05/11/2026 The Last Crusade MkII (Part 1) for Banffire Night

Linkwood 48yo 1939/1987 (40%, Sestante, crystal decanter): nose: glorious, glorious nose, with oily dark wood (mahogany, walnut, iroko) and soaked dried fruits (prunes, figs -- lots of figs). We find some dark colour-pencil lead too, brown shoe polish, while stewing jams and compotes rise to dominance; apricot jam, plum compote, peach jelly, all warm and caramelised. A smidge of engine grease soon disappears, as quickly as it showed up, leaving the stage to those jams. They are stored in a metallic tub closed with a plastic lid. How odd is that? It is only fleeting too: in no time, the jams and jellies are a filling in turnovers. It also presents wax and hazelnuts. More exotic aromas timidly pipe up, such as rose-petal jelly and candied maracuja. The second nose has the unmistakable scent of a whisky of that era, which combines jam and marmalade, wood fire and (distant) tin. It is not very metallic, but has a discreet touch of it all the same. And fruit purée. Mouth: a nice mise-en-bouche, at 40%, the palate has pouring honey, peach jelly, apricot nectar, rosehip jam and a dusting of charred-wood gratings. Chewing transforms it into a juicy pastry for afternoon tea: nectarine turnovers, apricot tarts, baked peaches. It stirs the charred-wood gratings with dexterity to give the palate a mild bitterness only. The second sip is enormously juicy, with apricot juice in front, peach jelly right behind. A light fig relish comes right afterwards, droplets of teak oil find their way to the sinuses via the back of the throat and the larynx, jellied rambutan, dragon fruit -- phwoar! It is livelier with each sip, unexpectedly. Finish: ooft! Hot apricot compote, gently caramelised on the top, rose-petal jelly on burnt toast, burnt sugar and grilled prunes and figs starting to char. It is juicy and sticky at the same time, fruity and charred, perhaps close to a spoonful of apricot jam mixed with a spoonful of soot. The second gulp is warm and comforting, teeming with fig relish and warm compote (apap -- apricot and apple). It retains a soft bitterness, as if not all the apple pips had been removed, but is mostly a sweet beauty. It evolves to turn milky -- milky and sweet like a melted milkshake that contains banana, caramelised apricot and baked, honey-glazed peach slices with only a whisper of brown shoe polish and cigar leaves via retro-nasal olfaction. At times, it feels like an apricot-augmented chocolate milk. This is insanely good. 9/10

Glenlossie-Glenlivet 48yo 1966/2014 (43.5%, Cadenhead Single Cask, Bourbon Hogshead, 168b, 14/230): nose: encaustic, honey-like patina on birch furniture, and layer upon layer of yellow-fruit jams (Mirabelle plum, nectarine, physalis). This is effing ridiculous, so fragrantly fruity it is. In fragrante delicto fructus. Shaking the glass a little adds a topping of ground white pepper and cement, but the fruits are much louder. Kumquat join the jig, peach slices on a hot tin tray, yellow passion fruits too, albeit very shy. In the long run, they mutate, morph into bunches of yellow flowers (forsythia, kerria, yellow roses), then turn dry. That is only momentary: within seconds, we come back to peppery yellow fruits. The second nose introduces some greenery: fruit foliage, vines, ivy leaves and a dollop of wax. Oh! the fruits are still the loudest, mind. They are simply not the only show in town. Is that Virginia-tobacco smoke, as one tilts the glass? Mouth: ka-pow! Honey-glazed fresh peach slices augmented with white pepper from the mill. Chewing adds a spoonful of grout, linoleum glue, and even grated fruit stones. That said, we are still very much dealing with a juicy-fruity affair -- Mirabelle plums, cubed kumquat and papaya. With imagination, one may spot vase water too. The second sip is a continuation: the juicy sweetness of fruits and jams, the vague bitterness of residue in an empty vase, or of oxidised metal. Perhaps it is a knife that cut fruits on the hot stove top. Keep it long enough in the mouth and it will reveal coal dust. Dried pineapple slices make a late appearance as well. Finish: more fruits, some less ripe than others, and lichen. Golden Delicious-apple peels, Mirabelle plums, nectarines, yellow peaches growing a beard of lichen, physalis in an empty vase. It is a long finish that warms you up durably, even if the fruity aspects fade out more quickly -- a spoonful of hot peach jelly makes room for... a spoon. Oxidised, worn out, chipped, but still a spoon. The second gulp brings a mesmerising fruity chocolate milk, just as the Linkwood did, and dunks a piece of candied angelica in it. That is eventually enhanced with a pinch of white ash. Flabbergasting! At first, it seems simple, if good. With a lot of time and deserved attention, it unveils a beautiful complexity. 9/10

