320/glengranttwa.JPG" width="154" /></a><u><b>Glen Grant 38yo 1972/2011 (52.8%, The Whisky Agency, Refill Sherry Hogshead, 215b)</b></u> (OB): always a treat to tick off an entry in that highly-regarded collection with crocodiles on the label (the colloquial name of which appears nowhere, by the way). Nose: spirit-y (OB), rougher (cavalier66). For me, it is fruitier, with waxy plums and waxy apples, poached nectarines, and sugar-glazed pears. Dried melon-cubes, watercolour, even. The second nose incredibly has soap too (they are in different glasses, so this cannot have been tainted by the first whisky), though this one is closer to dried lavender and pot-pourri, with the earlier fruits in the background. Mouth: warm, it has a strange hint of metal. Fruits do show up at second sip, but they are not totally ripe, and are accompanied by the bitterness of their peel (think: watermelon skins). I spot a note of sink funk, in the end. Finish: yeah, it is indeed a little less elegant, and perhaps bitterer. It has crushed bay leaves, and conifer-sap dark honey. The second sip is in line, maybe a little more rustic, with hot pots on an old-school, wood-fuelled stove. 8/10</p><p><br /></p><p>We are nit-picking (ensues a long conversation about nits). They are both very good. cavalier66 and OB prefer the Malts of Scotland, while I reckon I like The Whisky Agency's more, in the long run.</p><p><br /></p><p>cavalier66: "In a leap year, there are (Conval)more days. Also, leap years are relatively rare -- like this malt."</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1JCti7FW_FfaQlZVLxgdOgKBymgszK9jN1OqKapPKwXCwx40YbbD7Qmsj9RIq1LW_8CFLOtgEIs3rJwnAL2uDXpLQXhj5MQPyb9cmUrD708bsLOo21QDotyIsfbcOD6owqvjAuToFJfxU7dVR5vE0Fr6yph6xY_6d319EFf-XVvL0aTXiCQCtyhTEVbP/s972/convalmore.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="972" data-original-width="299" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1JCti7FW_FfaQlZVLxgdOgKBymgszK9jN1OqKapPKwXCwx40YbbD7Qmsj9RIq1LW_8CFLOtgEIs3rJwnAL2uDXpLQXhj5MQPyb9cmUrD708bsLOo21QDotyIsfbcOD6owqvjAuToFJfxU7dVR5vE0Fr6yph6xY_6d319EFf-XVvL0aTXiCQCtyhTEVbP/s320/convalmore.JPG" width="98" /></a><u><b>Convalmore 24yo 1978/2003 (59.4%, OB, Rare Malts Selection)</b></u> (cavalier66): nose: it smells complex, even if that is hidden behind a wall of alcohol. Some wax, ether, berries (cavalier66), flint, then melted plastic, and things of the land, such as crusted mud and mulch, as well as a minty custard, a pinch of cinnamon, and cocoa powder. A closed nose altogether. Water may help it reveal itself, but I will not try that, today. Mouth: an über-artificial fruitiness (cavalier66), jackfruit, maybe (cavalier66). It is immensely powerful, with heirloom apples and coal-fire smoke. The second sip is sweeter, teeming with caster sugar to augment those gorgeous apples. Smoke is relegated to retro-nasal olfaction, now. Finish: boom. The industrial revolution has returned. Dusty boilers, stacks of coke, steel rolls, industrial-sized apple presses. This is a long, devastating steamroller of a finish, overflowing with stewed apples and warm cider. I like it just as much as <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2016/09/17092016-rare-malts-closed-distilleries.html" target="_blank">the first time</a>. 9/10</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">cavalier66: "Did you hear about this campaign to change the extra day from February to June?"<br />all: "?"<br />cavalier66: "...so we have a warm extra day, rather than a cold one."</div><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">cavalier66: "I did get my nipples photographed, recently."<br />OB: "I know."<br />tOMoH: "???"</div><p><br /></p><p>tOMoH indicates that the next bottle is from Jura. There is a Jura region in France; the French are known as Frogs, and that hints at leapfrog. Boom. Also, it was distilled in 1976, which was a leap year. Finally, there was no information about this bottling anywhere that I could find, so I took a leap of faith, when I bought it.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzWbHLnYLBtSZEyXb6WQxducOFrtjs7Rjr44G0pEt9eLs3zGgHsl0a1OMokD3U-BeWO1jHq9igeHs-HUfWt3XqVoRTIUyJKAKHfRHtLKNhLpqkYN-E5wAAxUXux3jsZaylYCJbd68ajbFnJeUcNntgpcrOOYNEmabJq5TsjpgX8QY6YBSZZwxEBDgcCSC/s1022/jura.