31/03/2021 Braes of Glenlivet

Braes of Glenlivet 22yo 1989/2011 (60.2%, The Scottish Liqueur Centre for Càrn Mòr Celebration of the Cask, Bourbon Hogshead, C#1051, 267b): nose: I remembered this as fresh and fruity. Today, it seems musty, with damp, dusty dunnage warehouse and old cork. Perhaps there are hints of tame, stone-dried orange peels ("Do you mean: dried until they become a stone, or dried on a stone, tOMoH?" Both!) Breathing opens that up a little and allows a fruitier aspect to grow (dried apricots), as well as wood (wood plane shavings). Old jam jars with rusty lids, kept in the larder of an old castle, and ivy -- that would be the castle's walls, probably. In fact, as it awakes, it suggests warm vegetation more and more clearly. My guess is that it is the alcohol talking: it is rather strong, after all. Tilting the glass reveals something citric, more mandarin foliage than Kaffir lime leaves. Spices develop over time, with crushed bay leaves, grated nutmeg, ground green pepper and powdered lemongrass with a pinch of ginger powder. It is never overwhelming, mind. With water, it smells like a warm, welcoming kitchen. No precise aroma of specific foodstuffs; just that warm feeling of entering a kitchen in which someone is lovingly preparing a meal. Perhaps some kind of broth? The early stages of a soup? That would be melting onions and/or leeks, then. Soon, white tree flowers join the dance: cherry blossom, crab-apple tree, dogwood tree. Mouth: deceptively velvety with warm banana slices, it is like a Trojan horse unleashing its Achaean warriors when one least expects them. Less metaphorically, it starts ravaging the gums a few seconds in. The sheer strength does not completely mask the flavours, though: warm, buttery pastry, apricot-and-herbs turnovers -- oh! It is herbaceous alright. There is lichen, sage, marjoram, none too loud to stop hot, jammy fruits shining. It has a metallic edge as well that balances an otherwise distinct sweetness of light muscovado sugar. Water takes the edge off, and it is now sweet and milky, with vanilla milk, not custard, crushed banana and peach yoghurt, whilst tinned pineapple is meticulously coming out of, well, its tin. Finish: the herbs are here and, this time, they are supporting a wave of melted milk chocolate. The metal is also well present, still, in a pencil-sharpener-blade kind of way, adding bitterness to the whole. Of course, at this strength, it is warming and a half, leaving the tonsils as if sunbathing. The second sip seems sweeter, yet still herbaceous (if mouldy muscovado sugar is a thing, it must taste like this). The banana slices are present, clad in tin foil and barely recognisable. With water, this becomes dangerously quaffable. It retains the warm, fuzzy feeling without the sharp alcohol bite. The herbs have all but gone, leaving sweet notes to shine. Warm peach or banana turnovers, and pulped pineapple. Tin is dialled down in the long run, which spells good news, in my opinion. Superb. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

30/03/2021 Grand Royal

Grand Royal Special Reserve (43%, International Beverage Trading Company, LM006/0281N 6027): a souvenir from FN's trip to Myanmar. Nose: as I remembered it, it smells like a cheap blend -- which it is, I guess. Faint wood polish, flat cola, tinned cola, to be precise, as it smells rather strongly of tin. Not-so-well-integrated alcohol, despite the low ABV, maybe toffee, in an industrial way. Imagine being trapped inside the Quality Street plant, and being stuck at the Toffee Penny line, where they fill tiny metallic moulds with hot, liquid toffee (in my imagination, that is how it works!) Antique cutlery, a drop of tincture of iodine (what?), line-drying linen and rusty laundry pins in the sun. Unusual, if not particularly unpleasant. Some kind of grease too (hair? Barbour? Engine?) Mouth: the attack is flat and feels diluted -- which it is. Soon, flat cola and that ever-present tin catch up, before toffee clings to the front of the mouth, just inside the lips. There is a strange mix of cola sweets and coffee grounds too. At a push, one may detect candied orange peel, faded almost beyond recognition, bar the sugary side. Finish: more of the same -- tinned flat cola, toffee, and even the coffee grounds make a comeback. There is nothing vile about this; it is just not very interesting either. Caramelised orange segments, without the appeal of marmalade. I will stand by my earlier judgement that this could be served at any random bar anywhere in the world that only stocks one whisky for the odd lost stranger, or for late-night whisky sodas. 5/10 (Thanks, FN)

