We have had this sample for over a decade, which is quite scary. The first time we had this whisky marked our initial encounter with the fabled Mayfair stash. These are pointless notes about something that cannot be obtained, but let us do the exercise anyway.
Undisclosed Distillery 49yo 1966/2015 (52.9%, Private bottling, Bourbon Cask, re-racked into Sherry Cask, re-racked into Rum Cask, 1b): the label reads '48yo' but my previous notes read '49yo'. The devil if I remember which is correct. Does it matter? Nose: deep and wide, it has all sorts of apple cultivars at various stages of decay. Bruised, fermenting, covered in lichen, stewed, mashed. Lichen turns into Verdigris, and we see the appearance of mouldy peaches. A quick about-turn and we are suddenly nose to nose with lichen-covered apple-tree-wood shelves. It becomes woodier yet, with caramelised honey on crackers. Those are eaten on a wooden bench in the breezy Campbeltown sea air. The second nose spreads blackcurrant jelly over all that and becomes hugely sweet and fruity. There may be a bowl of smashed elderberry too, chunky, juicy and darkly fruity, almost earthy. Even later, we have baked pineapple chunks served on exhausted staves. Mouth: despite the old age, it has not lost its edge. This kicks the taste buds like a young'un. Chewing swaps a pinch of ginger powder for strong blackcurrant cough drops, sweet and powerful. Wood spices are not far, yet they merely provide a backstory: the first trumpet is definitely that wonderful blackcurrant. The second sip brings even more blackcurrant, fresh, smashed and in jam or jelly format. So much so I cannot not think of Invergordon. Of course, this is not a grain whisky, however. More chewing solidifies the impression of blackcurrant cough drops, chewy, purple and sweet, and injects a minute cloudlet of smoke. Finish: powerful, teeming with blackcurrant here too, it is a lot dustier than expected, sawdust and old branches crumbling to dust. It has a lingering freshness, once again reminiscent of cough drops -- blackcurrant, rather than peppermint or liquorice, and a spoonful of yuzu-marmalade infusion. Indeed, it has a fruity acidity that elevates it beyond dusty cough drops. We find a gentle bitterness at the death, which will prevent a higher score, today. The second gulp seems to transform the blackcurrant cough drops into violet sweets, both chewy and crystallised. Love and hate are not far. Every taster would run to one or the other, probably. Me? I do not dislike it. 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, SW)
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