Banff 1966/2015 (45.2%, Gordon & MacPhail Rare Old, B#RO/15/03, 362b, AE/JACF): nose: gigglefest. Here is a mix of smoked roasted apples, a hot bath in a hinoki tub, incense, cherry-tree blossom and sandalwood. It even has decaying orchard fruits coated in ashes. Right. Nosing more deeply, we have a frangipane tart slathered with peach jelly, Revell paint pots, open and drying away, and I want to say it has mustard powder, but that may just be because that is one of the distillery's usual markers. Mixed peel stews in a pot, old pine-wood dust -- phwoar! The second nose opens the door to a cool dunnage warehouse, breezy and rich with aromas from the casks, but also mustier notes from the earthen floor. Fresh peaches and nectarines, oak staves, microfungi on the soil and walls, metal tools such as valinches. Later, we find orange segments slowly drying on casks in the warehouse, and a drop of soured milk. Mouth: sweet and shy in the fashion of Makgeolli or Frangelico, extremely elegant, it wears tan soft-leather gloves. It has a drop of olive oil, yet, as soon as one chews, it is a ping-pong of aromatic woods and fragrant fruits. Sandalwood and baked apples, hinoki and baked apricots, cedar and caramelised peaches, pine and physalis. This is immense. The second sip is gorgeously honeyed. Pine wood coated in golden acacia honey. It offers a small loaf of resin too that grows increasingly fruity -- peach jelly and pine honey swiftly take over, followed by white bread toasted golden. It tickles like a cough syrup, but a good one. Finish: incredibly elegant in the finish too, it combines the juicy sweetness of lush fruits with the dry, somewhat peppery bitterness of wood. It even gives ashes, after a minute, which confers it a ritual allure. And, indeed, this dram is as close as it gets to a religious experience, even if tt leaves the tongue a little leathery. The second gulp somehow adds liquorice to honey to form a dark paste that comes near to cough medicine, reminiscent of camphor. No harm, however: that is matched by the fruits from earlier. Yes, it progresses from sweet to bitter to root-y to sweet again to fruity. Dark pine honey, physalis, kumquat, Mirabelle plums, cypress bark, peach jelly. Wow, just wow. Exceptional whisky! 10/10

Boom.

04/11/2026 Tobermory

Tobermory 1994/2026 (55.3%, OB Hand Filled Exclusive Edition, Oloroso Finish, C#015): nose: it is discreet to start with even if one can smell the wood's influence, already: cassia bark, pencil cases, sandalwood, 90%-cocoa-content chocolate, Kluwak nuts. A minute's breathing brings us into a conservatory in which an oilcloth tablecloth has been hit by the sun for months and has been dispensing its scent as a result. Shoe polish and a spray of furniture polish follow. Then, the nose takes on an earthier mantle, with dark soil in a pine forest after weeks without rain. The second nose is thicker and bolder, sweet and slightly burnt. Treacle, pomegranate molasses, hints of melted rubber and a mix of ground cloves and amchur. As time goes by, candied citrus peels come to the fore that have been torched a bit too long. Mouth: dry and leathery on entry, it soon feels comparable to prune juice spilled over a spoonful of puy lentils, a breath of freshness in a drier, earthier bigger picture. Chewing blends that prune juice with wood oil, which increases the dryness and makes it a trifle bitter. The longer one chews, the closer this gets to teak oil, coating and gently astringent, although it expertly keeps prunes and their juice within reach. The second sip is syrupy, earthy and dry. 'Syrupy' and 'dry' are not mutually exclusive, in this context: that is Oloroso in a nutshell. Pressed raisins with their dried-out vine, onion relish, caramelised (burnt) marmalade or prune jam. Finish: prunes, chewy blackcurrant-flavoured sweets, Medjool dates, treacle, burnt caramel and liquorice bootlaces. Without it ever being a nuisance, it is boldly earthy, root-y and burnt, yet it is not scorched earth, if that makes sense; it is much closer to burnt sugar and molasses. The second gulp has prune syrup licked off of a hot tyre, treacle mixed with dry potting soil, and liquorice-flavoured liquid tape (that rubbery substance used to patch electric cables), or pan-fried mushrooms deglazed with imperial stout. It is sweeter with each sip, to a point where the rubbery notes take a back seat... on a bus. Then, it is flat cola, old hazelnut shells and dark chocolate -- yay! A very good Sherry maturation. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, JH)