26/03/2021 Whisky-Online Auctions' First Cask tasting Part 1

Tim Roberts, Wayne and Harrison Ormerod of WOA are joined by Lee "Connas" Connor to present this tasting that focuses on Direct Wines Ltd.'s First Cask range. Connas (an unfortunate nickname for anyone hoping to find success in Francophonia) tells us all about First Cask: "It was set up as a subscription thing by Direct Wines, in the same fashion Laithwaites do with wine: one paid £25 a month to receive a bottle by post -- it could be an Aberfeldy or a Port Ellen, amongst others. They were ahead of their time. So much so that it did not last very long. That's about all there is to say about it."

If I was hoping to learn more about how the casks were selected, who the people behind it were, when they started or where they were based, that is my dreams crushed. Connas does tell us that some of the stock came from Signatory, but nothing that I did not already know. Ah well. They were based in Reading, by the way. ;-)

On to the whiskies. I have minute quantities and save some for more detailed notes at another date. I want to enjoy the company and the banter too, tonight.

Auchentoshan 15yo d.1981/1996 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#1159): nose: a pinch of chalk, macerated herbs and a scrape of limestone. It also has distant sweets. This is simultaneously assertive and welcoming. Mouth: lime juice, limescale, grass and grapefruit on chalk, then bergamot foliage ("That's a good note," says Connas -- flattery will get you nowhere, but thanks for trying). It feels green, in a good way, acidic, and a tad mineral. Finish: acidic, herbaceous (quite strongly so), it carries citrus leaves, namely mandarin, bergamot and grapefruit. Long-ish, pleasant finish. Provisional score of 7/10

Royal Brackla 24yo 1975/1999 (46%, Signatory Vintage for Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#5447, b#267): nose: waxy, meaty and sweet. The meat completely vanishes after a second, and makes room for chestnut sweets and avocado oil. It has bruised fruits too; apple, probably. Mouth: beeswax, beard wax, hair grease and, well, wax. Waxy grapefruit skins too. A musty palate, this! Finish: long, coating, waxy as apricot or tangerine skins. Short notes that do not do this justice. It is lovely, and one of the best Bracklas I have had. It will remain my favourite of the evening, against all odds. 9/10

tOMoH: "How did you decide the selection? You had twenty-one bottles to be split into three tastings. Why these now and the others later?"
WO: "It was mostly down to price, to be honest. We could not have the Port Ellen, the Ardbeg and the Linlithgow in the same line-up, as it would have pushed the admission price higher than what our regulars are used to."

Glenlivet 24yo 1974/1999 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#5131): nose: plums, overripe grapes, bursting with sugar. There is also a drop of lamp oil, or walnut oil. Mouth: sweet and nutty in taste, oily in texture, it shows a soft bitterness that makes me think of green-hazelnut custard. Finish: sharp and oily, if that makes sense, it has a definite fruitiness too -- mostly plum. There is also walnut liqueur, some avocado oil and Bourbon-cream biscuits. Another terrific dram. 8/10

Balvenie 20yo d.1972 (46%, Direct Wines (Windsor) Limited First Cask, C#14734): we talk about how rarely Balvenie is seen at the indies'. Connas ventures that maybe even SMWS has not bottled it -- they have (it is #40); seven times, but not for a long time. Independent Balvenie is certainly rarely seen under that name, these days. This must be one of the earliest First Cask offerings, considering the date. Pictures found online also suggest a different livery and company name to all the others. Nose: I find it remarkably close to the Auchentoshan, with chalk, faint menthol and a hefty dose of fruit (plump citrus, tangerine segments, grapes and waxy plums). Mouth: a mix of grapefruit and canary melon, juicy as fook. Behind that is also pomelo and tame lime, alongside tinned pineapple. It is acidic with a softy-softy bitter touch. Finish: super creamy, it now has fruity yoghurt and citrus-y custard. Tangerine segments dance to the swan's song. Towards the death, the drying chalk makes a comeback as well. 8/10

Aberfeldy 15yo d.1978 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#7799): nose: assertive, bold, even, it has tiger balm and melting limestone, with acid poured onto it. I really want to say nuts, but it is really closer to shoe polish. Later on, it turns into lemonade, bringing back the acidity, yet without the face-melting bite, this time. Mouth: nut-and-citrus juice, at once oily and acidic. An unexpected mix, I must say. It tastes wonderful, though. Sweetened orange tonic and more lemonade. Finish: wow! A lick of dark pot ale, almost coffee-like, but much more subtle. Dark chocolate? Chocolate-y stout? Yes, that and pomelo jelly. Another excellent surprise! 9/10

