20/07/2023 Two low-fill eight-year-olds

I had something else in mind, but the level in this mini shifts my priorities.

Glen Mhor 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: unlike any other Glen Mhor I have tasted, this one smells close to a brandy, with clear notes of ripe grapes (Crimson Seedless), and fragrant jasmine, caramelised-lychee juice, and pineapple weed, perhaps augmented with a dash of chocolate coulis. I fear for the strength, though, as this, albeit charming, smells free of alcohol. Further nosing brings Turkish delights, rubbed hyacinth leaves, and still that promising chocolate. The second nose is even fruitier, with rehydrated raisins, dates, and lychee (provided one dehydrates lychee -- and if not: why not?), yet also Vanidene granules (apparently more-scientifically known as cyclovalone). Yes, it has that creamy, vanilla-y scent (it could also be cream soda) that fortunately never feels vulgar. Mouth: it is definitely below the advertised strength, unfortunately, yet it still hangs together (by a thread, let us be honest). As expected from such an old miniature, it presents old cardboard and the brine from a jar of pickles, a drop of balsamic vinegar in a cup of heavily-diluted coffee, and... fenugreek. The second sip has Vanidene granules with a dusting of ground white pepper, which is original. Slowly settling on the tongue, we see something earthier and darker -- maybe a dollop of Marmite, or torched Demerara sugar. The finish is the strongest part of this dram, with seemingly very little lost to the ages. There is a refined sweetness to it, caramel coulis poured on chocolate-filled dragées, caramelised carrots (!), and a milk-chocolate cream so thick it might as well be chocolate mousse. The next sip adds Demerara sugar, torched so much it is starting to foam and froth. In other words: it turns earthier and toastier, yet it retains a clear sweetness. This has obviously suffered from evaporation, but it is still very good. 7/10

We have time for another one.

Tamdhu-Glenlivet 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: could this be more different? We have sawdust, pine planks, and something that, strangely, reminds me of my aunt's kitchen in the house she moved out of twenty years ago. I cannot tell if that means the chipboards of the cheap furniture, the oilskin on the table, or the butter of her cooking, but the way it triggers those memories is striking and confusing, though not unpleasant. That dissipates somewhat, and we are left with the sawdust of cut Formica-clad chipboards, and a shroud of fruits (tangerine, pineapple, unripe papaya or guava). The second nose seems more flowery (lily of the valley), and leans more on confectionery (candy floss) than on fruit. The sawdust backtracks, and the undeniable bitter note now comes from a green plant, rather than it ('it' being the sawdust). Cut flowers in a vase, maybe. Water further tunes down the sawdust and leaves but the flowers (lily of the valley) in a bakery, while the baker prepares the choux dough. Mouth: this one has lost less of its power, if any. It is full of sawdust, and bigly peppery! Fruits appear quickly in the shape of plums and nectarines, white peach at a push, but they cannot be very ripe, because they are balanced by a strong bitterness -- picture those fruits in a cup of black coffee, enhanced with a drop of wood oil. Perhaps nigella seeds join too; it is hard to tell. Actually, it is not: after a minute longer, nigella seeds become fairly obvious, overwhelming the spoonful of strawberry yoghurt they are meant to top. The second sip is in line, first fruity, then toasted to char. Water renders this greener, sappier, bitterer. It is a mellow bitterness, yet it overshadows the fruit a bit. Finish: a very fruity, creamy outburst, the finish has more of that strawberry yoghurt, almost overpowered by nigella seeds so toasted they resemble charcoal chips. Sawdust and bitterness have gone away, leaving the charry nigella seeds do most of the talking -- and talk they do! This is coating, drying, desiccating, long and warming, though I would not call it comforting, as that char dryness will not be for everyone. It reminds me of those two Tamdhu we had in Dornoch, a few years ago, yet this one is much more balanced and pleasant (thanks to the reduction?) The second sip feels more peppery, this time black pepper, which retains the warmth, while dialling down the char. With water, it is reminiscent of a cold chicory infusion, with a drop of green-grape juice to keep it interesting. The finish is, surprisingly, perhaps better with water. 7/10

Happy birthday, YDC and ZC!