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1022" data-original-width="263" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzWbHLnYLBtSZEyXb6WQxducOFrtjs7Rjr44G0pEt9eLs3zGgHsl0a1OMokD3U-BeWO1jHq9igeHs-HUfWt3XqVoRTIUyJKAKHfRHtLKNhLpqkYN-E5wAAxUXux3jsZaylYCJbd68ajbFnJeUcNntgpcrOOYNEmabJq5TsjpgX8QY6YBSZZwxEBDgcCSC/s320/jura.JPG" width="82" /></a><u><b>Isle of Jura d.1976 (57.5%, Harleyford Manor for Geoffrey Folley, b.1980s)</b></u> (tOMoH): nose: vinegar and pickled onions (cavalier66), acetone (cavalier66), musk ("is it deer musk?" asks cavalier66, showing off his knowledge of Jura), skunk musk, hints of peat and/or smoke (cavalier66), rubbery clay. The second nose morphs and gives mercurochrome and flowers. It becomes very ester-y, with faint citrus in the back, as well as a whiff of smoke. The vinegar and onions have completely gone. Mouth: perfume-y (OB and cavalier66), soapy (cavalier66), very soapy (OB). cavalier66finds a lot of soap on the back of the palate. Indeed, it feels soapy to me too. I do not remember that from <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2023/05/19052023-jura.html" target="_blank">the first time</a>, but it has scented shampoo, washed pebbles, and soapy pineapple chunks. Finish: "it does linger" (OB). "It remains soapy to the soapy end" (OB). It is musky-and-a-half to me, with maybe a shampooed cat skin, if there is any soap. Repeated sipping makes it gradually more pleasant. It is a challenging dram, though, today. 6/10</p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">cavalier66: "A whisky you must work at."<br />tOMoH: "It doesn't come to you."<br />cavalier66: "You must go to it."</div><p><br /></p><p>OB: "I am very sensitive to soap. That is why I never use it."</p><p><br /></p><p>As an intermezzo, cavalier66 pulls a sample out of his bag of tricks: a Longmorn, because a leap year is a longer-morn year.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepXR6Uw8luXdxXgifAE55z9xVOCPXq9jRqE3TqQBx1FfVNjf9lyTKWaa8uyzghnJOrn3yd9aGKclitTP8pSHk5sgnbHwTJDHssOhPCi5Z8nm-JJlHKqUXu8oHcEg_YgPywrlD86Cy24tOGVsrUzOrkKFv5gc_m_n-rJSDD0po_IiH75t2uaE-ca2QhekA/s812/longmorn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="332" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepXR6Uw8luXdxXgifAE55z9xVOCPXq9jRqE3TqQBx1FfVNjf9lyTKWaa8uyzghnJOrn3yd9aGKclitTP8pSHk5sgnbHwTJDHssOhPCi5Z8nm-JJlHKqUXu8oHcEg_YgPywrlD86Cy24tOGVsrUzOrkKFv5gc_m_n-rJSDD0po_IiH75t2uaE-ca2QhekA/s320/longmorn.JPG" width="131" /></a><u><b>Longmorn 18yo (57.8%, The Whisky Exchange Whisky Show 2011, 150b)</b></u> (cavalier66): immediately buttery, then quickly sharper, with heady alcohol and colour-pencil leads veering toward chalk. The buttery side comes in and out, blowing whiffs of mango and avocado, and, in the back, we find skinned plums. Over time, the nose is closer and closer to a grain's, with baking sourdough and fruit turnovers. Water reveals plasticine too. Mouth: it is powerful alright! Once one gets accustomed to the high strength, it has lichen-covered Honeycrisp apples. The second sip has some incredibly-pronounced apple, acidic and fruity, and a mineral side. It is mellower with water, settling on dried apple slices. Finish: fleetingly mushroom-y (OB). It does have an odd earthy-metallic touch, I find. cavalier66 spots bergamot, whilst I find a wave of crunchy apples covered in bitter lichen. The alcohol stuns. Water allows tutti frutti and dried papaya cubes to come to the fore. This has a lot of potential -- sadly unrealised, in my opinion. We will try it under different circumstances. 7/10</p><p><br /></p><p>JS points out that, in a leap year, February has 29 days. SMWS code 29 is Laphroaig, which was bottled a few times as Leapfrog.</p><p>OB, who built the line-up, smells it and calls a sequence mistake. We decide to postpone this dram.</p><p>Instead, OB introduces a 29-year-old, because there are 29 days in February, in a leap year.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWWOEDFPWm97s_PvTMSAmkDOav8LP6YQo6CJxKpB4K91nyP-W8ccGc5lChnIgDuiV9AO7GaPrJ3uIoffc-EB-DKXiZpOy3wiEdKi4tmK5eFS_wdRy_EabXaYyhRtB9GOhCpTR-tq-O_egNheTpIQtE96eRNXMkMkEhRvAkMmlQs84B1_tiU3TVkwi-scEB/s1030/caolila.