Glen Grant 24yo 1976/2000 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, Sherry Cask, C#2886): nose: gingerbread, ginger Hobnobs, cramique, Selkirk bannock, baked for slightly too long, a faint touch of suet, in the back, rancio, and even old cork. Crumbled speculoos appears too, much to my ecstasy (it spells cinnamon, mostly). Tilting the glass brings sauce grand'veneur under the spotlight too. Mouth: rancio and old cork again. This has been hugely influenced by the wine (the colour leaves little doubt about this being matured in an ex-Sherry cask); it has soaked prunes and sangria talking loudly. Finish: speculoos through and through, with the wine coming back for an encore (more sangria), and fruit as a supporting act: plum, prune, wine-soaked orange. Excellent. 8/10

Port Ellen 18yo d.1976 (46%, Direct Wines Ltd. First Cask, C#4778): nose: earth and clay, then some old modelling wax and pencil shavings. A mocha coffee pot, cleaned, yet still tainted by the indelible content. After a second, cockles and shellfish start to appear. Crushed seashells. Finally, cashew paste tickles the nostrils. Mouth: ooooh! Salty, coastal, but also sweet, like a dessert pasty filled with a salty mussel sauce and warm sand, washed down with cola. Finish: watery at first, it soon delivers similar sweet/salty flavours rolling on coastal notes of seafood that would be sprinkled with cinnamon and cassia powder, and served with a holly-berry compote. Lovely drop, even if it is the first one tonight in which the dilution is felt a little too strongly. Provisional 9/10

Good fun and great selection. I particularly enjoyed the no-frill approach. No fanfare around the Port Ellen, as other hosts might have done -- in name, it is the only one that sticks out. In fact, it is a rather iconoclastic group: WO explains that they opened the Port Ellen 12yo for the Queen's Visit for Whisky Show Old & Rare 2018 and were utterly underwhelmed by it. It is only the most expensive and highest rated Port Ellen (or, indeed, whisky) in some circles.

Down-to-earth people who love whisky and sharing it without feeling the need for inflated marketing bullshit. Roll on Part 2!

25/03/2021 Midleton

Midleton 20yo 1991/2012 (54.1%, OB Single Cask for The Whisky Exchange, First Fill Bourbon Barrel, C#48750, 205b, b#000109): nose: it is immediately a big, bold whiff of buttery tropical fruits; mango, avocado, ripe golden kiwi, pulped pineapple and white peach. Harder to detect is a nuance of acetone, probably brought in by the grain (this is a single pot still, which means it has unmalted grain in it), giving the whole a rather pleasant, softly chemical edge. Distant mocha, just-baked mocha buttercream cake. This nose has its fair share of wood too, even if it is paper paste and fruit yoghurt, more than old books and ginger shavings. It does have faint teak oil, though. The second sip transforms the teak oil into rubber -- new rubber boots, to be precise. It adds black liquorice laces into the mix too. Mouth: chewy and juicy, the palate presents a more assertive woodiness, with teak oil now under the spotlight, gently acidic or gingery. Soon, that is supported by a fruity cavalcade, with mango and Chinese gooseberry, avocado (especially in terms of the texture) and unripe pineapple. It feels quite acidic, in a good way, and buttery, still. Not rancid butter, though. The second sip, just like the second nose, sees a rubbery note appear -- this time, new rubber, hot off the mould. It does not take away from the glorious fruit; it merely balances it. It is also rather minty, all of a sudden. In the long run, it is almost drying on the tongue, which points to bicycle tubes, coated in mentholated talcum powder. Finish: big and croissant-like, brioche-y, even, this has fruit turnover written all over it. Which fruit? Golden kiwi, canary melon, pineapple, white peach... and a delayed kick of mango. I am tempted to say yellow passion fruit too, perhaps more timid than I would like. That and the hefty ABV reminds me of Passoã, for some reason. Not that Passoã is strong, but its alcohol integration makes it seem stronger than it actually is, I find. Anyway, the finish is long and creamy (as in: whipped cream), and brings back wafts of sliced mango for a long time. The mentholated rubber note rears its head here too, yet it is mostly smothered by the hot, buttery tropical fruits, now. Marvellous! 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

