A name that went from mud to stardom in the space of less than ten years. It comes from the Gaelic Lidl-Mail, meaning low-price, epistolary correspondence service between supermarket branches.
My Gaelic is rusty, however. Do not quote me on the above.
Littlemill 12yo (40%, OB, L5/227/05, b.2005): the one through which the scandal happened. As recently as the early 2010s, some declared Littlemill disgusting, on the basis of this sole bottling. It was the (already-closed) distillery's flagship, under the dominion of Glen Catherine Bonded Warehouse, who had a very similar livery for their twelve-year-old Glen Scotia. David Stirk, in his 2002 book, hoped that it signalled new beginnings for Littlemill and that the distillery would soon re-open. As it turned out, the buildings would be destroyed by fire a couple of years after Stirk wrote that, and Littlemill would remain forever silent. Nose: very fresh and fruity, it has lots of cut orchard fruit (pears, apples) and little of the grass that irks some so much. I cannot even see how one would find this freshness to be soapy, in truth. Geranium, sherbet, apple mint and... a whisper of burnt wood. I find there to be something fishy, after a few minutes, maybe jellied eels, all the while the fruit turns darker, with preserved strawberries and, again, that whiff of burnt wood. Apricot jam joins, on the late tip, to add a sweeter aspect as well. It becomes caramelised apricot jam, in the space of one sniff. Breathing opens up the nose and makes it bolder, over time. Mouth: firstly, dilution is obvious and appears aggressive. Secondly, it is a tad soapy on the tongue, or cardboard-y. Or both. It is not a 1972 Edradour, yet I can see this bothering others more than it bothers me. Apricot marmalade is but a shadow of itself. I talk about the reduction, but I wonder if the dodgy screw cap has not let most of the alcohol evaporate, here. Faded mixed peel, remnants of apple mint, apple peels, age-old pineapple drops. Finish: no, it has not suffered from a huge ABV drop. It still kicks a bit; the palate is simply weak at 40%. Woodier tones appear in the finish: teak oil, wood varnish, lacquered cabinets. The second sip is fruitier, with pineapple drops and a pinch of citrus zest (grapefruit, lemon). Apricot jam has left the building, and, if anything, lemon marmalade has taken its place. Yellow wine from the Jura region, tangerine, dried peach slices and green tomatoes -- actually: green-tomato chutney. This is much fruitier than grassy, which matches my preference, but the palate is rather weak. 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
Littlemill 24yo 1990/2014 (50.6%, Maltbarn No.28, 158b): nose: without surprise, this one is much more explosive, with an almost-rum-y whiff of lichen, all sorts of dried fruits, covered in ground pepper and sawdust. Dried apricots, dried mango slices, sultanas, dried figs, mahogany oil, walnut oil, freshly-lacquered armchairs, air drying. A few minutes in, greasy earth and juicy grass appear, barely containing the exotic wood and rich fruits. Baked membrillo tart, kumquats in walnut oil. The wood takes over, and I catch myself hoping that it was not bottled too late. Water seems to tone down the wood, which allows the fruit to shine brighter. In its wake, soft pastry trails, apricot turnovers and shortcrust tartlets, straight out of the oven. In the long run, woodworm appears too. Mouth: the membrillo (quince paste) and dried apricots are there, as are dried mango slices, joined by rehydrated sultanas, fresh figs and dried dates. The back of the throat sees bursts of ripe tropical fruits (mango, papaya, pineapple), intertwined with walnut oil. It is almost impossible to ignore an assertive woodiness, though, which brings lots of white pepper, nutmeg, sawdust, ginger peel, at times hiding the juicy fruits. It is also sticky as a jam. Jam? Spices? Fruits? Mango chutney it is, then, left out in an open jar to gather a thin layer of dust. As it did on the nose, water eclipses most of the wood, making the palate seem fruitier, with mango and tinned peach shouting loud, and grass, far, far in the back. Finish: big, fruity, and a tad drying, it has copious doses of sawdust and white pepper meeting the ripe mango. It is as if the producers had decided that the tropical fruit had to be matched by as much ground walnut shells. The second sip seems more of a fruity onslaught, the sawdust slowly moving into the shadow, yet leaving a strange bitterness on the tongue. The bitterness remains in spite of added water, though it feels less prominent. It is more green hazelnut than crushed nutshells, at this point, which is probably good news, and complement the yellow/tropical fruit adequately. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
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