10/07/2026 Two Lochside

Lochside 19yo 1981/2000 (60.9%, Cadenhead, Sherrywood): nose: unexpected nose, this, as it has woodworm and mushrooms. Perhaps it only needs to breathe a little bit and it is not a spoiled miniature -- the fill level is not optimal on this one. A bit of air seems to clear that up and replaces the decaying wood with... Well, not with much, actually: the alcohol smothers all of the fruits that are trying to make their way. There may be cured oranges in the back, it is hard to tell. We will have to try this with water. Right now, it is a hot-water tank, clean and poor in scents. The second nose brings pastry to the fore: uncooked pains au chocolat made with a stale crust, and currants in a plastic pouch several years expired and sticking together, starting to fuse. Water opens it up, though not as expected. Here is an oilcloth tablecloth hammered by the summer sun, and a fruit bowl made of polished wood. In it, banana, carambola, cherimoya, papaya, rambuta(n). Mouth: total destruction a second after it passes the lips. It is really strong. Not uncomfortably so for tOMoH, but that prevents any taste from piercing through... until one chews! One mere chew and the miracle happens. Mango slices from a red-hot tin, smashed cherries, baked plantains, steamed papayas, baked apricots -- ha! ha! An avalanche of hot fruits on a bed of hot tin. The second sip has a lick of peanut spread, oily and bitter. Chewing stirs up some fruits, baked plums or greengages, but it is not the debauchery of earlier. With water, it presents a cold-coffee bitterness, for a second, then a fruity yoghurt, with peach, cherry, cherimoya, pomelo, kumquat, bergamot, papaya and cucumber peels. What a creamy texture! Finish: here too, the high ABV stops flavours from shining. It is a bit woody, with polished mahogany and lacquered fruit stones. It is undeniably fruity, but it limits itself to those stones, rather than exploring juicy flesh. It adds wood spices instead, in the long run, and we find that sawdust and ginger powder cake the tongue. Retro-nasal olfaction still has remnants of the mushrooms from the start. The second gulp brings heated plastic bags to contain the wood spices. It pours some cherry juice on plum stones, yet nothing crazy. It is rather bitter at the death. Much more acidic with water, it has citrus zest and pulp in a yoghurt with smoked persimmon and satsuma, the peels of which are dried to parchment and zested. That brings back a subtle bitterness alright. This may not be one of the great ones, but it is good all the same. And it swims well. 8/10

Lochside 25yo 1966/1991 (62.7%, Signatory Vintage, Oak Cask, C#3909, 1200b, b#569): distilled before and aged for longer than the previous dram, it also has a higher ABV. Nose: Madeira wine and cobblestones, followed by a waxy oilcloth tablecloth. It then continues the fortified-wine trip without turning wine-y. It produces a net of oranges or mandarines, and that leads to a wooden dresser not too far from the woodworm we had in Cadenhead's bottling. It pushes marmalade jars into the dresser and a box of eucalyptus powder. It is all very elegant. The second nose doubles down on oilcloth; it is a sailor's yellow oilskin, now, drying on the lower deck. It also has a minor vegetal note, some fern-like plant from a rain forest. It feels more warming with water, perhaps more welcoming, albeit indistinct. It gives the general feel of a radiator or a blanket, both hugely inadequate in this nth heat wave, without much character to it otherwise. Warm béchamel in lasagne, maybe? Mouth: remarkably mellow and syrupy at first, it is not long before the alcohol wakes up. That said, one would be pretty astute to guess this has a higher ABV than the previous. It is a souped-up syrupy Port, at this stage. Chewing gives a fleeting bitter kick, coffee-style, sprays hot Port all over the mouth, then offers a wooden coin to cool it down. Hot Port, prune syrup, elderberry syrup, pressed dried currants... It is dark and earthy, with a shovelful of jet-black earth of the kind one finds in a dunnage warehouse. The second sip is probably less dark; it introduces cranberries and lingonberries, and flirts with onion relish, which it never reaches. This clumsy blogger puts too much water. Mh. It still conjures up baked calamansis and cherimoyas, baked banana slices slathered with a mocha spread, and preserved hazelnuts. Finish: a similar story here, part syrupy, fortified dark-fruit wine, part dark earth. Prunes, currants, dried elderberries, dried blackcurrants mingle with coffee grounds, earth and a pinch of soot, even. It has a gentle woody tone too: eucalyptus powder, powdered lemongrass and a couple of grains of asafoetida pepper a spoonful of custard. The second gulp is akin to a fruity latte; hot milk, a bit of coffee and cranberry shavings. That would be served with a glass of Port on the side -- to make the coffee taste go away, you understand. It is at its best with water (even with a lot of water). More baked banana with a mocha-cream topping, hazelnut éclair and jellied pistachio. Boom. 8/10