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1030" data-original-width="470" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWWOEDFPWm97s_PvTMSAmkDOav8LP6YQo6CJxKpB4K91nyP-W8ccGc5lChnIgDuiV9AO7GaPrJ3uIoffc-EB-DKXiZpOy3wiEdKi4tmK5eFS_wdRy_EabXaYyhRtB9GOhCpTR-tq-O_egNheTpIQtE96eRNXMkMkEhRvAkMmlQs84B1_tiU3TVkwi-scEB/w91-h200/caolila.JPG" width="91" /></a><u><b>Caol Ila 29yo 1984/2013 (55.5%, Cadenhead Small Batch, Bourbon Hogsheads, 564b, 13/467)</b></u> (OB): nose: ashy, earthy fruits. Very earthy, actually, with damp earth, then hot dry sands, and a whiff of dried old tyres. The second nose has a layer of plasticine and a few bandages. Mouth: crushed raspberry blended with damp earth. It soon turns drying, desiccating as ground nigella seeds, without the toasted or burnt taste. The second sip has raspberry jelly on charcoal crackers, then smoked cockles. It becomes dry again, after a bit. Finish: long and elegant, earthy, with just a hint of raspberry. That earthy touch is very vivid and distinctive. Repeated quaffing makes it juicier, with blackcurrant joining the raspberries, peppered with black sesame, or black cumin. Excellent, without surprise. 9/10</p><p><br /></p><p>cavalier66 brings in another 29-year-old.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7iUCYbzAeM-g648r-3Akjb5Urx2ZjVuknj4D9_FEtBerNewWRsdqRgG4uSQDgSk46zyaKMskLxgL35hORiovRaOD55npWEqGc_hlYeM5cOSWjvBgOw0nhXtBSeVqtmY7rF_4ME3TIP66WlAfxuL4lzK-mtYpK-Yu1RrCNPu9Tp3RGQfC8EMmzH6dz1f3G/s934/islay.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="934" data-original-width="478" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7iUCYbzAeM-g648r-3Akjb5Urx2ZjVuknj4D9_FEtBerNewWRsdqRgG4uSQDgSk46zyaKMskLxgL35hORiovRaOD55npWEqGc_hlYeM5cOSWjvBgOw0nhXtBSeVqtmY7rF_4ME3TIP66WlAfxuL4lzK-mtYpK-Yu1RrCNPu9Tp3RGQfC8EMmzH6dz1f3G/s320/islay.JPG" width="164" /></a><u><b>Islay 29yo d.1991 (49.2%, The Auld Alliance and Thompson Bros. Refill Barrel, 240b)</b></u> (cavalier66): released in 2021, but no bottling year given, it may have been bottled a while before release. Nose: muddy, boggy fields, mere metres from the sea, which gives it a nice, maritime touch too. It is well earthy, though, mud patties and all, as well as a layer of dry paint and dried paintbrushes. Mouth: mellow, it has plasticine, pottery clay, and orchard fruits, trampled in mud. The second sip is a bit more muscular, with a mix of dried fruits fallen into mud. That mud dries and gains mosses and ink that stick to the gums. Finish: long, muddy, it has faded papaya and old blotting paper. It is not ridiculously complex, but it does the job well. 8/10</p><p><br /></p><p>tOMoH offers a face-off between JS's SMWS Laphroaig (see connection above) and his own expression, bottled for LMdW, a French shop that will serve as another leapfrog connection.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguJVcFn6PN7vtHb5GhsJ8g0rFm3_O_KUTHeyN9uwcsZyBAfkmxksY8Y8dEaBXtdHlRiYxBuTnOSa8OrWLwUiTd2aDT65lywIAEXNnUKen9579WPhep25lsbhN3VCenOEqC8xXmiXeh5tbos9MWijlph6N-UYxKHiadlaeVC5IvAEtRXz7eGU3fHx2OP9eT/s967/29.99.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguJVcFn6PN7vtHb5GhsJ8g0rFm3_O_KUTHeyN9uwcsZyBAfkmxksY8Y8dEaBXtdHlRiYxBuTnOSa8OrWLwUiTd2aDT65lywIAEXNnUKen9579WPhep25lsbhN3VCenOEqC8xXmiXeh5tbos9MWijlph6N-UYxKHiadlaeVC5IvAEtRXz7eGU3fHx2OP9eT/s320/29.99.JPG" width="73" /></a><u><b>29.99 20yo b.2011 Power and scorched earth (59.6%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Sherry Butt, 360b)</b></u> (JS): ashes, ash grounds. Burnt pine trees and volcanic sand complement the scorched earth. The second nose has a note of ageing Parmesan. Mouth: wow! This is marked by the Sherry maturation it has gone through. It has a syrupy texture, and some sweetness for sure, that compete with ashes and sweaty Parmesan. How odd! The second sip has a medicinal feel, in that it is drying and numbing. Finish: pure, powerful ash (cavalier66), similar to an ashtray. Yes, it is dry, here, really dry, and ashtray is the right word. The second gulp is much fruitier, with fresh figs, dried dates, and prunes in syrup. I hope to try this again in its time. 8/10</p><p>vs.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXl2-znSsh8AqZdtlQxfy7N31Pdr3u5aAfj0RZ8msmByiNS9daW1x4SVo68Ko3R5aRZhLMV7rAIvhxhfG5PE0UHi_ZaULZSEYCilnEHIpoqCn7n6ZeC0REwrx4_6_kYEUzRjL2Rb3LFsvIQxTvDg2oGC1N0rd7XPBbEk4XbXdydI-CmZCHoiSjwC2-3S-r/s510/laphroaig.