09/03/2026 Auchentoshan

Auchentoshan 23yo 1992/2015 (46.6%, Cadenhead Small Batch, Bourbon Oak Barrels, 456b, 15/260): nose: it starts off with a stripping whiff of pure alcohol. Industrial cleaning alcohol that one can easily imagine is used to make metal plates shiny. However, after a couple of minutes' breathing, it opens up and starts pushing fruits -- pineapple, tinned peaches, warm mango slices. Aha! It goes from fresh and tropical to stewed and preserved in a short period of time, and we find ourselves navigating jams and jellies: apricot, peach, but also poached apple. It has a gentle pastry thing going on, buttery shortcrust dusted with confectionary sugar, but nothing over the top. That pastry becomes bolder and more eggy, and I swear pastel de nata, a note that I read last Friday and that I have never used myself to-date (I think), is applicable, here. It soon becomes brighter and fresher, with tinned grapefruit segments and Mirabelle plums, followed by ground roasted nuts (which is less fresh). In the end, we catch a glimpse of caster sugar turning green with mould, and Verdigris. Wait! That is not the end: the Verdigris morphs into dried sage, after a while. The second nose has limoncello spilled into an open toolbox: sticky screwdrivers and wrenches smell of citrus. A minute later, we find a spoonful of confectionary sugar spilled in the same toolbox, and a pinch of dried sage. Mouth: it is a tad metallic on entry; moss-covered zinc and oxidised sheet-metal coils. Chewing cleans that up, gives us shiny metal once more, reminiscent of a razor blade, or a pencil-sharpener blade (though not as pronounced), which means it has a certain bitterness. There is a green side too (spurge) and an unripe-fruit aspect too, with bitter pomelo or satsuma that barely has any juice yet. Keeping it in the mouth long enough, it ends up giving some juice alright, with so much green-citrus peel that it will not be for everyone. The second sip is juicier, sweeter. Kumquat, bergamot, physalis in syrup. Only when chewing does one remember the metal (still a blade), yet it is so doused in fruit juice it is nothing to read negatively. Is there a pinch of ground white pepper, maybe? Furious chewing unveils something else: the stuffy velvet interior of an American town car left in the sun for too long. Finish: although green here too, the fruit starts to show a stronger personality. It still exhibits citrus, riper now, and paired with yellow fruits such as Mirabelle plum and physalis. That may well be served on a pewter plate, yet there is hardly any moss, let alone Verdigris (which only affects copper anyway). The second gulp is more-openly fruity; it revives the pineapple from the nose, couples it with pomelo and Shaddock, then augments the whole with dried bergamot foliage and one Kaffir lime leaf. Once the whole is sufficiently integrated, it is served in a metal ladle. It is the stainless steel of that ladle that gives us the final note: still full of the fruits it comes in contact with, but also confidently metallic and, therefore, a bit bitter. The lingering impression is that of chocolate-flavoured whipped cream, though, and that is delicious. This will probably have its detractors, while others will love it. Strangely enough, I had it a couple of days ago (from the same bottle), and it felt like a different dram altogether. Go figure. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, Psycho)

07/03/2026 Maman / Mum

Taking advantage of tOMoH and JS's flying visit to the Heimat, Psycho invited the gang for an afternoon of dramming.

The invitation said that the theme would be *drumroll* Maman (or Mum, in English -- or Mom in American). Of course, some toyed with the idea of using *drumroll* as a theme, a threat which others regret not seeing put to action.

Anyway, JS, ydc, GD, Bishlouk,red71, ruckus and tOMoH join Psycho, then, who delegates building the line-up to Bishlouk.

A task he carries out dilligently

dom666 is not at the station where the shuttle is supposed to pick him up. He will let us know almost an hour into the tasting that he is sick.

Psycho tells us (in French, because it is not translatable): "Quand on est petit et pas sage, que dit Maman? 'Attention! ça va Tulli-barder!'"

