Time to review this well-known (and mislabelled) Bushmills (literature tells us Cooley did not have pot stills, in 1988), after we tried it again, casually, at the weekend.
117.3 25yo 1988/2013 Hubba-bubba, mango and monstera (58.5%, SMWS Society Single Cask, 1st Fill ex-Bourbon Barrel, 199b): nose: it is still as explosive, with a hefty metallic touch, and loads of herbs. Aside the freshly-oiled circular blade of a ham-slicing machine, it has a huge dried-sage influence, as well as softer notes of verbena, gentian, tarragon, and thyme. Cured cold cuts follow: pastrami, herb-crusted cooked ham, lemon thyme on cold meat loaf. All that parts like the Red Sea to make room for fruits, of course. Kumquat foliage, candied tangerine segments, smoked oranges, and tinned mangoes. Indeed, although the fruit is unstoppable and undeniable, it does not totally shake off the metal side; it stays close to tin, aluminium, or zinc, as if mango had been left to rot in a tin can, or had been cut on a zinc countertop. It works a treat. The second nose promises the creaminess of warm custard -- a vanilla custard made richer by the addition of juicy fruits, naturally. It also has a whisper of faded tan leather. Time seems to make it milkier and milkier, be it oat "milk" or cow's. Herb-cured fruits are never too far, however, and we soon see more lovely mangoes and peaches, with a pinch of dried marjoram. Lastly, we have cut persimmon covered in chocolate paste. Yum! Mouth: ha! ha! Metal may still be present on the palate, but it is mainly a fruity affair, now. Juicy kumquats and satsumas, augmented with a generous offering of cracked black pepper, buzz off as soon as one starts chewing on this: that unleashes mad slaps of sliced mangoes, something that becomes ridiculously hypnotic in seconds. We pick up citrus greenery through the back (Kaffir lime leaves, kumquat foliage), but the rest of the mouth is invaded by warm mango cubes riding on an oily texture (teak oil, linseed oil). The second sip is more clearly acidic, and attacks the gums, slowly but surely slimming them down. Once they wake up, from that slight shock, we go back to our regular programme, i.e. mangoes. This time, those mangoes are accompanied by diced papaya and juicy, freshly-plucked jackfruit. It is still herbaceous, yet less-boldly so -- now a pinch of dried herbs, rather than foliage branches. Finish: the relatively-high strength works perfectly. Even after keeping it in the mouth for several minutes, it loses none of its potency, and it slaps booty relentlessly. Impressive. What we taste is in line with the nose and the palate; a frank and metallic fruitiness, punctuated by all manners of dried herbs. Mango, satsuma, kumquat, peach, grapefruit foliage, oregano, thyme, rosemary, lemon sage... and tin cans, albeit less pronounced than earlier. The second gulp adds a drop of wood varnish so overrun by candied fruits it is easy to miss. Peach slices, dripping with pouring honey, mango cubes dipped in stem-ginger syrup, chopped apricots doused in Golden Syrup. The whole is topped with a selection of herbes de Provence (lemon thyme, oregano, dried sage, dried tarragon), discreet enough to let the fruits shine. And shine they do! Brightly! They turn yellower and more acidic in subsequent sips, mangoes slowly morphing into mirabelle plums and canary melons. As that happens, tin cans and milk-chocolate paste observe from afar. This remains a masterpiece. 10/10
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