25/04/2026 The Whisky Fair (Day 1 -- Part 3) Rarities for Charity

This year, JS and I are attending the Rarities for Charity tasting with elskling and LsR. OO is here too, as are thirty-or-so others. Gérard Hofmann is hosting with Henrik Schmidt. Patrick de Schultess is busy elsewhere, so he is not there.

J. & G. Grant from the Glenlivet District 5yo d.1967 (40%, Grant Bonding imported and distributed by Girolamo-Luxardo)

Nose: austere, it has lots of cardboard, pickled gherkins, hay. JS finds OBE and toasted cereals in an old library. A cardboard box used to transport vanilla.

Mouth: same cardboard action, perhaps leather and, if any fruit, it is bone-dry strawberry slices. elskling finds it mineral.

Finish: cereal-y, a bit raw. We may find vanilla biscuits (JS) or digestive biscuits. It is so chock-full of cereals it could also just be Horlicks.

Comment: good, provided one likes cereals. How unlikely is it that we would try two of those J. & G. Grant in less than a year, eh?

Score: 8/10

Starter is served.

Spargelsuppe

Tomatin 28yo 1982/2010 (55.3%, Scotch Single Malt Circle, Sherry Cask, C#29, 574b)

Nose: this is entirely taken over by the Sherry cask. Fruits do kick into gear, fortunately. It is a compact and almost intimidating nose, though. Last to appear are crayons and dried peach slices.

Mouth: och! Pickled red onions, pearl onions from a jar. That recedes to deliver unripe berries, but it remains a big, scary Sherried dram.

Finish: creamy and fruity, it has lots of berries, yet that is sadly hampered by a sour, briny note.

Comment: considering how difficult these bottlings are to get hold of, it is always interesting to try one. I cannot say I am entranced by this particular one, all the same.

Score: 6/10

The next bottle is presented by the Scotch Single Malt Circle ambassador herself. She explains in detail how the founder introduced the Scotch Malt Whisky Society into Germany who gave her a choice in the 1990s: to pay a large sum of money and continue or to jog on. She did not have said large sum of money and parted ways with the SMWS, but carried on pushing liquid, now with another club, the SSMC.

I had no knowledge of that story and welcome the informative introduction.

Clynelish 9yo 1990/1999 (57.4%, Scotch Single Malt Circle, C#3210)

Nose: mint paste applied on waxy fruits. It has spent wick too. Honestly, it is not perfectly balanced, out of this freshly-opened bottle, but it is promising. The second nose has vanilla custard and a sweet shortcrust.

Mouth: mmmh! Wax, yellow fruits punctuated with a lot of pepper and a pinch of ash. The waxy fruits probably come out most, but it is also rather strong, a sensation increased by the presence of white pepper. Water tones that down and lets the fruits shine brighter.

Finish: dry, hot, waxy and fruity. It has a lot of ash propping up yellow fruits (plum, Mirabelle plum, peach). Water makes this softer and fruitier, and increases the presence of yellow and white fruits, which eclipse wax and wick almost entirely.

Comment: this is a belter. Were it not for the imbalance on the palate at first, it would score higher.

Score: 8/10

Henrik goes geeky-and-three-quarters for the next bottle. He tells us (too much about) how to date a bottle of White Horse, how the various sovereigns on the seal give the era, which label goes with which bottle engraving, how the brand name evolved, what the thickness of the tin foil tells us et caetera. Twice, the audience claps to put a stop to the logorrhea; twice, he tells us he has more to say. Being a geek myself, I am torn: what he tells us is immensely interesting; on the other hand, we have a strict deadline. I also notice he is losing the crowd at pace.

Tin-foil stories.

On the right, a 1980s bottling.

On the left, a 1940s bottling.

In fact, the explanation takes so long that JS's right-hand-side neighbour pulls out a bottle from his bag and starts pouring it. "It has the white horse on the label; I thought it would be interesting to try them side by side."

Main course enters at the same time for total overload. I elect to eat first.

Pasta with mushrooms and courgettes

LsR: "I am reminded that only the French can make bread."
tOMoH: "I am reminded that the French abroad are insufferable."