23/03/2021 Comber

Yup, it is from the Upper Comber distillery that closed in 1953 or 1956. I do feel rather smug about this -- thanks for asking. :-)

Old Comber 30yo (40%, OB, b.1980s): nose: lots of aromatic herbs and moss-covered metal, grasses, flower seeds and herbs-sprinkled custard. Marjoram, sage, oregano, dried flat parsley, as well as a few crushed mint leaves, also dried. It has a certain fruitiness, not too far below the surface: bergamot and its foliage soon turn into ripening mango and drying orange peel. Then, it is shea butter, minty wood pulp or papier mâché. "Do not be fooled," it says; this whiskey has spent thirty years in wood and it has been influenced by it. The herbs gently come back to the fore, however, roasted bay leaves and waxy lime leaves, before a note of melting plastic rises. Nothing annoying, yet it is there alright: oilskins, warm wellies, warm plasticine. Lastly, the nose shoehorns moist kitchen roll. Mouth: mellow plasticine indeed, scented clay, woody custard, limestone moss in a damp forest... The herbaceous character is still present, soon joined by all sorts of fruits, fresh and dry: unripe pineapple, Brazil nut, apricot compote, warm and concentrated, yet not one bit juicy. Mint surfaces on the tongue too, with Dragibus sweets. Galangal yoghurt underlines the wood influence without cranking up the heat too much. Repeated sipping increases the feeling of a yoghurt-y texture, and makes it close to a gingery paste, a subtle one, with added liquorice or aniseed. Finish: soft and quaffable, oily on the way down, it now showcases black-green model paint (Tamiya XF-27 or Revell #40, more than Humbrol #91). Yes, it is waxy, oily, perhaps a tad chemical, and very long too! In a way, this reminds me of kluwak nuts: they are as oily, as sticky, and have the same sort of colour that this evokes. Not much of the fresh fruit is left in this finish -- at a push, one could find citrus peels, sprinkled with some mint, though it feels too creamy to be citrus. Perhaps it is the continuation of the galangal yoghurt from the palate? Toned-down kluwak-nut paste is what I will call it, spun out with yoghurt and seasoned with mint. Excellent drop. 9/10

22/03/2021 Tyrconnell

It is the second day of spring. It seems fitting to have something spring-y.

The Tyrconnell ★★★★★ Single Malt (40%, Andrew A.Watt & Co. imported by Fourcroy-Renglet, L2014, b. ca 2000): one has to admire how this is advertised as both a single malt and a pure pot still whiskey on the label. It is, in fact, a Cooley in disguise, hence a (double-distilled) single malt. Nose: discreet, gentle and delicate, almost absent (who said: "boring"?), it ends up giving forsythia buds, kerria Japonica not yet in bloom, buttercups and other (yellow) meadow flowers. Behind that, a sweet note appears, perhaps not quite Turkish delights, yet it is definitely some kind of sweets that is augmented with a drop of rose water or orange-blossom water, so it certainly points towards the east end of the Mediterranean. Again, it is pretty toned down, but present. Swirling the whiskey in the glass helps other aromas come out, namely: hazel sap and crocus petals. Even later, the softly medicinal touch of muscle-strain-tape glue starts tickling the nostrils, accompanied by cuberdons and polished nutwood. An odd mix, perhaps, yet it works. It is remarkable how seasonal this one smells: it is lively, flowery and spontaneous like a child, yet also delicate and a little timid, as if not fully awake from the long winter slumber. Mouth: amazingly, it displays a soft bitterness that I would associate with the same muscle-strain-tape glue! Then, it is hazel sap, green-hazelnut paste, hazelnut liqueur and yellow flowers aplenty (kerria, forsythia, buttercups), and a drop of calamansi juice too. The second sip is all thin, juicy softness, reminiscent of white peach and white plum (not quite mirabelle plum), with a dash of white rum. It feels very clean and pure, with its thin, silky texture. More flowers emerge, with time, culminating in yellow-tulip petals. Finish: creamy, it has a lick of milk chocolate and hazelnut paste, as well as the yellow flowers and the bitter note of the palate -- this time, it appears to be almond liqueur, rather than green hazelnut -- and white-flesh fruits. Repeated sipping only helps solidify those flavours. It also brings up an increasing alcohol kick. Funny how it will often take several sips of a 60% dram to get used to it and make it seem lower than it is, yet several sips of a 40% whiskey make it seem gradually stronger. Wood spices (birch bark, crushed cedarwood sheets, coconut shavings) flirt with crème brûlée or panna cotta (they are different) and creamy celeriac soup. I have known this Tyrconnell for twenty years, probably. An excellent gateway drug that never disappoints. 7/10

