13/09/2024 Paul John

#5: nose: fairly safe to say it is going to be an Islay -- probably even "an Islay", i.e. an undisclosed L@g@vulin. That is because just pouring it emits wafts of warming peat smoke. Nosing it properly, it is actually a lot more subtle than it first seemed; sure, it has (gentle) smoke, yet also varnished wood in an antique carpenter's workshop and blood sausage, of which black pudding is the most obvious to spot. There is an earthy layer at play too, with clay and wood, coloured with a drop of ink. The initial smoke retreats to the distant background and makes room for purple pencil erasers, with a consistency halfway between plasticine and rubber. I am starting to doubt the Islay provenance, now. Perhaps it is a Paul John instead? Does it even matter? Fruits slowly make their way up to the surface, candied pineapple and papaya cubes, dried mango slices, and also chewy cassia bark. The second nose has old ground coffee stored in a cardboard box, as well as burnt-paper ash on top of roasted pineapple. Mouth: ker-pow! Bold and punchy, it hits one like Mike Tyson Fury. Once past the shock, we are taken by an immense bitterness; it feels like sucking on a rubber joint, or a car-door seal. Black liquorice bootlaces, crushed ivy leaves, dolmas. Chewing brings about an earthy touch in the form of a sprinkle of dry earth, and there are dried, chewy citrus peels to be found for those who want to find them. The second sip feels more acidic, with smoked citrus segments, tangerines and oranges, rather than fierce lemons. An earthy-smoky haze cloaks it all, and chewing, once again, reveals a bitterer side, which is pleasant, even though it flirts with the limits. Finish: perhaps it is all that chewing and salivating, but the finish is much softer than expected, unctuous, chocolate milk-like. It takes at least twenty seconds for fistfuls of dry earth to appear, fairly tame: they give an Americano-like bitterness, something close to mocha cake that bears no comparison with what the mouth endured. The second gulp is fruitier and more acidic. Ideal dram for this bright-but-cool day We are luckier than WhiskyLovingPianist, so far: third plastic sample in a row, still no dud. What is it, then? Oh. Caol Ila 29yo d.1991 (48.9%, Cask Sample, Bourbon Hogshead) Perhaps it has lost a bit, after all, because, on paper, it should be a lot more impressive than the above. The notes are also not entirely aligned with what we found when we first had it. No, it was really Paul John 7yo (54.1%, Cask Sample) 7/10

Edit 16/09/2024: tOMoH does not know the difference between '5' and '6'. We actually had #5, and it was indeed a Paul John.

07/09/2024 Glenrothes

We keep our focus on plastic samples. It is another one from Cadenhead, and you will note we are not having these in the given order. That is how rock 'n roll tOMoH is. Does not play by anyone's rules. Not even his own. Tasted blind, of course.

#1: nose: this smells youngish, around the twelve-to-fifteen-year-old mark, which is to say it is a little prickly on the nose, with gherkin brine, wash, and oat milk. That is soon enough balanced out when the wash puts on a barley-custard cape, cereal-y, but most importantly sweeter. In truth, however, this nose is not that expressive. Cereals grow more assertive, and are sprinkled with dust, but we do not find much more. The second nose is totally different; we step into a bothy, or, better yet, a garden shed, while a garden fire burns outside, and rightfully blows some smoke indoors. You read that right: we are getting the tiniest whiff of smoke. Mouth: prickly alright! Chicory infusion, or rather, chicory granules, crunchy and bitter, if ultimately pleasant. We have an empty hot Moka pot, fenugreek, and torched crayons. Indeed, although carried by a creamy, silky texture, this is a bitter palate, if more chicory leaves than dry earth. The second sip is cooler, a spoonful of melted chocolate ice cream. One may well detect a dash of caramel coulis poured on said ice cream. It retains some of the bitterness in the finish, now made more welcoming by the addition of chocolate -- milk chocolate, melted chocolate, chocolate pudding, congealed chocolate custard. This is a long finish, nutty, chocolate-y, a blend of almond and chocolate milks, very much a winning combination. The second gulp takes the above to a higher level with a drop of walnut liqueur, sweet, bitter, warming. It leaves the gums throbbing for a wee while. Honest drop. Glenrothes-Glenlivet 23yo b.2020 (46%, Cadenhead, Original Collection, 60% Bourbon + 40% Sherry Casks) 7/10

06/09/2024 Glendronach

Prompted by WhiskyLovingPianist's recent article about plastic samples, I feel an urgency to get rid of revisit those samples. We had today's whisky almost four years ago, so it is certainly time for another go. Blind, too; the samples are labelled 1 to 6, and it feels more interesting to not look at what those numbers mean before trying the whiskies again.