Tullibardine 10yo 2015/2025 (46%, James Eadie imported by BV Munros, finished in Refill Malaga Butt, C#373085, 630b, CBSC4 13812) (Psycho): nose: fresh, it then turns grassy and wine-y. We have crisp white wine, then olive oil and green olives, perhaps plums, but well hidden. The second nose has a dollop of sweet-and-sour sauce. Weird. There is also a fistful of hay. ruckus finds it spring-like. Mouth: oh! yeah, it is a big wine cask, this. Funnily enough, it flits from white to red. It becomes tannic at second sip, a notch leathery, which puts the fruit (plum) in the shadow a little. Finish: big, grape-y, it has a lick of cork and plum juice. The second gulp brings a cloud of dust. On the late tip, bitter chocolate rocks up, though the bitterness comes from crushed almond rather than a high-cocoa content. It could also be almond brittle. Competent. 7/10

Psycho's pigs-in-a-blanket

red71's famous chorizo canelés
Psycho's dry sausage on the left, that JS and I almost finished before anyone arrived

For the second dram, Psycho tells us that: "James Eadie est un embouteilleur independent, et Maman a fait toute sa carrière comme indépendante," which is French for 'freelance.'

Tamnavulin 11yo b.2025 (46%, James Eadie imported and distributed by BV Munros, 1x finished in Refill Bual Madeira Hogshead + 1 x Refill Butt, C#373078 & 800100, 1133b, CBSC4 13813) (Psycho): nose: red71 finds a certain freshness, while I detect musty warehouses. Behind that is butterscotch, followed by kaju katli and caramel-topped flan. Cereals slowly emerge, granola of some kind, brans. Mouth: the wine influence is more pronounced here. We have spices too, namely cinnamon gratings, cloves and wine-soaked orange slices. Perhaps hardened leather too, crackly, and dead leaves. This feels apt for a Christmas market, somewhere in Germany. Finish: boozed-up plum cake, sweet and full of purple fruits. 7/10

We talk about cops.

red71: "[Psycho's] superpower is to be stopped by the Police."
Psycho: "It's been a while. I'm due a control and, statistically, it'll be a big one."
Bishlouk: "Ah! Cavity search, then."

tOMoH introduces a Camembert-onbridge, because one of the most-well-known brands of cheese, Le Rustique, sports a red-and-white plaid in its wooden cases. That motif is similar to that of the lid on the jars of jam under the Bonne Maman brand. It has the desired effect.

And to illustrate...

Cameronbridge 33yo 1974/2007 (48.3%, Jim McEwan Celtic Heartlands, 1600b, b#0272) (tOMoH): nose: "smells like grain," a few voices go. I have pineapple and citrus peel, red71 has jam -- "Bonne Maman," says ruckus. Maybe it is apricot jelly. There is also a touch of tin that is typical of some grains. Mouth: "it stings!" (Bishlouk) Pure pineapple juice on entry, it develops a jam-jar-lid aspect that works well. Chewing gives a desiccating dimension. JS, on the other hand, finds buttered popcorn. Finish: a blend of pineapple juice and oat milk drunk from a metal cup. The second gulp sees a small explosion of pineapple and even mango that linger for a long time. 9/10

ruckus [looks at the next bottle]: "This bottle is disturbing. From here, I can only read: 'Martini.'"
Bishlouk: "From this side, I can only read: 'nique.'"

ydc explains that the next bottle was a gift from her brother. She adds that the link between her and her brother is their mother, whom they call Maman.

Trois Rivières Rhum Vieux (43%, OB, finished in Teeling Casks) (ydc): nose: dried mango slices and curry powder. Bishlouk finds it a medicinal touch -- "That's the Martini!" (ydc) Psycho smells latex -- that must be the nique! Mouth: super fruity, it has grapefruit, pomelo, pink grapefruit, peels and all. It is sweet too, combined with a bold bitterness -- we even have pith. Finish: light and fruity. In fact, the fruit is exuberant, almost too much. red71 calls it a little over the top and, yes, it is close to vulgar. It still works for me. Last to speak is ruckus, who pinpoints lychee. 7/10

tOMoH tells the story of the businessman who visits a factory in China in the 1980s and desperately needs to visit the commodities -- where he finds no paper. (You had to be there)

ruckus tells the group that his mother's name is Gi____. Everybody calls her Gigi. That brought him to the famous song: Dalida - Gigi l'Oloroso

Millstone Oloroso Sherry (46%, OB, B#4) (ruckus): for clarity, the distillery is called Millstone; the family who operates it is Zuidam. A bit like Dornoch is the distillery and Thompson the owners. No-one goes around and calls it the Thompson distillery. Not sure why online resources are so confused when the information is clearly written on the label. Nose: red71 detects sulphur. I have plum-scented erasers, earth soaked with heady wine, a drop of ink and a whiff of rubber. ruckus, who bought this unknowingly in a garage sale, finds it vulgar, while Psycho calls it a bit of a caricature. There is a certain aroma that reeks of wet old socks. Mouth: heavy and heady. Mulled wine, Christmas candles, heady pot-pourri pouches... This is really  a Christmas-market lodge, with the sort of random wooden tat and clay pots one can only find in that setting. Finish: mellow and velvety, it quickly turns fruity (grapes, plums, prunes). This finish is clearly the strongest feature, especially the cured-citrus slices that it now gives. The nose is, ahem, particular. The rest is fine. 6/10

red71: "For a Dutch whisky, it's not bad."

red71: "Do you know Chuck Norris's father? He doesn't have one. Nobody fucks with Chuck's mother!"