09/07/2026 Three Littlemill

Littlemill 12yo 1984/1996 (43%, Signatory Vintage, Oak Casks, C#2440-41,1340b, b#404, 96/2142): nose: spirit-y, grainy, even, it has ester-y components too: dragon fruit and Korean pear, both wrapped in cellophane. The fruits become more assertive and welcome papaya in their midst, whilst the trademark Littlemill grated Aspirin grows in stature. Oh! it is not distracting, but it is there alright, crumbling like grout disintegrating between tiles. It then adopts a gentle hairy aspect, either a short-haired rug, or a pony's after grooming. We come back to fruits, now peaches worked into (blue) plasticine. The second nose fuses all that and the result is closer to lime and pomelo zest than anything else. Fragrant and promising to be bitter, it will inject some acidity too. At a push, one could detect pineapple chunks so unripe they are green. Mouth: a waxy entry that is not shy about its dilution. Without feeling weak, its clearly states its righteous place as a starter. Plasticine and waxy nectarines, a drop of ink, kumquats. Chewing adds apricot nectar peppered with crushed Aspirin and fruit-scented candlesticks. It has a lick of paraffin reminiscent of an unlit candle wick too, and blackberries and gooseberries lurk about. The second sip is juicier and sweeter, as if a pile of caster sugar had suddenly found its way into the fruit juice. We can definitely taste apricots, bergamots too, now, unripe papayas, calamansis, and a mint drop to elevate all that (you know the one; they come in a tube). Finish: a little green, it coats Mirabelle plums in milk chocolate. It also has dried apricots, stewed in a very-mild curry, and smoked kumquats. An extremely-vague grassiness tickles the sides of the tongue, while the centre sees pomelo zest and pomelo yoghurt, fruity, creamy and a trifle bitter. The second gulp seems more straightforward. It sees mint drops, lime zest and a pinch of grated Aspirin all added to smashed peach flesh that is a little too dry to be at its best. Nevertheless, this works a treat. 8/10