03/11/2026 Springbank

We need something suitably special, today. And we rock the dickhead glass for it too.

The soundtrack, on its anniversary, by complete coincidence:

 

Buckle up.

Springbank 30yo Hedley G. Wright (38%, OB, b.1980s): nose: what remarkable depth, with ink, watercolour, wood paint, yet also chestnuts and, more and more discernible, baked tropical fruits (mango, cherimoya, plantain, papaya). In the space of a couple of minutes, it becomes a staggering tapestry of mushy tropical fruits coming out of the oven (oooh!) That takes place in a newly-fitted kitchen all made of wood. The wood has just been oiled after the fit-out. Rambutan and maracuja rear their fruity heads, as does pan-seared dragon fruit. For such a low ABV, the nose is incredibly loquatious. So much fruit! Lush orange segments and orange fruit jellies round off this first pass. The second nose is even fruitier; it places carambola, guava and spearmint into a plastic container (Tupperware). Maracuja and cherimoya quickly claim the top seat, though, with salmiakki or Beluga hunting vodka sitting calmly in a dark corner of the same room. Mouth: thick in a fruit-jam way (apricot, peach, orange marmalade), it is bold in the wood department -- or so it seems, at first. Chewing offers a fistful of orange fruit jellies, with bits of green ones too -- or is that candied angelica? Wood manifests itself with a gentle bitterness, but it is the fruity caramelised stickiness that catches one's attention, even if orange peels become louder, eventually. Yes: it is chewy and bitterer, now, but it is not rubber. Maybe a drop of crude oil found its way into the fruit jellies. The second sip confirms the tame bitterness. It could be liquorice allsorts, although nowhere near as fierce and divisive. This is actually closer to pressed prunes, earthy, fruity. That said, it still tickles the tropics. Finish: of course, the low strength is most obvious here, as half of France is lamenting. Regardless, it is not stupidly weak. It is also less fruity: we do find petrolic orange peels and burnt orange segments, but, if any of the tropical fruits remain, it would be mango skins, baked for too long, turned chewy and rubbery. The second gulp ventures towards prunes, syrup and all. It also leaves the gums fresh and throbbing, maybe due to a pinch of cinnamon powder. In the long run, other spices show up, ground cloves and sumac, delicate, subtle, yet they build up and cover maracuja and guava. This is excellent! 9/10