Glen Elgin 12yo (no ABV, OB, no bottle size, SC803)

Nose: hay and muesli punctuated by yellow fruits.

Mouth: a lovely old bottling, it has lemon zest in cream custard. Citrus rises and rises.

Finish: soft and citrus-y, the hay note is a little too pronounced for me.

Comment: always nice to try these old dusties.

Score: 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, T)

The Blended Scotch Whisky of the White Horse Cellar (86.80° Proof, White Horse Distillers imported by Browne Vintners, b#AU915749, b. ca. 1940s)

Nose: it smells well integrated, but also a bit mass-produced. We have suede and hay, I guess.

Mouth: soft, it continues dishing out suede, now with leather and corduroy cushions.

Finish: easy, it has a lick of leather, dry hay and horse's hair (or is that the power of suggestion?)

Comment: just like the one we had earlier this month, this is fairly nondescript and not worthy of the reputation it enjoys in some circles, in my opinion. And I that it contains Malt Mill does not change my opinion.

Score: 7/10

After spending too long on the first four drams, we pick up the pace.

Lochindaal 12yo 2010/2022 (49.9%, The Finest Malts for DramOff, Bourbon Barrel, C#4395, 72b)

Nose: roasted fruits and faint smoke.

Mouth: sweet, porridge-y, it is also acidic, fruity and farm-y to an extent. Some find it peaty, but I do not. It does become salty at second sip, on the other hand.

Finish: long and bold, dry, smoky, farm-y in a mud cake way.

Comment: unremarkable. There is nothing wrong with it; I simply do not find it impressive.

Score: 6/10

Irish Single Malt 28yo 1989/2017 Vol.1 (56.2%, Limited Whisky Investment The Monkey Series in co-operation with Sansibar, Bourbon Cask, 164b, 16/05058)

Nose: mango purée, melted papaya, squashed persimmon, butternut purée (JS), then baked puff pastry and stewed peaches.

Mouth: wonderful. Mango turnovers followed by hot metal baking trays and baked satsumas. This has 'pastry' written all over it.

Finish: lots of hot turnovers slightly tainted by the metal tray they were baked on. It is a bit unbalanced, here, too liberal with the metal, if very acceptable.

Comment: we are nit-picking. It is not one of the great Irish, but it is a great whiskey. By the way, the bottle code suggests it was bottled in 2016, whatever the label reads.

Score: 8/10

JS: "It is lacking in maracuja."

Dessert.

Tiramisù

Glenfarclas 12yo (45%, OB for F.W. Hempel Metallurgical GmbH)

Nose: another one that is full of fruity turnovers, with baked mangoes and apricots, smashed papayas and melting persimmons.

Mouth: creamy and fruity, it has a bite alright. It is hot, metallic and turns acidic with time.

Finish: pretty acidic here too, it has sour fruit jellies, followed by a faint bitterness of unripe fruit.

Comment: good.

Score: 8/10

JS: "It's a complete Ball-indall-ache."

I pull out empty sample bottles, as I know I will not finish the line-up intact and I do want to enjoy the drams, at some point. elskling sees my Post-Its.

elskling: "Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce travail de cochon? Here, take one of my labels!"

A bottle comes out of nowhere, delaying us further.

Glenturret 29yo 1989/2019 (44.7%, Signatory Vintage Cask Strength Collection, Hogshead, C#238, 253b, b#112)

Nose: grout, mortar, crumbly Korean pear. It is chalky indeed, and I find that really challenging, at this point.

Mouth: big and lively, it has some fruits, but especially a lot of horsepower. Later on, we detect rocket and apricot. Aprocket?

Finish: rocket is right! Peppery and bitter as fuck. Spinach, rocket, peach stones. There are vague hints of apricot, but they are easily missed.

Comment: not sure why anyone thought it was a good idea to slide this one here.

Score: 6/10 (Thanks for the dram, Babelfisch42)

We are now so late and I am starting to feel the effect of alcohol so much that JS and I decide to skip the next dram. Fortunately, I have empty samples, so we will try it later.

