It is late May. Festival-goers have started flocking to the Wee Toon, before moving on to the Queen of the Hebrides.
Here, at tOMoH Towers, spring has arrived, and spring, in mainstream thinking, means Lowland whiskies. Another St Magdalene, then!
St.Magdalene 23yo 1982/2006 (56%, Hart Brothers Finest Collection imported by Marsalle Company): nose: oh! it is a mineral one, this. Flint, slate, scoria, extra-dry lichen on stone, desiccated moss. It has a faint whiff of white wine, yet it is definitely a rock-face nose, with more bleached bones than green grapes -- by a wide margin! A little later, we have cut grass, cut weeks ago and left to dry into hay. A vaguely-juicier note emerges after that, probably turnip juice, so do not get too excited! Ten minutes in, at last, lighter scents develop, discreet and distant; cut flowers left out of the vase to dry, sweet mint drops, then kumquats, sliced nectarines and a drop of blush-orange juice. None is loud, none is obvious, all require time and attention, but they all contribute to this tantalising hide-and-seek nose. The second pass seems more herbaceous, with thick, wild grass in dry climate (it still is not juicy!), peppery watercress or rocket, even if it comes across as less bitter than either of them. Perhaps there is a dash of juice in which plums have macerated? All of a sudden, we have lime drizzle, icing and all. It is as clear as it is unexpected! Water makes the integration more complete, to a point it is impossible to pick nuances apart. It is generally less mineral and more citrus-y, fresh and comforting, if less characterful. It brings up daffodil petals, actually. Mouth: the attack is mineral again, full of quarry chippings. It opens up more quickly than the nose, delivering mint lozenges, spearmint, cassia bark and a pinch of cinnamon powder too. Next are flower stems, softly bitter, and a drop of daffodil nectar. The second sip is marked more clearly by citrus (unripe mandarin, sweet lime, bergamot), and perhaps leafier too. It has the bitterness of leaves, in any case, though it is now met by the acidity of fruit. It is spicy as well -- ginger and lemongrass, rather than chilli, mind. The texture is relatively thin, but lacks for nothing all the same. Remarkably, water cranks up the citrus, now a blend of lime, pomelo and unripe mandarine, acidic and bitter in equal measure. Lovely. Repeated (reduced) sipping shifts the citrus from green to orange, with tangerine and crystallised clementine segments now joining in. Finish: minty and fresh, juicy in a barley-water sort of way, and sweet as a dusting of cinnamon on vanilla custard (or, to be accurate, on βανίλια that would have the creamier consistency of custard). Reaching the sinuses through retro-nasal olfaction, we have daffodil petals, which make for a soft, pillow-y general feel. Of the pronounced minerality, naught seems to remain, other than the remote, almost imperceptible bitterness of limestone. The second sip is mildly salty and reminds me of a lime soda on a boat in the Alleppey Backwaters, in which the crew had mistakenly poured salt instead of sugar. Freshness, acidity and salt marry up to showcase a version of the tropics that does not involve luscious fruit. A drop of water balances the salt to allow stem ginger to appear, fresh, spicy and syrupy. Oh! the salt does not entirely go away; it is merely adequately matched by the spicy sweetness. And it does become sweeter with each sip. This is a masterpiece. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
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