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="223" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXl2-znSsh8AqZdtlQxfy7N31Pdr3u5aAfj0RZ8msmByiNS9daW1x4SVo68Ko3R5aRZhLMV7rAIvhxhfG5PE0UHi_ZaULZSEYCilnEHIpoqCn7n6ZeC0REwrx4_6_kYEUzRjL2Rb3LFsvIQxTvDg2oGC1N0rd7XPBbEk4XbXdydI-CmZCHoiSjwC2-3S-r/w88-h200/laphroaig.JPG" width="88" /></a><u><b>Laphroaig 15yo 1998/2014 (61.6%, Signatory Vintage for La Maison du Whisky, Sherry Butt, C#700356, 554b)</b></u> (tOMoH): I am so behind that I take no notes for this one. Full notes <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2019/12/22122019-story-about-laphroaig.html" target="_blank">here</a>: 8/10</p><p><br /></p><p>cavalier66 departs, and OB's glasses are empty. Since I am still at it, I pour him a Bourbon, as a reference to the French royal family. Frogs, leapfrog. Yes, I have milked that one to oblivion.</p><p>I found it hard to keep the <strike>faith</strike> pace, today. All the same, good fun, and good whiskies.</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-49709969026256515162024-03-01T17:01:00.000+00:002024-03-01T17:01:09.087+00:0001/03/2024 North of Scotland<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4hIbS1-2ubRvwrFSYK7Xof1MsxGkox6nkG2WrNAYn3gYhZKN6QmvH6j3oHRL5vxKLJNnC2RB4rj6JX4fBsGoMCUp_Ki4MxtbMC0Vyg4GXcIVo4-rKFVo_dTZOjFJUC8B8r-6teRfKcTLnMtQA8x8r1Nth5FAck-cPMzUeCkBv0UR5JRJ73weVoJd2-FU/s1003/northofscotland.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="269" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4hIbS1-2ubRvwrFSYK7Xof1MsxGkox6nkG2WrNAYn3gYhZKN6QmvH6j3oHRL5vxKLJNnC2RB4rj6JX4fBsGoMCUp_Ki4MxtbMC0Vyg4GXcIVo4-rKFVo_dTZOjFJUC8B8r-6teRfKcTLnMtQA8x8r1Nth5FAck-cPMzUeCkBv0UR5JRJ73weVoJd2-FU/w108-h400/northofscotland.JPG" width="108" /></a><u><b>North of Scotland 41yo 1970/2012 Geburtstagedition 50 Jahre Uwe (47.1%, Finest Whisky, C#5, 234b, b#133)</b></u>: nose: dignified old grain, and the typical aromas that come with it: toasted grated coconut, cabinets made of precious wood, and custard, although it is not vanilla custard, but mocha. This mocha becomes chicory infusion in no time at all, and acquires a vaguely-herbal touch that could be sorrel. Moving from the background to the fore, we see an old yellow oilskin, kept in a closet for many years. Then, suddenly, mocha sweeps everything else off the table, and we are left with a cup of coffee, with sugar gradually more discernible. Actually, it is not a cup, but the cooling moka pot. The second nose has "pastry" tattooed on the forehead, mocha panacotta, tiramisù, coffee-infused bombe au chocolat (the kind dom666 serves each November), caramel latte, cinnamon-powder-dusted choux filled with a mocha butter cream, a mugful of caster sugar, and a fleeting hint of metal to spice things up. Mouth: drying and earthy, the palate may come sweetened, but it resolutely continues the coffee journey. It has a strong metallic vibe too, as if one were drinking coffee straight from the moka pot. That gives a pronounced bitterness, surprising, yet pleasant. We spot a dollop of moist dark earth, somewhere between forest floor and potting soil, then a growing sweetness, perhaps close to mocha chocolate. It has the same effect on the tongue as an aged rum: it stuns the taste buds with alcohol, then floods them with dark sugar. The second sip slaps the tongue with an old oilcloth, and progressively transforms that plastic-y note into mocha; coffee-soaked Boudoir biscuits, to be specific, kept in a tin. Finish: here again, we have coffee (lukewarm, now), sugar, mocha custard, and it lands on a big earth mound. Only after a couple of minutes does it settle for creamy, and then it is hard to find anything else. Condensed milk, double cream, latte macchiato, cream-based emulsion, foaming and frothing. One may go as far as calling this a melting scoop of mocha ice cream, or tiramisù, even. Still, it is difficult not to like it, even for this non-coffee drinker. The second gulp is consistent, more milky at first, then working its way back to creamy, to end up in a mocha-flavoured artisanal toffee, sticky, coating, buttery, and -- let us face it -- indulgent. Finally, it is creamy again. A delightful and original grain. 