Littlemill 20yo 1984/2004 (46%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection): nose: clearly related, this one has a major distinction: a strong plastic note! Warm plastic buckets, warm plastic bottles, oilcloth in the sun. Beside are yellow fruits, crushed Aspirin and a dash of chocolate milk. Deeper nosing pulls something else to the surface and it does not seem to know whether to be green-grape juice or weak black coffee. Instead of opening up over time to reveal more fruits, it rallies around plastic and oilskins. It is original, if nothing else. There is a mild decay too, perhaps cured ham that really should have been finished a while ago. The second nose pushes a minty custard, ripe with smashed nectarines and white peaches. Plastic is still there, but it is limited to a watering can and a pair of wellies. Peach skins and sherbet show up on the late tip. Mouth: mellow enough, it has a generous dose of grated Aspirin in a lovely plum juice that does not see it coming. Fortunately, it is sweet enough on the sides of the tongue to overlook the Aspirin bitterness. Chewing swaps Aspirin for Aspirin Junior or a candy necklace, chalky, but also sweet(ened) and strawberry-flavoured. More-insistent chewing unearths Parma violet, or berry-flavoured cough drops. The second sip is bitterer. Alka Seltzer and its residue in an empty glass replace fruity Aspirin, and it takes some furious chewing to revive any fruitiness, really. Canary melon is quickly overtaken by lemons and calamansis coated in Alka Seltzer, and olive oil. Finish: warming, it shines brightly, if not for long. Blackcurrant cough drops, a smidge of menthol and unripe myrtles skedaddle in a cloud of chalk dust. All that is left is a lukewarm sensation on the roof of the mouth. It is otherwise quite short. The second gulp is harder. It feels very much like drinking Alka Seltzer, chalky and bitter. It even has the taste of the blister pack they came in -- aluminium. A nectarine larks about (in a nectarine fashion) in the very-long run, too little too late to make me love this. Unexpectedly weaker than the Signatory bottling. 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Littlemill 39yo 1977/2016 (42.5%, Cadenhead Cask Ends, Bourbon Hogshead): it is hard to accept that ten years have passed since we tried this. Nose: phwoar! No Aspirin here, but jelly caps, almost unnoticeable behind heaps of fruits. Cherimoya, papaya, peach, persimmon, chikoo, plum, greengage, and a drop of ink. It has a minor vegetal touch, unripe gooseberries and the bush they grew in. As a great surprise, it turns out those fruits are travelling to the market in a sack made of humid bandages, and it is raining mercurochrome on the way. A medicinal Littlemill? It would appear so! The second nose has lukewarm milk chocolate blended with water that was used to clean brushes after a watercolouring session. That may well be elevated by a dash of cranberry juice. Chalky medicine tablets observe from a distance, but never dip their feet. Mouth: boldly fruity from the off, it bathes the tongue in peach nectar (the texture as much as the taste) and parades its goods -- persimmon, peach, nectarine, cherimoya, chikoo, papaya, physalis. Chewing adds pineapple and a scented pencil eraser. Indeed, it has a pleasant rubbery bitterness that flirts with the medical function, yet no chalk, meaning no Aspirin. More ink at second sip, though it merely reintroduces cherimoya. Riding on its coattails are cloudberries, alpine strawberries, white currants, Rainier cherries, apricots and cranberries all sprayed with chocolate milk and served with a milky walnut spread. Finish: chocolate custard and hazelnut spread signal quite a departure from the nose and palate. It is at once creamy and bitter, nutty and sweet. If it is not devoid of all fruits, they are more sparse, cherimoya still the main actor, with support from chikoo and longan. It feels more potent at second gulp, more milky, and it adds chestnut purée to the mix, strangely augmented with a crushed mint leaf. Retro-nasal olfaction detects pineapple purée, something that would be at home in a chou à la crème, or an éclair with a walnut glazing instead of chocolate (of course, it exists!) Indisputable winner of the day. Superb. Also entirely different from what I wrote down in our first encounter. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, EG)

08/07/2026 Three Glendullan

Glendullan 11yo d.1984 (43%, James Macarthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: whew! That wakes one up. A crisp lemon juice poured onto hay bales. There may be calamansi too, as it promises a faint sweetness, but that is more in the background. Herbs show up upon deeper sniffing, rosemary, lemon thyme, oregano, all dried beyond recognition. Next to those herbs is incense -- church incense. It has got that unmistakable ashy scent that new-age boutiques of the world cannot achieve, the smell of incense bought in bulk decades ago and that has spent the meantime in the humid coolness of an oversized religious building. The second nose clears the nostrils more aggressively: a spray of windscreen defroster here, a whiff of rubbery cork there, abrasive incense ashes... Out of nowhere, spring-flower stems photobomb the picture. Mouth: mellow and creamy, it offers a delicious custard, satsuma smoothie and a moist sponge cake with a dash of lime juice. Chewing intensifies the lime acidity, adds a few stones for a mineral touch (driveway gravel) and sprinkles herbs on top (crushed bay leaves, dried rosemary and gunpowdered sage). The herbs' bitterness points at angelica, after a while, and Verdigris-covered copper. The second sip welcomes pineapple rings, less ripe than optimal, which means crunchy and a tad bitter. That is soon met by the citrus from earlier, more acidic, less bitter. Finish: less creamy in the finish, it swaps the custard for juicier notes of citrus -- grapefruit, lemon, lime juices dotted with lime zest. It washes all that with a dash of warm chocolate milk. Yes, it is acidic, bitter, warming to a degree, and rather comforting, all in all, seemingly made for a summer morning such as this. The second gulp is immensely sweet, almost gritty with caster sugar, an impression I will liken to some rums. That is wet with defroster served in a hammered-iron goblet, which is funny. An excellent Glendullan. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Glendullan-Glenlivet 25yo 1965/1990 (51.1%, Cadenhead): we step back in time, since this was bottled several years before the previous one was distilled. It was distilled before the distillery was rebuilt, in fact. One may consider they come from two different distilleries altogether, since only the site and the name are the same. Nose: it could hardly be more different. This one has a ton of OBE with tin lids and dust from the Industrial Revolution -- dusty old boilers, engines that have sat dormant for ages and that are so dusty and seized that one would hesitate to turn them back on, and cast-iron soil-stack pipes that could use a good jet-wash. It has an encrusted residue of smoke too, not at all relatable to peat, rather the smoke of derelict machinery, next to clogged sink and peaches heated and displayed on a zinc plate. Drier, dustier, more mineral at second nose, it evokes a mix of cereal dust (oak flakes) and quarry dust -- a quarry in which a fox passes fleetingly: a musky note tickles the nostrils. Mouth: oily and fruity at the start, it showcases green-grape juice, if said juice had an oilier texture, peach nectar, and a soft metallic touch. Chewing is like stepping on the gas pedal of an old automobile: a cloud of fumes comes out of the rickety mechanics, hot, acrid, strangely fulfilling. Smoked peaches and nectarines, smoked Golden Delicious apples, and that smoke comes out of a Moka tin pot that contains no coffee. The second sip rolls those nectarines in sherbet, which gives them a dusty citrus kick, something that is even more noticeable when swirling the liquid in the mouth; it is well acidic and pushes a hot galvanised-iron bucket on the length of the tongue. Finish: it is mellow and cake-like for a second, before it farts a huge cloud of diesel fumes, one that really sticks to the gob. It sucks on the street, but works remarkably well in this whisky. Hazelwood-fire smoke joins the diesel fumes and there are remnants of caramelised orange rinds on a zinc plate. It has a lingering bitterness at the death, part dusty zinc, part dried rosemary, yet the caramelised orange rinds give a sweetish counterpoint that works well. It seems more powerful at second gulp and leaves the tongue throbbing and a bit numb, closer to the effect of licking hot metal than that of a medical anaesthetic. When the taste buds slowly recover, they catch cut fruits (nectarines, oranges, chalky pears), milk chocolate, diesel fumes, a hot Moka tin pot and smoked sponge cake. I love this one. I find it even better than the 11yo. 8/10

