27/02/2026 Unfinished business MkII (Part 1)

A rerun of the historic 2024 tasting of the same name.

Tomintoul 46yo 1967/2013 (47.6%, The Whisky Agency, Refill Hogshead, 215b): nose: phwoar! (already) Here is a mix of ripe grapes, plums, rehydrated raisins and crayons. Perhaps it has a whiff of scented pencil eraser too, yet it does not smell rubbery at all. That quickly becomes blackberry paste or jelly, and even sirop de Liège. Apricots and nectarines follow, especially nectarines, with their waxy skin, then dark grapes that are growing a veil of lichen. Crayons sigh in comfort before disappearing into the background, in time for the whole to turn a lot juicier. Grape juice, plum juice, pressed nectarines, a dash of prune syrup, smashed myrtles and blackberries... Jacob Ree-ZOMG! what a tantalising nose. With a bit of fantasy, one may catch a soft whisper of smoke, yet it is really a fruit basket in a room that happens to have a coal stove. It certainly is not a strong feature. The second nose adds brambles and currants. It comes closer to a berry bush, but remains well fruity. In fact, it soon runs back to grapes and rehydrated raisins. It has hints of umeshu before slapping this taster in the nose with pineapple slices and juicy grapefruit segments. A custard-stained wooden board quickly comes to the rescue and ushers the fruits away. We are saved. Later yet, we have a dusting of confectionary sugar -- or cosmetic powder, come to think of it. Mouth: unctuous, mellow, it follows the trail carved by the nose, with fresh and rehydrated fruits, maybe stewed ones too. Raisins and grapes, plums and prunes, blueberries. Minimal chewing adds (all sorts of) oriental delicacies, starting with honey, and, via Medjool dates, landing on rose water. It has a soft note of wood too -- and, after forty-six years in a cask, how could it not? -- but that is no match for the growing rose-petal jelly that takes over. Dates remain in the lead, however. The second sip has a bolder acidity: we find green grapes, now, unripe gooseberries, and even Chinese gooseberries. Chewing restores the mellow fruity side we have come to know and love, with the acidity consigned to the back benches, in the form of stewed berries and rhubarb. More chewing brings soft candied grapefruit peel and stem ginger. Yum! Later on, we perceive a pinch of birch sawdust. Finish: here too, it is oriental-dessert heaven. Medjool dates, raisins (rehydrated or not), dried plums and apricots, prunes. The finish is a little woodier, with honey-golden oaken jewel cases and polished-walnut dashboards. Nevertheless, it is those dates that speak the most loudly, while remaining distinguished and elegant. The second gulp takes on a pastry profile, bilberry tart or gooseberry turnover, augmented with mixed peel and thin pouring custard. It still has a gentle acidity that flirts with a minute bitterness, which suggests the use of underripe fruits in that pastry. The more one sips, though, the redder the berries, and, therefore, the riper. Smoked strawberries in a shortcrust case with a drop of pouring custard, warm rhubarb compote spread on a slice of bilberry tart, peach clafoutis sprinkled with ginger powder, poached pears on a soft waffle, and it ends with chewy fruit sweets that have lost their potency. Phwoar! 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