Psycho invites us to change rooms and eat. red71 goes wash his hands.

red71: "tOMoH! There is no paper in the toilets!"

In better news: two batches of pasta salad with cucumber and chicken

Not much remains after our efforts

ruckus and red71 brought something from the same distillery. ruckus because of Maman-nochmore. red71 has a longer story.

red71: "Someone asked me for my name. I said, 're-re-re-red71.' The guy asked me if I had a stammer. I don't, but my father had. And the employee at the register office was a proper arsehole about it. Well, my father would have called my mother (In French), 'Ma-ma-ma-mannochmore."

Mannochmore 13yo (54.8%, Dràm Mòr, Refill Bourbon Oak Hogshead, C#3088, 275b, b#257) (ruckus): nose: gravy and egg white, Horlicks, porridge. We note some fruits and a pinch of ash too. It has a dirty touch that reminds Bishlouk of some Ben Nevis. red71 observes dusty cardboard. Mouth: it kicks harder than expected. Ground pink pepper, sawdust and chopped prunes. Chewing makes it juicier, yet it remains a woody affair. Finish: it seems tamer, here, meaning less punchy. Ink-stained prunes and plums, gravy again, cereal dust, gravy granules, tannins. It does the trick. 7/10

vs.

Mannochmore 15yo 2007/2022 (54%, Signatory Vintage The Un-Chillfiltered Collection Cask Strength exclusively bottled for Whisky Club Luxembourg & Whiskyworld Massen, Hogshead, C#6680, b#224) (red71): nose: buttery (Psycho). Indeed, it is croissant dough and Kouign-Amann, buttercups, daffodils, even narcissuses. There is a whisper of waxy plums, then honey starting to settle. The second nose has dry, earthy prunes and the associated syrup. Mouth: very similar to the Dràm Mòr on the tongue. Strong, peppery, dusty. It is clearly woody too, with dark wood falling into rot, mushroom-soaking water and pan-gratings at second sip, in which were fried mushrooms. Finish: long, it has slightly-rotten tree bark. The second gulp is earthy and prune-y. Same general quality as its sibling. 7/10

We tease Bishlouk about his haircut.

Bishlouk:"I do have hair. I shave it."
GD: "Are you sure it's head hair, not body hair?"
tOMoH: "It's anal hair climbing up his back. Sorry, it was too tempting."
Bishlouk: "Bah! I hear that once a week."
red71: "...and consider that he works from home four days a week!"

Last-minute line-up change: Bishlouk swaps the next two bottles, confident that the Mannochmore duo are a perfect introduction for his own bottle.

Bishlouk, armed with decades of research, tells us that Ben Nevis is a mountain. We are all stunned at the revelation. He adds that a mountain is shaped like a woman's breast, which is a very motherly thing.

Ben Nevis 21yo (53%, Artful Dodger, Refill Bourbon Hogshead, C#674) (Bishlouk): nose: it has a dirty-Ben Nevis profile, with wet plaster, unripe orchard fruits and a warm Flokati rug, if not sheep skin with tatters of flesh still attached to it. It then pushes warm umeshu and rambutan. Bishlouk finds it an industrial side, with turpentine and white spirit. I tell him he should drink turpentine and white spirit, because they are much cheaper, while noticing cranberry sauce. Mouth: hairy, greasy, it has shiny engine pieces (cylinder heads) splashed with unripe plum juice. It feels a little green and bitter, but full of charm nonetheless. Despite that, each sip has a drop of windscreen defroster that I enjoy, but is not for everyone. Finish: it starts off on the dirty side, then quickly acquires a bitter fruity profile, with unripe orchard fruits (plums are really prominent). 8/10

Time for ydc's desserts. Finger-licking good.