Springbank d.1963 (46%, OB imported by Preiss Import, b. ca.1985): nose: phwoar! This leaps out of the glass. Heaps of citrus foliage; Kaffir lime leaves, pomelo leaves, tangerine leaves. It also has carambola and, suddenly, ashes. Ashes that prove a fertile base for fungi: this turns musty, very much like a dank basement in which the walls are covered in black mould. But, since someone is growing green citrus in said basement, no-one is complaining. Unripe lime, unripe Shaddock, bergamot or unripe Kaffir lime; they are not juicy yet, but fragrant? Yes, sir! A mineral note joins the scene too, in pure Springbank fashion, grated chalk or limestone, quarry dust blown by the wind into a pine-forest clearing, bone-dry citrus zest. There might be a herbaceous touch as well, lemon thyme, hawthorn or rosemary, it is unclear. It gradually moves away from the fruity side to focus on the dry, mineral notes, and that is fine. The second nose mashes the earlier fruits into a custard, with little vanilla to speak of, and an unfathomable freshness. That custard is topped with a spoonful of lime marmalade, pine-wood sawdust and white pepper. It is a nose to fall in love with, really. Mouth: holy smoke! Patchouli and incense are first, quickly joined by carambola, guava and half-baked cherimoya. Chewing pours honey on all that and a drop of wood varnish because of course. That brings out a soft bitterness that could hardly be further from plant sap or rubber. No! it is much more gentle than that. The second sip pumps even more green into this, with candied angelica, Key-lime pie, green fruit jellies and chewy cough drops. Chewing adds somewhat-dried lime and pomelo peels, chewy, rubbery, yet still fruity. Repeated sipping sees a fleeting glimpse of blush orange that serves only to introduce all the greenery. Finish: astonishingly, the dilution is more perceptible that it was in the thirty-year-old (which was, in all likelihood, undiluted). Still, we have pouring honey, oily chestnuts and hazelnuts, and a drop of teak oil. The latter especially coats the palate for the longest time, and that allows retro-nasal olfaction to pick up the volatile compounds, some of which point back to tropical fruits -- including green maracuja, this time, a nice complement to carambola and guava. It has lime juice too, merely a drop to enhance everything else, rather than to shine on its own. The second gulp too peddles green chewy drops, sweet, coated in caster sugar, but also a trifle herbaceous and bitter. At a push, one could see similarities with a sugary or honeyed fruit-flavoured green tea, the perfect blend of sweet, acidic and bitter. tOMoH tends to find the odd years of the 1960s even better than the even years, when it comes to Springbank. This 1963 supports that view: so good it is unreal. I initially scored it 9, today, as if I were hard to please, but this deserves... 10/10 

Springbank 23yo 1965/1989 (50%, R.W. Duthie imported by S. Samaroli Ageing Monography, 660b, b#14): nose: phwoar! This is even more impressive. A dusting of sawdust closely follows a slap of gorgeous tropical fruits -- baked papaya and mango, steamed jackfruit, stewed longan. A simmering marmalade grows in power, topped with a sprinkle of white pepper. This smells so jammy and sticky! At the same time, it has a backdrop of wash, hot, fermented, grainy. It is not porridge and it is much, much less invading than what comes out of a washback, but it somehow hints at it. But yeah. Mostly fruits, innit. In fact, it runs back to fruits, but not exactly the same ones: it is now juicy plums, well ripe, some stewed, some glazed in honey. There is a nectarine or two, lost in the punnet of plums, which this taster appreciates. As the plums ripen and reach decay, they carry an earthier vibe, rich potting soil, or a musty mushroom cave (without the dampness or claustrophobia). Is that a whiff of faint smoke, as one tilts the glass? If anything, the second nose is even more-boldly fruity and sweet. Haribo (sans vulgarity) and fruit jellies (sans sugar dusting) pave the way for the filling of a fruit turnover (apricot-apple mix, or apap, for short) and Kaffir lime leaves. After a while, it gives rehydrated dried coconut slices, the sort one usually finds in a nut mix. Rustic furniture is not far behind, which never fails to bring a grandmotherly comfort. Mouth: ridiculously lush, with pouring honey doused on yellow and tropical fruits -- alphonso mangoes, papayas, persimmons, nectarines, plums. Chewing shows just how thick this is: it is akin to a spoonful of apricot jam, in terms of texture. It clearly has smoke, here, dark, soot-y, it opens up to reveal India ink, then charred hazel wood and pressed plums, myrtles and blueberries, all so ripe, sweet and juicy it is hard to believe there is no added sugar. The second sip comes across as woodier, with old furniture that was recently oiled afresh. Chestnut husks are next, kept in check by apricot, peppered with soot and grated apricot stones. Finish: despite the jump in strength, this flows like water (or juice, really), perfectly integrated. Dark grapes, ripe plums, myrtles, plump currants, soaked prunes. It has smoke alright, yet it is similar to having a bucket of soot on the other side of the room, not at all like ingesting fumes with a straw. A long and comforting finish this is, one that convince this taster that there remain beautiful things in this world. The second gulp confirms that feeling; here are more-acidic fruits (pomelo and yuzu), jellied pistachio and baked green bananas dusted with charred-wood gratings and sprinkled with droplets of wood oil. That battle between sweet-fruity and charred-bitter is fascinating. No wonder I was bewitched in Limburg. It was not (only) the fatigue of two days' drinking that made me emotional; this is a masterpiece. 10/10 (Thanks, adc)

