19/12/2023 Springbank

Springbank 24yo (47.6%, OB for Springbank Open Day 2023, Oloroso & Port Oak Casks, 1920b): nose: an enticing rustic mix of fruity beer (borderline IPA) and cereals, likely hoppy oats. Shortly thereafter, we see a shower of ashes being poured onto said cereals; burnt apple pips, burnt citrus, charred pineapple, oat flakes, a little too roasted, grist build-up, at the bottom of a toaster... We also spot something else -- something between cream soda and swimming pool. Could it be a blend of chlorine and bleach? It has evaporated fizzy orangeade too, the syrupy residue of which still clings to the glass. Then, suddenly, it goes back to grist and ashes, and that paves the way for woodier tones. I would say ash for shits and giggles, but it is rather mahogany or redwood, at this point. That is fleeting though: soon, it resumes the orangeade thread, and goes round all of the above once more. The whole is now joined by a lactic aroma: raw milk, stale butter, or yeasty warm milk. The second nose has ozone, faded pot-pourri sachets, dried bunches of heather. It seems less talkative with extensive breathing, or maybe there is too little left in my glass. Cedar-wood sheets come out of nowhere, and join the ashes, cereals and citrus. Mouth: rustic old Springbank alright! This feels like drinking something that predates the Industrial Revolution. Boggy water, algae, silt, sphagnum moss. As one keeps it in the mouth, a certain fruitiness becomes clearer, with pink-grapefruit segments (not quite ripe), pomelo, tinned pineapple cubes, stained by the tin, kumquats, and a soft bitterness too -- quinine, maybe? It is reminiscent of tonic water, in any case. The second sip is in line, yet comes across as a little spicier (ground piment d'Espelette). To call it herbaceous would be a stretch, yet the obstinate taster may find half a crushed leaf of lemon mint, or crushed rocket. Ashes come back into focus, however, and vase water, with a dash of fruit juice. Finish: quaffable nectar, velvety and juicy. Apricots, peaches, scooped cantaloupe. That said, it has not got rid of a tiny bitterness that gives us melon skins, pomelo skins and Schweppes residue in an empty glass. In fact, if the fruit is undeniable, it is probably augmented with crushed Aspirin tablets, here, bitter and desiccating, not enough to disadvantageously counterbalance the lovely fruit, yet easy to spot nevertheless. The second gulp goes down as easily, quite simply a peach nectar that would have been cut with sphagnum-moss water from a boggy marsh. The more I sip it, the more I feel as though someone dropped a peppermint lozenge into that marsh. Not sure what went on in Machrihanish in the late 1990s (when this was distilled), but I am loving it. Although less farm-y than the first time, this one is a work of (rustic) art. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, SOB)