The only dram from the big 2022 shindig we have not had since. Well, we had it in 2023 (from another bottle) and, therefore, postponed this rerun.
Glen Mhor 44yo 1966/2011 (52.1%, Gordon & MacPhail Reserve exclusively bottled for van Wees, Refill Sherry Hogshead, C#3690, 133b, b#79, AA/JGIF): nose: a robust Highlander for which aeons of ageing have eased the roughest edges. We have a thin smoke hovering over waxed furniture covered in patina, and cured fruits glazed with honey. On a wooden table, someone has drawn a line of gunpowder, ready for snorting, and the open wooden cupboard in the corner holds an oilcloth tablecloth for when the lady of the house paints her nails. Going back to the fruits, they mostly come from a local orchard, meaning apples, pears, quince, and they dry out with breathing time, even if recurrent additions of honey revives them somewhat (I am not adding honey, to be clear; it is a note that comes and goes is what I mean). The whole seems to converge towards a bunch of lilies-of-the-valley on the rustic, patina-covered wooden table. Incredibly, the second nose has farm paths and muddy farmyards, for a split second. We swiftly go back to orchard fruits, now sweeter than ever: roasted apples, stone-baked quince and lush honey spilled on a wooden cutting board. Meow! Is that caramelised puffed wheat, after a while? Aye. Mouth: enchanting from the word 'go'! Similar notes as what we had on the nose, with honey, orchard fruits and waxed furniture, but with so remarkable a balance that the repetition is welcome. The alcohol kick is modest, yet perfect -- exactly what one would expect of an old glory like this. Chewing unleashes a torrent of furniture polish and dials up the patina-ed wood, which imparts the whole a gentle bitterness, even if calling it bitter would be a stretch. No, it is a fruity, waxy number with a lick of wood and a veil of smoke that is now a tad more acrid than the nose suggested. The palate has some old, faded hard plastic too (think of that famous plastic-container brand), which is an interesting counterpoint to the more-dominant waxed wood. The second sip is thinner, for a moment, then soon stokes the fire under roasting orchard fruits. It offers a glass of cool apple juice augmented with a (wooden) spoonful of honey licked by a gentle acrid smoke from a coal hearth. Finish: quite the departure, here, as it has virtually no wood bitterness to show. Instead, it is a cup of chicory infusion, toned down with milk, and sweetened with dried apple slices, or tart quince jelly. Only after thirty-or-so seconds does one notice how numb the roof of the palate is, throbbing as if hit by a plank. Dark conifer-blossom honey spread onto a Biscotte, or, better, a charcoal cracker. That latter is our only reminder of the smoke from the nose and palate, it seems. The second gulp adds a (wooden) spoonful of cocoa to the chicory infusion, a pinch of mocha, and a sprinkle of caster sugar. It retains a certain acridity, one that generates warmth, rather than discomfort. The jig of orchard fruits, honey, wood, furniture polish and acrid smoke it outstanding. A whirlwind that increases speed and weaves those elements so tightly that they become more than the sum of their parts. What a dram! Magnificent. 9/10
HB, PC.
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