Caledonian 1964/2012 (41.7%, Robert Scott Scott's Selection, Bourbon Barrel): nose: one for the glue sniffers, this! It leaps out of the glass to dispense slaps of wood glue, shoemaker's glue, glue sticks from primary school, all-purpose glue... Is the picture clear enough? Behind that are bits of wood (yes, glued together), and makeshift door-stoppers made out of wood cuttings. Then, after a while, gingerbread. Several sorts of pastry, in fact: Stollen, mince pies, and gingerbread men, still warm and soft. A little further onward, we detect old ink and ancient scrolls -- we are talking a century old, not Egyptian Antiquity, -- and cigarette ash in an ashtray, the morning after -- only the ashes, not the fag ends. Balsa wood seems to be the final guest at this party. Further nosing unveils what initially appears to be a pine-flavoured paste, but is probably tiger balm after all, with mint, camphor, and dried citrus zest. Mouth: a different story here: it is all about citrus. Mandarine segments, sliced orange, roasted grapefruit. There may be memories of glue, yet it is nothing, compared to the nose. Chewing adds citrus rinds, very loud, very clear, and tinned pineapple. It is blatantly bitter and drying, the longer one keeps it in the mouth, yet that is well under control. It is akin to biting into a slice of citrus that would have been soaked in mocha. After a couple of minutes on the tongue, the raw fruits become fruit turnovers, with a delicious-if-subtle crème pâtissière lining the crust. The second sip is suddenly frankly woody: slabs of oak and beech that have been sitting in the shed for a couple of seasons, and are starting to turn green with lichens and mosses. More chewing brings back the fruit, and introduces vermeil-coloured birch shelves. Finish: hugely and elegantly sweet, this is a luscious fruit turnover again, followed by mixed peel, candied papaya and angelica, and chewy mocha sweets. It manages the exploit of being at once warming and refreshing, and, if it is satisfying, it leaves one craving for more. None of the ashy touch makes it this far; this is unadulterated fruity stuff, now. The second gulp is in the same vein, and it perhaps adds a drop of natural apple juice in wooden goblets. Wow! Extraordinary old grain! 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)
Invergordon 1964/2011 (43.8%, Robert Scott Scott's Selection): nose: would you believe it if I said it smells like a wood-panelled room full of jam jars? You should. Century-old rustic furniture from the Condroz, recently sanded and waxed (not oiled), dozens of blackcurrant-jam jars cooling on the dining-room table, and a cauldron with jam residue, cooling off on the hob in the kitchen next door. Emerging from the same kitchen, we see golden toast slices (white bread), probably the support for the jam. Some of the fruits did not make it into this batch; they are still waiting for their turn, washed and draining in a large plastic colander. As it opens up with time, the nose becomes gradually fruitier. Mostly blackcurrants, also gooseberries, strangely enough, not entirely ripe. Indeed, there is a fruit bitterness to it that makes me think of a defrosting spray for car windscreens. The second nose has a slight vegetal whiff, likely the greens of whichever fruits were turned into jam. That is soon easily submerged by more fruity jam, mind. On the late tip, a stick of glue appears, the trusty orange-capped Pelikan, then paper bags. Mouth: despite a persisting very-minor bitterness, this is a big spoonful of blackcurrant jam or jelly, predictably. That is the distillery's trademark, after all. Chewing dials that up to eleven, adds some raspberry wine, and serves the whole on a polished-wood tray -- mahogany is my best guess. It has something remotely metallic too, likely a spoon to serve the jam? The second sip is less exuberant, with (glossy and not-so-glossy) magazines wrestling the jammy toasts to the ground. One could picture a child taking a bite of jammy toast, then being distracted by this week's edition of their favourite comic magazine. The jam is not far, no longer front-and-centre. Finish: currants paste alright, dark, juicy, and scrumptious. Pressed blackcurrants, pressed blackberries, myrtles... One can almost see one's lips turn purple, when sipping this! The fruity jam comes by the shovelful, in flaky turnovers, on toasts, on scones, in doughnuts. Only crumpets are missing. Here, the second gulp increases the taste of jammy toast, if anything. It dunks that toast into a mug of white coffee, a habit that anyone outside of the Hexagon would struggle to see as anything other than a waste of toast, jam, and coffee. It works here, to a point, yet tOMoH would prefer it without the coffee. Further sips tone down that coffee note, which is much more to his liking. Phew! Excellent nevertheless, if slightly below the Caledonian. 9/10 (Thanks for the sample, WhiskyLovingPianist)
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