Dailuaine 46yo 1973/2019 (45.1%, Hunter Laing Old & Rare A Platinum Selection, 231b, b#151): nose: one sniff and it is heaven already! Green grapes, sultanas and a crisp Chablis. This is light, ethereal and very, very fruity. One could explore this for hours and never suspect how long it has spent maturing in oak, so fresh and vibrant it is. At the same time, it is not without complexity -- far from it! It has a whiff of brine and a minute wood scent limited to an oiled kitchen table made of birch. Then, it is waxy (Mirabelle) plums and physalis, unripe apricot displayed on a hay bale, a pair of wellies worn once or twice indoors (to try them on, you know), distant cheese (Pié d'Angloys, freshly wrapped)… Yes, between the hay and the freshly-made cheese, it develops a countryside allure, for a bit. It is not long before we are enjoying white wine again, however. Tilting the glass adds raisin soaking water to the mix. The second nose is fruitier yet, with baked Mirabelle plums, apricot jelly stewing in a cauldron, and distant forsythia (which is a flower, not a fruit, I know). We still detect that subtle cheese reference, now closer to Brie, still not overly ripe. It must be a British cheeseboard: soft-rind cheese, not very ripe, a bunch of grapes (green and dark, now) and a celery stick, fresh, fruity, vaguely nutty and, well, cheesy. Mouth: mellow, it prolongs the wine-like quality of the nose with squashed grapes (skin on), plum skins (which hints at orange wine) and fortified wine -- Fino comes to mind, though not as mineral; Manzanilla? Chewing pours sultana soaking water on the lot -- water that was warmed on a wood fire. It grows a soft bitterness, likely sultana stems that were also soaked in the same water, candlewax, plastic grapes... This is insanely good! The second sip appears more acidic; it has a dash of orange wine, cut grapes soaked in said wine, and an ashy touch that each chew amplifies. To say it is burnt-vine ash may be a stretch of the imagination, but it still comes across as fruity, ashy green grapes, in a Sauvignon-blanc kind of way. Finish: warming and comforting it still retains that fruity, waxy freshness. Grapes, real and plastic-y, both green. It has a tiny dryness akin to that left by a glass of Fino, and a sprinkle of ashes. It is a long finish, strangely plastic-y, waxy, fruity. Once more, one would be hard pressed to guess that this has spent forty-six years in oak, so unwoody it is. Brie rind re-enters, timidly, which suggests a faint lactic-acid note. The second gulp drops beach pebbles into the wine, polished by millennia of tides, yet with none of the salt. It is resolutely grape-like in flavour: a drop of white-wine vinegar and grape-pip oil complement the grape-y story. On the late tip, the finish introduces warmed prunes, darker, earthier and a little hairier, reminiscent of Madeira or Pedro Ximénez, rather than Fino or Manzanilla. Amazing. 10/10
Glen Grant 46yo 1966/2013 (45%, Gordon & MacPhail specially bottled to celebrate Gordon & MacPhail being awarded The Queen’s Award for Enterprise for International Trade, Sherry Hogsheads, C#5062+5063+6717, AC/ACBH): nose: this is less shy with the wood and shows its age a bit more clearly. We suffer a slap of rancio, then catch oiled shelves made of oak, a pile of logs for the fire, and woodworm-riddled old doors to secret cellars. Little by little, that opens up and allows other aromas to filter through: blue- and blackberry jams, amber honey setting slowly, embers cooling off, and dried currants stored in a yellow corrugated-plastic container (think of that brand of cocoa powder). Breathing time makes this nose more discreet, save for the embers, which become warmer, augmented with cut plums and blueberries. We also spot hazelnut paste smeared on a wooden cutting board. The second nose unfolds an odd mix of pipe tobacco, chalky masonry dust, grout, grated prune, charred wood and musty clay from a mushroom cave. What a ride! Mouth: rancio it is! Prunes, syrup, a pinch of dark earth. Chewing exposes just how sweet this is: it explodes with rehydrated raisins, before moving to dried figs and dates, which is to say earthier dried fruits. Madeira wine joins the party, as do stewed grapes, a spoonful of dark honey, and raisins and currants aplenty. The second sip converts raisins into sultanas and Smyrna, and adds preserved ginger slices dripping with syrup. Retro-nasal olfaction picks up whispers of tropical fruits (dried mango slices, dried apricots) and oily Virginia tobacco. The palate is now both sweet and gently smoky, which, if unexpected, works very well. Repeated sipping