Balvenie 32yo 1966/1998 (42.1%, OB Vintage Cask, C#6432, 264b, b#36)

Springbank d.1963 (46%, OB imported by Preiss Import, b. ca.1985)

Nose: we go stratospheric. This has an incredible depth. With every new sniff, it keeps rolling out more fruits (ripe plums, Mirabelle, greengages) and marzipan. The source simply will not dry up.

Mouth: perfect balance of fruit, herbs, ginger and varnish. Not sure how that reads, but it is harmonious on the palate.

Finish: incredible finish.

Comment: I will need to spend more time with this. I am no longer in the right state to express my appreciation.

Score: 9/10

GH: "1963 is a rare vintage."
PhG: "Great vintage."
GH: "Yeah, for those born in 1963. Not as good as those born in 1966, but shit happens."

We are more or less kicked out. We made it alive. Just.

Ambitious tasting. The selection only had things that most of us would not have been able to try anywhere else. That some were less my thing than others is irrelevant: they were indeed rare, and that is what was promised. The food was excellent (yes, even the bread) and the company relaxed and friendly.

Personally, I thought two things could be improved: the introduction of each bottle was a bit loose in places, which tried the patience of some. As said, being a geek myself, I found the flood of information interesting, but I would have preferred a better balance between information and time-keeping. The second point is the attendees shoehorning their own bottles into the line-up. It comes from a very kind intention (they want to share), but the effect is rarely what they hope for. Instead, it disrupts, distracts, delays, and sometimes destroys the rest of the line-up (remember that London Whisky Club tasting, during which a generous customer offered an unplanned Millburn Rare Malt at 61.9% right before the planned Banff at 43%?) The hosts worked hard to build a line-up that works; it is inconsiderate at best to kibosh that line-up with an additional bottle.

Ultimately, fun was had. Tomorrow morning will be difficult. 

20/04/2026 Teaninich

Teaninich 23yo d.1972 (64.95%, OB Rare Malts Selection, b#1323): nose: would it spoil the surprise for anyone to say it is a brute? This has the same effect as being hit on the olfactory organ with a lead pipe. Dust, metal filings, old zinc gutters, oxidised copper basins, Verdigris-riddled brass. It really takes a moment to see past that block of metal. Then, it has roasted apples and quinces, crunchy kakis and stepped-on dog faeces smeared across the concrete pavement. It probably reads horrid, but is actually rather intriguing. Also, it is but fleeting and soon makes way for prunes and dried currants. Let us be honest: that is much more appealing. It retains a metallic austerity, mind, and those dried fruits are presented on a zinc plate. The second nose welcomes old walnut and hazelnut shells splashed with a mix of pressed greengages and WD-40. There may even be a spray of furniture polish, which seems to replace the metallic shenanigans until one shakes the glass vigorously. Water calms it all down and allows juicy fruits to the surface: grapes, plums, greengages, stewed Galia melon. It is still warm, no longer frighteningly so. Mouth: 'burning' would be the wrong word. It is numbing, first and foremost. One could, again, compare it to being hit in the kisser by a lead pipe. Only when the numbness of the shock recedes does one realise the pain. Chewing brings out more metal (lead, zinc, galvanised iron, corroded brass), with only a discreet fruity touch to balance things out a little. Prunes in syrup, rehydrated currants, decaying greengages turned sour. We find very-dry lichen too that adds a gentle bitterness. And, to be clear, the fact it is gentle may be because it is smothered by the alcohol. The second sip offers a far more-perceptible bitter touch, somewhere between walnut stain , greengage stones and nut-tree sap. That is, once more, balanced by a timid fruitiness (rum-soaked sultanas). It still has a metallic note, but that is a far cry from the nosebleed we experienced initially. It is now limited to a metallic drinking vessel (pewter or zinc). Water turns the palate into a gentle green-grape juice, not even that concentrated or fruity. It is a lot sweeter without being sugary, and, well, an easy sipper. Finish: huge, it has stewed walnut flesh (talking about the fleshy fruit, not the nut at its core), prune stones, poached quinces and, surprisingly, much less of the afore-mentioned metals. That is confined to silverware (made of real silver) used to eat those fruits. The tongue and palate are left as numb as if they had been smacked with an oxidised silver spoon, yet little zinc or lead to note, if any. In the long run, we do find walnut flesh again. The second gulp cranks up the fruit: baked apples, quinces, kakis and Korean pears so hot that they cauterise the roof of the mouth and leave it throbbing. A lukewarm oxidised spoon is then applied to cool off the burn, which leaves -- you guessed it -- a metallic taste in the mouth. The addition of water gives us syrupy barley wine, as well as pressed peaches and plums augmented with a drop of cold jasmine tea. Interesting how water tames this beast, rendering it almost too meek. Very good drop with or without water. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

