20/07/2023 Two low-fill eight-year-olds

I had something else in mind, but the level in this mini shifts my priorities.

Glen Mhor 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: unlike any other Glen Mhor I have tasted, this one smells close to a brandy, with clear notes of ripe grapes (Crimson Seedless), and fragrant jasmine, caramelised-lychee juice, and pineapple weed, perhaps augmented with a dash of chocolate coulis. I fear for the strength, though, as this, albeit charming, smells free of alcohol. Further nosing brings Turkish delights, rubbed hyacinth leaves, and still that promising chocolate. The second nose is even fruitier, with rehydrated raisins, dates, and lychee (provided one dehydrates lychee -- and if not: why not?), yet also Vanidene granules (apparently more-scientifically known as cyclovalone). Yes, it has that creamy, vanilla-y scent (it could also be cream soda) that fortunately never feels vulgar. Mouth: it is definitely below the advertised strength, unfortunately, yet it still hangs together (by a thread, let us be honest). As expected from such an old miniature, it presents old cardboard and the brine from a jar of pickles, a drop of balsamic vinegar in a cup of heavily-diluted coffee, and... fenugreek. The second sip has Vanidene granules with a dusting of ground white pepper, which is original. Slowly settling on the tongue, we see something earthier and darker -- maybe a dollop of Marmite, or torched Demerara sugar. The finish is the strongest part of this dram, with seemingly very little lost to the ages. There is a refined sweetness to it, caramel coulis poured on chocolate-filled dragées, caramelised carrots (!), and a milk-chocolate cream so thick it might as well be chocolate mousse. The next sip adds Demerara sugar, torched so much it is starting to foam and froth. In other words: it turns earthier and toastier, yet it retains a clear sweetness. This has obviously suffered from evaporation, but it is still very good. 7/10

We have time for another one.

Tamdhu-Glenlivet 8yo (70° Proof, Gordon & MacPhail, b. ca. late 1970s): nose: could this be more different? We have sawdust, pine planks, and something that, strangely, reminds me of my aunt's kitchen in the house she moved out of twenty years ago. I cannot tell if that means the chipboards of the cheap furniture, the oilskin on the table, or the butter of her cooking, but the way it triggers those memories is striking and confusing, though not unpleasant. That dissipates somewhat, and we are left with the sawdust of cut Formica-clad chipboards, and a shroud of fruits (tangerine, pineapple, unripe papaya or guava). The second nose seems more flowery (lily of the valley), and leans more on confectionery (candy floss) than on fruit. The sawdust backtracks, and the undeniable bitter note now comes from a green plant, rather than it ('it' being the sawdust). Cut flowers in a vase, maybe. Water further tunes down the sawdust and leaves but the flowers (lily of the valley) in a bakery, while the baker prepares the choux dough. Mouth: this one has lost less of its power, if any. It is full of sawdust, and bigly peppery! Fruits appear quickly in the shape of plums and nectarines, white peach at a push, but they cannot be very ripe, because they are balanced by a strong bitterness -- picture those fruits in a cup of black coffee, enhanced with a drop of wood oil. Perhaps nigella seeds join too; it is hard to tell. Actually, it is not: after a minute longer, nigella seeds become fairly obvious, overwhelming the spoonful of strawberry yoghurt they are meant to top. The second sip is in line, first fruity, then toasted to char. Water renders this greener, sappier, bitterer. It is a mellow bitterness, yet it overshadows the fruit a bit. Finish: a very fruity, creamy outburst, the finish has more of that strawberry yoghurt, almost overpowered by nigella seeds so toasted they resemble charcoal chips. Sawdust and bitterness have gone away, leaving the charry nigella seeds do most of the talking -- and talk they do! This is coating, drying, desiccating, long and warming, though I would not call it comforting, as that char dryness will not be for everyone. It reminds me of those two Tamdhu we had in Dornoch, a few years ago, yet this one is much more balanced and pleasant (thanks to the reduction?) The second sip feels more peppery, this time black pepper, which retains the warmth, while dialling down the char. With water, it is reminiscent of a cold chicory infusion, with a drop of green-grape juice to keep it interesting. The finish is, surprisingly, perhaps better with water. 7/10

Happy birthday, YDC and ZC!