8/10</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoYjekuLES5a9gESFYifi3waOlkwe_n4MHGlPqnT5tQpt8QfonzgSRpzL1O2b1Npl1k3_KdfI2Z4UdKBdreRWG_Mqz8LGi7ogN_BRL4Bhv4NSuyKsC75wXKVZBgkM5IUtm2UzT4jqRfTVBL5UgRqoOtXxJQFhZi-GjI6bkrEyBbU9jAWWxQ9zYK8_vZaz/s1094/picture.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="821" data-original-width="1094" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWoYjekuLES5a9gESFYifi3waOlkwe_n4MHGlPqnT5tQpt8QfonzgSRpzL1O2b1Npl1k3_KdfI2Z4UdKBdreRWG_Mqz8LGi7ogN_BRL4Bhv4NSuyKsC75wXKVZBgkM5IUtm2UzT4jqRfTVBL5UgRqoOtXxJQFhZi-GjI6bkrEyBbU9jAWWxQ9zYK8_vZaz/s320/picture.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When we were in Germany last year (remember <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2023/06/19062023-der-macallan.html" target="_blank">this</a> und <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2023/06/21062023-big-tasting.html" target="_blank">this</a>?)<br />this picture was on the wall of our lodging. I immediately recognised<br />the painting that is parodied on the label of this bottle</td></tr></tbody></table>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-7550664959173448602024-02-29T18:20:00.002+00:002024-03-07T16:59:59.837+00:0029/02/2024 Tamdhu<p>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.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNzQcZxub6Mc3sam-SNGJMZb9mvVOlKuhQQaXuCu2SG980rDBwyzBTCVzwEJK7asgtaVnbPy1MFkvE5EMvV9LvcF9PRoweVBg_oDAdxssxyuUI-6hubMdK9vHfG-vowKpp3AOaogfwgW60HmacRIw58bLh_fTE_Xu8IW8xN4g6Z52m6Rn8Wl56qtAuujN/s785/8.27.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="365" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUNzQcZxub6Mc3sam-SNGJMZb9mvVOlKuhQQaXuCu2SG980rDBwyzBTCVzwEJK7asgtaVnbPy1MFkvE5EMvV9LvcF9PRoweVBg_oDAdxssxyuUI-6hubMdK9vHfG-vowKpp3AOaogfwgW60HmacRIw58bLh_fTE_Xu8IW8xN4g6Z52m6Rn8Wl56qtAuujN/w186-h400/8.27.JPG" width="186" /></a><u><b>8.27 33yo 1967/2000 (48.2%, SMWS Society Cask)</b></u>: 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, Volanne</i>)</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJ9tZ0NVS8mOdagw91vr5dDARsyl81hYm4VqXPIO9sEN-kBxwZTIpYl_8dfetg9ttkxe69j7CWnVktAdxBQAK0JhdluCa3ooSFENpZpfYyptF3WwkWEoxQ798KkBbGjmhrHW7F-fkcZ1vpR5siQbz1Nx8Q32yz9cCSepyvreTbQvCm2V2D4U3fdWIDCuO/s926/tamdhu.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="926" data-original-width="282" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJ9tZ0NVS8mOdagw91vr5dDARsyl81hYm4VqXPIO9sEN-kBxwZTIpYl_8dfetg9ttkxe69j7CWnVktAdxBQAK0JhdluCa3ooSFENpZpfYyptF3WwkWEoxQ798KkBbGjmhrHW7F-fkcZ1vpR5siQbz1Nx8Q32yz9cCSepyvreTbQvCm2V2D4U3fdWIDCuO/w121-h400/tamdhu.JPG" width="121" /></a><u><b>Tamdhu 33yo 1969/2003 (40.5%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection)</b></u>: 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-16469971777087391592024-02-27T17:05:00.000+00:002024-02-27T17:05:04.548+00:0027/02/2024 Glenlivet<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVeK9-2k6D0IEkfZXcnrP7yRDjKEamPhIPnrmnQQGlINPCm8k0waSnvSWzB-O3u__fDKORZLeGoo0NzFIR6iPYngT8WuGNQwkVs-tSi800QdqxkKl_JB8gmuT8PjthgEnNuGgEHQO75wpLGwNG5X5KLnemT7aFJErvq1dUA1cPTJbMaQovduIjo-fYmw5/s980/glenlivet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="442" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwVeK9-2k6D0IEkfZXcnrP7yRDjKEamPhIPnrmnQQGlINPCm8k0waSnvSWzB-O3u__fDKORZLeGoo0NzFIR6iPYngT8WuGNQwkVs-tSi800QdqxkKl_JB8gmuT8PjthgEnNuGgEHQO75wpLGwNG5X5KLnemT7aFJErvq1dUA1cPTJbMaQovduIjo-fYmw5/w180-h400/glenlivet.JPG" width="180" /></a><u><b>Glenlivet 15yo b.1997 (57%, Gordon & MacPhail)</b></u>: 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, Volanne</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-48765698142654672262024-02-26T17:08:00.000+00:002024-02-26T17:08:58.144+00:0026/02/2024 Caol Ila<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JLxofds2bvUVn3tQBbisF0LjUMJv0nDvieArkBUCbiUJGrLUsPz-tXeY27QBOwFNGUbYhrd_nMK2gMPc12emhznzhwAwLKc_PEKFEXOrBQArNUi-9P6T_o-0yuQFXWPVQT69VIUreK90cdcZEVxOadVGYCuBYu6LCvpBLR-rcgMOskbdS87w_S7mrOmy/s1016/caolila.