17/04/2026 Talisker

There is much to infer about the state of the industry from the fact that Diageo, owners of Talisker, have started bottling single casks of one of their most-prized brands for private clients. This one for Hedonism is the first to come to our attention, but, two weeks later, Dornoch Castle Hotel announced their own such bottling. It had never been done. Probably, more will come.

Talisker 16yo b.268 (59.2%, OB specially bottled for Hedonism Wines, 15y ex-Bourbon American Hogshead + 1y Sherry Puncheon, 198b): nose: we have old boxes of spices, including bay leaves, cloves, cassia bark and black peppercorns. There are dried cherries too. What smoke we find is limited to a general cosy atmosphere in a rustic kitchen. We then discover warm shirt buttons and warm cocktails served in wooden cups. Cocktails? Yeah; rum, orange liqueur, pineapple juice. That is enjoyed in a freshly-waxed armchair on a hot summer evening. Ha! One can even smell some mosquito repellent on other patrons' skin. That is quite on point, seeing how Skye is infested by midges. The second nose sees moist textile of some kind, in continuation with the buttons from earlier. To follow, we have twigs and dead plants in a greenhouse, and the green wellies that go with it. Some really unlikely (if not unpleasant) notes, here! Mouth: oof! this is thick. Apricot nectar in texture, velvety and coating. Half a chew gives a gentle medicinal kick (hawthorn jelly caps), but what comes next is more in keeping with the distillery character: a copious dose of cracked black pepper and a bold alcohol bite. To even that out, grilled and roasted fruits (pineapple, apricot, papaya). It is smokier as it develops, and retro-nasal olfaction picks up a campfire in a coastal shelter. The second sip feels sweeter on entry. It may be mint crumbles, though it is fierce enough to be spearmint crumbles. Chewing brings out the same fruits again and adds unripe kumquat (and foliage) for shits and giggles. That makes the palate juicy and a tad bitterer. Finish: big and fiery, if not explosive, which means it is strong, numbing, yet not overpowering. It is also more traditional, here, with burnt wood and smoke. That said, it presents flint and fruit stones such as peach and avocado. There is less fruit flesh, on the other hand -- charred papaya, perhaps. We find a refreshing drop of bleach on top of that, or swimming-pool water (read: chlorine). It leaves the mouth as dry as if one had munched on chalk, though. The second gulp is closer to my preference, as fruits come out more (crystallised citrus taken with chopped mint leaves), wrapped in a hearty smoke. Smoked papaya skins and pineapple shavings rock up at the death. One more point awarded! 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, MSo)

