15/12/2023 Clynelish

Clynelish 30yo 1972/2002 (46%, Murray McDavid Mission Selection Number One, American Oak, 600b, b#197): nose: this has W-I-N written all over it! Myriads of aromas tickle the nostrils; beeswax, honeys and pollens, cured fruits (wine-soaked oranges, overripe tangerines), and a touch of cereals that whispers, 'grist' to the careful noser. It is also incredibly deep (in a pre-War-Strathisla way) and changing: few seconds are enough to exacerbate candlewax and charred wick, before we come back to red-wine-stained orange peels. That is not all, however: oilskins rock up, paraffin, and flayed orange segments, soaked in a bowl of top-class mulled wine at room temperature that was surrounded by smokers. Indeed, beside the clear waxiness and fruitiness is a more-discreet smoke, an afterthought, more than anything distinct and intentional. That haze of dry smoke leads us down a path of white wines, with Chenin and Sauvignon coming to mind, slightly unexpected, after that luscious fruit. Soon, we are back in paraffin and new-candlewick territory -- a waxy one, sometimes hinting at a mirabelle-plum tart. The second nose is more-boldly fruity, and yellow fruits are of course loudest -- mirabelle plums, peaches, yellow-kiwi skins cast a shadow over blush-orange segments and overripe pineapple cubes that come dusted with ash. We also detect cinnamon and charred ginger shavings, which, with the afore-mentioned honey, give a hot-toddy feel that is rather seasonal. Eventually, a faint whiff of strawberry bubble gum can be noted. Mouth: The attack is fleetingly juicy, but soon shows its true colours: spent wick, dry white wine, warm candlewax, and citrus hues. Orange peels are here, merely sprayed with (white) wine, this time, and they provide a softly-bitter nuance that adds complexity. Said orange comes with foliage, come to think of it, somewhat underlining the bitterness. Mostly, though, this is akin to chewing on a candlestick. Fat, chunky, coating, it has lost nothing by being reduced (to 46%, mind), and, again, it speaks of times more ancient than 1972, even it it lacks marmalade and tin caps to be mistaken for a pre-War expression. The second sip appears waxier, still, golden modelling wax and floor wax. We keep the candlewick, intact, this time, which is to say paraffin-y, and it comes alongside waxy apricots rolled in ashes, simultaneously surprising and delicious. That triggers salivating, a bit. Finish: cut apricots and dried peaches, served on a metal plate, sprinkled with pollens of all kinds. It is sweetish, yet has a mineral dryness too, as well as a soft, magnifying bitterness. Long, not invading, characterful, not brash, this here Clynelish exhibits a wonderful balance. A couple of minutes after swallowing, ground fruit stones emerge (mirabelle plums, peaches), enhancing the bitterness's resolution without coming too close to crushed green hazelnut or dandelion stem. The second gulp showcases a minty gel that quickly brings back juicy yellow fruits (plums, apricots, yellow kiwi), as well as more-tropical ones (somewhere between unripe sharon and overripe kaki, and papaya, in the virtual absence of pineapple, as opposed to last time). As a result, what could have been a fierce peppermint falls in line, and becomes a gorgeous yellow-fruit purée, juicy, sweet enough, augmented with cinnamon powder and a crushed mint leaf. Masterpiece. 10/10