19/03/2021 Teeling

Teeling 21yo 1991/2014 (46%, Teeling Whiskey Co. Vintage Reserve Silver Bottling, Bourbon + Sauternes Casks, B#3, 5000b, b#2663): nose: deep and lush, it juggles with dunnage warehouse, yellow flowers (buttercups, daffodils), lukewarm Virginia tobacco and the promise of plump, juicy peach. It evolves and becomes even sweeter, over time; the peaches are well ripe, and they are served with a glass of Jurançon yellow wine. There is a pinch of ash, far back, fine grist, and possibly a whiff of mint or anise. It is not totally unlike a dinner with friends in the late 1970s-to-early-1980s in Western Europe, when women wore a hefty dose of perfume to cover the smell of cigarette, since everyone smoked indoors. Lychee, waxy mango and grated balsa wood complete the picture. It is hard not to be seduced! The second nose has antique cabinets, after a deep clean, or a larder, in which fresh fruits are kept next to butter or ghee. Mouth: meow, it is juicy and sweet. Lychee leaps out of the glass and shamelessly basks on the tongue. Yellow passion fruit watches from the side line, and mango weeps tears of juice on both. There are also notes of watercolour and crayons, honeysuckle from an aroma diffuser from the late-1970s and glorious peach. Virginia tobacco is almost an afterthought, at this point, yet it subsists, via a soft bitterness that is all but eclipsed by the mango tears. It feels remarkably spicy too, which keeps the whole lively and tickles the whole oral cavity. Finish: it packs a punch and brings back the tobacco, now. A lick of liquorice allsorts coats the mouth without being too dominant. Still, it gets the better of the fruit which, if still present, is now shrouded in a cloak of toasted flavours (anise, liquorice). That gives this finish a little bit of added complexity, yet it is perhaps less immediate as a result. Nonetheless, it is lovely. Fantastic drop, this. Maybe slightly less fruity that the first batch, but still a winner. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

16/03/2021 Glendullan

Here is a name that does not get much love. I have to admit never being wowed by a 'dullan, thus far. Hope that changes, one day.

Glendullan 16yo b.1998 The Centenary Bottling (65.9%, OB for the distillery's centenary, b#000210): nose: some rather assertive power, unsurprisingly (have you seen the ABV?), and an immense, arid dryness. Muddy fields turned into a sorry, dusty crust, hay bales, left outside for a month with no rain, porridge dust, gruel. A few minutes in, toasted aromas develop -- roasted coffee beans, burnt toast, liquorice bark, but also rum banana and bone-dry, dusty red wine, if such a thing exists. It comes back to dryness, with a dirt track in a heatwave, and faded beef jerky, close to turning into crumbly parchment. Belatedly, a fine oak dust brings some relative gentleness to this brute of a nose, giving it a scent that flirts with vanilla. The second nose sees dry lichen on limestone -- you can almost hear it crackle, so dry it is!. Lastly, hot metal (picture the heating plate of a coffee machine) and a sack of pot-pourri so old it hardly smells of flowers. With water, the toasted profile is increased, with ground coffee, this time, black cumin seeds and charred orange rind. Mouth: wish me luck... It is enormous, of course, yet not as much of an assault on the taste buds as one might expect, actually. Pronounced ginger heat, green chilli, yet also a growing shade of fruit to calm things down, somewhat: candied-apricot cubes. The palate becomes dusty, after some time on the tongue, as if guzzling dried orange slices turning to dust, yet keeping a vague, sweet fruitiness. Repeated sipping turns that fruit into pineapple, although it (the pineapple) is so hot it is hard to discern. Water makes the palate much more approachable, juicier and fruitier (apricot jelly and orange marmalade), though still with a kick -- horseradish comes to mind, now. Yes, water makes this seriously good. Finish: seemingly mild and pleasant, much to my surprise, it is still pretty robust, and it develops a persistent sawdust coating, in the long run. Once again, it is extremely dry, here, even drying. The fruit has turned into ground apricot stone and citrus slices so dry they crumble to a dust powder with a mere breath. I also have to note that, although it does seem mild on the way down, it makes the temples beat the drums in no time at all; a good reminder that this is powerful indeed and should be taken with caution. Water seems to make it greener, strangely, displaying tough kale morphing into undercooked French beans, spearmint, and also rubber, in an old-bicycle-tube way. This requires a lot of time and patience to reveal itself, as the aromas and flavours slowly crawl out from under the high alcohol, and even then, its personality is maybe subdued. One can see why it is favoured by blenders, however: even at this insane strength, it contributes without shouting. A dram that is a little simple, maybe, but interesting nonetheless, on account of its strength, if nothing else. 7/10