Chocolate fondant (bottom) and a cake with chocolate granules (top)

JS presents 99.13, whose name is Exotic scenes in a Bedouin tent. She tells us of the Bedouin keffiyeh, the well-known headscarf that often has a motif that looks like... that on the lid of a Bonne Maman jar.

Case in point (Hergé, Coke en Stock, Casterman)

And to illustrate that Hergé was not making it up...

99.13 31yo 1980/2011 Exotic scenes in a Bedouin tent (43.8%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Hogshead, 98b) (JS): tOMoH tried this one earlier in the week, so these will be short notes. Nose: fruit turnovers, or, at least, pastry, that much is really clear. Mouth: jammier than the other day and still exquisite. Finish: "It lets itself drink," says Bishlouk, who is the source of many a dad noise, all of a sudden. I adore this. 10/10

GD explains he opened the door of his drinks cabinet and saw the next bottle, the label of which sports a duck. He thought it is a drake and spring is around the corner, so it must be looking for a female to make her a mum."

Caroni 18yo 1997/2015 (50.5%, Whisky-Fässle, Barrel) (GD): nose: corn syrup and rye (as in: rye whiskey). Then, we have plastic and shiny new tyres, as well as oilskin. Mouth: hot, it has plastic, melted cellophane and torrefied coffee. Finish: melted plastic here too, oilskins laid on a stove to dry. Psycho calls it volatile, to which Bishlouk replies: "Of course! It's a duck." It is another good Caroni. 8/10

We reach the end. Everyone observes how reasonable we were, today, and that it is just as well. Indeed, it must not be Burns' Night line-ups every time we meet.

06/03/2026 Unfinished business MkII (Part 3)

Glen Garioch 46yo 1958/2004 (43%, OB Limited Edition Bottling, 336b, b#117, L045209 007): nose: is it too soon or too early to say: "phwoar?" Because it is truly justified. Here are aromas of fruity sweets and earth in a way that takes us to farmland in the 1950s. At first, it is rasp- and strawberries, fresh, dried and sliced, yet also as bubble gum or toothpaste flavouring. Then, almost simultaneously, but with a fraction of a second's delay, it is dry earth from a pine-tree clearing, followed by the remnants of a camp fire on a spring morning. We go back to fruitier tones, this time chewy citrus jellies (with but little added sugar), then charred-wood gratings in Indian ink. That ink ventures towards sea water, never reaches it, and rushes to puddle water instead, dotted with droplets of diesel. Indeed, it is suddenly a puddle of water with a film of diesel on the surface that looks like a rainbow. However, it changes again, now becoming lukewarm black coffee with too much sugar in it. And dry earth returns, with a few roots thrown in for shits and giggz (beetroot peels, sugar beets), and a splash of a delicious nut liqueur. The second nose is earthier yet; dark earth caked between the tracks of tractor tyres, mocha ground, a hay bale full of field dirt, and tobacco ashes. It even has a whisper of gas, in the long run, which gives another farm-y, manure-like allure to this too. I dare not say, "septic-tank-like" for fear it could be seen as a negative trait when it is not. To punctuate that, it peddles orange concentrate. Mouth: a mellow entry introduces something calm, yet more powerful; a sleeping warrior. Already, it has a root-y, earthy bitterness (chicory, beets, endives). Chewing adds fleeting ink, then pumps in a bold sweetness to balance the bitter touch. Cold chicory infusion would be the logical descriptor, yet that is not all. It is more root-y than it is bitter and the sugar one would expect of a chicory infusion oscillates between strawberry bubble gum and maple syrup -- and either would be unusual in one such infusion. There is a thin smoke rising in the background, as if coming out of a steaming Moka pot, and the bitterness grows, which supports that hypothesis. Bringing the glass close to one's ear while chewing, one can hear some Frenchman somewhere regretting the low ABV. In truth, it does not distract one much and, let us face it, if this was diluted at all, it must have been by one or two percent at most: after forty-six years in a cask, a whisky tends to be in the low forties, in terms of strength. The second sip feels more acidic, if not stripping. It is still earthy and fruity, with new fruits: we now spot fresh pineapple, unripe tangerine and citrus bark. Chewing revives the root-y infusion, now closer to mocha than chicory, and it is accompanied by a gentle smoke to coat the gob. On the late tip, we even detect discreet lychee. Finish: chicory infusion augmented with maple syrup. It is warming, sticky, sweet and bitter in equal measures, and satisfying to a point that is hard to describe other than with a sigh of comfort. A very, very long finish that tops the tongue with a veneer of earth, then sprays a Mokatine solution on the roof of the mouth. The second gulp has more Mokatine, this time intertwined with citrus flavours, more acidic and bitter than they are sweet: citrus bark (blush orange front of stage), dried pulp, pink-grapefruit slices dunked in sangria, then air-fried to a crisp, cinnamon sticks and star aniseed soaked in blush-orange juice. Repeated quaffing dares introduce heather brush, lavender twigs and tropical fruits (rambutan, lychee), which supplements the gentle smoke, mocha and citrus in a way that will make some giddy. This is un-fucking-believable. 10/10

