17/01/2025 North of Scotland

Twenty-one years ago, we were coming back from Scotland with a case full of goodies -- but that is last year's story. Today...

Spirit of North of Scotland 48yo 1973/2021 (25%, Bartels Whisky His Excellency): delightful. Here is a bowl of dried fruits, currants, cranberries, figs, apricots, cubed papaya and cherries, all held together by a drop of strong glue. Said glue takes off with time, becomes ester-y, and tickles cellophane, until we have a full roll of warm cellophane in hand, hot off the production line. All of a sudden, it reignites the fruity fires, and this time, it is fresher, juicier fruits: grapes instead of raisins, maraschino cherries instead of dried ones, et cætera. It is sweet to boot, and a little heady, which is reminiscent of a fortified wine. Not that heady, however, which suggests a Fino, rather than an Oloroso, let alone a PX. The second nose unexpectedly sees rolling blond tobacco, oily and fragrant. 'Oily' is the word indeed! It is difficult to identify which oil, but there is more and more of it in subsequent sniffs. Last to emerge is a galvanised-metal bucket -- another surprise guest. Mouth: texturewise and tastewise, we are definitely on Fino Sherry territory. Fruity, a little dry, fresh and crisp, though chewing reveals a mild sweetness too, alongside a pronounced acidity. Cranberries are the dominant fruit, and we find a fistful of pomegranate seeds, slightly past their best-before date. Keeping it on the tongue long enough brings forth a tame mineral note -- limestone, if not frankly chalk. The second sip sees boozy-caramel flan. Imagine caramel made in a pan deglazed with a dash of Fino, poured onto warm flan. It would be hard to take in large amounts, but works in moderation. Finish: arguably the strongest quality of this dram, the finish balances sweetness and acidity with brio. It retains the pomegranate seeds and cranberries, adds a few currants or sultanas, and splashes all that with a glass of Fino. See the pattern? The whole goes out with a mineral gasp. The second gulp has boozy caramel poured on warm flan too, and that tastes almost chocolate-y. It is a little disconcerting to try something that is so close to a dessert wine, despite having nothing in common, in terms of provenance or production. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, PS)

North of Scotland 1963/1998 (46.8%, Robert Scott Scott's Selection, Oakwood Casks): twenty-three years younger, distilled ten years earlier, and, at a 20%-higher ABV, this one is whisky. Nose: less surprisingly, we have wood glue, wood varnish, and pastry. Woodworm-riddled dark-wood wardrobes, gingerbread, and cake crust sticking to the mould it was baked in. Next up are dried banana slices, baked plantains devoid of any sugar, natural or otherwise, and decades-old oars stored in a shed. With insistence, one may spot a singed aroma too, tobacco smoke or ash, or a moka pot on the hob. The second nose is maybe more raw: here are coffee grounds and heated tin, both of which do suggest a moka pot. Suddenly, akin to a fillip over the nose, juicy pineapple does a fleeting fly-by, and disappears just as quickly. Mouth: big, bold, woody, and sweet, all at once, here is a bowl of hot mocha custard served in a rustic kitchen, the centrepiece of which is an enormous table made of solid dark wood. Chewing adds pineapple shavings, as well as toasted coconut gratings, oily and fragrant. It tickles the gums, yet it is not all wood spices: there is a lot of fruit at play too. The second sip is drier and bitterer, with the hot dusty tin of an old coffee pot. Just a little chewing adds clementine peels, coffee-cured pineapple rings, and pink-grapefruit rind. Outstanding! Finish: big, spicy, woody, and sweet. It marries dark-wood dust, warm mocha pudding, custard powder, and gingerbread punctuated by pineapple chunks. It is a marriage in which all parties are happy, and allow their respective best sides to shine. The mocha provides a soft earthy bitterness, whereas the gingerbread offers a calming spicy sweetness. The second gulp injects citrus here too, with more pink-grapefruit rinds and, perhaps, orange peels. It has mocha custard too, so discreet that it is easily mistaken for chocolate custard. This finish is fairly long, as becomes obvious at second gulp, and it is so removed from the dark wood we had in the first nose that it takes a pause to accept it as the same dram. Great old grain. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)

13/01/2025 z Polski

Miodula Presidential Blend (40%, Mundivic, Oak Barrel, C#256, b#268): just as well there is January, to try the odds and wonders that make their way to tOMoH's during the rest of the year! Nose: very unusual, for this whisky drinker. This smells creamy as warm whole milk served in a pine-tree forest. And, no, it is nothing like a Benrinnes. It is mellow and tame, plays few notes, and plays them softly, yet insistently. Milk-chocolate pudding, pine-sap-infused toffee, heavy cream, sour cream topped with cocoa powder. Tilting the glass allows hazelnut cream to flow too. The second nose is very much aligned. Sweet chocolate custard, toffee, pine-scented caramel, then profiteroles, boules de Berlin (Krapfen, auf Deutsch), doughnut, breakfast merendine... It is really a number for the sweet teeth of the world! Mouth: ooft! Sweet-and-a-half. This is akin to biting into a chocolate éclair, with chou dough, custard and a chocolate glaze, yet it is a chocolate custard, not merely vanilla (yes, those double-chocolate éclairs do exist). It takes quite a lot of chewing to revive the pine influence, cedar or Douglas-fir needles, and a ladleful of toffee that has not yet set. Creamy texture, almost buttery, and delicious taste, to put it simply. The second sip takes us closer to liqueur pralines, with milk chocolate and sweet pine liqueur (génépi?) However, unlike the pralines in question (Edle Tropfen, for example), this is never sickly: the sweetness is restrained, and the alcohol is too faint to bother. Finish: with such a low ABV and those chocolate and toffee flavours, this Miodula may well topple Littlemill for the coveted title of breakfast dram. It is pretty close to toffee-flavoured cereals splashed with chocolate-flavoured oat milk. The second gulp is reminiscent of whisky liqueur (Arran Gold, for example, or the one whose name starts with 'B'), though, again, it does not reach the sickly levels those liqueurs have. It stays pleasant throughout, with milk chocolate, hazelnut paste, and melted toffee. To be clear, this is neither complex, nor challenging, nor actually that interesting; it is simply delicious nonetheless, and dangerously quaffable! 7/10 (Thanks, MK)

