11/04/2021 Strathisla

Strathisla 24yo 1972/1997 (62.6%, Gordon & MacPhail Cask Strength imported by Giuseppe Meregalli, C#7534-7536, AG/AIJ): nose: without surprise, it smells fierce, with an almighty gingery fire and antiseptic, TCP, ether and mercurochrome, more than tincture of iodine. It also has an undeniable wood influence: cedarwood, ginger and galangal fade out to reveal American cream soda, vanilla yoghurt and baking soda. Not long until that also morphs into Maple Biscuits and spearmint, both fighting with the quietly assertive medicinal side. Surgical spirits, hospital disinfectant, Iso-Betadine. At that strength, it certainly does clear the nostrils! The wood comes back, with dry bark and wood sheets, toffee, and even treacle. Mandarin peels, torn off the fruit and left to dry on the window sill, for a couple of weeks. With water, it turns more brine-y, amazingly, with fresh sea air and capers, alongside peppermint, hot cinnamon sticks, and more of that hospital disinfectant. Dried sage appears too, very much in the background. Mouth: there is hot mixed peel, stewed orange zest, preserved ginger peel, dried apricot... and then, the alcohol comes a-knocking. Boy! does it hit. It feels as though it melts the front of the top gum a little. Mind you, it is strong, yet not so numbing that the tastes become blurred -- oh! no, they remain surprisingly clear. The texture is acerbly acidic, yet there is a discreet bitterness as well; my money s on orange tonic. It is mixed in with a drop of custard cream, though one would be delusional to call this creamy -- it really is not. Each sip seems more acidic than the previous, re-enforcing the impression of orange tonic in my mind. It is as if it were poured in wooden bowls, too, which is original. Water makes this juicier and more acidic, surprisingly enough. The citrus is now fresh, with orange and pomelo segments, rubbing feathers with pressed dried apricot (and why the hell not?) Despite the still-high ABV, the reduced palate is much more easily accessible, I find. Finish: in line with the nose and palate, the finish sees wood and crystallised citrus parade, this time in slow motion. Spearmint, mixed peel (lime, orange, pomelo, mandarin), grated ginger, dried apricot, curry leaves. There does not seem to be much of the medicinal touch left, at this stage. Repeated sipping cranks up the sweetness, which is reminiscent of Sprite or 7Up. It does leave the mouth dry and a tad bitter, however, harking back to tonic instead. The wood becomes more present with the addition of water, not quite splintery, but not far off either, yet it is citrus that steals the show again, with orange and pomelo zest and segments, softened by a few drops of tangerine juice, in which the foliage would have been left to macerate. Excellent, and pretty interesting. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

09/04/2021 Glencadam

Glencadam 14yo 1964/1979 (45.7%, Cadenhead): that Glencadam with the Tintin font. Nose: peach jelly, apricot chutney, sprinkled with ground cumin and spread on toasted bagged white bread, eaten outside, whilst wearing oilskins. The jams are simmering gently, with a pinch of herbs to liven them up (sage and thyme). Soon, it has an almost metallic feel, akin to orange drops in tin foil. Far removed, a hint of wormwood settles too, perhaps tree bark and a delicate lick of varnish. Suddenly, all that disappears to make room for a deeper, graver fistful of old copper coins, forgotten in a drawer of the carpenter's workbench. It may whisper calmly, but it still has lots to say, this whisky! Breathing time adds cracked black pepper to the waxy-apricot compote, soothing lichen on stone, brown shoe polish -- it becomes rather talkative, actually, emboldened by the warmth of my hand on the glass, and the contact of air. Mouth: the attack is frankly metallic (it is a Glencadam, after all), loaded with copper coins, a verdigris-eaten copper bed warmer and thyme, paving the way for the inevitable hot peach jam and apricot compote (with sage again). It has some chewy plasticine too, solidified wax or modelling clay, left out to gather dust before it has been modelled. The second sip is as though a mischievous child had dropped a collection of copper coins in a pot full of simmering apricot compote, then run away before the cook added a copious dose of black pepper. The wax is never far, and the herbs become less discernible. Finish: if the nose felt a little ancient and fragile, in the beginning, the finish leaves no doubt that this bottle has not lost anything. The liquid is still unabashedly assertive, dishing out modelling wax, simmering jams, discreet herbs, and the by-now-expected copper coins, perhaps with touches of verdigris on them. All that colludes to leave a mildly bitter taste on the tongue and the roof of the mouth -- nigella seeds, I would say, yet subtle and effaced. If it is nigella seeds, then it is nigella seeds sprinkled on a bowl of strawberry yoghurt. It might even have a tiny dose of crushed spearmint. In any case, the way the sweetness and the bitterness interplay is something to marvel at. Wonderful Glencadam. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