11/03/2021 Imperial

Triple anniversary, today.

Imperial 1976/2005 (46%, Berry Bros & Rudd Berrys' Own Selection imported by Charles Hofer, C#10171): nose: more brine than I remembered, with capers and garlicky rollmops in, well, brine. It is almost vinegar-y, leaning towards cider or white-wine vinegar, rather than something darker. It even has an ethereal whisper of smoke, and what reminds me of a green-hazelnut infusion (in the loose sense of the phrase "reminds me": I have never had that before). A sweeter hue rises in the back of the sinuses, akin to warm, golden sultanas. It might just as well be Fino sherry, stored at body temperature in a hipflask. Anyway, it is a welcome addition to the initial brine which, without being off-putting, was rather austere. Next up are old-school, red-and-blue erasers (Pelikan BR 40, for the geeks), perhaps green olives and, maybe, oatmeal, punctuated by an immature white wine from the Rhine valley. If I had never had this one before, I might be worried about the way it is going. The second nosing seems woodier, with teak oil and garden furniture in the sun and polished hazelnut shells, in amongst more-pronounced rubber and burnt toffee, bordering on mocha. Mouth: well, there is definitely smoke on display, albeit a delicate one. Some rubbery and woody tones (erasers, cinnamon sticks, maybe cedarwood sheets) and brine-y green olives again. It is rather cereal-y, with oatmeal, raw barley and hops, a drop of iron tonic and chaff. The background smoke does not allow one to forget it is there, and it even somehow helps put the spotlight on pineapple cubes. The texture is juicier with every sip, reaching a sort of grape-and-smoked-pineapple juice that I find excellent, augmented by the heat of gingery peppermint. Finish: bold and powerful, unaware of its own dilution, the finish, again, unfolds the brine, smoke and rubber that have been parading from the off. The second sip presents back some pineapple, wrapped in candied-gingery goodness -- it tickles the gums a, little, -- crushed cedarwood sheets, shaved cinnamon sticks, unripe green grapes (that Rheinwein impression from the nose), garlicky rollmops (not as salty, though) and gently-smoky pineapple. The cereal-backbone is less present in the finish, although one could easily find this mousy. Not an all-round crowd pleaser, but a rewarding dram, provided it is given enough time and attention. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Happy tenth and fifty-second. The third is the 2004 Madrid attacks; it is a commemoration, not a celebration.

10/03/2021 Ardnamurchan

Ardnamurchan 5yo 2015/2020 (46.8%, OB, 65% Bourbon & 35% PX & Oloroso Sherry Casks, B#AD/09.20:01, 15978b, b#13122): nose: some lovely ink-stained plasticine, modelling clay, dyed in fruity red wine, which would be -- dare I say? -- tertiary. Behind that, lies a sprinkle of fine ash. Then, pickled produce grow in intensity (olives, onions, bell peppers). It never strays too far away from the clay, mind, and that is pleasant indeed. Recently-sharpened colour pencils and crayons, a mix of watercolour and linseed oil (which makes no sense), and what appears to be distant oregano. Later on, gently-smoky melted toffee shows up, unless it is baking fudge. In any case, it works a (quality's) treat (toffee; Quality Street, see? Ho-ho-ho!) A drop of red-wine vinegar and cured meat make a late entrance. Mouth: it is surprisingly potent, at 46.8%, acidic and muddy. All the earth from the nose is here: the clay, the plasticine, as well as the red wine -- and they are wonderfully combined to deliver what resembles pickled plums or prune liqueur. The red-wine vinegar from the nose is so subtle it is hardly worth mentioning, but, on the the other hand, it has glowing embers, cold ashes from burnt paper, and the thinnest veil of smoke. This is refined and balanced, with the texture of natural fruit juice. Finish: still earthy, still vaguely wine-y, this finish also has melted dark chocolate for my great pleasure. It is soft, sweet, coating and slightly bitter. What is left on the walls of the mouth tastes like a warming blend of dusty earth and chocolate shavings, with a minute quantity of ash, thrown in for fun. The finish is warming and comforting (given the weather today, that is most welcome), long and earthy. It is also spicy in a smoked-paprika sort of way; absolutely not overpowering. Very good drop and certainly promising. I cannot wait to try 20+yo expressions, even though I will have to be patient. I am tempted to rate this 8, but hey! Not tonight. 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