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1016" data-original-width="391" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3JLxofds2bvUVn3tQBbisF0LjUMJv0nDvieArkBUCbiUJGrLUsPz-tXeY27QBOwFNGUbYhrd_nMK2gMPc12emhznzhwAwLKc_PEKFEXOrBQArNUi-9P6T_o-0yuQFXWPVQT69VIUreK90cdcZEVxOadVGYCuBYu6LCvpBLR-rcgMOskbdS87w_S7mrOmy/w154-h400/caolila.JPG" width="154" /></a><u><b>Caol Ila 7yo 2016/2023 (58.5%, Adelphi Selection, 1st Fill Oloroso Sherry Hogshead, C#26580, 256b)</b></u>: 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 <i>bowl</i> 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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/01/17012024-adelphi-30th-anniversary.html" target="_blank">the first time</a>. Probably because it feels drier. 7/10</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-13501980438167378012024-02-24T12:34:00.001+00:002024-02-24T12:34:49.745+00:0024/02/2024 Wolfburn<p>On this second anniversary of the war between Ukraine and Russia, what would be more adequate than this?</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSsz5JDMG6aNgDRXRWcD9ZVlKsScqqnP4rqt-cpNpFGC3dxvzgyOM0pcYSfec3ovtPTdKqioypo4ePCrQQtZYU2xC5Fe8qwUOeAhIpsbuzy00m5__6a6Z1ox5z1vwCsWskzV1cjl8YJilxWRvjhVX2ZG-NcFL-cJM0BFsUxzKwiQmX7YTIxBahyphenhyphenqfRCw6t/s919/wolfburn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="919" data-original-width="332" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSsz5JDMG6aNgDRXRWcD9ZVlKsScqqnP4rqt-cpNpFGC3dxvzgyOM0pcYSfec3ovtPTdKqioypo4ePCrQQtZYU2xC5Fe8qwUOeAhIpsbuzy00m5__6a6Z1ox5z1vwCsWskzV1cjl8YJilxWRvjhVX2ZG-NcFL-cJM0BFsUxzKwiQmX7YTIxBahyphenhyphenqfRCw6t/w145-h400/wolfburn.JPG" width="145" /></a><u><b>Wolfburn 7yo 2015/2022 (46%, OB supporting the Ukraine Humanitarian Appeal, ex-Bourbon Quarter Casks, 1550b)</b></u>: 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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2022/11/27112022-dom666-birthday-bash.html" target="_blank">the first time we had it</a>. I like it as much. A strong 7/10 (<i>Thanks for the sample, adc</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-43054785638669503112024-02-21T17:01:00.001+00:002024-02-24T18:08:41.811+00:0021/02/2024 Clynelish<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9Szf3IJu_kyHSDm3unihSRC-M5rPQ-CfocGa3QDgWmEkfCXfRSy1ZK3DNz8DfOl15-QKeywhSeG09IznqCJcTZIH34l6MOpmR_64l4vANpmQvejvdmrZHiIaXI0hqE2ZyacbaKSyI6atRp4x7vnXBEBOgjlz9YJkJVRLza8bJaeeqtheY-e4Gc3ZFvTP/s929/clynelish.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="929" data-original-width="376" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9Szf3IJu_kyHSDm3unihSRC-M5rPQ-CfocGa3QDgWmEkfCXfRSy1ZK3DNz8DfOl15-QKeywhSeG09IznqCJcTZIH34l6MOpmR_64l4vANpmQvejvdmrZHiIaXI0hqE2ZyacbaKSyI6atRp4x7vnXBEBOgjlz9YJkJVRLza8bJaeeqtheY-e4Gc3ZFvTP/w163-h400/clynelish.JPG" width="163" /></a><u><b>Clynelish 33yo 1973/2006 (54.3%, The Prestonfield Whisky Co. Prestonfield Highland, ex-Sherry Oak Cask, C#8912, 405b)</b></u>: nose: our third 'lish in a row (<a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/19022024-clynelish.html" target="_blank">see episode 1</a>, <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/20022024-clynelish.html" target="_blank">see episode 2</a>), 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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/20022024-clynelish.html" target="_blank">yesterday's</a>, in this humble taster's opinion. 9/10 (<i>Thanks for the opportunity, jnpons</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-45462064526609476052024-02-20T17:12:00.001+00:002024-02-21T09:58:18.158+00:0020/02/2024 Clynelish<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMg_H5zZVfUY0tQ8zyQH-BHi5vFfO1idReNunrODdk36OPYDNLfK7N9m7zw6j9z3X4oIdOo-GEkUCQWzqfWWO72F10vSCI2GSr_kXP7W0KUzmuaHFiyRM62waDK9yBV-DX8HUwram00cvHRi1rsWg4nYRfA4teA0-MxIS4KZLPZFpFfSzD4VRxfqyiTTA/s714/clynelish.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="714" data-original-width="332" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuMg_H5zZVfUY0tQ8zyQH-BHi5vFfO1idReNunrODdk36OPYDNLfK7N9m7zw6j9z3X4oIdOo-GEkUCQWzqfWWO72F10vSCI2GSr_kXP7W0KUzmuaHFiyRM62waDK9yBV-DX8HUwram00cvHRi1rsWg4nYRfA4teA0-MxIS4KZLPZFpFfSzD4VRxfqyiTTA/w186-h400/clynelish.JPG" width="186" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkxjt7H8uxjvDUgjlYpFAv2b4ySJP1pt9RB4VqknA4K4jAx0v2SyfpVICbgYr0aYrv3eWLhQHVaGI-0ttCDSNLc63VaKRkOARpUznWG-FkDvYZY5MYlNnVQWBKRsPomulog_q6cubfFiLMSfJQisdDxRsRDpABVUEdQcmGcBVlbN5YJDtsU5oTMljMBPb/s1041/clynelishfront.