08/04/2021 Aultmore

Aultmore 18yo 2000/2018 (55%, Adelphi Selection, Refill Sherry Casks, C#571+573, 480b): leftover sample from a trip to Ardnamurchan distillery in 2019. Nose: an enchanting note of enticing encaustic, furniture wax, beeswax, and honey, sticking to the wooden racks of the hive. There are some tea leaves, behind all that, a smorgasbord (Scrabble triple-triple, right there) of pouring honeys and beeswax. Manuka honey, acacia honey, even honey made from mountain flowers and tree buds. Well hidden in the background, I also find a soft and discreet murmur of Virginia tobacco, supported by warm bread and jam with, at last, delicately-roasted barley. It is extremely subtle, yet, when one pays attention, it feels relatively close to chocolate or treacle. The second nose seems more straightforwardly pine-tree-like, with sticky sap and polished pine cones (the tacky addition to any self-respecting holiday log cabin). It soon re-focuses on honey and wax, which is all for the better! Water makes the nose more herbaceous. It now has citrus leaves and bay leaves, kept in a tin in the sun. Oh! and cannabis plants, drying in the sun too. Mouth: the attack is bold, spicy and drying on the tongue. It is not quite the chalk that Aultmore often displays, yet it is no longer the rich honey either. Precious woods and furniture wax, carrying a certain bitterness, nail varnish, to an extent, but also that roasted barley from the deep nose. Maple syrup-coated pecans, cardamom pods, juniper corns and, in the long run, caramelised marmalade, bitter and sweet at the same time. Crystallised orange, mixed with Suc des Vosges -- yes: the freshness of pine and the bitterness of orange meet to produce something pretty interesting, augmented by a remote note of chocolate. I cannot say water helps the palate. In fact, it makes bay leaves take over and mute everything else. What a pity! Finish: the light bitterness is still there, and it comes with lots of precious woods, lacquered, polished, spicy and a tad drying. Chestnut shells, encaustic, polished broomsticks, the wax build-up on an old armchair... And then, it dawns on me that the beeswax is back, as is the honey. It is different, however: now, we are talking about dark, set honey made from walnut or chestnut, if such a thing exists (and if it does not, what are the beekeepers waiting for?) Let us be lucid: this has a fleeting note that is borderline plank-y; the emphasis is on 'fleeting', though. It quickly veers towards spices, with crushed juniper and cardamom, a sprinkle of ground clove and charred pecans, yet no maple syrup coating, this time. The mouth is left dry, a feeling reminiscent of that caused by chalkiness, perhaps. Just like the reduced palate, the reduced finish is one-dimensional, herbaceous (bay leaves again, tobacco leaves) and cardboard-y. Ruined by water. I must say: blind, I would never have pegged this as an Aultmore, nor even an 18yo. It feels older and closer to a well-known distillery in the northeast. Water is to be avoided, though. 8/10

