24/02/2023 Hillside

Hillside 25yo 1970/1996 (61.1%, OB Rare Malts Selection): nose: sawn wood, quarry chippings, stone dust, a drop of cider vinegar, and distant cardboard, a typical marker for this distillery. It is not exactly lush and welcoming, but -- hey! What did you expect? Next up are sliced (yellow) onions, dust puppies from an old broom brush, crumbling dried bulrush, apple pips, boot-sole-dry roast beef. At last, it opens up to reveal more-appealing notes, such a s waxy marzipan and fleshy stone fruits. It remains a rather austere affair, but it is at least trying not to appear rude. In fact, it proceeds to oscillate between the dusty cardboard notes and its fruitier side, just to keep one guessing, and that elicits interest alright, regardless of which aspect one prefers. The second nose is like entering a shed in which wood is stored, ready to be burned in the fireplace -- a damp clay floor, but an altogether-dry atmosphere. Here is also peppermint that has long since expired, and has therefore lost a lot of its potent smell. A drop of water opens it up dramatically, and allows citrus to shine. Mind you, it is dried-out orange peels, ground into dust, but still. It also feels warmer, and adds a vague juiciness of blood orange and pomelo. Much later on, tilting the glass introduces a pasture-like quality: earth, trampled by cows, or dried dung, both very faint. Mouth: a little brash at first (RMS strength, innit), it feels like licking red-chilli powder off a slate, so hot and rocky it is. Underneath that is a delicate fruitiness, with peaches so hot they might as well be on fire, apple pips dripping oil, and grape stems, also moist with oil. Cardboard is never too far, and neither are onions, this time pickled. They are not invasive either, merely in the background. Over a few minutes, the palate develops an unexpected earthy note of clay. The second sip is as wild and unruly, with an abrasive attack, even. We have peppermint-y lime, at this point, intimidating, due to its concentration, but actually quite nice, in tOMoH's opinion. The texture seems to grow thicker, from almost vinegar thin to a mint-y paste. Water softens it, and makes it an almost-gentle, citrus-y juice, showcasing bergamot, kumquat, Kaffir lime, or ugli fruit, and a pinch of sugar to keep the acidity under control. Finish: surprisingly discreet, it displays drops of cider vinegar on dusty cardboard, cured beef slices, brine. Hardly any of the fruity notes made it this far. On the other hand, dried bulrush makes a late-but-lasting appearance, and it leaves the tongue properly parched. The second gulp packs a stronger punch; it delivers a lime-and-mint paste that feels refreshing, yet also a hefty dose of pepper, blended with stone dust. That counterbalances the freshness, somewhat. None of that lasts very long. The only impression that remains after a few seconds is that cardboard-y dryness. Once more, a drop of water makes for a very different experience, one in which the desiccating cardboard is swapped for juicy citrus. At this stage, that juice has chunks of carambola in it, and only a minute portion of crushed mint leaves. What a difference! It is another challenging Hillside, just like the 1997 edition was. There is certainly an audience for this sort of profiles: I am part of it, even though I would not drink loads of it! 8/10