I thought I would have time for a second dram, but I am mentally exhausted. Also, we had the Bowmore from Unifinished business a little over a year ago.

02/03/2026 Unfinished business MkII (Part 2)

Dailuaine 46yo 1973/2019 (45.1%, Hunter Laing Old & Rare A Platinum Selection, 231b, b#151): nose: one sniff and it is heaven already! Green grapes, sultanas and a crisp Chablis. This is light, ethereal and very, very fruity. One could explore this for hours and never suspect how long it has spent maturing in oak, so fresh and vibrant it is. At the same time, it is not without complexity -- far from it! It has a whiff of brine and a minute wood scent limited to an oiled kitchen table made of birch. Then, it is waxy (Mirabelle) plums and physalis, unripe apricot displayed on a hay bale, a pair of wellies worn once or twice indoors (to try them on, you know), distant cheese (Pié d'Angloys, freshly wrapped)… Yes, between the hay and the freshly-made cheese, it develops a countryside allure, for a bit. It is not long before we are enjoying white wine again, however. Tilting the glass adds raisin soaking water to the mix. The second nose is fruitier yet, with baked Mirabelle plums, apricot jelly stewing in a cauldron, and distant forsythia (which is a flower, not a fruit, I know). We still detect that subtle cheese reference, now closer to Brie, still not overly ripe. It must be a British cheeseboard: soft-rind cheese, not very ripe, a bunch of grapes (green and dark, now) and a celery stick, fresh, fruity, vaguely nutty and, well, cheesy. Mouth: mellow, it prolongs the wine-like quality of the nose with squashed grapes (skin on), plum skins (which hints at orange wine) and fortified wine -- Fino comes to mind, though not as mineral; Manzanilla? Chewing pours sultana soaking water on the lot -- water that was warmed on a wood fire. It grows a soft bitterness, likely sultana stems that were also soaked in the same water, candlewax, plastic grapes... This is insanely good! The second sip appears more acidic; it has a dash of orange wine, cut grapes soaked in said wine, and an ashy touch that each chew amplifies. To say it is burnt-vine ash may be a stretch of the imagination, but it still comes across as fruity, ashy green grapes, in a Sauvignon-blanc kind of way. Finish: warming and comforting it still retains that fruity, waxy freshness. Grapes, real and plastic-y, both green. It has a tiny dryness akin to that left by a glass of Fino, and a sprinkle of ashes. It is a long finish, strangely plastic-y, waxy, fruity. Once more, one would be hard pressed to guess that this has spent forty-six years in oak, so unwoody it is. Brie rind re-enters, timidly, which suggests a faint lactic-acid note. The second gulp drops beach pebbles into the wine, polished by millennia of tides, yet with none of the salt. It is resolutely grape-like in flavour: a drop of white-wine vinegar and grape-pip oil complement the grape-y story. On the late tip, the finish introduces warmed prunes, darker, earthier and a little hairier, reminiscent of Madeira or Pedro Ximénez, rather than Fino or Manzanilla. Amazing. 10/10

