22/09/2022 The Century of Malts

The Century of Malts (40%, Chivas Brothers, b.2001): Chivas blended and bottled this at the start of the current millennium to celebrate their two hundredth anniversary. For that, they used one hundred different single malts, listed in a booklet that came with the big bottle. It was the first time names like Glenisla and Craigduff were heard outside of Chivas' direct circle. Oh! this is no typo: this one is bottled at 40%, not 43. Nose: faithful to the idea of an ancient blend (this is a blended malt, mind), this has toffee by the wheelbarrow, as well as shovelfuls of earth -- dark, greasy earth from a freshly-ploughed field. It opens up to serve a spoonful of dark orange marmalade, and there is a bunch of flowers in here too, although one would struggle to identify them (red roses, perhaps?) Breadcrumbs are next, mingling with marmalade and candied physalis. This nose has an interesting pastoral allure, augmented with a vague notion of distant smoke and dried oats. However, the note that sticks is that of marmalade on toast. Repeated nosing reveals fleeting notes of heady wine, in a blink-and-you-miss-it way. It ends up fairly dusty too. Mouth: the bitter-sweet marmalade is present here too, now joined by the more-obvious smoke from a clay-oven fire. Said bitterness starts off with orange rinds and moves towards soft rubber in a short time. The second sip seems much more savoury, almost miso-like. It is also copiously sprinkled with a wine or brandy sauce. The more one tries this, the clearer a seared-mushroom note becomes. Pan-seared mushrooms, the pan then deglazed with a dash of brandy. Finish: a logical continuation of the nose and palate, here are smoked oranges and marmalade on burnt toast, rubber, heated just below the point where it starts burning, crusted earth, and a myriad of other things so intricately interwoven they are unrecognisable. Pan-seared mushrooms again, or the resulting juice thereof, to be accurate, rehydrated-shiitake water, forest floor by a camp fire, which means it is drier than the soil one would expect to tread on in a forest in autumn, although it retains some mossy softness. A spoonful of cranberry compote rounds off the picture, fruity, with enough acidity to make one overlook any intrinsic sweetness. The tongue is left thick and heavy, and it feels similar to the way it does after a night's drinking quality red wine. Excellent. To think this was sold in supermarkets, at the time! 8/10

In case you are wondering, the malts in question are: Aberfeldy, Aberlour, Allt-a-Bhainne, Ardbeg, Auchentoshan, Auchroisk, Aultmore, Balblair, Balmenach, Balvenie, Banff, Ben Nevis, Benriach, Benrinnes, Benromach, Blair Athol, Bowmore, (Royal) Brackla, Braeval, Brechin, Bunnahabhain, Caol Ila, Caperdonich, Clynelish, Convalmore, Cragganmore, Craigduff, Craigellechie, Dailuaine, Dallas Dhu, Dalmore, Dalwhinnie, Deanston, Dufftown, Fettercairn, Glen Albyn, Glenallachie, Glenburgie, Glencadam, Glen Craig, Glen Elgin, Glen Esk, Glenfarcles, Glenfiddich, Glengarioch, Glenglassaugh, Glen Grant, Glengoyne, Glenisla, Glen Keith, Glenkinchie, The Glenlivet, Glenlochy, Glenlossie, Glen Mhor, Glen Moray, Glenrothes, Glen Scotia, Glen Spey, Glentauchers, Glenturret, Glenugie, Glenury Royal, Highland Park, Imperial, Inchgower, Inchmurrin, Inverleven, Isle of Jura, Kinclaith, Knockando, Ladyburn, Lagavulin, Laphroaig, Ledaig, Linkwood, Littlemill, Longmorn, Macallan, Macduff, Mannochmore, Miltonduff, Mortlach, Mosstowie, Ord, Pittyvaich, Pulteney, Rhosdhu, Scapa, Speyburn, Springbank, Strathisla, Strathmill, Tamdhu, Tamnavulin, Teaninich, Tomatin, Tomintoul, Tormore, Tullibardine.