Springbank 30yo b.2026 (47.8%, OB Open Day 2026, Bourbon + Oloroso + Rum Oak Casks, 1572b): nose: it is in the death seat, after the Samaroli, but it works, albeit on a different level. This being distilled thirty years later, years after the other one was bottled (what a sobering thought!), it has a more-rustic nose, with cereals, farm-path dust and crusty earth. Give it a minute and that dust walks towards mud and cut fruits lying in said mud: ripe plums, nectarines, dark grapes. All of a sudden, it becomes dry and mineral, close to slate, then char-like, with soot, charred wood and charcoal. That makes room for a cleaning product or another, fleetingly: we soon find ourselves crawling in charred wood, wearing (pink) rubber gloves -- huh? The second nose has pineapple bark stripped bare with lactic acid. Then, we enter a wood-panelled room in a country house. It even has the occasional whiff of cattle in a pasture. A metallic edge rocks up, obviously the blade that cut the pineapple bark, as does indistinct citrus foliage. Mouth: lukewarm and juicy, here are plum juice, apricot juice, pressed (dark) grapes, and lychee with a spoonful of honey. Chewing stirs up more darkish juices, and it takes quite some intent to unveil traces of earth, much of it stained with fruit juice. The second sip releases Haribo Bananas, crystallised pomelo segments, unripe plums coated in honey, candied citrus foliage (tangerine, tangelo, Buddha's hand). With an open mind, one may find stem ginger too. Scratch that! It is dried whole mace in syrup. That gets the mineral treatment soon, as quarry dust sands down the palate, leaving a kind of bone-dry, smoked citrus zest to linger. Finish: still fruity, still plum, nectarine and grape, yet also a drizzle of pomelo juice, here, as well as prune syrup and pressed currants. It leaves but a tame impression, possibly a result of its position in the line-up. Even if it seems tame, it is a very positive impression. In fact, it radiates warmth for a while; it simply takes a moment to get going. This is not a shouty brat, but a distinguished bourgeois who knows how to behave in company. It even puffs a thin black smoke up the larynx for even more comforting warmth. The second gulp sees a smoky-spicy-sweet kind of fruitiness. We are once more made to think of candied mace, citrus foliage in syrup and smoked honey dusted with white pepper. Smoked hay emerges upon repeated quaffing, a little bitter and almost acrid, yet that is all kept in check by lovely acidic citrus. Dumb comparisons aside, this is beautiful. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, SOB)

Farewell, MPD.