08/03/2021 Tormore

Tormore 29yo 1984/2013 (53.9%, www.whiskybroker.co.uk, Barrel, C#3674, 107b): nose: an initial whiff of crusty bread from the oven makes way for warm green olives, olive oil, then warm bread again (ciabatta, artisan rolls). A bit of breathing brings squid ink, marjoram, a pinch of red-wine-stained earth and antique cabinets (jam sideboards) covered in patina. The nose walks that tightrope between worldly elegance and country rusticity with brio, and I can see this pleasing the city dweller as the (wo)man of the earth. More time brings more fruit and woody notes, now dark cherries, blackberries and ginger bread, but also bicycle tubes (faintly). The second nose adds milk chocolate to the equation (or chocolate milkshake, on second thought), as well as roasted cocoa beans. The longer it sits in the glass, the closer to lime it ends up nosing. Mouth: the attack is perfectly calibrated, with enough horsepower to grab one's attention, without feeling aggressive. Baked dark cherries, simmering blackcurrant and blackberry compotes, a topping of cinnamon-stick shavings, a drop of elderberry cordial, and a spoonful of nigella seeds in a bowl of strawberry yoghurt -- incidentally, the texture is that of strawberry yoghurt too. The second sip carries some chocolate, in the same way as the nose did. The tingling on the gums hints at spearmint, or diffuse, crushed lime leaves. Dried lime zest, maybe? Finish: big and elegant, the finish glows, washing over the tongue and palate in waves of crushed fruits (strawberry, dark, blackberry and blackcurrant), cinnamon and liquorice shavings, perhaps even a sprinkle of aniseed. Like the nose and the palate, the finish veers towards lime, in the long run. It is, again, zest, rather than super-acidic fruit flesh. Imagine PiM's with a lime or pomelo filling (LU, if you read this blog: make it happen!) It is woody in that it has spices, but it stays on the right side of too much; in fact, it is a masterclass in balance. Amazing Tormore. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

05/03/2021 St. George

Not the English one. The one from across the Pond.

St. George Single Malt Whiskey Lot 17 (43%, OB, B#SM017, b.2017): nose: shy, at first. Perhaps a lick of corn syrup (there is no corn in this single malt), fried omelette, chives and all, linoleum tiles, and, generally speaking, a greasy-chippy impression, which I happen to like a lot. Is it the lattice in the oven, though? I doubt it. Herbs do come through (thyme, fresh sage, marjoram and Combava leaves), perhaps candied angelica. The second nose dials the Combava leaves up a notch, and adds pomelo zest, as well as heat-stripped paint, although I cannot tell if it is closer to the heat gun, the warm oak doors, or the heated-paint chips; probably a combination of the three. It smells sweet, citrus-y and vaguely chemical, in any case. Mouth: sage, lemon mint, cough lozenges, mixed peel, definitely candied angelica, pomelo drops, lemonade and a fine note of wood spices. It is certainly easy on the tongue, at 43%, and one might even regret the dilution. There is crushed lime leaves aplenty, waxy and potent, exuding lime flavours in a constant stream, after a minute. In fact, it becomes more and more vegetal, with ficus leaves and faint candied ginger shavings. Finish: the first gulp is short and fleeting, with nuances of lime leaves, distant lemongrass and soft mixed peel. Repeated sipping sees a lime-y custard settle in, washed by pomelo soda that would also have the bitterness of tonic (is pomelo tonic a thing? It should be!) and lime drops. This finish does remain hopelessly short, though. I blame the dilution and filtration. This is clearly designed to drink lots of, rather than one dram in passing. Honest drop all the same. Unspectacular, perhaps, but there is nothing wrong with it. 6/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

04/03/2021 Inchgower

I do not try nearly enough Inchgower. That said, it is not as common as many other distilleries, and what little makes it into the bottle, these days, tends to be underaged, which I am less interested in. But I have this, for which I have not yet taken full notes.