Glendullan-Glenlivet 25yo 1965/1991 (51.1%, Cadenhead Original Collection, Oak Cask): funny how many online notes are from tasters who have tried this and the previous expression back to back too. theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com: not breaking ground since 2012! Is this one repackaged old stock of the previous bottling? The differing bottling dates suggest not, but every other detail is the same and that is the time they moved from the dumpy brown bottles to tall green ones. There is only one way to find out! Worth noting that this entry in the Original Collection is at cask strength, not the 46% that is the norm for that range. Nose: if anything, it is even closer to the Industrial Revolution. hot boiler tanks, engine rooms and their sweaty operators. Halved apricots appear on the horizon, served on a hot zinc plate. In a way, it is very similar to the previous, yet it is hairier -- hairballs more than horse's hair, but still hairy. Citrus rinds are next, fried in a dry frying pan and there is a faint whiff of mint toothpaste in the distance, obfuscated by hot metal. The second nose sees hot flour ready for the baking, a metallic worktop heated by the sun, a spoonful of ground coffee in a dry filter, and the hot brass buttons of a dry-cleaned uniform. Something else shows up, after a while, and I cannot tell if it is a plastic garden sprayer full of fertiliser in a greenhouse or a plastic bottle of some beverage that has gone off. Mouth: peaches and nectarines smashed into a pulp and heated -- you guessed it! -- on a zinc plate. Chewing calls back the hairy, sweaty machinery operators, but the musk and hairy character do not hide much of the hot-fruits-on-hot-metal that dominate. It seems stronger than its predecessor, and leaves a few singed taste buds in its wake. Warm orange juice (unfiltered) claws its way to the top, augmented with caramelised chopped orange rinds. Mellower at second sip, it has pouring honey and Mirabelle jam. Chewing pumps a vegetal bitterness into it, gently-smoked nettles or bergamot foliage, more than plant-stem sap, thankfully. Finish: it produces quite a kick on the way down, then it unleashes no end of lovely citrus, mostly oranges, but also satsumas and clementines. Warm marmalade, caramelised peels, baked zest, crystallised segments covered in hot syrup. Make no mistake: it retains hot dusty metal and hair, now reduced to very-dry ancient ropes, but citrus lead the way. The second gulp is just as satisfying, with warm metal, warm citrus foliage and orange segments so saturated with diesel fumes they are virtually unrecognisable, closer in character to the engine of a gunboat than juicy fruits. This is clearly not the same bottling repackaged, unless there are major bottle variations. In any case, the one before was good, but this one is even better. 9/10