brings forth chewing tobacco and a lick of tannins to supplement the sultanas that remain the loudest. Finish: it continues in the same mood: a cascade of raisins and prunes (though no syrup, this time), earthy, borderline rubbery. Honestly, there is less wood involved, here, perhaps a gentle patina, or a build up of dark honey. It shows a thin bitterness, yet namedropping coffee would be inaccurate. At a push, Mokatine would be closer -- or caramel. Lastly, we have Paxarette and oily-tobacco pouches made of worn-out soft leather. Despite all that, this is the first dram of the series in which the dilution is noticeable, if one wants to be pernickety about it. Although absolutely not weak or thin, it feels less coating, even at the commendable strength of 45%. The second gulp pours a drop of green-grape syrup on Virginia tobacco, spreads honey onto the seat of a rustic Condroz chair, and mixes sultanas with earthier, rootier candied ginger. It may be a bit behind the previous dram, but larger gulps elevate this from very good to excellent. I like it better than the first time. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
99.13 31yo 1980/2011 Exotic scenes in a Bedouin tent (43.8%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Hogshead, 98b): nose: tasted blindly, one would be excused for thinking this is another Sherry maturation. It has got rancio and pickle brine more pronounced than any of the preceding drams, some of which were from Sherry casks. That said, pickled pearl onions quickly fade away and make room for rows of books on honey-golden wooden shelves, followed by toasted sourdough and almond butter. Each sniff reveals deeper meaning as the honey jar divulges plastic tubs of chocolate spread, itself giving way to wooden cutting boards, followed by baked papaya and lukewarm tin cans. It then drops a dollop of mild mustard onto the papaya, before coming back to tin -- this time, tin cutlery used to cut the papaya on a slate. What emerges the most is the knife grating against the slate. In the background, surreptitiously, a baked mango rises. It never shouts, content to satisfy only the inquisitive noser. The second nose has tobacco (cigar leaves, to be precise) and faded aromatic herbs (marjoram, rosemary twigs, thyme brush, lovage seeds) -- oh! nothing brash, really; it is as subtle as possible. In fact, it could be tumbleweeds. That all turns fresher, more vibrant, at some point: mint or sage twigs, dry lime leaves. Tobacco follows closely, then quince jelly, less sweet than membrillo. Mouth: velvety on entry, it feels calm yet complete. The modest ABV is largely sufficient, and the fact it went down naturally, rather than by adding water, gives the impression it kicks more than the previous dram, despite the lower strength. Chewing opens the floodgates to honey, chocolate spread and mango paste. One may be tempted to say fig relish, yet it is not as sweet, and certainly does not have the pips that would give such relish texture. Suddenly and without warning, the whole mouth is filled with a gentle smoke -- smoke from burning fruit-tree wood, toaster smoke (where sourdough touches the resistance), grilled fruits. The second sip has a noticeable lick of metal. Then, it reignites the pickled-pearl-onion fire, albeit briefly: that soon turns into moist cigar leaves and tropical fruits, as if one were alternating between drinking fruit juice from a tin cup and sucking on an unlit cigar. Exquisite, I say. Repeated sipping suggests a blend of Fino and Riesling. Finish: it is an explosion of slightly-smoky fruit jams that splatters dusty old metal (zinc or cast iron). Mango skins rubbed on a zinc plate, papaya in a galvanised-steel bucket, a puff of smoke from a canal-boat's boiler room, dried cranberries with a dusting of ground cumin, candied cubed papaya and cubeb. The second gulp cranks up the cigar impression; it has dry smoke, but also nicotine and, once again, tOMoH is pushed to think of Paxarette, for some reason, although it is more likely oily tobacco in a tea bag and a spoonful of elderberry or prickle-pear jelly. The smoke is increasingly acrid while remaining soft, overall, and the whole feels a tad acidic to boot. Smoky quince jelly kept in a faded-suede pouch, probably. Imagine filling an Aosta wineskin with quince jelly, then blowing cigar smoke into it -- ha! ha! Look, I could write another ten pages about this, but what would the point be? It is better than last time, if that is possible. No wonder it made me fall in love with the distillery, when it was released. 10/10
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