Inchgower 20yo 1990/2011 (46%, Angus Dundee for The Whisky Castle Cask Collection No. 15, American Oak Cask, C#6987, 264b): nose: a burst of white alcohol, but also porridge, barley mash and warm beer. Behind that perhaps not enticing first contact come plum juice, thick, pulpy and juicy, a pinch of dried oregano, pan-seared chicken thighs with rosemary, juicy and tender, lichen, or verdigris. Suddenly, antique wooden chests take centre stage, dark wood, covered in old varnish and patina. Next is sun-baked purple plastic buckets. The second nose seems brinier, with capers and dolmas, punctuated by a dollop of butter. This is quite a ride! The third nose still has brine, but cranks up the sweetness: it is almost custard cream, now, augmented with a cucumber relish. Mouth: meow. If it is marzipan, initially, that is quickly overtaken by bitter herbs (tons of rosemary, bordering on new rubber, in terms of bitterness), though that disappears as quickly as it came to make room for something sweeter and harder to identify... It resembles a hybrid between marzipan, plasticine, soaked raisins and juicy-peach flesh, yet it also has the awkwardness of unripe olives -- not that it is hugely detrimental, mind! The fruity sweetness is enough to balance the whole thing, in extremis, but the palate is reaching for many flavours, some of which may be less compatible with one another. Cucumber relish is one of those unexpected ones, and it comes back in the mouth. Finish: lots and lots of wax, here, even if it is waxy plasticine, rather than beeswax. Modelling clay, candlewax and warm plasticine alright. The finish sees in a (not-so) tiny rubber bitterness, hinting at rubber and black liquorice laces, yet also unripe green olives. Again, it is not distracting from the quality of the whole, but it feels a little incongruous. It is a long, lively finish that leaves the tongue tingling, throbbing, and craving for liquid, like tapenade would, or indeed, gin-and-tonic infused cucumber peel. Very original. I love it. 8/10

02/03/2021 Craigellachie

44.56 23yo d.1989 Sweet and sour creative tension (51.8%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Hogshead, 300b): nose: lots going on, here, with encaustic aplenty, beeswax, hazelnut oil, but also Barbour grease and engine parts. It has a whiff of Brandy too, though not Monica a very fruit or vulgar one; it is all gentlemen's clubs, wood-panelled dining rooms and libraries. A note of tiger balm, in the back, then we enter a shoemaker's workshop, inhaling sole glue, polish-stained brushes, waterproofing spray for leather garment, new shoe laces (a blend of nylon and plastic). It then changes again, this time to deliver marmalades and hot saucepans. Ultimately, the Barbour grease re-appears, accompanied by tame after-shave lotion and ceramic-hob cleaner. I catch a whisper of damp, cardboard bog rolls in the summer sun (I know!), linoleum, and a dollop of some kind of relish. Very comforting. Mouth: unctuous and oily, the palate displays some of the same characteristics as the nose (beeswax, Barbour grease, metallic bits, in an engine sort of way), yet also Virginia tobacco and iron filings. This is big, growing bigger, with small industrial touches and cauldrons full of simmering marmalade. It is oilier with each sip, reminiscent of old record inner-sleeves, yellowed by years of being smoked next to -- it is terrible for your record collection, yet it brings an undeniable charm to this dram. It feels perfectly balanced too, pungent, not punchy or aggressive, with nuanced spices, then bitter-sweet marmalade and a metal touch that adds a gentle bitterness. Finish: the finish is impressive, to say the least. An explosion of Virginia tobacco and all sorts of tools, straight from a mechanic's workshop. The second sip ups the antes, with a discharge of creamy chocolate coulis (sixty percent cocoa) and tiny notes of aromatic herbs (sage? Rosemary? Thyme?) There is less marmalade, at this point, and what is left is more a glazing than something to spread on a crumpet -- and that works too! The aftertaste is that of glowing embers, and it goes on forever and a day. Proper warming stuff. What a dram! Despite a minute metallic bitterness in the finish, I find it at least as good as 44.53. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)