The ideal scenario would be to try a Belgian Owl, especially in light of its announced liquidation, earlier this week. But there is none at tOMoH's, at the moment. What else, then? A Daftmill? Well, we French-speaking Belgians can be a bit daft, so that works!
Daftmill 15yo 2009/2024 (56.3%, OB Fife Strength, 19 x First Fill ex-Bourbon Barrels + 1 x ex-PX Cask, 3840b): nose: caramel, gingerbread, toffee. It stays clear of fudge, but it promises to be sweet, there is no doubt about that. A little shaking and a little breathing confers this a heated-metal note, if only for a moment. It swiftly returns to sweet aromas, now closer to a fluffy cake with a crispy crust, and a lemon-drizzle cake caramelised on the sides. Yellow meadow flowers eventually reach us too: buttercups, daisies, dandelions. They start off fresh, then smell as though they have been smashed and ground on a slab of limestone. The second nose is more-clearly fruity, with lime and pomelo segments, and a couple of mint leaves. It makes me think of a Major Bailey, a cocktail with gin, lime and mint (and lemon). With water, this smells like flavoured water from a dispenser in a hotel lobby. Cucumber water, lime water, pomelo water, mint water. That is now crystal clear. It takes a while for cakes to come back; they are then butterier. Mouth: lively at once, it has yellow flowers all the way, bright, soft, and a tad bitter, as the stems start to become more discernible. It is a little hot too (green chilli). Chewing stirs all the flowers in a simmering pot of hot water. Next up is spearmint, rather fiercely refreshing. We find some sugar, almost entirely hidden behind the same heated metal we found on the nose. Here is an old-school pan of stainless steel -- no teflon, no coating of any kind. The second sip is softer and creamier until one chews: it is then as hot and lively as ever. Green citrus, some candied, some zested, some fresh, mint, candied angelica and a pinch of ground cloves. Water makes this mellow AF, like biting a pillow. Candy floss comes to mind, yet is has none of the vulgar sweetness of that. It may well have a creamy toothpaste instead -- a minty one. Finish: mint crumbles is what it is. Sherbet with none of the fizz, and a numbing, herbal freshness. Perhaps it has candied lime zest and peeled-cucumber chunks. The second gulp presents a lime custard, but also tzatziki, lime zest and heated metal, on the late tip. It may unearth fennel and/or dill, albeit subtle. For the major part, it is candied angelica, candied lime peels, cucumber peels and a pinch of grated Aspirin. Indeed, the mild bitterness from earlier seems to take off, a bit. Adding water softens the finish and makes it dangerously quaffable. Mint crumbles melted into a paste, pomelo yoghurt, crushed mint in a glass of gin & tonic. Or a highball augmented with mint, lime zest and a spoonful of honey. This is excellent and perhaps even better with water. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)
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