13/04/2026 Laphwoar

Laphroaig 31yo 1974/2005 (49.7%, OB for La Maison du Whisky, Sherry Wood Casks, 910b, b#652): nose: phwoar! It has few fruits to begin with, if any; instead, we find tyres warmed by an hour on the race track, distant smoke and marzipan. Then, it is a scallop roll splashed with pressed-prune juice, and the water of rehydrated raisins and figs. I remember finding it rubbery, the first time, some twenty years ago, and, indeed, it has some of that, yet it is so well integrated, now, that it certainly does not tarnish the pleasure. It turns earthier, with dark mud and tarry soil, but we never shake off the prunes. With some insistence, we may spot caramelised lychee in amongst the earthy dried fruits and potting soil, as well as honey-glazed button mushrooms. The second nose brings a vaguely-maritime allure, scents of diesel and sea breeze in the sun-drenched harbour. Suddenly, a costermonger drives by in a van. Unripe bananas, plums, pomegranates, passion fruits, blueberries, mulberries, hazelnuts still attached to a cut branch, quinces and longans. There is a whisper of gas and faint manure too, as if the van were displacing a sewer's manhole, and that is oddly original. It any case, it is not a bright and clear fruitiness; it wrestles with darker, dirtier notes of rubber, smoke and decay. Mouth: immensely smoky on entry, peaty, borderline ashy. Half a chew creates an onslaught of fruits, tropical and otherwise, with dark cherries, purple passion fruits, smoked carambolas, cured peaches, caramelised lychees and snakehead fruits. It then produces a big slap of burnt wood and burnt tyre, with the latter becoming the dominant, acrid, bitter, sticky. More chewing helps us claw back some fruits coated in tar. The second sip appears more acidic and has brighter cherries (Lambert or even Rainier), a hazelnut paste made of unripe hazelnuts, gooseberry jelly, pink passion fruits and plums. Chewing increases the depth and we find that nectarines replace our plums, cured peaches and purple passion fruits (louder and louder) accompanied by a growing smoke, albeit thinner than earlier, acrid, yet still fruity, as emitted by a fire of fruit-tree wood. Caramelised lychee comes back to the fore too. Finish: it is tar and burnt rubber at first, and the acrid black smoke takes a while to settle. When it does, the costermonger is back. On the stall this time, caramelised chestnut shells. Behind them stand smoked cherries, cured peaches and apricots, rehydrated raisins and currants, prunes, smoked purple passion fruits, fresh figs, longans and chikoo. All that is experienced in a shed filled with dark smoke, surrounded by tyres and rubber fenders. The second gulp has bolder wood -- polished walnut armchairs in a room that also has an open fire. That introduces forest fruits such as bilberries, blackcurrants, myrtles, then smoked greengages, only to die with a kick of fleeting unripe passion fruit, which is to say it has a mild bitterness. All in all, it seems more youthful and uncouth than earlier in the year, but no less complex and enjoyable. To be perfectly clear, this is a masterpiece worthy of an irrepressible 'phwoar'. 10/10 (Thanks for the sample, dom666)

10/04/2026 Glen Mhor

Glen Mhor 1982/2009 (46%, Berry Bros. & Rudd Berrys' Own Selection, C#1231): nose: a whiff of sea air, brine-y, close to sea spray, albeit one from a warmer climate than the Moray Firth. Beneath that is a larder loaded with jars of marmalade, some of which are not tightly sealed. Sugary citrus, syrup and tin lids, then. This nose has a reassuring presence; maybe a basketful of logs by a wood stove in a room where marmalade is being made. It is rather grandmotherly -- if one accepts that one's grandmother may have lived not far from the sea. Yes: marmalade, wood, salty air and even gas, somehow. Oh! Nothing unpleasant; just a whisper of natural gas, as if there was also a gas stove on site. To follow all that, we detect warm metal. It is now dusty zinc gutters or galvanised-iron buckets, instead of tin. The second nose unearths dry blond tobacco and a little smoke coming out of it to supplement the inescapable marmalade, which happens to be spread on sponge cakes, now -- imagine PiM's without the chocolate coating. Mouth: it is definitely metallic on the tongue, and a little salty. Dusty disused boilers, ancient salt mills, salty marmalade in the tin lid of the jar it came out of. Chewing adds a strip of rubbery tyre still warm from the car race. This has a clear bitterness to it, though something dark and tarry, not leafy nor vegetal. Perhaps it has eucalyptus bark as well, and still that bold salt that now suggests salt water, not unlike drinking lukewarm sea water. The second sip manages to be both bitterer and sweeter. It should make no sense, yet it works perfectly. Lukewarm yuzu tea in which one dumped cigarette ashes. The light smoke comes from a boiler room, though, not from a cigarette. Finish: this demonstrates, as if we needed it, that 46% is a splendid strength. It allows the flavours to shine, while retaining some bite. We have tyres, salt, dusty metal, old spoons, a lick of black liquorice bootlace, creosote, tar and even mentholated-cigarette ash, after a long while. The whole is sprinkled with ground mace, which is original. The second gulp stirs up more marmalade (yuzu more than orange), blows ciggy smoke on it, and sprinkles it with ground mace and metal filings. That is experienced while sitting on a zinc gutter on the edge of the roof of a seaside bungalow. Superb old-schooler. 8/10