No Banff, this year. Instead, we celebrate an anniversary. Indeed, all those extraordinary 1964 Bowmore were all distilled sixty years ago to the day.
- Black Bowmore 29yo 1964/1993 (50%, OB, Oloroso Sherry Butts, 2000b)
- Black Bowmore 30yo 1964/1994 (50%, OB, Oloroso Sherry Butts, 2000b)
- Black Bowmore 31yo 1964/1995 Final Edition (49%, OB, Oloroso Sherry Butts, 1812b)
- Bowmore 35yo 1964/2000 (42.1%, OB for Oddbins, Oloroso Sherry Hogshead, C#3708, 99b)
- Bowmore 37yo 1964/2002 Fino Cask (49.6%, OB, Fino Sherry Cask, 300b)
- Bowmore 38yo 1964/2003 Oloroso Cask (42.9%, OB, Oloroso Sherry Cask, 300b)
Bowmore 38yo 1964/2003 Bourbon Cask (43.2%, OB, Bourbon Cask, 300b)- Black Bowmore 42yo 1964/2007 (40.5%, OB The Trilogy, 5 x Oloroso Sherry Casks, 827b)
- White Bowmore 43yo 1964/2008 (42.8%, OB The Trilogy, 6 x Bourbon Casks, 732b)
- Gold Bowmore 44yo 1964/2009 (42.4%, OB The Trilogy, 3 x Bourbon Casks + 1 x Oloroso Sherry Cask, 701b)
- Bowmore 46yo 1964/2011 (42.9%, OB, Fino Sherry Cask Finish, 72b)
- Bowmore 48yo 1964 (41.2%, OB for Auction of The Worshipful Company of Distillers, 1b)
- Black Bowmore 50yo 1964/2016 The Last Cask (40.9%, OB, 1st Fill Oloroso Sherry Butts, C#3708+3714, 159b)
- Black Bowmore 31yo d.1964 (49.6%, OB Aston Martin DB5, Williams & Humbert Oloroso Sherry Butt, 27b)
When better to have a couple of them? Exactly!
 |
| Ooops! broken cork. :-( |
Gold Bowmore 44yo 1964/2009 (42.4%, OB The Trilogy, 3 x Bourbon Casks + 1 x Oloroso Sherry Cask, 701b, b#620): nose: crikey! Even though I know precisely what to expect, this has the same effect as if I did not: immediate Bowmore eyes. It is going to be a taxing tasting, I tell thee! And an utterly pointless note, without a doubt, in the same way the strongest experiences cannot be faithfully described with words; they have to be lived. Anyway, let us give it a shot. A massive slap of passion fruit, guava, lychee, mango, ripe peach. It also has fruits closer to home (depending on where one's home is, obviously): strawberry, damson, plump raspberry. Tropical fruits are never far, however, and mangosteen, rambutan, snakehead fruit, persimmon are lurking, ready to push one into the corner. We have pineapple and coconut milk too, and, closing one's eyes, one may well imagine oneself sipping a piña colada on a beach somewhere warm. That is to say it has an ethereal salty breeze, though one that is so easy to miss it is almost sad. Shaking the glass to try and obtain some plasticine or nail varnish only achieves more fruits, chiefly peach, mango and persimmon, so rich they cause tears of joy. The second nose is perhaps tamer, yet more elegant, if that were possible. Mango then wakes up properly, and calmly takes over, confident in the knowledge that it rules these parts. Right behind it, hardly hidden, yellow maracuja is chomping at the bits, maniacally hopping around to try and get in front of the tranquil mango. A pinch of damp earth watches from a distance, the only sign that peat was involved in the making of this. Phwoarking hell! Mouth: ah! Today, the one Oloroso cask's influence is rather clear: this has a tame bitterness akin to that felt when biting into a scented pencil eraser. Half a chew is enough to bring us back on to the fruity track to the sunny uplands, however. Mango, of course, yet it no longer leads the pack. In pole position, we have luscious pink grapefruit steamrolling everything in its path. In the wake of that grapefruit, persimmon, guava, (a little) carambola, mangosteen, unripe kiwi (which is to say it is more bitter than acidic), and growing liquorice allsorts. The second sip has a drop of scented blond-hair shampoo, drowned in a loch of tropical-fruit juice. Jackfruit, Chinese gooseberry and lychee, augmented with a drop of green-citrus juice: pomelo, sudachi, white grapefruit, ugli fruit. Only now does tOMoH notice how thick the texture is on this, chewy and coating, almost tarry. A certain acidity emerges over time, likely pink grapefruit, even if, at that strength, it would be inaccurate to describe it as stripping. Finish: the freshness is at its peak in the finish, a blend of liquorice allsorts, pine paste in a Gocce Pino fashion (though less intense), minty toothpaste, and a timid lick of faded rubber. All of the above are well subdued, aptly complemented by lingering fruits. In no particular order, it has citrus peels, apple peels, Chinese-gooseberry skins, carambola chunks, rambutan, lychee, guava, Korean pear. Unexpectedly, the fruits here are less yellow, more white. Will that last? It does: the second gulp remains fresh, if less earthy or minty. The white tropical fruits still dominate -- white grapefruit and pomelo, rambutan, dragon fruit, soon joined by pink grapefruit, tangelo, and clementine. It has a whisper of burnt wood, near the death, though one would be excused for missing it, so discreet it is. Retro-nasal olfaction may pick up embers turning into white ashes, yet it is, once more, a very-diffuse impression, concealed behind tropical fruits -- which, by the way, are now doused in full-fat milk. Humbling drop that should make the most-cynical soul philosophical. As they say in books with big words, this is fucking ridiculous. 16/10