Glen Grant 46yo 1966/2013 (45%, Gordon & MacPhail specially bottled to celebrate Gordon & MacPhail being awarded The Queen’s Award for Enterprise for International Trade, Sherry Hogsheads, C#5062+5063+6717, AC/ACBH): nose: this is less shy with the wood and shows its age a bit more clearly. We suffer a slap of rancio, then catch oiled shelves made of oak, a pile of logs for the fire, and woodworm-riddled old doors to secret cellars. Little by little, that opens up and allows other aromas to filter through: blue- and blackberry jams, amber honey setting slowly, embers cooling off, and dried currants stored in a yellow corrugated-plastic container (think of that brand of cocoa powder). Breathing time makes this nose more discreet, save for the embers, which become warmer, augmented with cut plums and blueberries. We also spot hazelnut paste smeared on a wooden cutting board. The second nose unfolds an odd mix of pipe tobacco, chalky masonry dust, grout, grated prune, charred wood and musty clay from a mushroom cave. What a ride! Mouth: rancio it is! Prunes, syrup, a pinch of dark earth. Chewing exposes just how sweet this is: it explodes with rehydrated raisins, before moving to dried figs and dates, which is to say earthier dried fruits. Madeira wine joins the party, as do stewed grapes, a spoonful of dark honey, and raisins and currants aplenty. The second sip converts raisins into sultanas and Smyrna, and adds preserved ginger slices dripping with syrup. Retro-nasal olfaction picks up whispers of tropical fruits (dried mango slices, dried apricots) and oily Virginia tobacco. The palate is now both sweet and gently smoky, which, if unexpected, works very well. Repeated sipping brings forth chewing tobacco and a lick of tannins to supplement the sultanas that remain the loudest. Finish: it continues in the same mood: a cascade of raisins and prunes (though no syrup, this time), earthy, borderline rubbery. Honestly, there is less wood involved, here, perhaps a gentle patina, or a build up of dark honey. It shows a thin bitterness, yet namedropping coffee would be inaccurate. At a push, Mokatine would be closer -- or caramel. Lastly, we have Paxarette and oily-tobacco pouches made of worn-out soft leather. Despite all that, this is the first dram of the series in which the dilution is noticeable, if one wants to be pernickety about it. Although absolutely not weak or thin, it feels less coating, even at the commendable strength of 45%. The second gulp pours a drop of green-grape syrup on Virginia tobacco, spreads honey onto the seat of a rustic Condroz chair, and mixes sultanas with earthier, rootier candied ginger. It may be a bit behind the previous dram, but larger gulps elevate this from very good to excellent. I like it better than the first time. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

99.13 31yo 1980/2011 Exotic scenes in a Bedouin tent (43.8%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Hogshead, 98b): nose: tasted blindly, one would be excused for thinking this is another Sherry maturation. It has got rancio and pickle brine more pronounced than any of the preceding drams, some of which were from Sherry casks. That said, pickled pearl onions quickly fade away and make room for rows of books on honey-golden wooden shelves, followed by toasted sourdough and almond butter. Each sniff reveals deeper meaning as the honey jar divulges plastic tubs of chocolate spread, itself giving way to wooden cutting boards, followed by baked papaya and lukewarm tin cans. It then drops a dollop of mild mustard onto the papaya, before coming back to tin -- this time, tin cutlery used to cut the papaya on a slate. What emerges the most is the knife grating against the slate. In the background, surreptitiously, a baked mango rises. It never shouts, content to satisfy only the inquisitive noser. The second nose has tobacco (cigar leaves, to be precise) and faded aromatic herbs (marjoram, rosemary twigs, thyme brush, lovage seeds) -- oh! nothing brash, really; it is as subtle as possible. In fact, it could be tumbleweeds. That all turns fresher, more vibrant, at some point: mint or sage twigs, dry lime leaves. Tobacco follows closely, then quince jelly, less sweet than membrillo. Mouth: velvety on entry, it feels calm yet complete. The modest ABV is largely sufficient, and the fact it went down naturally, rather than by adding water, gives the impression it kicks more than the previous dram, despite the lower strength. Chewing opens the floodgates to honey, chocolate spread and mango paste. One may be tempted to say fig relish, yet it is not as sweet, and certainly does not have the pips that would give such relish texture. Suddenly and without warning, the whole mouth is filled with a gentle smoke -- smoke from burning fruit-tree wood, toaster smoke (where sourdough touches the resistance), grilled fruits. The second sip has a noticeable lick of metal. Then, it reignites the pickled-pearl-onion fire, albeit briefly: that soon turns into moist cigar leaves and tropical fruits, as if one were alternating between drinking fruit juice from a tin cup and sucking on an unlit cigar. Exquisite, I say. Repeated sipping suggests a blend of Fino and Riesling. Finish: it is an explosion of slightly-smoky fruit jams that splatters dusty old metal (zinc or cast iron). Mango skins rubbed on a zinc plate, papaya in a galvanised-steel bucket, a puff of smoke from a canal-boat's boiler room, dried cranberries with a dusting of ground cumin, candied cubed papaya and cubeb. The second gulp cranks up the cigar impression; it has dry smoke, but also nicotine and, once again, tOMoH is pushed to think of Paxarette, for some reason, although it is more likely oily tobacco in a tea bag and a spoonful of elderberry or prickle-pear jelly. The smoke is increasingly acrid while remaining soft, overall, and the whole feels a tad acidic to boot. Smoky quince jelly kept in a faded-suede pouch, probably. Imagine filling an Aosta wineskin with quince jelly, then blowing cigar smoke into it -- ha! ha! Look, I could write another ten pages about this, but what would the point be? It is better than last time, if that is possible. No wonder it made me fall in love with the distillery, when it was released. 10/10