07/07/2026 Speymalt

Macallan 2006/2020 (57.3%, Gordon & MacPhail Speymalt, C#9672, 294b): nose: woah! It is a huge Sherry cask, dry and earthy. Coffee grounds, to an extent, but more soil, earth, clay floors, nuggets of clay stuck to farming tools, and plant roots. For some reason, I am thinking of uprooted rhododendrons, but it is difficult to understand why, let alone explain it. A little downstream from that are prunes, elderberry compote, blackcurrant jelly and black shoe polish. Midnight-blue paint is next, drying on the body of a model car, then dead leaves and humus. More than the clay floor of a warehouse, this might be the dark soil of a forest. The second nose is more mechanical -- dusty (farming) machinery that has not been used for yonks and is in dire need of grease. It is a disused metallic downpipe in a warehouse that will likely burst upon contact with the first drop of water, so distressed it is. In the long run, we also pick up rancio and pickled oranges. Mouth: ooft! It is lively and strong. Chopped ginger dripping with its own juice, green chilli, mace in syrup. We also spot the expected prunes and currants, and, maybe, earth and honey mixed together. Chewing is akin to finding the key to a construction site where they are digging foundations: it becomes so earthy it is borderline comical. Dried fruits provide a backdrop, and there is no shortage of wood spices, ginger first, now joined by dried lemongrass and ground mace. The second sip is the deep purple of a mix of berries: blackcurrants, blueberries boysenberries, dewberries. Chewing gives it a cough-drop taste, which one could interpret as meaning it adds liquorice and camphor. A little medicinal, that way, it tramples those cough drops into dark, bramble-y earth. Finish: a tranquil force, it does its thing without shouting and it is only in the long run that one realises how powerful this is: the finish is coating and never-ending, really, with pineapple rings from a tin can heated white, chilli-infused currants, soil in tin cans, powdered ginger and ground mace. The second gulp reignites the dark-berry fire, with blackcurrants, blueberries, huckleberries, and myrtles all parading, albeit not very ripe. It has a late bitterness that comes unexpected. A strong 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, Savoureur)

06/07/2026 Laphroaig

Laphroaig 10yo (90 U.S. Proof, OB imported by Julius Wile, b.1975): nose: pear compote, white peach and ashes sprinkled all over them. Warm and burnt woods join the ashtray of a 1988 BMW 325i, and more fruits come out of it too -- stewed quinces, pears, apples, white peaches, apricots, maybe papayas. The moment one starts thinking that is it and it is now a fruity nose full stop, ashes come back at it and overwhelm the orchard. Phwoar! Ink joins a collection of fleeting scents, amongst which Manzanilla and nut liqueur. The second nose seems more bombastic yet, with a fruit cake whose crust has burnt somewhat, then lemon juice, followed by smashed raspberries and wild strawberries. Coffee steam comes out of a tin Moka pot, after a while. Did I say 'phwoar'? Mouth: nut liqueur is more assertive on the tongue, a little bitter, full, sweet and comforting. It is stored in a mahogany drinks cabinet in a smoking room. That is right: retro-nasal olfaction reveals a colossal-if-elegant pile of ashes. Chewing stirs those ashes into the afore-mentioned liqueur, which leads to no end of bitterness. A dash of apricot juice rectifies that with a welcome sweetness. Those ashes, though!... The second sip brings out the almond liqueur, although not as sickly sweet as the famous brand, and laces it with orange juice. It is less ashy, here, but smokier, and it adds Chinotto or smoked root beer, and smoked-apricot juice, even smoked gingerbread. Finish: ashes and smashed apricots in a cup of cold coffee. Most unexpected. It is a very-long finish and a balanced one, at that, one that juggles sweet and bitter notes with brio. It has some wood (dry logs), nutshells (walnut, mostly), dried apricots, moist peat bricks and a generous serving of ashes, the remains of the father, kept in an urn on the mantlepiece. The second gulp is, once again, less ashy, yet that does not quell the bitterness, which is now earthier. Root beer, Chinotto, hazelnut liqueur and a cool woody touch. It dies with a taste of half-baked chewy cookie dough laid to rest on a grille over barbecue ashes. What an adventure, this is! 9/10(Thanks for the sample, pat gva)