Glendullan 11yo d.1984 (43%, James Macarthur Fine Malt Selection): nose: whew! That wakes one up. A crisp lemon juice poured onto hay bales. There may be calamansi too, as it promises a faint sweetness, but that is more in the background. Herbs show up upon deeper sniffing, rosemary, lemon thyme, oregano, all dried beyond recognition. Next to those herbs is incense -- church incense. It has got that unmistakable ashy scent that new-age boutiques of the world cannot achieve, the smell of incense bought in bulk decades ago and that has spent the meantime in the humid coolness of an oversized religious building. The second nose clears the nostrils more aggressively: a spray of windscreen defroster here, a whiff of rubbery cork there, abrasive incense ashes... Out of nowhere, spring-flower stems photobomb the picture. Mouth: mellow and creamy, it offers a delicious custard, satsuma smoothie and a moist sponge cake with a dash of lime juice. Chewing intensifies the lime acidity, adds a few stones for a mineral touch (driveway gravel) and sprinkles herbs on top (crushed bay leaves, dried rosemary and gunpowdered sage). The herbs' bitterness points at angelica, after a while, and Verdigris-covered copper. The second sip welcomes pineapple rings, less ripe than optimal, which means crunchy and a tad bitter. That is soon met by the citrus from earlier, more acidic, less bitter. Finish: less creamy in the finish, it swaps the custard for juicier notes of citrus -- grapefruit, lemon, lime juices dotted with lime zest. It washes all that with a dash of warm chocolate milk. Yes, it is acidic, bitter, warming to a degree, and rather comforting, all in all, seemingly made for a summer morning such as this. The second gulp is immensely sweet, almost gritty with caster sugar, an impression I will liken to some rums. That is wet with defroster served in a hammered-iron goblet, which is funny. An excellent Glendullan. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
Glendullan-Glenlivet 25yo 1965/1990 (51.1%, Cadenhead): we step back in time, since this was bottled several years before the previous one was distilled. It was distilled before the distillery was rebuilt, in fact. One may consider they come from two different distilleries altogether, since only the site and the name are the same. Nose: it could hardly be more different. This one has a ton of OBE with tin lids and dust from the Industrial Revolution -- dusty old boilers, engines that have sat dormant for ages and that are so dusty and seized that one would hesitate to turn them back on, and cast-iron soil-stack pipes that could use a good jet-wash. It has an encrusted residue of smoke too, not at all relatable to peat, rather the smoke of derelict machinery, next to clogged sink and peaches heated and displayed on a zinc plate. Drier, dustier, more mineral at second nose, it evokes a mix of cereal dust (oak flakes) and quarry dust -- a quarry in which a fox passes fleetingly: a musky note tickles the nostrils. Mouth: oily and fruity at the start, it showcases green-grape juice, if said juice had an oilier texture, peach nectar, and a soft metallic touch. Chewing is like stepping on the gas pedal of an old automobile: a cloud of fumes comes out of the rickety mechanics, hot, acrid, strangely fulfilling. Smoked peaches and nectarines, smoked Golden Delicious apples, and that smoke comes out of a Moka tin pot that contains no coffee. The second sip rolls those nectarines in sherbet, which gives them a dusty citrus kick, something that is even more noticeable when swirling the liquid in the mouth; it is well acidic and pushes a hot galvanised-iron bucket on the length of the tongue. Finish: it is mellow and cake-like for a second, before it farts a huge cloud of diesel fumes, one that really sticks to the gob. It sucks on the street, but works remarkably well in this whisky. Hazelwood-fire smoke joins the diesel fumes and there are remnants of caramelised orange rinds on a zinc plate. It has a lingering bitterness at the death, part dusty zinc, part dried rosemary, yet the caramelised orange rinds give a sweetish counterpoint that works well. It seems more powerful at second gulp and leaves the tongue throbbing and a bit numb, closer to the effect of licking hot metal than that of a medical anaesthetic. When the taste buds slowly recover, they catch cut fruits (nectarines, oranges, chalky pears), milk chocolate, diesel fumes, a hot Moka tin pot and smoked sponge cake. I love this one. I find it even better than the 11yo. 8/10
Glendullan-Glenlivet 25yo 1965/1991 (51.1%, Cadenhead Original Collection, Oak Cask): funny how many online notes are from tasters who have tried this and the previous expression back to back too. theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com: not breaking ground since 2012! Is this one repackaged old stock of the previous bottling? The differing bottling dates suggest not, but every other detail is the same and that is the time they moved from the dumpy brown bottles to tall green ones. There is only one way to find out! Worth noting that this entry in the Original Collection is at cask strength, not the 46% that is the norm for that range. Nose: if anything, it is even closer to the Industrial Revolution. hot boiler tanks, engine rooms and their sweaty operators. Halved apricots appear on the horizon, served on a hot zinc plate. In a way, it is very similar to the previous, yet it is hairier -- hairballs more than horse's hair, but still hairy. Citrus rinds are next, fried in a dry frying pan and there is a faint whiff of mint toothpaste in the distance, obfuscated by hot metal. The second nose sees hot flour ready for the baking, a metallic worktop heated by the sun, a spoonful of ground coffee in a dry filter, and the hot brass buttons of a dry-cleaned uniform. Something else shows up, after a while, and I cannot tell if it is a plastic garden sprayer full of fertiliser in a greenhouse or a plastic bottle of some beverage that has gone off. Mouth: peaches and nectarines smashed into a pulp and heated -- you guessed it! -- on a zinc plate. Chewing calls back the hairy, sweaty machinery operators, but the musk and hairy character do not hide much of the hot-fruits-on-hot-metal that dominate. It seems stronger than its predecessor, and leaves a few singed taste buds in its wake. Warm orange juice (unfiltered) claws its way to the top, augmented with caramelised chopped orange rinds. Mellower at second sip, it has pouring honey and Mirabelle jam. Chewing pumps a vegetal bitterness into it, gently-smoked nettles or bergamot foliage, more than plant-stem sap, thankfully. Finish: it produces quite a kick on the way down, then it unleashes no end of lovely citrus, mostly oranges, but also satsumas and clementines. Warm marmalade, caramelised peels, baked zest, crystallised segments covered in hot syrup. Make no mistake: it retains hot dusty metal and hair, now reduced to very-dry ancient ropes, but citrus lead the way. The second gulp is just as satisfying, with warm metal, warm citrus foliage and orange segments so saturated with diesel fumes they are virtually unrecognisable, closer in character to the engine of a gunboat than juicy fruits. This is clearly not the same bottling repackaged, unless there are major bottle variations. In any case, the one before was good, but this one is even better. 9/10
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