17/07/2023 StilL 630

StilL 630 16mo 2015/2017 X-9 Cherrywood SMB (50%, OB Experimental, C#15-65, b#161): nose: this is much more savoury than X-7 and X-8 at first sniff, with beef stock, oxtail stew, and Bovril, alongside a cup of coffee. Then, we have miso paste and chocolate-scented plasticine, a welcome addition that brings a balancing sweetness. A short while later, this acquires a nuance of wild-berry jelly, somewhere between blueberry, elderberry, and blackberry. The sweetification (you read it here first) continues, with pressed sultanas, pressed dried dates, and candied cherries. The metamorphosis goes on, now giving birth to flowery scents too -- brambles, honeysuckle (not exactly, but close enough-ish), and it is flirting with forsythia, when it suddenly changes its mind and goes for evergreen instead (spruce). It smells oily (wood oil, that is), and almost honey-like. It is very hard to reconcile what is happening now with the initial, savoury impression! The second nose is warmer and welcoming, with a chocolate-and-chicory infusion (chocory, obviously), nutty wax, and a vegetable of sorts (celery stalk? No, but I cannot tell what else it could be), as well as dark-rose and tulip petals. Woah! Mouth: woody and savoury, oily in taste, yet thin in texture. What I am trying to say is that it tastes like the oil that one finds at the top of a peanut-butter jar that is getting on a bit. All the same, it does have massive waves of wood in the shape of oily pine planks. It is not planky, to be clear. It has pine planks is all, with the acidity and bitterness one should associate with that. The second sip has melted chicory granules, and some nut spread that does not appear to be made of peanuts. There is an undeniable bitterness, so it could be almonds or Brazil -- with skins on, in either case. Finish: well balanced, all things considered, the finish is closer to the palate in character than to the nose. Pine planks, a lick of wood oil, and a broth of crushed pine needles. That remains fresh, though, a delicate blend of anise, menthol, and minute honey. It also has a fleeting whisper of asparagus, in the back, which, on top of a soft bitterness, brings an unexpected and original touch. The second gulp is very similar. At a push, one may find a drop of unripe-grapefruit juice, or its zest, in fact: bitter, dried zest. This is probably my favourite of the three. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, JS)

14/07/2023 Bastille Day

A Port Charlotte, then, because it is a French-sounding first name, and because this expression was gifted to me by a Frenchman.

127.33 10yo 2002/2013 Mouth-numbing mountaineering dram (63.5%, SMWS Society Single Cask, Refill ex-Bourbon Barrel, 182b): nose: without surprise, it is full of bacon and grilled mud patties, clay pots out of the oven (ooooh!), and fortified wine spilled on scorched earth, yet also grilled cherries and rancio. Beside that is an obvious raging power that throbs, waiting for its moment to maim one's nose -- or bite it off, to be accurate. It also has old Indian ink, drying on ancient scrolls, and linseed oil, also rather dried. The second nose rejuvenates the ink (meaning it smells more recent), turns it red or green, adds unripe-citrus rind (lime? Pomelo?), and cranks up the farmyard, with farm paths and muddy tractor tyres. A faint herbaceous whiff joins in, likely grilled lemon mint. Even later, we find burning seal wax and dried sausage, as well as a whiff of weed ash, and rubbed Kaffir lime leaves. Just a drop of water tones this down dramatically, and it now has a flowery scent -- not in the widely-hated, perfume-y way, no! It is almost lilac. Oh! it still has plenty of ink and earth, do not be fooled, yet also much more. Mouth: a mellow attack, full of steamed plantain, but it is not long before this brute reveals its power. Scorched earth, glowing embers, ink wells, bitter and dark, creosote, soot, tar, and crushed nigella seeds. It goes from hot and burning to charred and bitter in less than a minute. The second sip is more acidic, with roasted calamansi, and a drop of citrus juice, on hot sandstone. After a second, we discover moss-covered bottles, heated to close to their melting point, more damp earth (clay, probably), burnt cake crust, and a numbing combination of surgical alcohol and Iso Betadine. Not that it is particularly medicinal; it simply feels brown and anaesthetising. With water, peppery menthol takes over, and if it does not mask the earth, it certainly balances it. Char-grilled mint stems, and char-grilled patties that were coated with a lemon-mint marinate. Finish: bold, yet not the kick one might have foreseen. Very earthy again, the finish numbs the tongue for a little while (it almost paralyses it, actually), until the taste buds wake up to all kinds of earthy touches (clay pots, mud cakes, earth patties interwoven with bacon rashers). The second sip is even earthier, if that is possible, and introduces silt, muddy stagnant water, and freshwater-algae-covered pebbles. It is warming and numbing, yet not exactly in a comforting way -- more in a medical fashion, whereby one is stuffed to the gills with anaesthetics, yet that does not bring peace of mind; it merely knocks one out. Repeated sipping adds hot seal wax, which is nice, if not clear enough to come with fruit. Hot maraschino cherries, at a push, covered in mud. Water converts this into something heavily mentholated that is now elevated by lemon mint and char-grilled flowers (lilac, both white and purple). Why would one char-grill lilac? Erm, because it works as a whisky tasting note? Retro-nasal olfaction picks up loads of barbecue scents, in fact. This is a bit much for me. I certainly like it better with water. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, Fixou)

Epilogue: this Port Charlotte has the Cambus effect. Only one dram, and I have had a headache for thirteen hours. Downgraded to 6/10

12/07/2023 Flanders Day

Celebrating Flanders Day like a Walloon. Late. (It was yesterday)

Hi-dilly-oh, neighbor!

