11/10/2024 Longmorn

Longmorn Centenary 25yo (45%, OB, b.1994): nose: it feels rather shy, today, antique mahogany furniture and wooden salad dishes, more than anything. That is soon joined by Fino sherry and a relish of some sort, too subtle to be onion, not sweet enough to be fig. Deeper inhaling decodes the enigma: it is candied orange rinds. That then unlocks a bolder fruitiness, with lychee and rambutan, as well as unripe carambola. Say, this is turning rather appealing, is it not? Next up is the freshness of mint paste, then smashed persimmon, leaves and all, and pink grapefruit. I want to say pink-grapefruit-scented washing-up liquid, but firstly, it is not soapy, and secondly, it is not a Benriach. Come to think of it, when this was distilled, Longmorn and Benriach were operating in tandem... Over time, a gentle flowery fragrance takes off too: magnolia, chamomile, purple primrose. The whole remains subdued, certainly not a boisterous young lad. The second nose has gorgeous, spongy pandoro. It is spongy to the point of juiciness. Wait! Scratch that: raisins do appear for a panettone-like experience. Crusty white bread just out of the oven (oooh!), warm brioche, in that sweet golden spot that most bakers miss (overdone brioche is not so nice), and unsweetened apricot turnovers. Later yet, we have cucumber peelings floating in peach nectar. Last, but not least, pomelo zest is sprinkled on top of it all. Mouth: it has a vaguely-green acidic attack, closer to pomelo than to lime, and it is a trifle leafy, perhaps -- citrus foliage, you know. The most-modest chewing reveals a generous fruitiness, however: lime zest, pomelo segments, unripe kumquat, bergamot, sudachi. For full transparency, it also presents a drop of shampoo, similar enough to the citrus that it is easily overlooked. At the second sip, the afore-mentioned acidity becomes a near-plastic-y taste, closer to oilskin than fruit. Oh! it works well; it is simply quite different. Movement in the mouth brings up yellow maracuja, yuzu, satsuma, calamansi, and a lick of a yellow rubber glove used to zest lemons. Reads weird? Tastes great! Finish: a fruity custard topped with crushed mint crumbles. It is a long, comfortable finish, warming, not big, that leaves the tongue all silky from the milky texture (lukewarm vanilla milkshake, to be precise). The second gulp pushes forward a greater fruity acidity. We have smashed papaya, pineapple chunks, persimmon, fleshy peach. It is still as milky, with a nuance of burnt sugar in the far back, and growing pink grapefruit, towards the death. I thought it was less impressive at first sip, but it is a masterpiece that grows on you. All the same, maybe it is the circumstances, maybe it is the consequence of spending ten years in an open bottle, but I am less floored by it than previously. Phantastic whisky all the same. 9/10

07/10/2024 Strathisla

Strathisla 1999/2010 Here Come The Rain Again (46%, La Maison du Whisky Belgique, C#45530, 247b): yes, there is a missing 's'. Nose: youthful, lively spirit, pumped with cereals on dusty concrete floors. Oats, barley, maize stored in heaps in a countryside warehouse. One would struggle to imagine the picturesque setting of one of the oldest surviving distilleries in Scotland, from this nose; it really is a mix of cereal dust and builders rubble -- not that there is anything wrong with that, mind. With some insistence, perhaps we can spot a shovelful of fertilised soil (that would be a whiff of manure, then) and cereal pulp, as if the cereal dust had been wetted with murky water or mud. Slowly but surely, that mud cooks on a fire of herbs, and produces a gentle smoke, entirely unexpected. The second nose has quarry dust or concrete chippings, the airborne dust on a construction site, and smoked-cereal dust. To make it less austere, we also have a bowl of warm corn flakes, topped with lovage seeds. Later on, after-shave lotion (not balm) springs up. Mouth: mint crumbles, custard, smoked cereals. It is fresh, creamy, maybe a little bitter. We find aniseed, fennel seeds, lovage seeds, caraway seeds, mint sweets (the ones in a transparent-blue wrapper from the 1980s), and pouring custard alright. In fact, the creamy texture is well worth a special mention. The second sip is in line, yet it adds a dark-brown fudgy, chewy protein bar (nākd.) Chewing revives the minty side, this time crème de menthe with a dash of oat milk. Further sips are spicier, with cloves, black cumin, and a few grains of ground black cardamom. It is not all spices, however: at some point, we come back to a malt barn in the summer, with its cereal dust. Finish: it stays custard-y until the end. Smoke and bitterness have now disappeared, while mint sweets are much more subdued. On the other hand, vanilla custard -- nay! ice cream, is there for all to taste, melted in the cup, creamy and lush. The second sip seems fresher, mintier. It has less custard, if still some, and introduces star anise. Earthier with every sip, though never earthy -- it is toasted spices we see, such as cumin, ground coriander, and whole cloves to complement lovage seeds and mint sweets. 7/10

04/10/2024 Arran

Isle of Arran 3yo 1995/1998 (60.3%, OB, 1000b, b#102): initially rather neutral, with a dusty hay barn emptied of its hay, this hints at berries too, without really getting there. It does (not really) open up to give dusty wooden flooring or shelves (birch or acacia), and old fudge or faded butter cake in wooden boxes. One's imagination may pick up Virginia tobacco, a faint mint-or-menthol whiff, and burnished copper. The second nose has acrylic paint (Dulux emulsion matt), apple peels, drying on the cutting board, and colour pencils. With water, it falls in line behind honey-coated cereals (honey pops). It retains hay, this time hay bales, yet that is clearly in the background. Suddenly, there is a small explosion of planter flowers -- pansies, tagetes, primroses -- and peach skins. Mouth: burnished-copper dust is more-easily discernible, here, and comes with dry apple pips, dried apple slices, and heaps of dust. Stale honey, spread on rock-hard bread, all covered in dust. Chewing gives out faded toffee, chewy, dusty, almost tasteless, topped with WD-40. Indeed, it has a growing lubricant feel, the longer it stays on the palate. The second sip is an odd mix of honey, acrylic paint, and liquid white glue (wood glue seems likely), augmented with a dash of apple juice and WD-40 (or Décaltou, for those who know). Water cools it down, renders it milkier, and allows orchard fruits to come out more (mostly apples). It does retain a solvent note, WD-40 or furniture polish in a spray can. Finish: the kick is bold, yet not the aggression one may expect from such a high ABV. A couple of seconds post swallowing, it shouts an immense minty sweetness à la mint crumbles. Then, it is a blend of lubricant (WD-40) and cleaning agent, which makes it at once stripping, fresh, and solvent-y, veering towards cellophane and fresh paint. Retro-nasal olfaction catches apples by the basketful (Golden Delicious, Cox, Honeycrisp), crisp, acidic, with a mild sweetness. The second gulp starts off juicier, then brings a boatload of white-wood planks slathered in honey. Behind that is an undeniable heat, however, reminiscent of dusty radiators from the 1970s, painted over twice, then left alone for three-or-four decades to gather a crust of dust. It is only at this point that the strength becomes obviously dangerous: too much of this will probably make for a sore head. And then, apple slices and pips re-join the dance. With water, it turns all nutty, teeming with almond cream, Brazil-nut body butter, coconut oil, even, and hazelnut spread, slightly bitter, yet creamy nonetheless. Lingering at the death, we find toasted pine cones, which is always pleasant. Positively-interesting whisky. 7/10 (Thanks, EG)