Teaninich 46yo 1975/2021 (47.4%, Sansibar JD’s Personal Choice No.4, Bourbon Hogshead, 158b): nose: this one too has an ethereal quality that only long ageing can impart. It is a trifle vegetal and flowery, with bunches of honeysuckle and sarcococca, albeit less exuberant than those can be. It has some herbs too, probably mint and lemon mint, Thai basil (at a push) and bay leaves, yet it would be an exaggeration to call it herbal. No, the dominant are the little flowers. Several sniffs in, it acquires citrus foliage (bergamot, tangerine) and vine leaves coated in marmalade. Then, that turns into pastry: we find ourselves with a piece of lime-drizzle cake under our nose, sweet-but-lean, fluffy and appetising AF. A generous dollop of warm plum-and-apricot jam follows, which adds to the pastry impression. This nose is a slow burner, but when it gets going, it will not stop seducing. After thirty minutes of breathing, the second nose, is more assertive. Unexpectedly, it has strong aromas of toasted sourdough. A little attention helps detect grapes and plums on a barbecue grille too -- a complete surprise! The flowery notes from earlier have morphed into an elegant Cologne. Wood follows shortly, cut brambles and fruit-tree branches. Mouth: soft and sweet, it is pretty timid upon entry. A spoonful of apricot jam, maybe tangerine marmalade, cold yuzu tea. Chewing unveils a much-bolder number, one that deploys plenty of wood (old acacia shelves), stem ginger and fresh honey. With that wood comes a tiny bitterness that is soon overrun by honey. The undeniable sawdust, white pepper and galangal shavings that appear are overcome by jam and marmalade just as promptly, until we can only perceive bush flowers (sarcococca confusa again, honeysuckle to a lesser extent). The second sip paints a stark contrast: it starts off all leafy and bitter, and feels similar to biting into ivy leaves (do not try!) It takes a few seconds to regain composure, past which it provides citrus (foliage included) and the honeyed wood from earlier. It has a touch of ozone too, perhaps hair lacquer mingling with berries (wild strawberries, rosehips, bilberries). Finish: it somehow becomes leafier again, crushed bay leaves and vine leaves filled with stem ginger. A pinch of dust permeates every aspect of this, whether it is ginger powder, ground white pepper, sawdust, or sodium bicarbonate. It is much less sweet, at this stage, and whatever citrus is left is presented as ground dried peels, rather than candied, or as marmalade. That makes for a more-robust finish. Some may regret that. The second gulp is in line. Dusty citrus foliage, bone-dry orange zest, dried lemongrass ground to a fine powder and, just maybe, amchur. The contrast between sweet citrus and dry powdered spices repeats with each sip, but it never becomes monotonous or predictable, let alone boring. Fascinating dram, in fact! 9/10

Dumbarton 46yo d.1964 (47.4%, Hunter Hamilton The Clan Denny, Refill Hogshead, C#HH7542): nose: this smells like an open bottle of acetone next to a plateful of toasts at the breakfast table. Gingerbread follows, with blackberry pancakes in tow, and blackcurrant-jam residue on the warmed tin lid of the jam jar. That blackcurrant becomes so distinct it is Invergordonian, but that toasted bread is the differentiator. We catch a spoonful of Demerara sugar, almost immediately joined by smashed berries of a redder kind; raspberries, mulberries, boysenberries, dark cherries. The tin and (white) bread are never too far behind, mind. The second nose untoasts the bread: it is now spongy, almost crumpet-like, slathered with jam. Why anyone would put jam on an untoasted crumpet is a mystery to me, by the way. Each to their own. It works on the nose anyway. And then, hot tin helps it stand up. Is that pineapple bark, in the long run? Mouth: ooft! Pure berries or currants juice upon entry. Ten seconds in, tin comes into focus too. Chewing releases a torrent of smashed berries of all colours (blueberry, blackcurrant, strawberry, mulberry, blackberry, cranberry, gooseberry, physalis). The acidic touch at the top of the palate seems to be saying that blackcurrant is the top dog, but not by much. This turns a notch woodier, after a while, mostly brambles and some may detect a drop of liquid glue, although it is discreet. The second sip is as unsubtle as they come: it is berries jam on warm crusty bread, plain and simple. Looking for it with intent, we could isolate vanilla custard dotted with açai berries, or blueberry cheesecake. Besides, there is a lick of warm tin. However, really, it is jam and bread. Repeated sipping brings a chalky feel to the gums. Finish: the initial hit is that of cellophane, interestingly enough. It does not have much of the glue that some grains may showcase, but it is definitely in the solvent quadrant of the spectrum. Past that cellophane, it rolls out dark berries again: blackcurrant, huckleberry, bilberry, açai berry, Halle Berry, black raspberry. It is a never-ending finish that brings back Demerara wrapped in cellophane. The second gulp has that same cheesecake from the mouth, berry-flavoured toothpaste heated to the temperature of compote (not that horrible strawberry stuff for children that tastes like chemicals), a few drops of pineapple juice, but mostly berries. Even elderberry cough drops make a late appearance, as does a refreshing tingle that is probable menthol more than camphor. Delicious! 9/10