02/11/2026 Dalwhinnie

Dalwhinnie 30yo b.2019 (54.7%, OB Special Releases 2019, Hogsheads & Butts, 7584b, b#3278): nose: dusty leather-bound books in a musty cellar, clay floor, mortar dust and fungi starting to grow in the corners. We promptly leave that to step into a wood-panelled tasting room, with drinks cabinets, oily exotic woods (mahogany veers towards iroko, and even ebony) and chestnuts. It then goes back to mushrooms, pan-seared maitake, to be precise, and black-mould-riddled grout. Something sweet tries hard to be heard, liquorice bootlaces or such, but it struggles, in the shadow of the oily woods mentioned above. Maybe it has some kind of cake, brownie or so, still very moist (runny) on the inside, crusty and blackened on the outside, almost charred. The second nose has woodworm and wood dust. Fewer mushrooms, now, and not the same species: we are closer to dried birch polypore or hoof fungus. It could also be fungus-infested garden furniture, oiled in a bid to give it another year. But then, someone spilled apricot juice on that furniture. It is extremely jammy with water: peach jelly, rose-petal jelly, rosehip jelly, stem-ginger syrup. Woah! Mouth: it has the texture of apricot nectar and pouring honey, thick, yet flowing. It is sweet without being sickly. Chewing pumps apricot jam, smoked hot peaches, a few grains of cocoa powder and a lick of a Teflon tray straight out of the oven. The sides of the tongue detect a minute bitterness, cocoa powder or metal, which adds an additional dimension to this. The second sip is jammier, sweeter, and that comes with what seems to be a whisper of smoke. Oh! nothing crazy; it is as if the jam just came off the wood stove is all. And that impression lasts until the taste buds are a bit numb, really. Then, we find stem ginger and mace covered in honey. Sadly, water makes this a bit thin. It is nicely fruity, it makes me think of an elegant fragrance burner, but it has lost its lush texture. Finish: big and robust, it is fairly hot and kicks harder than the palate suggested. It has enough grated cocoa beans to make one miss the hot tinned peaches -- the peaches in particular, because the hot tin becomes clearer and clearer with each passing second. It is remarkably long and warming and ends up propelling cassia bark, which increases the impression of warmth and comfort. The second gulp brings up stem ginger dripping syrup, pouring honey augmented with a twist of the white-pepper mill, or English mustard served on a hot tin plate. It is still the donkey's with water, thankfully. Spices (ginger, pepper) and fruit juice, albeit thinner now than when undiluted. This is very, very good. 8/10

30/10/2026 Ardnamurchan

Ardnamurchan 8yo 2018/2026 (63.3%, Cadenhead Authentic Collection, Bourbon Barrel, 228b): nose: it has a mineral cleanliness from the get-go, like a stone puled out from a stream, dried, yet inexorably polished by years of erosion. Shortly thereafter comes a mildly-medicinal touch (disinfectant or guaiacol), followed by a whiff of burnt wood and subtle softened butter. Finally, we find thorn-y twigs, hawthorn or brambles. The second nose has a wood stove in a rustic kitchen in the north of Italy in autumn. At some point soon, it will see a cauldron with polenta; for now, it is gaining heat. There is a tumbler of cheap red wine on the table, following the rising temperature in the room. With water, the nose turns more coastal, with sea breeze and a mist of sea spray. Eating orchard fruits on the harbour on a drizzly day. Mouth: clean and sweet on entry, very sweet, in fact, it peddles spent matches and charred hazel sticks with the most-limited chewing. Intentionally moving the liquid around the mouth ignites a fire of char -- charred twigs, a pile of matches (left behind by an arsonist, no doubt), liquid fire starter, burnt pine logs. It still has guaiacol and surgical disinfectant, some might say TCP, yet the acrid smoke and charred bits are loudest, reminiscent of a lunchtime fire on a November day's lumbering in the woods. The second sip has ashy peach slices, juicy, fruity, not fully ripe, and made a bit abrasive by a dusting of ashes. Water tones down the heat and the smoky side to focus on orchard fruits again. Only when chewing does the ashtray of a fire insert emerge, not even full of ashes. Finish: dry peat, then burnt peat. It is almost wood smoke, initially, from what seems to have been an efficient flame. Then it changes and hints at damper, smokier mosses, giving thicker, more-acrid smoke. Throughout, a pleasant sweetness hovers, strawberries or such. Retro-nasal olfaction sees lichens clinging to the sides of a vase, bone-dry, close to ash-like. The second gulp throws peach slices into a bowl of ashes and stirs them with a wooden spoon. It does not really go beyond that, but it also does not need to. It dies out with a pinch of soot, acrid and sticky. Water makes for a robust-if-juicy finish. More orchard fruits (apples, plums) and a pile of dry white-wood logs waiting to be thrown onto the fire. Perhaps it has a spoonful of lemon curd too. Pleasant, if not super challenging. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, JH)