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="287" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdkxjt7H8uxjvDUgjlYpFAv2b4ySJP1pt9RB4VqknA4K4jAx0v2SyfpVICbgYr0aYrv3eWLhQHVaGI-0ttCDSNLc63VaKRkOARpUznWG-FkDvYZY5MYlNnVQWBKRsPomulog_q6cubfFiLMSfJQisdDxRsRDpABVUEdQcmGcBVlbN5YJDtsU5oTMljMBPb/s320/clynelishfront.jpg" width="88" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIKsGOaCPYMS9Tk37gY6IJbS4fx22ZUtR-EUHOaGtiEKhXgPCzk0gov3ejo6xAcro6oUyYE023aZvDRT2AL9Onls0cXkJzkbSWK1JQJ-AkNRo0qygAg1inCcbivR15C08h0Yhj5IOGVZAuQPBgYHYjmrpW4jaCVT-7eX2uU2MeOAH71pY2TUEius8HcXT/s1044/clynelishback.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1044" data-original-width="278" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsIKsGOaCPYMS9Tk37gY6IJbS4fx22ZUtR-EUHOaGtiEKhXgPCzk0gov3ejo6xAcro6oUyYE023aZvDRT2AL9Onls0cXkJzkbSWK1JQJ-AkNRo0qygAg1inCcbivR15C08h0Yhj5IOGVZAuQPBgYHYjmrpW4jaCVT-7eX2uU2MeOAH71pY2TUEius8HcXT/s320/clynelishback.jpg" width="85" /></a><u><b>Clynelish 12yo d.1973 (56.9%, OB exclusively bottled from original cask for Whiskyteca Edward & Edward, b#198)</b></u>: perhaps we should have had this alongside <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/19022024-clynelish.html" target="_blank">yesterday's</a>, 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 <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/02/19022024-clynelish.html" target="_blank">yesterday's Adelphi Clynelish</a>. They are not in the same league. 10/10 (<i>Thanks for the opportunity, elskling</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-42638735177396847482024-02-19T17:45:00.000+00:002024-02-19T17:45:44.140+00:0019/02/2024 Clynelish<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZXbmjva5bLWqxDAMdPXxnWngRXd75XaoyuvT0PzAjwpYaKWfPBRgh2rkL61iRAIg0gjipnb887jSi66eousV0T_okh1gs93HPmLqbmg2P7C_orB2rwH67E5Q3GXP_Wjvf_-ilsiH_VVvUZacE5qn1I_d34SrrKyhH2uz4JpHt7ETkIaONW9tib0PkYrm/s998/clynelish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="413" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ZXbmjva5bLWqxDAMdPXxnWngRXd75XaoyuvT0PzAjwpYaKWfPBRgh2rkL61iRAIg0gjipnb887jSi66eousV0T_okh1gs93HPmLqbmg2P7C_orB2rwH67E5Q3GXP_Wjvf_-ilsiH_VVvUZacE5qn1I_d34SrrKyhH2uz4JpHt7ETkIaONW9tib0PkYrm/s320/clynelish.JPG" width="132" /></a><u><b>Clynelish 12yo 2011/2023 (58.3%, Adelphi Selection, 1st Fill American Standard Barrel, C#800305, 208b)</b></u>: nose: leftover from <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2024/01/17012024-adelphi-30th-anniversary.html" target="_blank">last month's tasting</a>. 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-40215255918904683192024-02-15T17:21:00.001+00:002024-02-15T17:21:41.038+00:0015/02/2024 Glen Grant<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtNuPkbjGM30CHYyE2YhMP7q9kGYwliP11vntGGZknGk1JSXsyFB2RfhkODYTRhdbyTEQ8r5Iq9IKDhqHdPpsp9atZrTWx5k3_Fx7s7TDZ3xL6uEScKpjcHlhKibtcL6WJqs1tW6gNwbyFxsemJuFU8BLHPuTmDYIPJjS_yw2KpYzM3Y2SBI0LOCi_vKy/s901/glengrant.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="406" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtNuPkbjGM30CHYyE2YhMP7q9kGYwliP11vntGGZknGk1JSXsyFB2RfhkODYTRhdbyTEQ8r5Iq9IKDhqHdPpsp9atZrTWx5k3_Fx7s7TDZ3xL6uEScKpjcHlhKibtcL6WJqs1tW6gNwbyFxsemJuFU8BLHPuTmDYIPJjS_yw2KpYzM3Y2SBI0LOCi_vKy/w180-h400/glengrant.JPG" width="180" /></a><u><b>Glen Grant 32yo 1976/2009 (50%, Douglas Laing The Old Malt Cask 50°, Sherry Cask, C#DL REF 5034, 266b)</b></u>: 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-22110770447437885632024-02-14T19:13:00.000+00:002024-02-14T19:13:37.752+00:0014/02/2024 Strathearn<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC53OWwFWUseZh2v_Nh00qlzWa_yWlHM9jWhNCdQh_Iv9A-YTI4MYsSoi2Xw_1A0Fi5IYYYk0FlVqkU4oxq-dsITXJNCh_HwvdAHGq9o-lBzuMqKkfcFEzvSf_w518nv8y8bYf2iNfmlFYLIf7CqTTgtFxQfS5GBXbhGxKgMrGbRqtCVfClnnlIaVw-cA/s901/strathearn.