27/02/2026 Unfinished business MkII (Part 1)

A rerun of the historic 2024 tasting of the same name.

Tomintoul 46yo 1967/2013 (47.6%, The Whisky Agency, Refill Hogshead, 215b): nose: phwoar! (already) Here is a mix of ripe grapes, plums, rehydrated raisins and crayons. Perhaps it has a whiff of scented pencil eraser too, yet it does not smell rubbery at all. That quickly becomes blackberry paste or jelly, and even sirop de Liège. Apricots and nectarines follow, especially nectarines, with their waxy skin, then dark grapes that are growing a veil of lichen. Crayons sigh in comfort before disappearing into the background, in time for the whole to turn a lot juicier. Grape juice, plum juice, pressed nectarines, a dash of prune syrup, smashed myrtles and blackberries... Jacob Ree-ZOMG! what a tantalising nose. With a bit of fantasy, one may catch a soft whisper of smoke, yet it is really a fruit basket in a room that happens to have a coal stove. It certainly is not a strong feature. The second nose adds brambles and currants. It comes closer to a berry bush, but remains well fruity. In fact, it soon runs back to grapes and rehydrated raisins. It has hints of umeshu before slapping this taster in the nose with pineapple slices and juicy grapefruit segments. A custard-stained wooden board quickly comes to the rescue and ushers the fruits away. We are saved. Later yet, we have a dusting of confectionary sugar -- or cosmetic powder, come to think of it. Mouth: unctuous, mellow, it follows the trail carved by the nose, with fresh and rehydrated fruits, maybe stewed ones too. Raisins and grapes, plums and prunes, blueberries. Minimal chewing adds (all sorts of) oriental delicacies, starting with honey, and, via Medjool dates, landing on rose water. It has a soft note of wood too -- and, after forty-six years in a cask, how could it not? -- but that is no match for the growing rose-petal jelly that takes over. Dates remain in the lead, however. The second sip has a bolder acidity: we find green grapes, now, unripe gooseberries, and even Chinese gooseberries. Chewing restores the mellow fruity side we have come to know and love, with the acidity consigned to the back benches, in the form of stewed berries and rhubarb. More chewing brings soft candied grapefruit peel and stem ginger. Yum! Later on, we perceive a pinch of birch sawdust. Finish: here too, it is oriental-dessert heaven. Medjool dates, raisins (rehydrated or not), dried plums and apricots, prunes. The finish is a little woodier, with honey-golden oaken jewel cases and polished-walnut dashboards. Nevertheless, it is those dates that speak the most loudly, while remaining distinguished and elegant. The second gulp takes on a pastry profile, bilberry tart or gooseberry turnover, augmented with mixed peel and thin pouring custard. It still has a gentle acidity that flirts with a minute bitterness, which suggests the use of underripe fruits in that pastry. The more one sips, though, the redder the berries, and, therefore, the riper. Smoked strawberries in a shortcrust case with a drop of pouring custard, warm rhubarb compote spread on a slice of bilberry tart, peach clafoutis sprinkled with ginger powder, poached pears on a soft waffle, and it ends with chewy fruit sweets that have lost their potency. Phwoar! 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Teaninich 46yo 1975/2021 (47.4%, Sansibar JD’s Personal Choice No.4, Bourbon Hogshead, 158b): nose: this one too has an ethereal quality that only long ageing can impart. It is a trifle vegetal and flowery, with bunches of honeysuckle and sarcococca, albeit less exuberant than those can be. It has some herbs too, probably mint and lemon mint, Thai basil (at a push) and bay leaves, yet it would be an exaggeration to call it herbal. No, the dominant are the little flowers. Several sniffs in, it acquires citrus foliage (bergamot, tangerine) and vine leaves coated in marmalade. Then, that turns into pastry: we find ourselves with a piece of lime-drizzle cake under our nose, sweet-but-lean, fluffy and appetising AF. A generous dollop of warm plum-and-apricot jam follows, which adds to the pastry impression. This nose is a slow burner, but when it gets going, it will not stop seducing. After thirty minutes of breathing, the second nose, is more assertive. Unexpectedly, it has strong aromas of toasted sourdough. A little attention helps detect grapes and plums on a barbecue grille too -- a complete surprise! The flowery notes from earlier have morphed into an elegant Cologne. Wood follows shortly, cut brambles and fruit-tree branches. Mouth: soft and sweet, it is pretty timid upon entry. A spoonful of apricot jam, maybe tangerine marmalade, cold yuzu tea. Chewing unveils a much-bolder number, one that deploys plenty of wood (old acacia shelves), stem ginger and fresh honey. With that wood comes a tiny bitterness that is soon overrun by honey. The undeniable sawdust, white pepper and galangal shavings that appear are overcome by jam and marmalade just as promptly, until we can only perceive bush flowers (sarcococca confusa again, honeysuckle to a lesser extent). The second sip paints a stark contrast: it starts off all leafy and bitter, and feels similar to biting into ivy leaves (do not try!) It takes a few seconds to regain composure, past which it provides citrus (foliage included) and the honeyed wood from earlier. It has a touch of ozone too, perhaps hair lacquer mingling with berries (wild strawberries, rosehips, bilberries). Finish: it somehow becomes leafier again, crushed bay leaves and vine leaves filled with stem ginger. A pinch of dust permeates every aspect of this, whether it is ginger powder, ground white pepper, sawdust, or sodium bicarbonate. It is much less sweet, at this stage, and whatever citrus is left is presented as ground dried peels, rather than candied, or as marmalade. That makes for a more-robust finish. Some may regret that. The second gulp is in line. Dusty citrus foliage, bone-dry orange zest, dried lemongrass ground to a fine powder and, just maybe, amchur. The contrast between sweet citrus and dry powdered spices repeats with each sip, but it never becomes monotonous or predictable, let alone boring. Fascinating dram, in fact! 9/10