Bowmore 46yo 1964/2011 (42.9%, OB, Fino Sherry Cask Finish, 72b, b#45): nose: mamma mia! Even after the stunning Gold Bowmore, this smells incredible. Slap after slap of juicy tropical fruit. Alphonso mango, yellow and purple maracuja, carambola, snakehead fruit, persimmon, peach so ripe it may as well be jam, squashed jackfruit, dragon fruit, lychee, rambutan and mangosteen, perhaps even banana, or those miniature green bananas from Egypt, to be specific. It has a lovely note of blanched hazelnut too, submerged in a huge bowl of mango and maracuja. It does not stop there: longan, kumquat, plump tangerine, and lulo are present too. Deeper nosing reveals distant wort, and a pinch of soot that is even more difficult to discover, both cloaked in fruity scents. At the same time, this never turns into a vulgar fruit squash from a plastic bottle; it is so distinguished and effortlessly elegant! Objectively speaking, it is a well-aged whisky, yet it displays its dignified character with the freshness of a spring flower, with no fuss whatsoever, as if the beauty it offers the taster were the most natural thing. Repeated nosing underlines gorgeous lychee, then it comes back to peach (and apricot) so pumped full of juice it is about to burst. If one looks for it insistently, one may detect a very-subtle whiff of sea breeze too. The second nose is even bolder with the fruits. Purple and green maracuja now above all else. Those are followed by fruit-scented plasticine, a ball of wax marinated in a maracuja-persimmon-mango punch bowl. In the long run, it ends up oscillating between mango and maracuja -- a difficult choice. Mouth: rather more pungent than the meagre ABV suggests, it has a pleasant acidic bite of maracuja, this one. Perhaps Shaddock pomelo too, though it is not that intense. Chewing gives a (very-)vague note of rubber (it was a Sherry cask, after all), and wave after wave after wave (after wave) of fruity pleasures. Citrus seems to have the upper hand, now (tangerine, pink grapefruit, blush orange), followed by pink maracuja, dragon fruit, and ugli fruit. The second sip is clearly acidic, even if it is closer to yuzu or Buddha's hand than lime or lemon. Waxy-green citrus zest is quickly joined by a blend of maracuja, persimmon, pomelo and mango juices. The zesty note shines a light on a certain bitterness that is simply a part of the fruits that one would expect, rather than anything negative. At some point, we have neon-green wellies, drenched in mango juice, drying by a dying campfire. Is anyone complaining? Ich don't think so! Finish: for the first time, the influence of the peat is a little more palpable, at this point: we have the burnt tips of wooden spears, embers cooling down on the camp fire, and charred white-fish skewers. Of course, one could easily overlook that and only see the tropical fruits. White grapefruit, pomelo, dragon fruit, mangosteen, rambutan, roasted pineapple... It is a never-ending finish that leaves the walls of the mouth throbbing, coated in fruit. Retro-nasal olfaction picks up similar whiffs of soot as what we had at first nosing -- albeit a little more pronounced. The second gulp leaves a creamier texture in the mouth, carried by smashed mango and skinless peach. One could write fifty more pages about this, and still come up with new things. The takeaway is that, under the entry "fruity masterpiece" of any good encyclopaedia, one must find: "Bowmore 46yo Fino." I have tried to remain stoic, and to focus on notes, rather than emotions, but, really, this is insahne. Beyond words. Sadly, Man can only grasp those thoughts which language can express. Perhaps, one day, linguists will invent words to do this justice. 18/10
Those are superlative whiskies without the shadow of a doubt -- amongst the best ever bottled by any criterion. I find today that they shine even brighter when in a line-up. On their own like this, one struggles to appreciate just how different a league they occupy, compared to anything else. In a line-up, with a handful of already-excellent whiskies (as we did in June 2022 and June 2024), it becomes more apparent that they are untouchable.
Now, if you will excuse me, tOMoH need a clean pair of trousers.