The GlenDronach 19yo 1995/2014 (54.2%, OB Single Cask selected by La Maison du Whisky for whisky.fr, Oloroso Sherry Butt, C#1563, 640b): nose: it is a 'dronach as most aficionados love them, one overflowing with chocolate and musty, earthy, Sherry aromas. Potting soil, prunes, pan-fried-mushroom water (or rehydrated-shiitake water), roasted cocoa beans... Heck! it even has oyster sauce. That does not make it maritime in the slightest, though: it is very much an earthy number, albeit an appealing one -- provided one likes chocolate (and who does not!?) Ten minutes of breathing steer all that towards drinks cabinets and polished teak furniture, tobacco leaves and unlit cigars, liqueur-soaked raisins and a jelly made of unidentified berries (blackcurrants? Blackberries? Mind you, it may be rose-petal jelly slathered on softly-smoked rosehip). A faint whiff of lichen-y rancio adds a late depth. The second nose seems drier. It brings leather and cured-ham rind coated in earth so dry it could be desert dirt. Happily for me, it does not stray into coffee-grounds territory. Mouth: rich and wine-y, the attack is not as chocolate-y, which is a bit of a departure from the nose. Nail varnish, wine sauce, gravy, green-lentil cooking water, mushrooms (penny buns), all splashed with a generous serving of Palo Cortado Sherry. We have prunes too, dried dates, a pinch of discreet potting soil, and boiled purple potatoes. The second sip is drier and bitterer, earthier, perhaps, which increases the impression of green-lentil cooking water. It also sees distant pebbles, covered in moss. That somehow makes the whole palate seem warmer. Finally, cocoa powder returns to the scene, borderline desiccating. Finish: yes, big and sherried, without a doubt, it delivers nail varnish and dried fruits on a heated metal plate. Dates, dried and earthy, prunes, currants so dry they retain hardly any sweetness, and some tame spices. It falls somewhere between amchur, cloves, and black cardamom, in terms of lasting flavour, which is a sweet spot, in truth. The second sip comes dangerously (for me) close to mocha, yet it could simply be ground cocoa beans that were roasted a little too heavily. Let us settle for for chococino, which is rather fitting, as I discovered that while working in Flanders, ahem, many moons ago. This is not my favoured profile, but it is well pleasant. 7/10 (Thanks for the sample, elskling)

10/07/2023 Glenfarclas

Glenfarclas-Glenlivet 11yo 1980/1992 (59.6%, Cadenhead Authentic Collection 150th Anniversary Bottling, Oak Cask): nose: naked and rustic, this one offers a delicate whiff of smoke, alongside crispy bacon and roasted apples. Leather bags full of orchard fruits are next, as is dusty grape juice by the campfire. A few minutes in, that is joined by engine grease and cylinder heads, in other words: a metallic scent, and it works a treat. Lichens and mosses arrive shortly thereafter, hinting at oxidised copper. Aaaaaand faded leather re-appears, a leather hat left on a straw bale. The second nose has a strange combination of heated aged eau-de-vie and liqueur (warming and sweet at the same time), and reminiscence of a coppa dell’amicizia (read: a wooden drinking vessel). Yes! It is Calvados, served warm in one such coppa, with a drop of liqueur to make it sweeter. Over time, oily blonde tobacco sticks to the back of the throat. Water turns this into a dry-white-wine Schorle. Chenin blanc, almost metallic, or mentholated -- perhaps it is toothpaste out of a tin tube, after all? Mouth: sharp attack, young and raw, at first, and quite bitter too. In no particular order, we see plant sap, straw, sage and oregano, a cast-iron boiler, coated in dust, and then the whole comes together and starts to make sense. Crispy shortcrust, caramelised custard (vanilla and mocha), hot metal. The second sip has roasted apple and quince, surfing on a milky texture. It is warm like hot wool, not burning, and one may detect Virginia-tobacco notes. It works very well. Adding water gives watered-down grape (or apple) juice, and too thin a custard. It is still decent, but not a glowing success. Finish: it does leave the gums and the front teeth a little numb (so close to 60%, how could it not?), but it is actually more mellow that one might have expected. Hot chocolate custard, some herbs (sage becomes more and more obvious with each passing second), stainless steel warmed in the oven. The second sip confirms the metal: it is fruity and sweet, yet those aspects are perpetually struggling (and failing) to eclipse a clear metallic vibe -- a stainless-steel salad dish, or pewter plates. A way to describe this would probably be to say: roasted slices of apple and quince, topped with a dollop of hot chocolate custard, sprinkled with dried sage, and served out of a stainless-steel bowl, into a pewter plate. A taste of cured apple sticks in the mouth, titillating the tonsils. Water brings back blonde tobacco and straw, yet they are so diffuse, now, that they are less enticing. Strangely, considering the ABV, this one is not exactly Michael Phelps. Neat, on the other hand? Excellent! 8/10