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="452" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRC53OWwFWUseZh2v_Nh00qlzWa_yWlHM9jWhNCdQh_Iv9A-YTI4MYsSoi2Xw_1A0Fi5IYYYk0FlVqkU4oxq-dsITXJNCh_HwvdAHGq9o-lBzuMqKkfcFEzvSf_w518nv8y8bYf2iNfmlFYLIf7CqTTgtFxQfS5GBXbhGxKgMrGbRqtCVfClnnlIaVw-cA/w201-h400/strathearn.JPG" width="201" /></a><u><b>Strathearn 55do (55%, Cask Sample)</b></u>: indeed, fifty-five <i>days</i> 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, DH</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-84790834385513154572024-02-12T17:29:00.000+00:002024-02-12T17:29:53.491+00:0012/02/2024 Talisker<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-ZhmsQUb_kfTobfajKrZZ3Kzx0oj2pKf823NCfpqkeR9PHk-mVNNE0cHhqe4AXIcmz2FyI79b0LT_xPmalqSWAOGGPB0tEoS9_gLqdrRq4zomWYjC97CB0GRvlSV1aqYv_eoOhK7zu4HDzv0RsKCw7UYYcc-05yWVK7FBN6Z-TfdZ2kVK8u1DbAlXi1J/s728/talisker.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="355" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-ZhmsQUb_kfTobfajKrZZ3Kzx0oj2pKf823NCfpqkeR9PHk-mVNNE0cHhqe4AXIcmz2FyI79b0LT_xPmalqSWAOGGPB0tEoS9_gLqdrRq4zomWYjC97CB0GRvlSV1aqYv_eoOhK7zu4HDzv0RsKCw7UYYcc-05yWVK7FBN6Z-TfdZ2kVK8u1DbAlXi1J/w195-h400/talisker.JPG" width="195" /></a><u><b>Talisker 20yo 1982/2003 (58.8%, OB, Refill Bourbon Casks, 12000b, b#11171)</b></u>: leftover from <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2023/12/30122023-drinks-with-ob.html" target="_blank">a sesh in December</a>. 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, OB</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-930549153475946382024-02-09T17:13:00.000+00:002024-02-09T17:13:35.357+00:0009/02/2024 Bowmore<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmzagwdjanUaikHVS9lfdj4zgkhYQIu49SYWiLrCKbRau_uECZ12H3tk8dhG60mxhS2U8WRW3Qnr7BFffTvP-VDvvyVTQnktT7H2iWRgdiMflJMrOtqj7jFmk_I4NRgSEO4Xok09idpDyrToURkTmoqrYErvYqs0yFrYLVou8JaBQqHOcVJk2_dg7-Qe1/s832/bowmore.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="389" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmzagwdjanUaikHVS9lfdj4zgkhYQIu49SYWiLrCKbRau_uECZ12H3tk8dhG60mxhS2U8WRW3Qnr7BFffTvP-VDvvyVTQnktT7H2iWRgdiMflJMrOtqj7jFmk_I4NRgSEO4Xok09idpDyrToURkTmoqrYErvYqs0yFrYLVou8JaBQqHOcVJk2_dg7-Qe1/w188-h400/bowmore.JPG" width="188" /></a><u><b>Bowmore 13yo 2001/2014 (50.9%, The Whisky Agency / Three Rivers Tokyo, Refill Hogshead, 272b)</b></u>: 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, elskling</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-83509309250180661962024-02-08T17:24:00.001+00:002024-02-08T17:24:26.620+00:0008/02/2024 Dallas Dhu<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSdfMwEbehT_k3Gp2PrLpXrZc-eGW1kUA-ZCZwKghxzqOClZKbrCZUCMqdnjWBMFmlBbXxYqA_yWG6fZNqcyGGD8qgcSaX7MZnyBV1_VwE5Ms1CdsWvazdRbWWXSDvDD0dAwVCJtQzVEGZbaeInZmbMwe6sdBF6Msu_dpwvJgtdWaL5gMFoo3FSbsZhpV/s845/dallasdhu.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="332" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxSdfMwEbehT_k3Gp2PrLpXrZc-eGW1kUA-ZCZwKghxzqOClZKbrCZUCMqdnjWBMFmlBbXxYqA_yWG6fZNqcyGGD8qgcSaX7MZnyBV1_VwE5Ms1CdsWvazdRbWWXSDvDD0dAwVCJtQzVEGZbaeInZmbMwe6sdBF6Msu_dpwvJgtdWaL5gMFoo3FSbsZhpV/w158-h400/dallasdhu.JPG" width="158" /></a><u><b>45.19 31yo 1975/2007 Foreplay whisky (45.6%, SMWS Society Cask, Refill Barrel)</b></u>: 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</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8571904452477565955.post-67786089250878573062024-02-07T17:07:00.000+00:002024-02-07T17:07:01.614+00:0007/02/2024 Rosebank<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsblGaoAOfLOscyi7Ez-cMdAS9IDfEAe3M4jZxu3bFkD56js1m_nuFSYdwX3itvz2dP53jZc44YNuKQeN1ltwQfawsf9_xwSMMy1zdKgkEgTKybAuj8VCRjhQLm1Cv9_HpT_nfyxPZaehtCIOuaRhl6yVUgi1SbP3Ly_R-s7HyPYq8pBzevP3gKIUr8uJZ/s665/rosebank.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsblGaoAOfLOscyi7Ez-cMdAS9IDfEAe3M4jZxu3bFkD56js1m_nuFSYdwX3itvz2dP53jZc44YNuKQeN1ltwQfawsf9_xwSMMy1zdKgkEgTKybAuj8VCRjhQLm1Cv9_HpT_nfyxPZaehtCIOuaRhl6yVUgi1SbP3Ly_R-s7HyPYq8pBzevP3gKIUr8uJZ/s320/rosebank.JPG" width="245" /></a><u><b>Rosebank 22yo 1991/2013 (55.2%, Iain Mackillop Mackillop's Choice, Sherry Cask, C#271)</b></u>: nose: ooft! This is marked by the Sherry. <a href="https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2018/09/01092018-pro-choice-rally.html" target="_blank">Last time we had this</a>, 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 (<i>Thanks for the sample, LM</i>)</p>the Old Man of Huyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06053256044579077383noreply@blogger.com0London, UK51.5072178 -0.127586223.196983963821154 -35.2838362 79.817451636178845 35.0286638