#4: nose: beautifully woody, with encaustic, beeswax, and glossy ultramarine paint (RAL 5002). Further, we find walnut oil, perhaps cashew oil -- it is an oily affair alright; I had mahogany oil, the first time, which is fair enough. Deeper nosing rolls out a carpet of thick apricot jam, punctuated by smashed physalis, and washed down with a sip of Cognac Fin Bois. Indeed, it has a grape side as well, subtle, mostly hiding behind well-maintained wood furniture. The second nose has melted chocolate littered with smashed blueberries. Soon, apricot jam returns to prominence -- and who is complaining about it? Suddenly, and out of nowhere, some kind of soda tickles the nostrils -- Ricqlès comes to mind, for a reason I cannot explain. Old steel nuts and bolts appear too. Mouth: here, the wine influence is unmistakable. It has to be a Sherry cask or another, probably a sweet one. We find cured orange rinds, raisins injected with chilli-infused water, lychee shavings, grape juice blended with wood oil, and even a dash of paint thinner. Chewing insistently reveals a woody side too, shaved vine or orchard tree, and unripe myrtles. The second sip has a faint metallic note, copper, brass, or bronze, that reminds one of copper coins dipped in grape juice. It takes some furious chewing for any wood to come back out in the shape of Cognac Fin Bois. Finish: dignified, long, woody and fruity. Wood-haters need not worry, for it is far from plank-y or bitter. Instead, we have vine snippings, dark-grape pips, black olives. That aside, we note prunes, apricots caramelised beyond recognition, and berries, stewed with cloves and a cinnamon stick. Mulled wine this is not, yet it bears some resemblance for they who want to see it. Interesting fruits come out at the second gulp: dragon-fruit cubes and rambutan dunked in prune juice, augmented with a few drops of dark maple syrup, and pecans. Softly bitter after all, then. Phew! This one seems intact. My suspicion is it is an aged Glendronach -- and indeed, it is. It may well score higher on another day. Glendronach 30yo d.1990 (47.2%, Cask Sample, Bourbon Cask re-racked into First Fill Sherry Cask in 2013) 8/10

02/09/2024 Littlemill

97.9 17yo 1990/2007 Clean spirit in a quality cask (56%, SMWS Society Cask): leftover from ten days ago. Nose: a potent blend of daffodil, confectionary sugar, and Tête de Moine. The latter is more about the elevated fragrance imparted by the shredded texture than it is about dairy of any kind, let alone smelly cheese (not that Tête de Moine is particularly smelly). Nah! This is flowery and fruity. Sweet? Undoubtedly. Not cheesy. This has flower-scented crepe paper (in a similar idea as that Tête de Moine), persimmon, cider or perry, and tonic water. We are not in quinine territory, yet it does promise a slight bitterness. Perhaps, if Alka Seltzer made a citrus-flavoured effervescent tablet, this could be close. Next are peaches, smashed on a mahogany plank. And we move to pastries -- pear tartlets dusted with confectionary sugar. The second nose has an apricot-and-mud smoothie, blue plasticine, modelling clay, and citrus foliage (bergamot or kumquat). Candy necklaces take to the stage, crumbly, chalky, yet sweet too. Mouth: it is at once bitter, fruity and hot. What is the ABV on this? It feels higher. Nae bother, though, as that is adequately balanced by cut peach slices, juicy apricots, perhaps even (fairly-unripe) mangoes, and a pinch of Aspirin-tablet gratings. Chewing increases that Aspirin bitterness, and tickles ink. With (not too much) imagination, one may picture petrol-stained cockles, which is unexpected and amusing at the same time, a bit like being in the room when the Queen farts. More chewing piles up mangoes, always a pleasure. The second sip feels much more acidic and sweeter: orange slices, candied kumquats, dried apricots, chewy, sweet, and pickled with a drop of pomelo juice. Or it could be pomelo soda instead. Crushed Aspirin comes back, tamer than before. Finish: warm and fruity, it is also surprisingly chalky. Probably, that is the Aspirin taking on a new facet, more desiccating and less bitter. We have the dried residue in an empty glass of tonic lemonade, pink chalk on a blackboard, and dried lemon peels via retro-nasal olfaction. Remarkably long and warming, this finish feels almost medicinal. Not in the way one usually understands a medicinal whisky mind; it is closer to something one would drink to avoid scurvy and malaria. In other words, it is tropical-not-tropical fruit juice dressed in tonic water. The second gulp is sweeter, with honey-glazed kumquat easily overpowering the quinine bitterness, which takes the appearance of a candy necklace. Excellent! 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, PS)