07/04/2021 Springbank

Springbank 21yo 1995/2017 (54.7%, The Greedy Angels for Bas Veenendaal, Ivor Johnstone, Ian Park, Refill Bourbon Hogshead, 288b): nose: juicy fruits taken off the grill, which probably means there is a bit of char and some smoke too. In no particular order, we find peaches, apricots, cantaloupes and papaya. It becomes smokier and increasingly charred with each whiff, cleverly interlacing the fruit with the trademark farm-y notes: soon, it has farm paths, beaten by the summer sun, tractor saddle, mud cakes, all introducing roasted pineapple. Shortly after that, sherry vinegar is poured onto pink grapefruit and melon slices. It does not fully get rid of the earthy impression, though. Simmering ink and wormwood surface, after a while, and darker fruits show up on the late tip, the kind that leave indelible stains on a shirt -- squashed blueberry and blackberry. Mouth: sharp and citrus-y, the palate sees pink grapefruit too, acidic and coating, balsamic-vinegar-soaked cheese cubes (Parmesan?) and lots of fruit again (melon, apricot, peach), this time given the marinade treatment (more vinegar than wine). The gentle acidity permeates through all cells at the front of the mouth, with the space behind the upper lip to the base of the nose (the philtrum) particularly sensitive to it. Cranberry and shy maracuja join the grapefruit for a lively debate. Miraculously, they all work together to strike a remarkable balance. Finish: long and calmly assertive, creamy, fruity, it develops more apricot and peach flesh, with a splash of wine for good measure. Repeated sipping fans the fruity flames, and the same berries end up here too, alongside maracuja and a touch of rubber. That is right: the acidic/sweet dominant is joined by a very faint bitterness seemingly caused by tar-like black liquorice laces. The creamy feel morphs into something more crumbly, akin to caked coconut cream powder, or sesame halva (a solidified paste). Unless, of course, it is fruits, decaying into a compost cake. In any case, the mouthfeel this leaves behind is very much that of a cake-y paste. Amazeboulanger, this Springbank. 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

02/04/2021 Clynelish

26.93 28yo 1984/2013 Cottage garden beside a church (56.3%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Sherry Butt, 352b): nose: unsurprisingly, it is Candlewax Central, with spent wick -- scratch that! It is burning wick. Char-grilled apricots, waxy mirabelle plums, coated in a thin dusting of soot. A second wave brings berries, though they seem waxy too -- maraschino cherries, fragrant blueberries, waxy dark grapes... Further along, a note of dry wood enters, by the fireplace, along with paraffin sealant in a jar of apricot jam. This is one to nose forever and a day: the combination of waxy fruit and charred wood is really something! In the long run, something delicately wine-y appears, though it is nowhere near cured meat in a wine sauce, fortunately. More roast beef, smothered in caramelised apricot compote. The second nose brings a note of fermenting apricot peel that is most interesting. Incredibly, adding water makes it even waxier -- insanely waxy, in fact. On top of that come whiffs of oven-baked biscuits (speculoos?) Mouth: meow! The attack is that of a cat's claw: incisive. Beeswax joins waxy fruits, here (mostly apricot), and the bitterness of apricot stone is present too, adding more depth. Candlewax? Check. Matchsticks are dancing quietly in the background. It is warming and makes me think of hairball (that is not Mitch Graham pronouncing 'herbal'). Maybe it has honey-coated lichen, though that is hard to confirm. Pencil erasers, nectarines, purple plums. Is that a drop of walnut oil and caper brine? You bet! It is a little numbing, undiluted, but I like that. Water creates the perfect balance. The cat now purrs, and, if the warm, fuzzy feeling is still there, it does no longer maul the tongue with sharp claws. It remains waxy and fruity, with piping-hot apricots and candlewax, as well as the softest sulphur-y note (spent wick is my guess). Finish: it really shines in the finish. Seal wax, solidifying beeswax, crystallising apricot compote, scented-candlewax, pressed plums, moss on a tree trunk (birch or hazel), a lick of new cork, caramelised honey, honey mustard. It is also remarkably long, clinging to the palate insistently, releasing the charred, waxy sweetness of char-grilled fruits that might well be tinned peaches, now. It becomes yet fruitier with water, and more accessible, thanks to a reduced alcohol kick. It was good neat, but it reaches another dimension reduced, shooting tinned peaches, fresh apricots and even wine-soaked mango slices left, right and centre, only letting charred matchstick or spent candle wick whispering softly through a gag ball, in the background. It took me about two decades to start appreciating this distillery. Expressions like this one justify the lengthy "quest." 9/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)