Time to clear some leftovers from a tasting three-and-a-half years ago.
Bimber 3yo 2017/2020 (57.9%, Thompson Bros. for export, C#171, 250b): nose: well, if that is not apricot tart! Vivid and vibrant we have a lovely apricot compote cooling down on the window sill, and puff pastry -- hence the tart, though it could also be turnovers. A delicate briny touch surfaces that hints a pitted green olives, and introduces woodier tones, oiled chairs and polished car body. In fact, the latter becomes louder, touching on the metallic, for an instant. Then, it reverts back to green olives, and adds watercolour. To think this started with apricot tart! It is quite the ride. The second nose slaps one in the face with hazelnut-studded milk chocolate (Merveilles du Monde, for those who know). Then, we have almond paste (not overly-sweetened marzipan), and an apricot filling that does not necessarily feel one hundred percent natural. This is all very 1980s-Italy breakfast-y. The word 'merendine' keeps coming to mind, which one could more or less accurately understand as 'brioche', or 'bun'. Mouth: the attack is somewhat astringent, and bitter in a crushed-nut way (hazelnut, almond). The alcohol is potent, incisive, and seems to come with a whisper of smoke. Out of that smoke emerge orchard fruits: roasted apples, roasted pears, and more nuts. This has a drop of engine oil too, alongside alcohol-based industrial cleaning agent. The second sip still punches a hole in the tip of the tongue, then pours pulped fruits into it to cauterise the wound. Finish: quite focussed and contained, it turns wider with each passing second, radiating heat from one's core. Hot a-fruit juice (apple, apricot) with no pulp whatsoever, warmed nut oil, warmed wax. There seems to be no trace left of either olives or polished car body, and milk chocolate is merely suggested. The second sip is thicker, and the fruits from earlier (apples, apricots) are now presented in a paste form, purée or compote. It is still as hot, on the other hand. That does not change. Nice, if a little youthful. 7/10
Bimber (57.9%, OB, Re-Charred Cask, C#144, 303b): nose: this one has apricot tart too, though it is more fleeting. In seconds, that scent gives way to white spirit or turpentine. One need not wait long for that to change again, which leaves us with plasticine and kaju katli (yum!), then a comforting fruit-tree fire in a bothy, and a plate of roasted apple slices and hazelnuts. It is suddenly autumnal alright. Eventually, we find some car polish too, though that stays discreet and secondary. The second nose has freshly-cut hazel wood, oily and sappy, and just a hint of pine needles. Later on, that morphs into a pine-forest floor, acidic, dry, covered in needles that have lost all fragrance. Another minute allows a soft citrus smell to wave from a distance, and fleeting vegetables -- steamed asparagus, basted with lemon juice, then left to dry on a sheet of paper. Reads odd, works well. Mouth: assertive, the palate offers chewy plasticine, the strong, refreshing bitterness of liquorice bootlaces, and wood-stain tins. Chewing does not merely increase those: it also adds drying, bitter rustic wood, for a minute. Wood patina, propolis... and we end up where we started: with plasticine. The second sip is bitter, still, a windscreen wiped by wipers that have been cleaned squeaky with acetone. Chewing reveals citrus peel -- a combination of grapefruit and sweeter species (calamansi, tangerine), served on a rubber plate, topped with cracked white pepper. Finish: plasticine indeed, elastic, bouncy, and not a little bitter, it falls somewhere between rubber joints and black liquorice bootlaces. It is not as sickly as either of those, thank Cthulhu, and one may imagine chewy, rubbery dried apricots lingering, if somewhat overshadowed by liquorice. Here too, repeated sipping produces citrus peel, chewy, bitter, but also fruity: pink grapefruit, orange, calamansi. It is distinctly juicier than before, akin to a pink-grapefruit cordial diluted with hot water, and warm, as if kept in a hot bottle made of dusty metal. I think I prefer this one, today. Of course, it is limited to 303 bottles -- ha! ha! 7/10
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