Dumbarton 46yo d.1964 (47.4%, Hunter Hamilton The Clan Denny, Refill Hogshead, C#HH7542): nose: this smells like an open bottle of acetone next to a plateful of toasts at the breakfast table. Gingerbread follows, with blackberry pancakes in tow, and blackcurrant-jam residue on the warmed tin lid of the jam jar. That blackcurrant becomes so distinct it is Invergordonian, but that toasted bread is the differentiator. We catch a spoonful of Demerara sugar, almost immediately joined by smashed berries of a redder kind; raspberries, mulberries, boysenberries, dark cherries. The tin and (white) bread are never too far behind, mind. The second nose untoasts the bread: it is now spongy, almost crumpet-like, slathered with jam. Why anyone would put jam on an untoasted crumpet is a mystery to me, by the way. Each to their own. It works on the nose anyway. And then, hot tin helps it stand up. Is that pineapple bark, in the long run? Mouth: ooft! Pure berries or currants juice upon entry. Ten seconds in, tin comes into focus too. Chewing releases a torrent of smashed berries of all colours (blueberry, blackcurrant, strawberry, mulberry, blackberry, cranberry, gooseberry, physalis). The acidic touch at the top of the palate seems to be saying that blackcurrant is the top dog, but not by much. This turns a notch woodier, after a while, mostly brambles and some may detect a drop of liquid glue, although it is discreet. The second sip is as unsubtle as they come: it is berries jam on warm crusty bread, plain and simple. Looking for it with intent, we could isolate vanilla custard dotted with açai berries, or blueberry cheesecake. Besides, there is a lick of warm tin. However, really, it is jam and bread. Repeated sipping brings a chalky feel to the gums. Finish: the initial hit is that of cellophane, interestingly enough. It does not have much of the glue that some grains may showcase, but it is definitely in the solvent quadrant of the spectrum. Past that cellophane, it rolls out dark berries again: blackcurrant, huckleberry, bilberry, açai berry, Halle Berry, black raspberry. It is a never-ending finish that brings back Demerara wrapped in cellophane. The second gulp has that same cheesecake from the mouth, berry-flavoured toothpaste heated to the temperature of compote (not that horrible strawberry stuff for children that tastes like chemicals), a few drops of pineapple juice, but mostly berries. Even elderberry cough drops make a late appearance, as does a refreshing tingle that is probable menthol more than camphor. Delicious! 9/10