Glenrothes 39yo 1970/2009 (47.9%, Duncan Taylor Rare Auld specially selected by The Nectar, C#10567, b127, b#83): nose: an aroma of peach skin in tatters, ground almonds or macadamia nuts, and crushed conference pear. A minute of breathing dials the fruit up a notch, and the nose bursts with waxy plums, apricots, nectarines and mirabelle plums, all kept in a copper case. In fact, this has a distinctly metallic touch to boot -- new copper coins coming straight out of the mint. A bit further on, a soft, woody lick forms, damp, freshly-cut birch logs, dead leaves on a forest floor in early autumn. The yellow fruits are soon back, this time sweeter; it is relatively safe to say it is apricot jam, now. A leather pouch of Virginia tobacco rests next to that. Even further on, old pans and pots in a cupboard, from a time before stainless steel and Teflon invaded the household. In other words: copper and cast iron. Mouth: ooft! It is hugely metallic on the tongue, with those old pots and pans, as well as copper coins, this time older ones, showing some wear and traces of verdigris. The liquid seems quite feisty, for a good forty-second, with mild chilli powder and coriander powder. That eventually calms down, and some fruits make a comeback -- tinned peaches bled on by the tin, apricot jam that would have taken on some taste from the tin lid. There is something a little toasty via retro-nasal olfaction too -- toasted stave perhaps? Yes, and that stave has dried lichen on it. It is impressive how full this feels at this relatively-modest strength. Honey-glazed pastry, toasted to caramel, almost. The texture is in line: jam or marmalade, and manuka honey make this acidic and sweet at the same time. Finish: it slays, at this stage. A gulp of chicory infusion, a spoonful of light brown sugar and warm honey on toasted bread all fight for attention (a tame fight, though). Once the brawl disperses, the winner is a golden apricot jam spread onto toasted crumpets. Little (if any) of the metal makes it this far, the wood from the nose is reduced to a vaguely bread-y haze, and the gentle spices from the palate are but a lovely cinnamon butter. The finish is long and persistent; it coats the palate like a honey-glazed doughnut. Phenomenal. Who knew Glenrothes could be this good? 9/10
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| Note the funny hat. The original cork disintegrated (of course), and the replacement also crumbled |
St. Magdalene (Linlithgow) 12yo 1982/1995 (63%, Cadenhead Authentic Collection, Oak Cask): nose: herbal and aromatic to start with, it soon makes a bonfire of the hairs in the nostrils. The contrast in ABV with the previous dram could hardly be starker. Besides the heat, however, it is like entering an old herbalist's shoppe: hawthorn, thyme, juniper, rosemary, dried marigold. Suddenly, it turns immensely woody, with antique chairs in dire need of a lick of oil, dusty bookshelves from the XIIIth century, and stacks of old papers. Further still, parchment and old leather show up, so old they are rigid and, consequently, fragile. There are some yellow fruits, hidden behind all that, yet they are difficult to identify. Actually, more than fruit, what emerge are Military biscuit, Choco As biscuit (without the chocolate), crumbly and dry, leaning towards dusty. Water makes this peppery (green pepper), and reveals more citrus -- pomelo and a few chunks of Chinese gooseberry. Far in the back of the sinuses, green passion fruits appear (shy), as does carambola (just as shy). Later on, the reduced nose turns a little leafier. Mouth: the initial mouthfeel is gently lemon-y (read: thin and acidic), though that is soon eclipsed by an obvious heat. Considering the fierce ABV, it is more tolerable than expected, but it is warm alright. Hot, plain biscuits, lemon (not just the juice, but the zest too), and a herbal quality again (thyme, lemon thyme, juniper). This is mouth-watering, with sage-sprinkled lemon marmalade and citrus-y biscuit crumbs. There is even lime tonic, in this. Further sipping brings about a certain sweetness, maybe vanilla sugar? Or is it custard powder? Water unfortunately throws this off balance: it becomes fruitier, but feels watery; so watery, in fact, that the fruit, which might well be carambola, is barely recognisable. It does make it sweeter, however, and leafier, to a degree, with clementine foliage and lemon mint. Finish: surprisingly gentle (he says, his lips still throbbing from the alcohol shock), this has citrus written all over it (yellow kiwi, soft grapefruit and calamansi -- it is not all acidic lemon, this time), on an underlying herbal character (norii joins thyme and hawthorn). This finish, a wee while after swallowing, develops a certain bitterness too. In no particular order, we have lime peels, lichens, verdigris and oxidised metal, veering towards pencil-sharpener blades, without ever quite reaching them. The second sip has a vaguely-bitter custard, which is as unexpected as it is good. Water tones down the metal and all things bitter, adds a drop of pear juice, and makes for an easier sipper. In other words: it makes this dram far less interesting, unfortunately. If adding water at all, it is a good idea to let it sit for at least fifteen minutes to allow the whisky to regain some semblance of balance. 9/10
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