A reliable source tells me those casks were filled at 69%, rather than the standard 63.5%. They were allegedly used as payment in 2017*, when Edrington bought The Glenrothes (the brand) back from Berry Brothers & Rudd, who had owned it since 2010 (they had a share in it since 1987). If you find it bizarre that a company should own a distillery but not the branded product of that distillery, you are not alone, but that is not the question. The point is that Edrington seems to not have been cash rich, at the time, and supplied Berry Brothers & Rudd's directors with whisky casks instead of GBP. At least some of those casks were promptly sold off, and those three found their way into Cadenhead's warehouses.
(*) It could also have been in 2010, when Berry Brothers & Rudd sold Cutty Sark to Edrington, who gave their share of The Glenrothes (the brand) in return. Perhaps BBR thought the deal was not fair, and whisky casks were added to the equation.
You would probably be hard-pressed to find an official confirmation for the above; I find it plausible, though.
Glenrothes-Glenlivet 9yo 2009/2018 (65.3%, Cadenhead Small Batch, 3 x Bourbon Hogsheads, 858b): nose: pretty new-make-y, honestly, with grain and cork-y limestone. After a bit of breathing, it does reveal ivy and sarsaparilla, perhaps thyme too, yet it certainly remains young. Lime leaves, damp sand and tobacco being dried. Cupping the glass in the hand brings about tame menthol, as well as something sweet... Fruity Ricola cough drops? The nose certainly benefits from a lot of breathing: it goes from rough and markedly underaged to fragrant and almost-welcoming, if still rather green -- it is 9yo, after all. Geraniums, tagetes leaves, rocket salad, primrose and linen. Water helps an unusual fragrance come through: that of plastic bags left in the sun. It also cranks up the raw cereal, dusted with talcum powder. In fact, I may go further and call it chalky, now. Mouth: unsurprisingly potent, it has plasticine, waxy plums, caster sugar and tons of cracked green pepper. It has an almost rum feel to it, in some respect, though it lacks the depth that a rum hitting that sort of notes would have to have. Case in point: the dandelion leaves and meadow-flower stems betray its youth. H₂O, even just a drop of it, stops the alcohol bite spectacularly, which allows other flavours to appear, mostly primary-school-yard material, such as boot laces, sugar sheets/edible wafer paper, but also candied angelica and chlorophylle chewing gum. Finish: the obvious youth is swiftly submerged by an unexpected pairing of melted milk chocolate and ivy leaves. The sweetness of breakfast cereals is then met by an overly-caramelised note. All the same, in the long run, it is the herbaceous side that triumphs, leaving a softly bitter taste on the palate, and the tongue as if covered in lichen. The back of the throat sees herb-infused grappa, which works rather well. Here too, the addition of water boosts the sweetness. Similar sweets as on the palate now make their way to the taste buds and turn this into almost too sweet a dram, borderline sickly. The death is a soju-and-lemonade long drink with a cucumber slice. Interesting, but I find it was bottled too soon. 6/10 (Thanks for the sample, SW)
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