Happy birthday, NH.

10/01/2025 Two grains from 1964 by Robert Scott

Caledonian 1964/2012 (41.7%, Robert Scott Scott's Selection, Bourbon Barrel): nose: one for the glue sniffers, this! It leaps out of the glass to dispense slaps of wood glue, shoemaker's glue, glue sticks from primary school, all-purpose glue... Is the picture clear enough? Behind that are bits of wood (yes, glued together), and makeshift door-stoppers made out of wood cuttings. Then, after a while, gingerbread. Several sorts of pastry, in fact: Stollen, mince pies, and gingerbread men, still warm and soft. A little further onward, we detect old ink and ancient scrolls -- we are talking a century old, not Egyptian Antiquity, -- and cigarette ash in an ashtray, the morning after -- only the ashes, not the fag ends. Balsa wood seems to be the final guest at this party. Further nosing unveils what initially appears to be a pine-flavoured paste, but is probably tiger balm after all, with mint, camphor, and dried citrus zest. Mouth: a different story here: it is all about citrus. Mandarine segments, sliced orange, roasted grapefruit. There may be memories of glue, yet it is nothing, compared to the nose. Chewing adds citrus rinds, very loud, very clear, and tinned pineapple. It is blatantly bitter and drying, the longer one keeps it in the mouth, yet that is well under control. It is akin to biting into a slice of citrus that would have been soaked in mocha. After a couple of minutes on the tongue, the raw fruits become fruit turnovers, with a delicious-if-subtle crème pâtissière lining the crust. The second sip is suddenly frankly woody: slabs of oak and beech that have been sitting in the shed for a couple of seasons, and are starting to turn green with lichens and mosses. More chewing brings back the fruit, and introduces vermeil-coloured birch shelves. Finish:  hugely and elegantly sweet, this is a luscious fruit turnover again, followed by mixed peel, candied papaya and angelica, and chewy mocha sweets. It manages the exploit of being at once warming and refreshing, and, if it is satisfying, it leaves one craving for more. None of the ashy touch makes it this far; this is unadulterated fruity stuff, now. The second gulp is in the same vein, and it perhaps adds a drop of natural apple juice in wooden goblets. Wow! Extraordinary old grain! 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)

Invergordon 1964/2011 (43.8%, Robert Scott Scott's Selection): nose: would you believe it if I said it smells like a wood-panelled room full of jam jars? You should. Century-old rustic furniture from the Condroz, recently sanded and waxed (not oiled), dozens of blackcurrant-jam jars cooling on the dining-room table, and a cauldron with jam residue, cooling off on the hob in the kitchen next door. Emerging from the same kitchen, we see golden toast slices (white bread), probably the support for the jam. Some of the fruits did not make it into this batch; they are still waiting for their turn, washed and draining in a large plastic colander. As it opens up with time, the nose becomes gradually fruitier. Mostly blackcurrants, also gooseberries, strangely enough, not entirely ripe. Indeed, there is a fruit bitterness to it that makes me think of a defrosting spray for car windscreens. The second nose has a slight vegetal whiff, likely the greens of whichever fruits were turned into jam. That is soon easily submerged by more fruity jam, mind. On the late tip, a stick of glue appears, the trusty orange-capped Pelikan, then paper bags. Mouth: despite a persisting very-minor bitterness, this is a big spoonful of blackcurrant jam or jelly, predictably. That is the distillery's trademark, after all. Chewing dials that up to eleven, adds some raspberry wine, and serves the whole on a polished-wood tray -- mahogany is my best guess. It has something remotely metallic too, likely a spoon to serve the jam? The second sip is less exuberant, with (glossy and not-so-glossy) magazines wrestling the jammy toasts to the ground. One could picture a child taking a bite of jammy toast, then being distracted by this week's edition of their favourite comic magazine. The jam is not far, no longer front-and-centre. Finish: currants paste alright, dark, juicy, and scrumptious. Pressed blackcurrants, pressed blackberries, myrtles... One can almost see one's lips turn purple, when sipping this! The fruity jam comes by the shovelful, in flaky turnovers, on toasts, on scones, in doughnuts. Only crumpets are missing. Here, the second gulp increases the taste of jammy toast, if anything. It dunks that toast into a mug of white coffee, a habit that anyone outside of the Hexagon would struggle to see as anything other than a waste of toast, jam, and coffee. It works here, to a point, yet tOMoH would prefer it without the coffee. Further sips tone down that coffee note, which is much more to his liking. Phew! Excellent nevertheless, if slightly below the Caledonian. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)