The heat is back -- again. :-(
Kininvie 23yo 1991/2015 (42.6%, OB, American Hogsheads & Sherry Casks, B#3): is this the first Kininvie on this blog? Kind of. There is one other meagre note, but it is for the same liquid. Nose: a wave of vanilla at first, which leans towards butterscotch and toffee, but it turns out that butterscotch is accompanied by linseed oil. In fact, oil becomes a permanent fixture, with walnut oil, -- wait a minute! No! It is shaving cream and cologne... and back to vanilla; custard, to be precise. Funnily enough, the vanilla merely triggers another merry-go-round, as we soon have more oil, then male-grooming items. A dash of lemonade is added into the mix, and also fudge, Chinese-gooseberry skins and the crystallised fruit flesh -- how entertaining! Time and breathing seem to let citrus shine brighter, grapefruit style, yet it never shakes off the shaving cream or balm. It adds wood pulp to the above, though. Mouth: well, it feels a lot woodier on the palate, with more-pronounced wood pulp, papier mâché, crushed Chinese gooseberry and a drop of lime juice. Peach yoghurt, flat lemonade and dusty magazines, in the back of the throat, white chocolate, peanut brittle in custard, linseed oil -- scratch that: it is cashew oil, a dash of almond milk... It has some bitterness and acidity, yet both are anecdotal. Finish: mellow, gentle, it is all squashed peaches in a mix of custard and wood pulp. Pleasant, refreshing and soft like triple-layer toilet paper (hopefully less of an ecological nonsense). Very late, it kind of has remnants of the citric acidity of the nose and palate, but really, it is as velvety as can be. Melted toffee, flan, banoffee, a drop of cashew oil, blanched hazelnut flakes (or is it almond?) and macadamia shavings. Very good. It did not shine at a festival, but it is brilliant on its own. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, SW)
Wardhead 20yo 1997/2018 (51%, The Vintage Malt Whisky Co. The Cooper's Choice, Bourbon Cask, C#28, 384b): first Wardhead, here. The name is used to designate tea-spooned Glenfidddich. Nose: a bit spirit-y and leathery in a "we're flaying cows here" sort of way. As soon as that dissipates (and it doesnae take long), it turns out to be very citric indeed, with pomelo, unripe lime and bergamot in a light wicker basket. A headier note shows up, not quite incense, but it certainly reminds me of that kind of new-age-shop vibe. Perhaps natural soap? Scented candle? Yes, that is it. I would be unable to say what kind of scent, however. Gentle beeswax, peach skins and waxy apricots, maybe, if they make candles and soap out of that (do they?) Later sniffing reveals dead leaves on a damp forest floor, though we are far from humus and mushrooms, still. Caramelised butterscotch shows up too. Mouth: just as mellow as the Kininvie, for a second, it quickly shows its strength. However, it does so with velvet gloves on. Conference pears, sprinkled with ground pepper, more butterscotch than one can shake a stick at, bitter lemonade and toffee. Perhaps the palate is a little more cereal-y than the nose, with dried oats, husks and iron tonic -- actually: iron full stop! Yes, silver spoons and knife handles flirt with hazelnut milk and citrus peel (calamansi or satsuma; nothing too acidic). Finish: back to mellow and velvety, the finish sees peach flesh, just torn off the stone, apricot yoghurt, squashed banana, drizzled with white rum. This finish is very long too. The flavours quietly dance on the mouth walls forever, even though one has to pay attention to realise they are there -- but they are. In the long run, it emits vaguely nutty touches, with blanched hazelnut, ground macadamia, hazelnut milk and calamansi, which is a citrus, not a nut, but do not interrupt me. I suppose that, if one looks hard enough, one may find oat milk, leading to lukewarm porridge with honey, but that is discreet and a half. Much better than I expected, but I am not sure what I expected or why. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, Bishlouk)
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