This one is unusual in that it is a single malt, rather than a blend, which most, if not all other Highland Queen expressions are. From which distillery? Well, it is undisclosed, but we know that Macdonald & Muir, the founding company, bought Glenmorangie in 1918, and Glen Moray in 1923. The brand Highland Queen was sold in 2008 to Picard Vins & Spiritueux, a company who also owns Tullibardine distillery. Of course, Highland Queen Scotch Whisky Company being a blending firm, this could be any old cask, but chances are that it is one of the afore-mentioned three distilleries. And considering Tullibardine has been releasing well-aged expression in their Custodians collection, in recent years, there is no reason to think they would surreptitiously sneak a cask under the radar by not disclosing its provenance. In other words, this may very well be a single malt from a distillery whose name starts with 'Glen( )mora-'. And only one of those two is really touchy with their brands, so go figure! Hm.
Highland Queen 52yo 1962/2015 The Century Edition (40%, The Highland Queen Scotch Whisky Company Majesty, Oak Casks, 500b, b#491, L15/6000): nose: an immediate whiff of vanilla custard, sprinkled with pleasant cologne, or tame after-shave balm. Quickly, citrus rises, and we have grapefruit and oroblanco coming to the fore. A nuance of minty, pine-y freshness catches up, alluding to citrus foliage to complement the fruitiness. The whole is subdued, restrained, elegant, a geisha in a China shop. A bit of breathing gives this nose a lick of marmalade, in a PiM's style -- the one coated in white chocolate, which they seem to no longer make, these days. The second nose is as discreet, yet it may well add dried-raspberry slices to its repertoire. Mouth: as mellow as one would imagine at this legal-minimum strength, but totally acceptable, and not weak in any way. Here is the soft ginger of ginger snaps, sweet shortbread, lemon-y custard cream, clementine foliage, crushed with a pestle and mortar, and dusted onto the cream. A faint bitterness appears, akin to the citrus leaves morphing into bay leaves, yet it adds a layer of complexity, rather than distracts from the lovely citrus-y shortbread. The second sip has a little more wood: balsawood shavings, or grated fresh galangal, more than anything bitterer or plank-y. The ever-present citrus turns greener, pomelo or yuzu, now, or heavily-sweetened lime juice. It seems more acidic with each sip, but falls short of turning stripping. Finish: it truly shines, here, with, essentially, the logical continuation of the nose and palate -- clementine, satsuma foliage, custard, shortbread. The next gulp confirms that (perhaps simple) picture, and leaves a very long-lasting, creamy feel in the whole mouth. It is now lukewarm, liquid custard, bursting with vanilla, bright citrus, pressed satsumas, vanilla sugar, and powdered shortbread. The death has a fleeting sense of a more-tropical fruit, though one would be hard pressed to identify it, so fleeting it is (kiwi? Chikku?) What a delightful drop! 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
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