Bowmore 16yo 1990/2006 (53.8%, OB Limited Edition, Sherry Casks): final leftover from the tasting last month. Nose: extremely caramel-y, this has fudge, sticky toffee pudding, melted Toffee Penny (the flat one in a box of Quality Street), and an underlying earthy current -- potting soil, tagete planters. That then proceeds towards dark drinks, cola, Dr. Pepper, Chinotto, or some kind of root beer. It is all flat, to be clear, but root-y nonetheless. Slowly, like the tranquil force it is, a gentle peat smoke rises, earthy, clay-like, a mix of plasticine and scorched earth. At times, it takes on fleeting farm-y accents, muddy countryside paths and ploughed fields, as well as maritime notes of dried kelp and fishing nets. The second nose has all sorts of gardening waste: dark-green cut grass and cut branches of sorts, but also wilted spinach and hazel growing in silt. Mouth: smoked violet boiled sweets, loud and clear. As usual, it does not bother tOMoH, but he can imagine others frowning. Chewing pushes earth forward, scorched earth, to be precise, and cooling embers. They remain in the wake of that trailblazing violet, however. It is good to see said violet smoked -- keeps it original. The second sip has candied-angelica shavings, spent green-tea leaves, smoked-mint kulfi, and lemon marmalade covered in dried sage. Violet sweets in tow, it goes without saying. Finish: we have embers and charred oak branches that were once covered in lush-green lichen. The second gulp has a slight green bitterness, yet it remains mostly fresh and smoky. Picture a mint plant growing in an ashy soil, whether it is added as fertiliser, or volcanic ash rained over it. The aftertaste brings us back to violet, and it is now bitter as the flower, rather than the boiled sweets of the same name. Further sips come down to a minty, scorched-earth landscape in which ash and violet boiled sweets are less prominent. 7/10 (Thanks for the dram, CB)
Caol Ila 29yo d.1991 (48.9%, Cask Sample, Bourbon Hogshead): this is the last of the plastic samples. Poor WhiskyLovingPianist had more, and they were in worse shape. Ours have suffered no obvious tainting. Phew! Nose: bone-dry shrubs and cut branches, on which the dead leaves have turned dark brown, crackling on a garden fire, by which fishing nets are hung out to dry. Beside that is a bowl of vanilla custard, augmented with a dollop of chocolate pudding. It also has a fleeting note of leather. A few minutes later, smoked gingerbread overtakes all that, supported by a pile of logs that have been sitting by the fireplace for several months and are therefore well dry and toasted. Further nosing reveals smoked bottom feeders, more crayfish than a saltwater type. The detective mind will detect smoked preserved lemons, but they do not stand out. Time, however, solidifies that citrus impression with smoked oranges and tangerines. Indeed, lemon becomes a softer, sweeter type of citrus in the space of five minutes. That citrus helps push an earthier, muddier note to the fore. The second nose has sea water in a rockpool, sandy, salty, briny to an extent. Soon, the citrus fruits return, smoked and rolled in mud. Perhaps there is an oilskin in there somewhere, well weathered. Later on, unripe pineapple rocks up, gently smoked. Mouth: soft and gentle, a cushion of tangerine or mandarine, it takes only a little chewing to show its strength: smoked paprika, smoked saffron, Szechuan pepper, a pinch of earth, and even a drop of petrol. The second sip has orange peels, clear as day, gently bitter and assertively fruity. The bitterness increases: it never reaches ivy-leaves levels, but it tickles unripe-pomelo skin. That bitterness is soon met by sea water and algae of one kind or another, and raw clams. It gets fruitier with each sip, with pineapple (again) joining the citrus. Some will perhaps find smoked jackfruit, or not-quite-ripe yellow passion fruit. Finish: it shines, here, with smoked mussels and razor clams sprinkled with orange or tangerine juice, fishing nets hung out to dry, ink on blotting paper lost at sea. Then, retro-nasal olfaction brings tarry sands and treacle, bitumen, tarmac, smoked whelks. It is fresh to a point one might call minty. We will not. It is likely the tar that gives that impression, so we will talk about menthol cigarettes, and ozone. Further sips add citrus foliage to the mix -- a serving of smoked molluscs on a bed of citrus foliage: whelks, mussels, oysters, barnacles, periwinkles, cockles, and bergamot and orange leaves. It works a treat. The more one samples it, the earthier it becomes, but it is not clay or fields of any kind -- no! We are talking tarry sands, with more tar and bitterness at each sip. There is certainly a pun somewhere about Tory sands and fracking, but one would be right to question whether that is a laughing matter. The whisky, on the other hand, is excellent. It feels different from the first time, perhaps better. 9/10
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